Chapter 8
Scotty
“Can I see?” I asked, trying my best not to let my inner-paranormal freak flag fly.
Ego gawked at me, clearly horrified, and Lysandro chuckled softly. “I’m not sure Ego’s seen them yet himself, Scotty. Unless it was an accident?” he finished, staring at Ego.
“No,” Ego muttered. “I haven’t seen them, nor do I want to.”
“What? Ego, come on. I bet they’re cool as fuck.” He turned to Lysandro. “Do they look like those long, spikey nails people get at salons or are they more like talons? I’ve always—”
I cut off as Lysandro’s normal-length nails instantly transformed into long, yellowish spikes, tinged with black.
“That’s so sick,” I whispered in awe.
“Are you kidding me?” Ego asked, voice going high at the end. “Are mine going to look like that, too?” He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and began to rock.
Now that I really looked at him, I saw how pale he was. Not translucent in the way I’d always described Lysandro’s skin in my mind. Which all made so much more sense now.
I’d assumed that carrying around an umbrella was how he’d managed to escape any kind of coloring while living at the shore, but being a vampire would do it.
No, Ego was the type of pale that happened after you received tragic news.
Like your oldest friend just passed away suddenly, or something.
Studying him closer, I realized that everything about him matched what I’d seen in the mirror in the days and weeks after Stevie died.
There’d been no way for me to hide the devastation of his loss because I’d worn it like a second skin.
Okay, maybe I needed to rein in how freaking cool I thought it was to know that vampires were real and that I was sitting in a room with two of them, and instead figure out what exactly had happened.
“I’m guessing you’re not happy about this, Ego.”
“You think?” he asked, sounding slightly hysterical.
“Okay.” I softened my voice like I was addressing a toddler mid-meltdown. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
He shook his head hard, sending the longish black hair that generally swooped artfully over one side of his face flying in all directions. That was another thing I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed. Ego looked disheveled.
I’d never seen him less than pristine. Even when he’d been living at the manor, hidden from his adoring fans, he’d come down for breakfast already ready and made up for a photo op.
Not the stage paint he wore for his performances, but still a light application of make-up, enhancing his magnetic eyes, highlighting his cheekbones in a way that women online said they’d kill for, and giving his skin an almost airbrushed finish.
And then there was his hair. It had driven me nuts how his black hair had always hung so perfectly, looking tousled like he’d been gloriously fucked—making him look better instead of worse—and unacceptably hot.
When I tried for a purposely messy style, it just looked sticky and gross—like I’d used too much gel. For whatever reason, I couldn’t get it right, so I’d stopped trying a long time ago.
These were just some of the surface reasons he’d gotten on my last nerve, but I’d noticed them. I might not have fawned over him like his multitude of fans, but I had eyes, and he was a masterpiece.
Normally.
When Ego’s response was to bury his face in his hands, I turned to the man—vampire—who I’d considered my friend. “Can you explain what happened?”
He shifted his gaze back toward Ego. “Is that okay, fledgling?”
Fledgling. Holy Shitballs. Ego really was a vampire. “So you turned him?”
Lysandro side-eyed me. “Of course not. I would never turn someone without their consent. I would never turn someone period.”
“Oh.” The emphasis he gave the last part surprised me a little.
In all the movies I’d watched, it seemed like some kind of badge of honor for one vamp to create another.
I guessed Hollywood couldn’t get everything right.
“Uh, sorry. I just thought since you called him a fledgling that…” I trailed off.
“You can tell him,” Ego squeaked out.
Lysandro sighed heavily, and I wondered if that was necessary. Like, he didn’t have to breathe, right? Probably not a good time to ask him, though. This was about Sky’s cousin, and I needed the details.
“He’s been preyed on,” Lysandro started, then proceeded to give me a full account of some mysterious stranger ambushing the diva rockstar after one of his concerts.
I sat through the tale in stunned silence.
It was like the recounting of a horror movie, except worse.
Because this was real life, and it had happened to someone I knew.
A person who—no matter my personal feelings about him—hadn’t deserved to have his life disrupted this way.
“How did the manager-assistant lady know he was a vampire? Or to bring him blood bags?”
“That’s not our story to tell,” Ego said, speaking for the first time.
At some point while Lysandro was talking, he’d curled up in the corner and cocooned himself in the throw blanket.
His face barely peeked out, but it was enough for his eyes to glow from the shadow of the creases in the folds of the cloth.
“Okay.” I blew out a breath. My head was spinning with a million thoughts, but one seemed paramount. “What would’ve happened if Delaney hadn’t realized?”
“I’d have died,” Ego said flatly. “Like truly died. I’m not sure that would’ve been the worst thing.”
Shocked, my mouth fell open. “What are you talking about? Sky would’ve been devastated. Everyone would’ve been.”
He snorted. “Not you.”
Guilt slammed into me. Had I been so awful to him that he thought I wouldn’t care if he died?
Hell, would we have even known he died, or would Sky have spent the rest of his life doing a full search for his cousin, thinking he’d been abducted or something?
Now didn’t seem like the time to ask, but if he’d experienced his final death from sunlight, wouldn’t he have burned into a pile of ash?
“Ego,” I said gently.
“No. I don’t want you treating me differently just because you pity me.”
I couldn’t help it. I cackled. “Pity you? Are you serious right now? Ego, you’re a motherfucking vampire! That’s so badass!”
Lysandro grinned happily at me, but Ego pulled the blanket over his face, completely blocking our view of his face. Since he obviously needed a minute, I focused back on Lysandro.
“I think I’m mad at you. Why did you let me keep bringing you dinner?”
His grin morphed into the same fond smile I was used to from him.
“I’m sorry, dear boy. It really hadn’t occurred to me until recently that you didn’t know.
I assumed that the High Priestess had told you that vampires still enjoy the taste of food.
Like our other senses are enhanced, so are our taste buds.
The creature comforts I enjoyed, or detested as a man, have only been amplified. ”
Wanting to believe him so that I didn’t feel like such an idiot, I asked, “But where does it go? The food, I mean?”
“It burns up inside of us. Our bodies are like mini-furnaces now. Any food or drink that isn’t essential just poofs into ash once we swallow it.”
“Wow. That’s so cool.”
“Is that why you were mad Delaney was mixing the blood from the bags with sangria?” Ego asked from his hiding spot.
“Yes. Not that those were providing you all the sustenance you needed anyway, but having parts of it incinerating inside of you as you swallowed wasn’t ideal since it meant you probably lost bits of the blood, as well.”
“That’s so cool,” I said again. I couldn’t help it. I had a real-life vampire sitting in front of me, letting me in on the mechanics of his kind.
I opened my mouth with my next question, but Ego sat up, letting the blanket pool around him, beating me to it. Apparently, we had the same concern. “But where does the ash go? I haven’t had to pee or”—he side-eyed me—“or, you know, since I…”
I bit back a laugh. We were discussing his consumption of blood a second ago, and he was worried about saying poop in front of me.
“Since you were turned? No, you wouldn’t. I generally belch it out—privately—or forcing a deep cough will do it. All that pesky ash flies right out of the mouth.” He grinned.
Ego swallowed audibly. “That sounds…weird.” He cleared his throat, shook his head a little like he was annoyed with himself, and finally focused on me. “Um. How did you know I was here? Does Sky know?”
“I knew you were here because I recognized that pillar.” I pointed at the one behind him, separating this room from the next. “Dead Air,” I added.
His eyes widened. “How did…”
“How I knew isn’t really the question. What I’ve been asking myself since I realized is how did I not know sooner?”
Lysandro leaned forward, curiosity playing across his face. “What is dead air? Recognize what sooner?”
“Who is Dead Air,” I corrected, then pointed at Ego. “Apparently, Mr. Popstar here can’t stay away from YouTube, but didn’t want to appear as Ego anymore.”
He scoffed. “It’s not a matter of not wanting to. I can’t. Look at me.”
So I did. Taking my time, I appraised him from head to toe.
The messy hair, the pale skin, the pained expression in his green orbs, the red t-shirt with a rip in the collar, his long, elegant fingers—that I’d watch stroke lovingly on his guitar more times than I’d ever admit—the faded teal and purple shorts that didn’t match his shirt at all, down to his bare feet—where unsurprisingly, his toes were as long and elegant as his fingers.
I took it all in and bit back a scream. Of course, he’d only be hotter to me like this than he’d been all glammed up.
“Well?” Ego said.
“Well, what?” I asked. “You look like yourself to me. Actually, as much as it pains me to admit, you look better than before. I hate all that stage make-up you normally have on.”
Ego gaped, and Lysandro snickered.
“That’s all irrelevant, though. Why haven’t you told Skylar you’re home? Why are you online as Dead Air, hiding in the dark? What’s the deal, Ego?”
One minute he was sitting, and the next, he was up, looming over me, the tendons straining in his throat—which was oddly…hot—roaring, “Because I’m a vampire!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a scowling Lysandro stand, likely to push the fledgling vampire back from me, but I wasn’t scared of the popstar. I held my arm out, keeping Lysandro back, and I glared at Ego.
“Yes, that’s been established. And Sky’s a tether and a natural earth witch, and Chance is green witch and a psychic medium, and King is a Dreamwalker, and—”
“King’s the new Lorewarden, too,” Lysandro cut in.
“True. Do I need to go on, Ego? Rosie, Elyse, Cassi, and Carli all have magic. Then let’s not forget all our ghostly friends, including my brother.”
I jabbed him in the chest. “You.” Jab. “Are.” Jab. “Not.” Jab. “Special.”
His face fell, and he deflated backward, falling on his butt on the floor. “That’s true. At least not anymore.”
What did he mean by not anymore? Everything about Ego’s behavior right now was worrisome. Lysandro side-eyed me again, sat on the edge of his wingback, leaning forward. “What do you mean, not anymore?”
With his temple resting on his knee and his hair obscuring half his face, Ego murmured, “Everything’s ruined. I can’t tour looking like this. People will wonder why I’m not making daytime appearances. Plus…I’m not a sound witch anymore.”
I didn’t even wait to see what Lysandro had to say to that. “But you’re still making beautiful music.”
He scoffed. I dropped down in front of him, sitting cross-legged.
“It’s true. I’ve been tuning into Dead Air since you started the channel.
I watch your newest song every night before I go to bed.
” I threw my arms out to my sides. “That’s how I ended up here.
I recognized the shadow of the pillar in the background from Jetty’s website where he has pictures of the reconstruction of your house. ”
“You’re just being nice,” Ego said.
It was my turn to scoff. “Since when have you known me to be nice?” The to you went unsaid.
“I think you’re lovely,” Lysandro said.
I cocked my eyebrow. “For a human?”
He scrunched his nose. “For any being. Personally, I don’t discriminate. Doesn’t matter what species you are, what color, what sex, there are good and bad everywhere. What matters is what’s in your heart and how you treat people.”
“For vampires, too?” Ego asked.
“Especially for vampires.” Lysandro joined us on the floor. “Now tell me more about this Dead Air.”
I didn’t want to discuss Dead Air or Ego’s popstar career or anything that had to do with music, but I could tell how much it was affecting Ego to think he wouldn’t be a sound witch anymore, so I pulled out my phone and went to Dead Air’s channel.
What I really wanted to discuss was Ego avoiding the people who loved him.
Then I wanted to learn more about vampirism, but getting that tragic expression off of the fledgling’s face had to take precedence.
I never wanted anyone to feel like I had after Stevie died, so if reassuring him about his aptitude for music would help, then Dead Air it was.