Chapter 28
Finally, we pull up at the valet stand outside Whisky a Go Go. Heather trades her keys for a numbered ticket, and we all pile out of the SUV. Standing on the sidewalk between Liv and Heather, I look up at the venerable old music venue, its exterior painted a vibrant red with black awnings. It strikes me that the Gothic color scheme is pretty perfect for the locale of a vampire band’s gig.
Custom-illustrated signs featuring some of the legendary acts who’ve played the Whisky over the years decorate the exterior of the building. I notice there’s a lot of overlap with Nick’s collection of T-shirts and vinyl. What a thrill it must be for him to be performing here.
Over the entrance, there’s an old-school marquee. Mismatched letters, yellowing with age, spell out the night’s lineup:
WED NiTE
GO FiSH
BITTERSWEeT
DRACuLA’S ARMY
This is also the night of my big performance, the one I’ve spent this past week in training for. And while I’m definitely feeling a familiar fluttering in my stomach and shakiness in my limbs—not to mention an underlying current of absolute fear and dread—what I’m feeling mostly at this moment is… pride .
I’m so proud of Nick, so excited for him. So happy that he’s reached this milestone in his musical career.
“Is it weird if I take a picture?” I ask my friends, pointing up at the marquee.
“Not weird at all,” says Liv with a smile. “Sweet, actually.”
“And Nick may not have thought to take one for himself,” says Heather.
So before we go inside, I pull out my phone and snap a few quick photos. For Nick.
***
“Which band are you here to see?” asks the woman at the door when my friends and I approach.
The question takes me by surprise. “Dracula’s Army,” I say. “We haven’t missed them, have we?”
The woman shakes her head full of long, blond braids while she makes a note on her clipboard. “No,” she says. “Go Fish just finished. But we keep a running tally of how many people each band draws. That’s how we know who’s worth booking again.”
Sounds like the life of a struggling musician is every bit as brutal as that of a struggling actor. We really do have so much in common, Nick and I. If only I’d seen it sooner, before he became a vampire and I became his—but no. This is no time to be taking a stroll down the avenue of regrets. Tonight, it’s about putting all that squarely in the rearview and moving forward.
We pay for our tickets. Even though it’ll make things a little tougher for me, I can’t help hoping that the vampires have turned out in a big way for Dracula’s Army, in big enough numbers to earn the band a repeat booking. Because I just want things to be a little easier for Nick.
***
Although I’ve lived in LA for more than two years and driven by the Whisky countless times, I’ve never actually been inside. Now that I’m here, I look around. I guess you could say this place is the music venue equivalent of Pete’s. The stripped-down, no-frills interior stands in stark contrast to some of the newer, flashier clubs on the Sunset Strip. The lounge level is lined with huge, old-school booths upholstered in well-worn, tufted vinyl. The concert level is little more than a big, dark room—black walls, black floor—with an unadorned stage at one end. Roadies are setting up for the next band.
I glance around at the crowd, although “crowd” is being generous. The turnout tonight is pretty light—probably typical for a midweek show featuring a bill of local, mostly unknown bands.
“How you doing?” asks Heather. “All good?”
I use my slayer radar to scan the space, but I don’t pick up on any vampires in the immediate vicinity. Still, I can tell that Nick is in the house. Along with others like him. They must all be backstage.
I turn to my friends and look from one to the other. “All good for now,” I say with a reassuring nod. “Come on. Let’s go find Nick.”
The three of us head off in search of the VIP area, but we take a few wrong turns. We end up first at the restrooms, then at the emergency exit, before we finally arrive at a long, dark hallway blocked by a velvet rope. This time, the gatekeeper with the clipboard is a man—or, I should say, was a man. He’s a vampire now, if my slayer senses are correct.
Here we go , I think.
Mentally, I put a box around my alter ego and lock it up tightly.
“We’re with the band,” says Liv. She turns to Heather and me, grinning. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
“Names?”
Automatically, I rattle them off.
The undead security worker checks his list. “I have Carrie Adams but not the other two.”
“But we’re all together,” says Heather.
“Check again,” says Liv. “Olivia Sanchez and Heather Mancini.”
Except I now realize that it’s no use. He can check that list a hundred times, and he won’t ever find my friends’ names on it. I never mentioned to Nick that my besties were coming with me tonight, never asked him to make sure they had backstage access too. Honestly, it never occurred to me that I had to.
As predicted, the vampire at the door shakes his head. “Sorry.”
I have to say, deep down, I’m not sorry. Actually, I’m kind of thankful. While I know that Liv and Heather want to protect me, I also want to protect them. And keeping them far away from any potential conflict seems like the best way to do that.
“What if I flirt with you?” Liv asks the doorman, awkwardly twirling her ponytail.
The vampire laughs amiably. “I’d enjoy that, for sure,” he says. “But I still can’t let you back. Not unless you’re on the list. I could lose my job.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” says an amplified voice from the front of the house, “Whisky a Go Go is pleased to welcome to the stage…Bittersweet!”
As we hear cheers and applause and the opening chords of the band’s first number, I turn to my two besties. “It’s fine,” I say. “Go watch the band. I’ll meet you back out front in a bit.”
Heather eyes me with worry. “I don’t like it,” she says. “I don’t like leaving you all by yourself to walk into a den of—” She stops herself just in time. “— musicians ,” she finishes.
I guess we’re using code words after all.
I look from one of my friends to the other, and it dawns on me that if things don’t go well, this could be the last time I—no. Nope. Failure is so not an option.
I flash Liv and Heather a bright smile. “It’s okay,” I tell them. “Go. I’ll see you out front.” I use my index finger to draw an X over my heart. “Promise.”
All at once, Liv launches herself at me, Heather follows, and before I know what’s happening, the three of us are locked together in a big group hug. Part of me wants to stay in the warmth and safety of this embrace forever, but the rest of me knows I can’t. It’s showtime.
So with a final squeeze, I disentangle myself and pull free. When we all break, I see that everyone’s a little weepy. Including me.
“Now get out of here,” I say gruffly. “I’ve got this.”
Liv and Heather look at me for a long moment. They don’t say anything, but they don’t need to. When they reluctantly turn away and I watch them go, I realize that the vampire has been taking the whole scene in. And now he’s eyeing me curiously.
I blink back my tears and give him a shrug. “They just don’t trust musicians,” I tell him.
He gives me a friendly wink as he unhooks the velvet rope to let me pass. “Probably not a bad rule.”
***
The VIP room isn’t a room, exactly. It’s more of a partially walled-off space behind the stage. As live music drifts up and over the heavy black curtain separating the backstage lounge area from the band that’s onstage, I compose myself, step across the threshold, and—
Whoa.
There are a dozen or so VIPs gathered here, and I immediately know that most of them are vampires. Some are very old, older even than Quentin. And while advanced age makes humans physically weaker, it’s clear that the opposite is true of vampires. The sheer power contained within this small space is so staggering it almost bowls me over.
I have the same reaction I had a week ago, the night of my face-off with Nick in the alley behind Pete’s. Feelings of absolute hate and loathing flood through me. The same urges to confront, to attack, to slay overwhelm me.
Only I’m not the same as I was a week ago. I’m stronger. A lot stronger.
Oh, I’m not saying that it’s easy to stand up to my slayer, to deny her the vengeance she so desperately wants. In fact, it’s every bit as difficult as it’s ever been. But now I’m not afraid of doing the hard thing. I don’t need to take the path of least resistance and act in a way that pleases my alter ego—or anyone else, for that matter. Tonight I’m fighting for my own happiness.
Suppressing my slayer and everything she brings with her, I look around. I see that Jess, the so-called Dracula’s Army groupie, is here, sitting on a couch with another vampire. But she’s not the one I’m searching for.
Finally, my gaze finds Nick. He’s standing in the corner, wearing jeans and a Rolling Stones band tee, talking with Quentin, and just like that, containing my slayer isn’t so hard after all.
Since I had that conversation with Pete, I’m not confused anymore. I truly believe that Nick and I have the seeds of something real. And if we’re going to keep it growing? I simply need to get through tonight.
Nick spots me and smiles uncertainly. With a confident nod, I grin back and cross over to him.
“You came,” says Nick.
“Of course I came,” I say. I give him a teasing look. “Did you think I was going to be a no-show like you were at work?”
“Sorry,” he says. “I should have—”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly. “I talked to Pete. And I completely get it. You needed to focus.”
“He needed to down a whole bottle of Pepto Bismol,” interjects Quentin, clapping Nick on the shoulder.
I glance at Quentin, then turn back to Nick. “Nerves?” I ask.
“I would have called,” he says sheepishly, “but I was…indisposed for a while.”
I smile sympathetically.
“But I’m okay now,” he says.
“Can I get you a drink, love?” Quentin asks me. His offer is all easy hospitality, but I can tell that my arrival put him a little off his guard. I don’t think he was expecting me. And after a week of feeling me out, I can tell he still doesn’t know what to make of me.
It’s time to prove to him, once and for all, that I’m not a threat.
I shake my head. “No thanks,” I say. “My friends are waiting out front. I just wanted to come back and wish you all luck.”
“Have you met Zach?” asks Quentin. The question is casual, but I can detect the calculation behind it. “Our other bandmate?”
Okay. Here we go. Time to show all of Dracula’s Army that they have nothing to fear from me.
“No, I haven’t,” I say with a glance up at Nick. “But I’d love to.”
Quentin leads the way, and Nick and I follow.
“What about you?” asks Nick with raised eyebrows. His careful tone reminds me of our training sessions. “Are you doing okay?”
“I’m doing great,” I say to reassure him about my slayer.
I also want to reassure him about me—about us —but this is hardly the time or the place for a real heart-to-heart. Still…
“And you know,” I add quickly, “it was the same for me before my audition yesterday. I mean, I didn’t have to hit the Pepto. But I did need a little time to myself.”
He looks at me, eyes searching. “That’s all it was?” he asks.
“That’s all,” I say. “Well, that and my own stupid insecurities. But we can talk about all that—”
“Zach!” says Quentin, slipping an arm around the waist of one of two vampires standing over by a small buffet table. “You haven’t met Nick’s coworker. This is Carrie .” The way he says my name is heavy with meaning.
Zach is as fair as Quentin is dark, all blond hair and pale skin and delicate features. His build is taller than his partner’s but slighter. And while Quentin seems to favor vintage clothing, Zach sports modern streetwear.
“Carrie,” says Zach with a smile that reveals none of the suspicions I know he must be harboring. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“And none of it good, from what I understand,” I say.
A little thrown, Zach looks questioningly from Quentin to Nick.
“I take it Nick basically describes me as his nagging work wife,” I explain, trying to make a joke of it.
“Ah! So you’re the one,” says the vampire next to Zach, joining our conversation. He’s older than the rest of us—in more ways than one. With strong, dignified features and dark hair just starting to go gray at the temples, he appears to be in his midforties or so. But considering the unbelievable amount of undead energy that’s radiating off him, I’m guessing that millennia, not decades, would provide a more accurate measure of his age.
“Carrie,” says Nick, “This is Arlo. Our friend from New York.”
Arlo .
So this is the ancient Vampire Council member who flew in special for Nick’s transformation, the one who brought The Book. The one who won’t be leaving until the slayer issue is… resolved .
Okay , I think, reinforcing my hold on my slayer. Let’s resolve it right here and now.
“Nice to meet you,” I tell him.
“And you,” says Arlo, giving me an appraising look. I admit, it’s a little unnerving.
“How are you liking your time in Los Angeles?” I ask.
“To be honest,” he says, “I prefer the nightlife in New York.”
“But you can’t beat the California sunshine.” It’s a supremely stupid thing to say, I know, but Arlo’s attention is making me uneasy, and the words are out of my mouth before I realize they might sound hostile to vampire ears.
There’s a change in the atmosphere, and it feels as if everyone is suddenly on alert.
Crap , I think.
Arlo eyes me suspiciously, but I try to act guileless, like the clueless human I used to be. I don’t think I give anything away. “Alas,” he says finally, “I burn quite easily.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I say.
Taking a step back, Arlo regards me from a different angle and takes a new tack. “Are you a fan of the band?”
Grateful for the change in topic, I smile. “I’m sure I will be,” I say. “I’ve never actually heard Dracula’s Army play before.”
“We’ve never played a major house like this before,” says Zach. “So it’ll be a first for all of us.”
“Oh!” Remembering my photos—and forgetting myself a little—I pull my phone out of my pocket. “I snapped a few pics of the marquee out front,” I say, showing my screen to Nick. “Just in case you didn’t. I figured you might want to have them.”
He looks down as I flip quickly through the shots. “I didn’t even think of it,” he says, shaking his head.
I smile up at him. “Well, you’ve got a lot on your mind tonight.”
“But you thought of it,” he says, smiling.
And suddenly it’s like it’s just the two of us.
“Well, I get what a big deal this must be for you,” I say. “It’s your name up in lights.” I pause. “Or the band’s name anyway.” I pause again. “In really old letters that don’t match.”
He laughs. “That’s rock and roll,” he says.
“I’ll text them to you,” I say. Quickly, I select the photos and send them to Nick.
“Thank you,” he says. But the way he’s staring at me says so much more.
I put my phone back in my pocket. “You’re welcome.”
“I have something for you too,” he says.
“You do?” I ask. “What?”
“Remember when I said we were rehearsing a new cover song to open the show?”
I nod.
“It’s something I picked just for you,” he says. He reaches out and brushes his fingertips across my bangs. “And when I sing it, I’ll be singing it to you.”
Our eyes lock, my belly fills with heat, and I know what it means to fight fire with fire, because the burning I feel for Nick puts my slayer’s blaze to shame. If I had any lingering doubts about Nick’s feelings for me, they go straight up in smoke.
“Get a room, you two,” says Zach, and the other vampires laugh.
Reminded that it’s not just Nick and me, I look around, a little embarrassed. That’s when I notice that the room has shifted again. The tension is gone. Slayer watch seems to be officially over.
Huh.
It’s funny to think that after all the fear and worry, this was all it took. Somehow, by simply being my true self—and by letting my true feelings for Nick show through—I seem to have convinced them I’m not a danger.
My gaze finds its way back to Nick. His eyes are soft, his smile is relaxed, and his dimples are making their first appearance in days.
It’s a perfect moment.
Until—
“Hello, Carrie.”
At the sound of my name, my whole body seizes with dread. Everyone’s attention swings in the direction of the voice. As I slowly turn that way too, I know that this perfect moment has just come to an end.