Part 14 (1/2)

20

I feel like I've been crying for days. Curled up in the king-sized, four-poster bed at Appleby Manor, sobbing hysterically, barely able to breathe. Jareth took off soon after he made his p.r.o.nouncement, saying he would be staying in another room tonight and would meet me to pick up the anti-dote tomorrow morning. I begged him to stay, made a complete fool of myself with my groveling, but it did no good.

Night falls and I realize I'm starving. I consider room service, but then decide that it might be best to leave the hotel room.

Maybe I'll find Jareth in a local pub or something. Then I can talk to him again. Maybe he just needed some time alone. Maybe he'll forgive me.

Yeah, right, Rayne. Keep dreaming.

I choose a simple black dress from the wardrobe and pull it over my head. Then I slip on some black tights and a pair of boots. I don't bother with makeup and just throw my hair up in a ponytail. There's no one I want to impress here and, besides, there's nothing I can do about my puffy, tear-stained face and red eyes.

I lock the hotel room door behind me and head down to the lobby. I ask the concierge if he can recommend a place to eat.

Somewhere that serves burgers extra rare. He suggests several pubs, including the one the wolves hang out at. But I want to avoid that place-don't want them to see me in my current state.

As I'm walking to the second pub the concierge mentioned, I pa.s.s a cyber cafe. I decide to go in and write a couple e- mails. E-mails to other people I've p.i.s.sed off for no reason this past week. Maybe if I preempt them with an apology they won't write me off for life like Jareth has.

So I pay for an hour's worth of computer time, order tea, and sit down at one of the terminals.

Dear Cait: I know you probably bate me and I can completely understand why. I'm really sorry for what I did and promise you I only bad the best intentions-not that that excuses anything.

Anyway, I hope you are seeing a doctor for what we talked about before Mandy walked in. Whether you believe me or not, I really care about you and don't want to see you hurting yourself. I beg you, Cait, just go to the school counselor and ask them what you should do. I'm sure they can help.

I'll be back in a few days. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I'll help you in any way I can.

Love, Rayne

I press send and then continue on to e-mail number two.

Dear Mom: I'm sorry I blew up and pushed David. That was really uncalled for and I don't know why I did it. I'm going through something hard right now, I think, but it's not fair for me to take it out on you and David. I'm glad you found yourself a guy that you love and I hope it works out between you two.

I'll be home from Spider's as soon as we're done with our big school project. Probably tomorrow night. And I promise I'll be a better daughter when I get back. And I'm going to go see someone about my anger issues.

I love you, Rayne

I also write an apology letter to David. Then I write an update to Sunny (the one person I haven't p.i.s.sed off!) about the Lycan antidote and my clever cover story to Mom. I don't mention my breakup with Jareth. Some things are too painful to type into an e-mail.

After sending all the e-mails, I leave the cyber cafe and head to the pub for some food. I walk inside, saddle up to the bar, and start by ordering a pint of Ba.s.s. Might as well dull my sorrows with some alcohol. To my surprise, they don't even ask for my fake ID. Unfortunately, the beer itself is lukewarm and when I question the efficiency of their refrigeration, the bartender laughs and says something that sounds a lot like, ”Dumb Yank,” under his breath.

”It's a custom in England to drink one's ale at room temperature,” says an English-accented male voice next to me. I turn to see a teen around my age sitting down next to me.

”That seems like a lousy custom,” I say.

”I always thought so myself,” the boy agrees. ”Bartender, get us two Coronas.” He smiles at me. ”Not very English, but at least they serve them cold.”

”Cool. Thanks,” I say, taking a closer look at my bar buddy and realizing he's extremely cute and totally Goth. He's got long black hair, piercing blue eyes rimmed with eyeliner, and a delicate face with high cheekbones. He's long and lean and dressed all in black, down to the polish on his fingernails.

Great. I finally meet someone in England who won't think I'm a freak and I haven't made any effort to dress cool.

”I've not seen you around,” he says, as the bartender hands us our drinks.

”I'm just visiting,” I confess. ”I'm from America.”

”Ah, America. I've not had the pleasure of seeing your fine country for me'self,” he says. ”Though I've always thought it'd be a fantastic place to holiday. Go to Hollywood, see all the cinema stars.”

I laugh. ”Well, I live on the opposite end of America,” I say. ”Like three thousand miles away from any movie stars.”

”I'm Orpheus,” the boy says, holding out his hand. Wow, what a cool name. I guess I should expect that. Someone so beautiful could not ever have a normal name like Chris or Mike.

”I'm Rayne,” I say, placing my hand in his. But instead of shaking it, he brings it to his lips and kisses the back of my palm softly. Just like knights in s.h.i.+ning armor used to do. How cool is that?

”It is a pleasure to meet you, Rayne,” he murmurs, not letting go of my hand. I smile, feeling my face heat a bit. What am I doing? Sure this guy is hot and all, but I've been single for all of five minutes.

The last thing I need is to start hooking up with someone random. Not when my heart still belongs to Jareth . . .

I scan the bar, looking for my ex. He's nowhere to be seen. Too bad. Maybe I could have at least made him jealous. Made him realize that though we have our problems, the last thing he wants is for me to start hanging out with someone else.

”So what are you up to this fine evening?” Orpheus asks.

I shrug. ”You're looking at it.”

”Surely not. You're all dressed up. You definitely need a place to go.”

”I'm not really in the mood for parrying tonight, actually,” I say with a deep sigh. ”To tell you the truth, I just broke up with my boyfriend.”

”I'm sorry,” Orpheus says in a sympathetic voice. ”Though that's all the more reason to go out. To forget your worries and sadness. To have a good time and show the b.a.s.t.a.r.d you don't need him.”

I think about it for a moment. Maybe he's right. Why mope around in a hotel room when I'm on holiday in England? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Do I really want Jareth to ruin it for me?

”What did you have in mind?” I ask.

”There's a rave out in the woods tonight,” he says. ”If you're into that sort of thing.”

Ooh, a rave. A real, English rave. Am I into that sort of thing? I am, I am.

”Where is it?”

”I can take you, if you like. It's in the woods, not far from here.”

Here's the point where common sense stands up and waves his little red flags in front of my face, reminding me that the guy's a complete stranger and I'm about to head out into the woods alone with him. What if he's an axe murderer? common sense demands. What if he wants to chop you up into little bits and feed them to his pigs?

My common sense can be way overdramatic. Which is why I barely ever listen to it. Instead, I remind it that I am a vampire, and thus immortal. The axe may tickle a bit, but it won't render me helpless. And he really doesn't look like a pig farmer to me. So unless the guy's got a wooden stake in his pocket (or is he just happy to see me?) I'm totally safe.

Unless this guy is actually Lone Wolf. The one who infected all the cheerleaders . . .