A Girl's Guide to Vampires

She gave me a weak smile. "Do you remember when we were seven and I got my head stuck between the school gym wall and the drainpipe, and I wouldn't go near the gym for months? You went all philosophical on me and told me that it was all right to be afraid of something as long as you didn't let the fear control you."

"I remember," I glared at her. "My mother used to say that to me. Damn, I hate it when you're right. All right, I'll try to see if he's got his receiver on, but it'll be on your head if he swoops down and carries me off because of it."

She held one arm, watching me.

"What?" I asked.

"Are you doing it now?"

"No!"

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. "So are you doing it now?"

"Roxy, it's not a circus act. I'm not going to do it with you watching me."

"Why not?"

"Because, it's something… intimate. I can't do it with people watching me. I have to be somewhere private to do it, where I know I'm not being stared at."

She looked around the fair. People were elbow to elbow in the long aisle leading up to the main tent where the second band was setting up for their session. The tarot-card booth and the palm-reading booth, both empty, offered no privacy. She turned back to me with a faint grin. "I guess there's only one place for you to use."

I nodded. "Raphael's trailer."

She shook her head. "Do you really want to take the chance of having Christian swoop down on you where a bed is handy for that all-important fifth step of the Joining?"

"Oy. You have a point. So what great idea do you have?"

She pointed at the lines before the portable toilets. "Voilà! Instant privacy."

I didn't like it, and spent a good fifteen minutes trying to find an alternative, but in the end I waited in line for an eon to use a toilet, Roxy at my side to keep me from being bored, or so she said. I think she was really just hoping to see me "do it."

"Good luck!" she called as I stepped into the toilet, closing the door on a bunch of startled looks. I decided I'd rather stand than sit, and closed my eyes, trying to clear my mind of everything but the thought of Christian. It was difficult to do, what with all the noise—the second band had started their set—not to mention the unpleasant and aromatic surroundings, but I made a conscious effort to block everything out.

I let my mind stretch and reach out to find him.

Christian?

I caught the image of awareness, of Christian turning to look at me, but he didn't respond. That was followed by a horrible thought. Maybe he didn't know who I was. Maybe he was so far gone in his madness that he had lost his memory of me.

Christian, it's me. Joy. Are you all right?

A distant noise so faint it might have been the wind moaning through the trees swept past me.

I know you're probably hurt and angry right now, Christian, but I'm worried about you. If you could just let me know where you are and that everything is OK, it would make me feel a lot better.

My head was filled with silence.

Christian? Please let me know you're all right.

He did not answer. I tried to contact him again for the next few minutes, but he would not respond to anything I said.

"No luck," I told Roxy as I stepped out of the toilet.

"You should eat more bran," a short, magenta-haired Goth told me in perfect English as she claimed her turn at the toilet.

I ignored Roxy's giggles and headed away from the toilets, drained by my attempt to contact Christian.

"Raphael's looking for you. The police are here, although no one is supposed to know. Raphael said it was business as usual. What are you going to do about Christian?"

I shrugged and searched the crowd for my amber-eyed Romeo. He was standing in the empty tarot-card booth with Dominic and Inspector Bartos. "What can I do? He won't answer me. I know he's out there, I can feel him, but he's ignoring me for some reason. I don't have control over him, Rox. I can't demand he come to me, so there's nothing I can do but hope he's holed up somewhere away from people."

She nodded. "Raphael said the police are going to want to speak with all of us. I've never been interviewed as a witness before. It'll be one for the diary, huh?"

"That's one way of putting it," I said grimly as I headed for the tarot-card booth.

It wasn't until a few hours later that Raphael climbed wearily into his trailer. I was curled up on his bed, fully clothed this time, reading one of the many mysteries he had tucked into a tiny bookshelf.

I set the book down as he locked the door, flipped the lights out, and walked to the bedroom. "Was it bad?" I asked.