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“How did you get here?” I ask, hoping this question will divert us onto a different path.
“Julian came for me. All I know is that he made a deal with Marcellus.” Her eyes darken as she says his name. “I’ve been here for a few hours. I was hanging out in the throne room with a vampire named Katina.” Her eyes widen, and her brow rises in an exaggerated expression that screams the eccentric, over-the-top vampiress.
“Has she put the moves on you?”
Stacey’s mouth drops open slightly and the confusion on her face has me giggling.
“Why the hell would she put the moves on me?”
I shrug.
“I think she swings both ways.”
“She’s a vampire, Marina. I think they’re all batshit crazy.”
“Good point,” I agree.
“Just for conversational purposes... how exactly did you come to this idea that she likes girls?” Her brow rises.
“It’s just a feeling. I don’t know. She... looks at me like she wants to eat me.” I crinkle my nose.
Stacey snorts.
“Duh. She’s a vampire. Of course she wants to eat you,” she says through her laughter.
I can’t help but follow suit. We’re both practically rolling around on the ground laughing. Not that our conversation regarding Katina is particularly hysterical, but the ridiculousness of the entire situation has us each at our manic breaking point. When we finally calm ourselves, I decide to get to the bottom of just what’s going on over at Casa de la Pain.
“When do you have to go back?”
The air seems to chill by ten degrees at the thought of Stacey leaving.
“I’ll die before I go back there, Marina.”
I contemplate her words. I don’t doubt it would be better for her, but the thought of Stacey dead sends a shock of sadness deep within my core. I might not have known Stacey long, but we’re kindred spirits through this hellish ordeal, and I can’t let anything happen to her.
“Do you think you could talk him into letting me stay here? I can’t go back there. I’ll die.”
Her words have my blood running cold.
“I’ll do whatever I can, Stacey.”
She takes a deep breath.
We sit in silence for a few minutes before either of us breathes a word. It’s me who finally caves.
“Where did you live?” I ask, out of curiosity and a need to talk about normal things one more time.
She frowns at my sudden change of subject, but answers anyway.
“Indian River, Michigan.”
“I’ve never been,” I say. “But I hear Michigan is beautiful.”
She smiles warmly.
“It is. I love it.”
Channeling all the Pure Michigan ads I’ve seen on the television over the years, I recall the beautiful lakes and sand dunes and send a silent prayer to any god listening that someday I’ll be able to visit Stacey’s home.
