“Better to let this one lead us to the rest of them than to take him out. Use the one to get to them all.”
Try to give Edgar a wink to let him know I’m just trying to calm her down, but he’s looked away, shaking his head and grinning a wicked grin. He seems to be regaining more and more control of his mind and body, the drugs’ effects fading, making him more dangerous all the time.
“And the one you have to bring you to the others isn’t worth much to begin with,” Katrianna says.
Edgar responds, “You may be right, cat lady. You may be right, but right now, I’m all you’ve got. Great lot of chance you have.”
“You get me back in front of the ones that did this to me tonight, and I’ll worry about chance,” she says.
“Edgar, you just lead us down there,” I say.
Words come from his red-bearded mouth slowly and steadily, “Oh, I’ll lead you down there—don’t you worry—I’ll take you there. Take you where you’ll wish you’ve never been. Question is—who’s going to lead you back out?”
Chapter XVII
4th
An insignificant voice. Always made myself an insignificant voice. I’ve always taken away the chance for anyone to think any more of me.
Suddenly, Ruby’s life is in my hands.
Poor girl.
Fled the woods before the sun was full in the sky. Couldn’t bear to see them in the forest in the sunlight—together. Golden and hand-in-hand. Too much. Just too much.
Came here to get away—a little distraction. Poison the system—numb it with alcohol, occupy mind with whatever was here—always something here. Typical Maxine bender—no one’d think anything was up. Acting like I’ve acted for as long as any of them can remember. In the least, it’s how I’ve acted the only times they’ve given me some attention. They don’t notice me much when I’m quiet.
Don’t know if there’s much to notice about me when I’m quiet.
Came here—into the playpen of Roderick—everyone knows how much I hate him. Been here before though—few desperate evenings. He kept his distance—I kept mine. But came here—near the one person I hate most in the world to be away from her green eyes looking at me—knowing she has the one man I want. Came all this way, and they bring her in here, kicking and screaming, dropping her in the blue room with Quint and Carvelli at the door.
Guess they don’t know I know her. No reason for them to even think I’ve ever seen her. None of them have said a word to me about what’s going on. Hate Roderick so much—he may not want me to know. Might think I’m dangerous. Definitely might think I’d help Simon—but could never think I’d help the girl. Never been one to have female friends—not even vampire girls. Women see me and hate me. Don’t blame them—wouldn’t like me either—too much competition.
When someone meets me, they see me putting on a show. Trying to be exciting—and not just for other people to see me—it’s for me too. I do wish I could be exciting. But, I perform—I act this way when I’m happy, I do it when I feel like crying, I do it when I feel blah, and I do it when I’m pining over Simon. I do it no matter how I feel—the performance is me smiling—me drinking, me dancing—wild, crazy me. What I feel like doesn’t matter.
Do it because I don’t know what else to do. Know it’s a show—it’s not really me. But a show that never ends isn’t really a show at all—it becomes your reality. Even if it’s not one that you like—even if it’s not one that fits your soul—playing the game makes you become something that you weren’t meant to be.
It’s sad. Know it’s my fault—no one makes me act this way—fault’s all mine. But no matter, it is sad that by trying to be what I thought I wanted to be has made me lose myself—almost all of me gone, just leaving a show that people are growing tired of seeing. People might like a performance, but they only love other people. Love’s for the real thing, not a spectacle. I’m not sure where I’ve lost my real self, but I’ve definitely become a spectacle.
Silly of me to think it’d work on Simon. Never works on anyone for more than a night or two anyway. Easy to be the most watched girl in the bar. Just wind me up and watch me go. Harder to be the most watched in someone’s heart.
Temporary attention I’ve gotten in abundance, but never with any staying power. Sure I’ve been the #1 wildest night of some of their lives, but I’ve never been the #1 love of anyone’s life, never even been in anyone’s top 3, never placing. But, I’ve made a damn sexy 4th.
Now, that Simon’s returned, it all seems so empty.
Been waiting for Simon to come back to normal for decades. That mess with Eleni really twisted him up. A lot of us thought he’d eventually dry up—didn’t want to live anymore.
Then one evening he comes walking into ‘80s Night—his eyes as electric as if he’d been storing up all his energy for decades and suddenly releasing it. We danced. Been waiting for him for so long—not waiting with my body, but waiting with my heart. Things might’ve worked better if I had done that in reverse. Would’ve saved myself an ongoing hurt-party-hurt-party marathon that lasted for years and left me hollow, and I would’ve had something more to give him than a show—more than an insignificant voice.
At least he liked me as much as anyone else. Told myself he was just the male version of me, but I knew he wasn’t. No matter how much I wanted to believe we were two of a kind, I knew he was different. Even at his worst, there was something sincere about him. Lots of excitement—but no show.
In just the last six months since he changed from reclusive wallflower to sexy vampire, he’s met his share of girls. But, he never lied—he was never mean. All the girls adored him—he was more than just hot. He made each one of them feel special. Just standing next to him shot sparks into you. Don’t think I’ve ever made anyone feel anything like that.
Maybe each one felt so special around him because he is so wonderful, yet humble, and he chose to spend time with her, even if just for a dance. Dripping in confidence, but never treated anyone like he was better than them. Don’t know if there’s a sexier combination than that.
I guess there’s not much wonderful about me. I’m about the opposite of humble, and my time comes cheap—just have to wait your turn.
Until now, my voice has never mattered before. But, at this moment, everything’s fallen into my lap. Life or death in my hands.
It may seem so shallow to think Ruby is disposable—to even think of letting her die. Just have to see things our way. How hard would you work on setting up the man you love with the girl he likes if you knew she’d be dead by the weekend? Her whole life to us is just a flash, only here for a brief moment and then gone—like last night’s dream in the daylight, fading until there’s no memory left of it at all. She’ll be long gone, and I’ll still be here…hurting.
So hard to justify helping her.
So easy to do nothing and let things happen.
Let the beast kill the princess and have a chance at Simon—save the girl and finally have said something significant.
Chapter XVIII
Lies `n Waiting
Know he’s coming any second. He is lies, and lies are him—impossible to separate the two. He can take a tiny bit of truth and weave it through miles of lies—hooking you with the lure of the one small fact—snaring you—trapping you—then dragging you down his long path of deceit.
Still…I believe his promise of injecting me with that sickness.
My veins feel tense and irritated just from the fear of it. It made Simon so sick—Simon whose immune system is nearly indestructible—did all that to him—would destroy me in no time. No chance.