“Frederik Stig Nielsen,” he says with a slight accent. Not
British, but from somewhere over there. “I heard your grandfather
liked my asphodels.”
I look to Marty with my best what - the - fuck - is - he - talking
- about face.
Marty pats Frederik on the back. “You found a name you liked! Good
for you, buddy.”
Frederik shoots a menacing look at Marty. Then again, his
pronounced brow makes him look like he’s always scowling.
“Oh, yeah, he thought they were awesome.” I’m not exactly lying.
He did seem interested in them, but what else am I supposed to say to
him? Hey, is there any Type O on tap?
Frederik points to the tall blond guy watching us with bemusement.
His eyes twinkle in the kind of way that musicians’ do. “How rude of
me. This is Rцaan Recklit.”
We shake hands. Good grip, good grip.
“Sorry,” he says, releasing my hand. “I forget my own strength.”
“Tristan,” Frederik starts, “the boy today at the beach, the
disappearing boys around the city. It’s not human-related, but it has
nothing to do with us either. I don’t want the alliance hurt because
there is no Sea King until the next full moon. I don’t know anything
about you, but Marty deems your character worthy. I trust him
implicitly.” He turns to Marty with a grave face. “You forgot my order
of Andes Picante.”
“Bro, there was a mangled human body on the boardwalk. We can go
back for it, but Tristan’s looking for someone right now.”
“My teacher, Olivia Pippen.”
Marty rolls his eyes when Frederik shrugs. “You know, the seer who
can read voices? She has the decade of bereavement at Thorne Hill? Is
it too much to ask that you pay attention to my ex-girlfriends?”
“Oh her . I saw her dancing a minute ago. She doesn’t like me
much.”
“How come?” Since you’re such a charmer.
“Because she can’t read me.”
And hopefully also not a mind reader. “Why?” I feel like I’m two
again.
“I’m a man of few words.”
Right, glad I asked.
I turn to plead with Marty once again. “Do you know where she
would’ve gone?” He holds his hands up, and I know what he’s going to
say. I’m neutral. My heart beats a little faster. I’m fucking this up
utterly. “Kurt, let’s try-”
“Kurt’s gone,” Layla says.
“What do you mean, Kurt is gone ?”
She shrugs. “I mean, he was standing right behind me, and now he’s
not there anymore. He’s gone.”
I scan the crowds for him, but it’s so dark. Where would he have
gone? Why now? I mean, I know I’m a little hard to get along with,
since he’s all serious merman guy, but come on. I thought we were
getting past that.
The Vampirettes have put away their instruments and are walking
toward us, shaking hands with some people. They smile with ruby-red
lips and fangs that glisten in the gaslight.
“Frederik,” one says in her high soprano voice. “You up for some
moonbathing?”
Frederik shrugs. “Sure.”
Two of the girls jump up and clap their hands. “Rцaan, you
coming?”
“Nah, I have some scouting for next Friday’s show.” Rцaan turns to
me. “I hope everything works out. We’re playing next Friday. My band’s
Low Key. I’ll introduce you to some smokin’ hot Valkyries. Oh, and”-I
brace against his hand, slapping my chest in what he probably
considers a friendly pat, and I consider a heavy beating-“bring some
of those sea princesses I heard were in town.”
As he strides back to his table with the confidence of a rock god,
two guys stand and give up their seats for him. Must be nice to be so
in command.
The Vampirettes look bored. “Well, the moon isn’t going to stay at
its peak forever. I think those stupid lights gave me a bit of a tan.
What do you think?”
“You look great, really icy pale,” I say, and she gives me a
girlish smile.
Frederik looks past my shoulder and, for a second, arches his
eyebrow. I never thought I’d meet someone with even less of an
emotional range than Kurt. He exchanges glances with Marty as Kurt
walks through the crowd holding on to a girl. From far away they look
like friends holding hands. Then you notice how white their fingers
are from him squeezing. That and the pallor that replaces her usually
blushed cheeks during class. She’s in a tight black dress with her
hair gathered all on one side. She does her best to keep her cool, but
even though I can’t seem to smell other supernatural beings, the fear
is in her eyes.
Marty leans in close to me to whisper, “You need to take this
outside, bro.”
“Ms. Pippen, I only want to talk.”
Her smile is hard, bitter. Not that I blame her. “Really? You
hardly ever talk in my class.”
The lead singer of the Vampirettes claps her hands. “The beach?”
Frederik walks past us slowly, casually. There’s something
soothing about his presence, considering he could drain you dry if he
wanted. I’d like to be that calm and collected during any situation.
He motions straight ahead, leading the way out. “The beach.”
Right, a man of few words.
I think you left Lisbit aching for you, bro,” Marty tells Kurt,
walking backward through Luna Park.
“She’s not my type,” Kurt says, leaving me to wonder what his type
could possibly be.
He holds on to Ms. Pippen’s arm as the Vampirettes frolic through
the Coney Island night with faces tilted toward the sliver of moon.
One takes a pink cotton candy from a cart and keeps walking. They tear
puffs in greedy bunches and let the sugar melt on their tongues.
Marty slings his arm around my shoulder. “Ooo, candied apples.” He
stops and pays for one and bites into the hard red shell. I wonder how
he can be so nonchalant all the time considering the things he knows,
the things he must see. Maybe his shifting isn’t just physical. Maybe
it applies to his feelings too, because I don’t see how he can walk
around eating candy at Luna Park as we take my English teacher
practically hostage. I hope one day I can learn to fix my feelings
like him and Kurt.
“The Vampirettes, they’re, like, housebroken, right?”
He takes a smaller bite, making yummy faces that rival the group
of little girls not too far from us eating chocolate-covered Oreos.
Suddenly I wish we hadn’t put him in this situation. “Technically, New
York is a safe zone. Once this is all over, and you’re Sea King, I’ll
have to explain it to you. Right now, you have to think about your
mission. If you’re worried about the vampires, don’t be. Frederik
doesn’t drink human blood. Well, not for, like, two hundred years.”
“What about the girls?”
“The girls might bite, but they don’t kill. Vampire killings are
easy to find, because after they feed on human blood they’re basically
euphoric and are pretty sloppy about cleaning up the bodies.”
“Good to know.”
We’re the last to follow down the ramp and onto the sand. Up ahead
the girls pull their polka-dot dresses over their heads and wave them
in the air like flags. They dip their toes in the cold water and
shriek. Frederik picks a spot where the tide won’t hit, sits, and then
leans back on his elbows.
I follow his stare at the speckles of stars. Suddenly I wonder,
“Aren’t you guys supposed to, like, sparkle or something?” And
immediately wish I hadn’t.
Frederik stands up so quickly that he doesn’t disturb the sand. He
grabs the front of my shirt and growls-his eyes are black as the night
sky along the horizon, and red veins fray against the white of his
eyes. His sharp canines are exposed.