Plagued: Book 1 (32 page)

Looking fearfully around, I saw all the Club members' eyes had shifted to black. Black as the darkest night. Grinning, their mouths opened wide.

There was a roaring in my ears and a high-pitched scream. Who was screaming? Was it me?

I felt myself sway and everything melted away.

Chapter 10

Sinfully rich

Swimming up as though from deep water, I finally broke the surface, back into consciousness, gasping for breath. I felt the grip of strong arms holding me up.

“
Alexandra
, poor girl, are you all right? What is it?”

Above me, the black and silver mask of Savan came into focus. Remembering the bloody, snarling wolf and black eyes, I tried to squirm away.

“What, what is it? Don't be afraid.” His voice was full of concern and he pulled off his mask, revealing only his own beautifully sculpted face. Tossing it aside, he carefully removed the white mask from my face and brushed my hair away. There was a thrill of energy that danced and sparked through my body as his fingers touched my skin. The feeling of weakness passed. Instead, inexplicably, I felt...I felt wonderful.

He smiled.

I smiled back at him and straightened up. “Sorry, I don't know what happened. Everything just sort of went black. I'm okay now. In fact, I feel great.”

“Are you sure?” He kept one hand firmly around my shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Please. I'm so sorry.” And I was. What a baby I was, to get so nervous I
fainted
.

I looked over to Vanessa. She was still wearing her black velvet mask. There were no bat wings now. The sides swirled and whirled, elegantly hugging the sides of her head, the full, dark blond hair tumbling around it. She was looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite interpret.

Savan stayed close and I felt the tickle of energy dancing inside me.

“You're probably just hungry.” Vanessa kneeled down to smooth my hair, pulling out some of the wind tangled knots. She glanced first to Savan before meeting my eyes. She looked very different with the mask on. As if sensing my discomfort, she quickly pulled it off. Her dimpled, bright smile banished whatever lingering unease I had. “I know I'm starving! The food will be ready very soon. Come and sit down. Lilly! A glass of water for Alexandra, please.”

She and Savan helped me to a chair. I sat and sipped my water, the silent people in black leather refilling champagne glasses or carrying metal trays for the Club members to set their masks on.

Looking around the restaurant, I pointed out, “Our group seem to be the only people here.”

What I really wanted to say was 'what's the deal with the masks?' I didn't have the courage. Besides, it was just nerves. Me and stress had been best buds for
far
too long since coming to Tokyo. There was nothing else it could be. Masks did not come alive except in CG movie sequences.

Vanessa waved a hand towards the space around us. “We reserved the whole place. A bit of privacy for such an important event. The wait staff is private as well.”

Wow.

“Better now?”

I nodded.

“Then come on.”

Champagne glass in hand, she gently pulled me along, Savan right next to me, introducing everyone again more slowly so it was easier to remember their names. Some, a very few, I had written to over the last couple of weeks. Most were completely new. Within a short time, though, it seemed I had known Stephanie and Cameron – they were the twins with long red hair and shimmery dresses – Simon with the sweep of bangs, Louis, dark and a little mysterious, and the others for ages. Conversation flowed effortlessly, naturally. Being with the Club members felt like all the best parts of being friends with Brianna and Isobel. I glanced at Savan's marble-cut profile. All the best parts plus
guys
.

The staff silently bowed us towards a buffet spread with hot and cold dishes next to one wall. Real food I was glad to see, not tiny bites carefully displayed on oversized plates. I happily ate grilled steak with balsamic vinegar, roast vegetables of every color and an amazing saffron risotto that demanded seconds. Everyone, not just me, seemed to be ravenous as well. Club members, despite their slim, stylish appearance, definitely had healthy appetites. Savan stayed near me and I learned, perhaps a little too late, the difficulty of chewing steak while attempting to project feminine worldly charm at the same time. Maybe he was in charge of making new members feel comfortable. I didn't let myself believe he was truly interested in me, not someone – not a
man
– as hot as he.

Some time later, l was lingering over the assortment of luscious desserts. Savan broke off speaking to Anders, returning to my side. “You seem to be taking a very appraising look at the sweets, Miss Carpenter. Do they meet with your approval?”

“Well, it's pretty amazing and worth thinking about.” And it was, too. Delicate combinations of chocolate, crème, cake, fruits, sugar: each a work of art. Though I had been tempted by the various chocolate creations, I finally chose a French confection, a
mille crepe
cake.

“Why this one?” He pointed at the multi-layered sweet made of paper thin crepes and thick whipped cream as I slid it onto my plate.

Waving my fork over a chocolate cake overflowing with raspberries, blueberries and a flush of red sauce, I said, “If all you want is sugar blurred together, well, that's easy. Anyone can do chocolate. The
mille crepe
is deceptively simple: whipped cream and crepes. Not easy to get it just right; it mustn't be too sweet, and absolutely my favorite.”

“Mine, too! I don't eat a lot of sweets. A slice of this,” he indicated the cake, “is very hard to turn down. Is it good? Does it meet your expectations?”

So far everything tonight had far exceeded my expectations, I thought a little wildly. “I haven't tried it yet.” I held out the forkful to Savan. My dad and I always shared desserts. It was only after I did it that I realized it was a flirty thing to do, and flushed. Too late to take the fork back. “Here, you taste. Let's see what you think.”

“You have the first bite.” He pushed my hand back.

“No, go ahead, try it.”

“No you, then it will taste even better.”

Laughing, I took a bite, savoring the just sweet enough flavor of the crème and melt-in-your-mouth crepes. I rolled my eyes.

“That good?”

I nodded enthusiastically and cutting off another portion with my fork, held it up to him. “Now you.”

Smiling, he opened his mouth and took the morsel of cake.

His face showed that he agreed with me about the Chateau's skill with crepes and cream.

I took another bite and in easy camaraderie we shared the cake. As we engaged in a mock battle over the last bite, the girl with long black hair and sharp, diamond-encrusted fingernails inserted herself between us. Lilly, that was her name. She seemed a little unsteady on her spiky heels and I got the feeling she had enjoyed the bar a bit more than the buffet.

“You two seem to be getting along.” Her English had a slight accent, I couldn't tell if she were Chinese or Japanese, or some other nationality entirely.

I smiled at her, saying without thinking, “We share a common passion.”

She gave a very sly smile. “Oh Savan, he is
very
passionate. Very. Especially about members. About
his
member. Oh, wait,” she giggled, “that came out the wrong way. Savan is very common. No, I mean very passionate.”

“About dessert,” realizing, as I said it, that at sixteen I was perhaps not up to this sort of sexy, double entendre exchange.

“Of course, Alexandra, and that's exactly what you are. Dessert! Everyone in this room wants to take a big, luscious bite of
you
. I could just eat you up right now.
Yum
,
yum
. All by myself. You have no idea how good you smell, and you will taste even better. A flavor that will linger on, and on, and on. Something not seen or tasted in centuries!” She laughed again, licking her scarlet lips with a small pink tongue.

Savan's eyebrows drew together in an angry line. A little of the wolfish look I had seen in my hallucination seemed to come into focus, just for a second. Staring down his nose at the tipsy Asian girl, he started to say something when Vanessa appeared out of nowhere taking the diamond-studded girl's hand. “Lilly, there's a cup of coffee calling your name in several languages,” and pulled her away, mouthing “Sorry,” to me as she went.

Savan waited until the Asian girl was across the room before saying, “Would you like a cup of coffee, Alexandra?”

“No, I'm okay. Maybe just some more water.”

Returning with my water and coffee for him, we lounged against one of the tables and I finally asked the question that had been burning in my brain since their text.

“So, does this mean I'm a member?”

“Of the Club?” Savan stirred his coffee. “Probation.”

I did a little double-take.

“We have a probationary period where you can walk away if you like and no one will contact you. We can also ask you to leave if we feel you are not a good fit for the Club.”

I shivered.

Savan put a hand on my arm and squeezed gently, “Don't fear, my beautiful little American! That would never happen; you are
delightful and intelligent. A pure soul and it is
we
who must work very hard indeed to keep you with us forever and ever.”

I glanced up at him. That was the second time he'd used the word 'soul' in reference to me. It was very old world and kind of romantic, I thought. He was staring warmly back and my nerves fluttered up and down my spine like a flock of startled birds. How do men get to be that handsome? I could feel the blush creeping up onto my cheeks and hurriedly looked down at the water glass in my hand, asking the first thing that popped into my head. “So, what's up with those masks?”

“Ritual.” He sipped his coffee. “We love the masquerade. To be what we are or perhaps, are not. Every club of substance should have a few rituals, should they not?”

He looked at me expectantly and I nodded automatically though I had no opinion on rituals or clubs, for that matter.

“We are not just some flashy internet club, Alexandra. We each hope to make connections here of the deepest kind. Long lasting friendships. We have other branches around the world.”

“Really? Not just Tokyo?”

“Of course. Look at us, at you. A global group of travelers, of revelers as well!”

“So if we moved, my dad and me.” Oh crap, wait, I was supposed to be almost grown up. Alexandra, not Lexie. “I mean. If I move, I can find a branch of the Club?”

He smiled.

I took it for a yes. “That is pretty awesome. Does that mean I can get a mask too?”

He smiled again, a little broader.

“Cool.” The masks reminded me of the strange vision I'd had. “It was so weird; for a moment I thought the masks became
faces
. You know, when I went kind of dizzy? And everyone's eyes turned black and shiny and they had really sharp teeth. You looked like a wolf and Vanessa turned into a bat.”

The words sort of tumbled out of my mouth without me even thinking. I flicked my gaze from the glass to his. He was staring at me with an expression I wasn't sure how to read. Surprise? Shock?

“What,
what
did you just say?” His voice was barely a whisper.

For a second, I couldn't even remember my exact words about the masks. I'd upset him though, somehow. That was obvious. Perhaps the Club had strict rules about people who hallucinate. Vanessa, trailing several other Club members in her wake, swooped in at that moment to demand my opinion of the cheesecake. Then the red-haired twins, Stephanie, and Cameron, wanted to talk about shopping in Los Angeles since they knew I was from Santa Monica. “The Americana in Glendale,
to die for!
” they declared in unison.

By the time I stood next to Savan again, his face was relaxed and composed. Reaching over and casually brushing my bangs away from my eyes, he smiled. The dimples peeked out. What had I said about the masks? I couldn't remember and who cared?

Chapter 11

Dance with the Devil

A hand on my arm pulled me, not too gently, into an alcove. I was at a dance club, coming back from the bathroom. Trying to make my way around the packed dance floor, getting knocked this way and that by the gyrating crowd, their bodies and colors blurring in the flashes of spinning light from overhead. A young man glared at me, his eyes the color of emeralds. I stared. He had silver hair. I stared harder. It wasn't just a trick of the lights. Not gray. Silver! Who has hair that color except in Japanese anime? He seemed not much older than me.

“Get away from them,” he hissed.

“What? Who?”

“The Club, get away from them, while you still can. They're evil!” His shoulder length hair swung forward obscuring most of his features. I got a quick impression of high cheekbones, smooth skin, and a full mouth. He spoke with a rich English accent.

I'd come to the Womb Dance Lounge with other friends from the Club. My calendar and my life in Tokyo had filled up just like that. Coffee at a window table in Cafe Da Vinci, dinner at a trendy bistro, dancing to techno at one of Tokyo's seemingly endless number of clubs, and that was just one evening! I was thrilled and terrified at the same time, trying to keep my story straight about this stranger, Alexandra Carpenter. Relaxed and smiling, my new friends were full of ready laughter and best of all, ready to laugh at themselves. There was an air of confidence about them that never descended into snobbishness or elitism.

Dad was in the midst of some sort of financial trading frenzy at work, flying back and forth to Hong Kong and Shanghai. He never even noticed my late nights coming home over those weeks. Yawning and groaning when the alarm buzzed, I certainly felt every hour of lost sleep. It was
so
worth it though. Moving through the hallways at school, I no longer felt like a ghost. The snubs and hurtful words from the Awesome Posse lost the power to rip and tear. Outside school, I knew there were people waiting to welcome me and best of all, there was Savan.

And now this boy was telling me lies. Lies that my friends wanted to hurt me.

“I don't believe you,” I managed to stammer. His fierce expression and tone of voice were unnerving and he was standing very near. I tried to push him away but couldn't budge him.

Staring at me, his eyes changed, the unearthly green running like oil across the whites until they bled from green to black, corner to corner. Black as midnight. He made a sound deep in his throat, almost a growl, and when he opened his mouth to speak, I thought I saw fangs.

“My God, your soul. I can
taste
it, taste
you
. Your scent...” He inhaled deeply, breathing in and then out in a low, throaty moan that sent goosebumps of fear over my skin. “You smell like the best of life itself. Spring blossoms and summer's passion.” He put one hand around my throat and I felt a burning sensation.

In a sudden movement that left me breathless, we were somehow on the opposite side of the club, away from the dancers, hidden from the crowd in a little nook behind the DJ. His hips pinned me against the wall, one hand gripping my wrist, the height and size of him pressing my back into the rough surface of the concrete. Speechless with surprise I could only stare. His face was shining with a luminous beauty I had only ever seen in paintings – and in the faces of the Club members. They, too, seemed to glow with this inner light. The noise of the dance floor faded to nothing though I could still feel the throb of the bass resonating in my chest. Or maybe it was my heart pounding. The world narrowed to this little space in front of me and the quick, sharp breaths of the silver-haired boy staring with black eyes.

Unexpectedly, a flood of energy ran jumping and sparking over my skin from where his body touched mine, slipping and sliding from my head to my toes. Despite the fear, it was exciting somehow. Very different from how I felt when Savan touched me. It was like being scanned almost, though how I knew that I couldn't say. Weighed and judged. For what?

Leaning forward, his liquid silver hair soft as silken threads brushed my cheek. He inhaled deeply again, once and then twice. “Yours is not just an average soul, Alexandra Carpenter. I had not realized. That complicates things. Or maybe facilitates them.” He raised one eyebrow as though considering what he had just said.

My heart skipped a beat, realizing he knew my name. His eyes were mesmerizing, I couldn't seem to tear my gaze away or even move. This must be how a small, frightened mammal felt staring into the cold eyes of a cobra.

“No wonder they pursue you so relentlessly,” he continued, voice low. “Listen to me, girl. Beneath the bright surface of the world you know lies a darkness, and in that darkness lives
such
evil. The evil hungers for energy and light, for souls and substance.” Pressing hard against me, he slipped his other hand around my waist, pulling my hips into his. “It hungers for you.” He breathed the words into my ear, so close I could feel the touch of his lips, “As would I, given the chance.”

My body shivered, hot and cold at the same time. An urge beyond fight or flight. Feelings I couldn't even identify surging through me.

“They have put their mark on you.”

He let go of my wrist and pulled a folding mirror from one of his pockets. A flood of goose bumps popped up on my skin as he whispered a few words. “Look. Look and
see
.”

A heart-faced girl stared back.
Me
, of course. Who else would be there? Then I saw them, a tangled swirl of symbols on the reflection of my forehead and across my cheeks. They were raw and pink looking, like acid burns. I reached up, running my fingers over the skin. It didn't
feel
any different.

“You wore their mask, drank a toast to your soul. You are already halfway to being their creature.”

The evening at the Chateau popped up in my mind's eye. The first time I officially met with the Club. Champagne and laughter. The beautiful faces and manners of the other members. And something else. What was it? Masks, there was something to do with masks. A masquerade of some kind. I tried to pull the memory into focus, but it wouldn't come.

“A g
lamour
is blinding you. Keeping you from remembering.” He blinked and his eyes shifted back to green. It must have been a trick of the light. Eyes can't change color. The dance club came into focus, the music's pulsing beat forcing its way back into my consciousness.

With a
snap,
he shut the mirror and put it away. “They are not your friends, those shiny, beautiful people you are with. They want to hurt you.”

“You're
hurting me,” I managed to choke out. Finally finding my voice and trying to twist out from under him.

His skin was so white, like fine china, I could see the sudden rush of blood to his cheeks even in the dim light of the club. He gave me a slow, sideways smile that was so icy it burned. He let go of my waist.

“Alexandra?” Someone called my name loudly, it sounded like Savan.

Locking eyes with mine, he said with great deliberation, “Run. Run while you still can. From them. And from me.”

“
Alexandra
, where are you?”

I turned my head toward where I thought the call came from. When I looked back, the boy with the wild stare had disappeared. On shaky legs, I wobbled back around the dance floor, rubbing my wrist where he'd gripped it. Though I scanned every face, I couldn't spot anyone with silver hair and emerald green eyes in the ebb and flow of people. Someone grabbed me from behind. I gave a very undignified squeal.

“I have captured you!” said a deep voice. Savan. I would know that velvet accent anywhere. Nobody had ever said my name quite the way he did. Pulling me close, I relaxed into his embrace. “You're trembling; what has happened?”

On the verge of telling him about my strange encounter, I found, for some reason the words just wouldn't come. My tongue twisted into knots, the words tangling together in my throat. Try as I might, I could not describe the boy with the English accent. Savan bent his head down, lips brushing my forehead, cheeks and chin. I shivered remembering the other boy's touch, his eyes shifting from green to inky black, what he said and showed me in the mirror.

“What is this on your throat?” Pushing my hair back, he tapped a finger on a spot near the pulse of the jugular.

My hand flew to the skin. Rubbing with my fingertips, it felt sensitive to the touch, almost like I'd been burned. Remembering the strange swirling symbols on my forehead and cheeks, I gripped his arm. “What, Savan? What is it?”

Savan didn't answer. He was looking at the crowd, brows drawn together, an expression on his face I'd never seen before.

I rubbed again at my throat, biting my lip as the burning sensation grew.

Taking my hand, Savan guided me across the club without another word straight to our table. Vanessa and Lilly were laughing, apparently in the middle of some shared joke. Her eyes and dimples twinkling, Vanessa glanced at us. Almost immediately, her face changed. Though her mouth kept smiling, her eyes did not. There was a tense, silent interchange, I thought, between Savan and her. Standing abruptly, she pulled Lilly to her feet.

“Come on gang,” she said, her voice lighthearted, “Change of venue. We are going to a private party at Gallery Eriko.”

I decided to shrug off what happened. The encounter with the green-eyed stranger was, so far, the only blot on the dream-come-true reality of my new life and I decided to forget him. Just some psycho playing mind games. Maybe the Club rejected him. That was probably it. No psychos allowed! As for me, the past few weeks had been beyond perfect. I saw someone from the Club nearly every day: drinks, dinner, gallery openings and glittering clubs filled with people I had seen mostly on the covers of celebrity magazines. Japan is a huge market for films, music, fashion and fun and anybody who was anybody showed up in Tokyo fairly frequently. Savan, Anders, Vanessa or Lilly, or all of them, invariably knew
someone.
Night after night, there I was, sitting at the VIP table sipping, or pretending to sip, chilled vodka (it tastes vile) or champagne cocktails. At first I took pictures, zipping them off to Paris for the appropriate “
oohs
and
aahs
” from my friends. After awhile, though, I stopped. Somehow it was so much more fun to focus all my attention on the Club members.

My pose as a college student on sabbatical was not always easy to maintain and time and again I nearly slipped up. I had school until three in the afternoon. Gradually I found myself cutting a class here or there and eventually whole days. I fabricated notes from my father. He never paid attention anyway. Half the time he wasn't even in the country. Besides, what else could I do? Club members were past the age of notes from home. If they knew I was only sixteen they would never want to be friends with me.

The girls dressed stylishly and my envy was hard to contain. It was on Vanessa's advice I told Dad I needed my own credit card or at least a debit card with access to some cash for clothes. I argued if he wanted me to fit in, I had to look half-way decent. This was a free dress school, my first ever, and I should take advantage of it.

“I didn't know you were interested in fashion.”

Which showed exactly how much attention he'd paid to me over the last year.

“How disconnected are you from my life, Dad? How
can
I be interested when you give me, like, ten dollars a week for spending money?”

“I give you money when you ask.”

“And I don't ask precisely because you make me beg for it.”

“I don't.”

“To my way of thinking, yes, you do.” I mimicked his deep voice, “'Where are you going? How much are the other girls taking? What does the ticket cost?' You act like I'm a badly performing treasury bond looking to be cashed during a slump.”

I shamed him into it in the end and now I had a debit card with money for “school supplies” (
not!
) and outings. Actually, it didn't take that much to keep up with the Club socially. We seemed to get in everywhere for free and food and drink just materialized. I never saw a bill and they wouldn't let me pay for anything more expensive than coffee. If we were out very late, which was generally always, Savan insisted on putting me in a cab home and paying the driver.

Lilly and Vanessa introduced their treasure trove of vintage shops scattered around the back streets of the city which helped me update my wardrobe for only a little cash. Lilly also took me to her nail artist. Though I didn't get bells (or diamonds) on my fingers, I now had jewels on my toes. Each pink toenail was airbrushed with a splash of paler pink and a line of sparkling rhinestones running across. Just in time to show off my toe cleavage in spring sandals. Savan was in raptures. Apparently, men like women's toes. What's up with that?

Very soon, instead of my little Tod's loafers, I was wearing spiky sandals with my jeans and showing off my sparkly toes. Lilly, only five-foot-two, said heels were her strategic confidence-boosting weapon.

“They make me feel bold and beautiful,” she told me as I considered a line of tall and taller sandals at a boutique in Harajuku. I bought a pair of brown leather sandals with bronze studs and she was absolutely right. Part of that might have been due to being three inches taller. Not all of it, though. People looked at me differently and I made myself look at Amber Lynne and the Awesome Posse not at all. I boldly went into the cafeteria and sat wherever I wanted. Though the first time I did it I thought I might throw up, I was so nervous. Remembering my mantra, “What would Vanessa do?” the answer was obvious. I walked right in, head held high.