Thirsty - M. T. Anderson [53]
“The Rigozzis’ party?” exclaims Jerk.
“Like everyone else,” says Tom. “Everyone goes to that party.”
“It’s supposed to be really cool,” says Jerk.
Tom nods. “I heard that last time all these girls danced topless.”
“No,” says Jerk. “Like who?”
“Jane McKinley, Liz Dinn . . .”
“No. Like, no way.”
“Besta Worritz . . .”
There are three girls, all leaning into one another’s shoulders, tripping along and laughing, and one of them has dangling from her arm a big pink fuzzy gecko that she has won; I look carefully at her freckles, for they are soft, and brown, and dashed across her face like cinnamon across a fine dessert. Suddenly my throat constricts, and I feel the beginnings of the thirst coming on. I can tell it will come on strong as the night goes on.
Tom looks boldly into my eyes. “So can you get us in?”
“No,” I say. “Just, my brother is there.”
“Come on. It’ll be great. There is going to be, like, all this major action there.”
“No,” I say. “There’s someone I don’t want to see there. A girl.”
Tom looks at Jerk. “I’m going to go anyway. So many people there, they aren’t going to notice one more.”
“Yeah, great!” says Jerk, smiling. “Or two more!”
“Okay,” says Tom. “You can come. Just don’t act like a complete dorkus totalus and embarrass me — got it?” He starts walking toward the Rigozzis’ house. “You coming?” he asks me.
People are howling in the bouncy castle of fun.
“No,” I say quietly. “I’m not.”
Tom doesn’t even acknowledge I’ve spoken. He just turns his back and starts walking. Jerk stumbles to catch up to him, but keeps looking back over his shoulder, just to see if I’ve changed my mind.
I am thinking hard. I am trying not to panic. Why is she here? I am wondering. Why? She must be here for me. She is supposed to take me to the abandoned church. I bet that’s it. Otherwise there is no really obvious reason for an undead being to attend the Bradford/Clayton Carnival. It is $1.50 for just a small 7-Up. She wishes to take me to the convocation of vampires for her own dark purposes.
And that is when I realize that perhaps it would be the best thing.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have started something by dropping that disk into darkness, and I don’t know what. I have played into Chet’s hands, and I don’t know how. But I do know that I am helpless while I’m stranded here at the carnival.
So that is what I need to do, I realize suddenly. I will go with her. I will let Lolli Chasuble take me to the hidden coven of vampires again. The wizards and sorcerers of that vampire band will be locked in their vicious ceremony, trying to interrupt the festival spells being cast on the lake. At the height of the vampires’ spells, right when the bonds are about to break, when the tension is greatest, right before Tch’muchgar hurtles back into this world through whatever convoluted means Chet may have worked out, I’ll throw myself into the center of them, call out the Lord’s Prayer, obscure their runes, gash the high sorcerer’s face with my keys, anything to botch their spells of summoning, anything to break its stranglehold, to let the festival rites be spoken.
The vampires will kill me after that. I don’t have any doubt that they will. But there is nothing else I can do.
So I will find Lolli Chasuble after all. I will have to face her sometime.
And with that, I run after Jerk and Tom. I follow their backs until I’ve caught up to them, grim and puffing.
I say, “I’m coming after all.”
“Great!” says Jerk.
“Let’s go,” says Tom.
We head toward the Rigozzis’ party.
Over the scream of people on Captain Hook’s Giddy Galleon, there is a sound of broadcasted voices. “Testing,” it says across the uneven grass, the crowds, and the litter of ticket stubs and crushed cups. “Testing.”
“They’re going to start the ritual,” says Jerk. “Cool.”
“I’m so glad you could all make it this evening,” the speakers say. “I’d like to thank everyone who made tonight’s ritual sacrifice possible and, of course, everyone involved in the committee that organized this wonderful festival, which is really