You have to understand: I’m putty in the hands of sad Asian men. Ever since I saw Jet Li’s wife get killed in “The One,” I’ve been the world’s biggest sucker for them. Without knowing that, nothing I’m about to tell you will make any sense. And I’d hate to be misconstrued as stupid or crazy. I’m not. I’m just a horny white girl who tips double at Chinese restaurants. Make that triple if the waiter looks like he’s having a bad day. I can’t help myself. So keep that in mind when I tell you the rest of my story. It’s context, after all, without which the whole world flies into chaos. Although what happened was pretty fucking chaotic in itself.
It started well enough. My flight back home to California actually got in early. Those of us on board who didn’t pass out from shock got off in an orderly fashion and went to collect our luggage before you could say, “How the fuck do I open this bag of peanuts?” I had been away for a long weekend visiting relatives from my mother’s side of the family, an experience I liken to a rectal exam. It’s unpleasant, but if it has to be done you might as well go limp and think happy thoughts. Anyway, on my way to the luggage carousel I noticed a herd of Korean boys looking lost. Actually, “lost” puts it mildly. They looked like a kindergarten class who had just been told that Santa choked to death on the Easter Bunny.
Needless to say, I wanted to throw all six on a bed and roll around on them. And for the record, when I say boys I mean “boyish,” not “underage.” I’m not a pervert. I am, however, always eager to help nice boys in tight jeans. Did I mention they looked really sad? They did. They perked up when I went over and introduced myself. I don’t know if they thought I worked for the airline, but having someone give them the time of day seemed to make them a lot happier. I asked if there was anything wrong. I figured that they wanted the usual tourist stuff: Directions to the nearest hotel, or recommendations for site seeing.
“Our flight is cancelled,” one of them answered. He had shaggy highlighted hair and sounded supremely crestfallen.
“They say no more flights,” his closer-cropped friend added. “But everyone is already waiting for us.”
“Everyone?” I wondered how many more of them there were and where they were waiting.
The shaggy one nodded.
“They send us here to do music videos. The crew leaves for New York yesterday, we meet them today.”
“But now, no flights,” an equally shaggy but unhighlighted one lamented. “We don’t know what to do.”
“They sent you here to do music videos?”
They all smiled shyly at this. That’s when I got the whole story: They were a boy band. I wasn’t sure what to say to that, but luckily they were eager to talk about it. Their name was “True Seoul” and they were doing a tour of American cities, the music videos from which were being sent back to Korea for promotional purposes. It was all supposed to lead up to a series of concerts for their latest album.
Under normal circumstances, I would sooner set fire to a boy band than try to befriend one. But there they were, all cute and proud of themselves. I found myself considering their thin, form fitting t-shirts and, before I knew it, offered to talk to the airline on their behalf. Inwardly I sighed. My hormones cheered.
“Excuse me.” I addressed the woman behind the nearest counter.
Her name-tag said “Amy” and she looked skittish, like the wrong word would either make her bolt or burst into tears. I tried to sound friendly.
“Hi, Amy. Some friends of mine over there are having trouble with their flight to New York. Is there anything you can possible do? Maybe squeeze them onto another flight?”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It barely even cracked her mouth.
“I’m sorry. A massive storm hit the northeast. Nothing is going out today, and I doubt anything is going out tomorrow.”
“Is it really that bad?” I was hoping Amy was over exaggerating to get out of looking for a later flight.
“When it’s not snowing up there, it’s blasting frozen rain.” She looked over at True Seoul and her features softened.
“Tell your friends they need to get a hotel. I feel bad for them, I do. They were the only people who were nice to me all day. The last person I had to deal with called me the C-word. And it was a woman!”
She said it like it was utterly inconceivable. I had a feeling she hadn’t been on the job long. I asked about setting them up in a hotel, since the flight was cancelled. Amy deflated.
“We can’t do that. They’re full.”
“Amy.” I reminded myself to be gentle with her. “These guys don’t have a car. I doubt they can even rent one. They would have to take two cabs to get anywhere, and they don’t even know where to go. Are you SURE there aren’t any hotels with rooms available?”
“I’m sorry.” She wrung her hands like they were a dish towel. “There’s really nothing I can do. Please, just tell them I really appreciated them not yelling at me. You, too.” She added. “You didn’t yell at me.”
“You’re welcome.” I reached over and patted her on the wrist. “Maybe you should take a break, maybe have some coffee?”
“I can’t.” She said. “I’m allergic to caffeine.”
I left before Amy said anything else depressing. The pack was waiting for me by a cluster of potted palm trees. I didn’t have it in me to tell them to go find a hotel and wish them luck. Maybe if they had been women or unattractive men. Of course, if they were I would have been home an hour ago, happily watching DVDs and eating popcorn. A home that was bigger than I needed, a testament to wealth over practicality. I mentally did the math: Six guys could probably fit into my two spare bedrooms. At worst they would have to spoon each other.
“You are sure this is all right?” This from the one with wild hair with red-tinted tips.
“No problem,” I assured him as I ushered them out of the airport.
They followed me like a herd of duckings to my Hummer. I know, I know. I’m killing the planet. The thing is, my family runs a highly successful construction company. My brothers and I all got Hummers when we graduated college. That, and an office. It’s blatant nepotism, of course. Luckily we all inherited dad’s business sense and are good at what we do. And as it turns out, the average hummer has enough room for a Korean boy band and their mountain of luggage. So up yours, hippies.
By the time we got to my house I had learned all their names. The shaggy one with highlights was Bin, the one without was Seong. Gun had the red tips, Yong had a faux-hawk, and Min had most of his head shaved with a bit of long hair in the front partially covering his eyes. Then there was Jun, whom I fully planned to have dirty, dirty thoughts about later that night. Jun had bleached blond hair, high cheekbones, and pouty rosebud lips that I wanted to run my tongue over. He sat in the front with me.
Once everyone was inside the house, Seong politely excused himself to make phone calls. I had a feeling he was their leader. He was usually at the front of the pack and frequently spoke to me on their behalf. Upon returning from his phone call, I saw that he had the same look on his face from back at the airport.
“Not good,” he told his band-mates. “The weather is very bad. Mr. Jae says we cannot do anything for at least two days, so to stay here until he calls again.”
“That sucks.” I said out loud.
Silently, I thanked the Northeast for being the toilet into which nature routinely shits snow. Don’t get me wrong – it’s a lovely part of the country. But unless you ski, it’s pretty much useless from December to April. I don’t ski. I’m more into the ocean and like to be able to trot off for a swim any time of year. I also like privacy. Public beaches practically give me panic attack. So I got my own house on the beach in an exclusive neighborhood. Every time I go out and look across my parcel of sand and sea, I thank my father.
For the record, I paid for this all myself. But I know damn well it’s luck and I’m not about to pretend otherwise. Speaking of luck six guy, all emotionally adorable and wrapped in lean muscle, were currently in my kitchen. I’m not greedy. All I was asking for was one of them. Though to be fair, the heart wants what it wants. I would be happy with any of them, but I wanted the little blond one. Jun was walking sex, and the best part was he didn’t seem to have a clue. Oh, I’m sure he knew he was attractive. And plenty of young Korean women had no doubt thrown their panties on stage for him (or whatever they do in Korea). That said, he had the look of a man who underestimated how much women wanted to rip off his clothes and ride him like the last horse out of Dodge.
Saying “Excuse me, I want to do you” seemed crude. I told myself it was better to feign platonic motivations and see where things led. Cutting him off from the herd would be the hardest part. Not that I particularly minded playing hostess to the band – If Jun hadn’t existed, I would have happily hit on any one of them. Shallow, I know, but not without dignity. Hand to God, I always respect the guy in the morning. Even those times I’m not there when they wake up. I don’t flatter myself in thinking those fellows are disappointed.
Anyway, I’m on a sexual tangent. By now it’s been established that I’m enjoying an abundance of riches with True Seoul. It’s afternoon by the time everyone gets situated, so I offer to order in lunch. With a group that big, I expected a fierce debate. Instead, I get a unanimous vote: Korean food. Looking back, I should have known. After all, how many times have I traveled to another country only to long for certain comforts of home after a few weeks?
“You want kimchee, don’t you?”
They beamed at me.
“You like kimchee?” Yong asked, sounding hopeful.
“Yes.”
It was only a partial lie. I have a few Korean friends and I know how deep the love of pickled cabbage runs. Every single one of those friends has offered it to me, usually in their own homes. They’ll take it out of the fridge and show me the plastic container that some relative back in Korea lovingly packed it in. How do you say no to that? Eventually I developed a taste for it. Just like I developed a taste for chicken feet, thousand-year-old duck eggs, and this Malaysian soup that destroys the roof of your mouth. Meanwhile, my Canadian friend has yet to turn me on to pouring gravy over perfectly good french fries.
My experience with worldly cuisine came in useful when it was time to order the meals. Nothing turns a guy off faster than presenting him with watered-down American versions of “his” food. I could easily blow all six of my chances, and not in the good way. I knew the food was a hit when it killed the conversation. Americans like to talk when they’re eating. I know I feel awkward when the only sound is forks and knives hitting flatware. Chopsticks make a softer sound, which might be why the rules are different. Talking is for between courses, preferably over beer or rice wine.
“Would you like to hear our music?” Seong asked after I was done clearing the table.
For a second I was paralyzed like a deer. They’re a boy band, I reminded myself. Tell him your stereo doesn’t work.
“That sounds fun.” I replied. “My stereo is in the living room.”
Through careful maneuvering, I managed to get next to Jun on the couch. When our legs touched he blushed and apologized. He scooted over as much as he could without actually climbing into Gun’s lap. I resisted the urge to run my fingers up his inner thigh. On the other side of the room, Bin was inserting a CD into the player.
“This is the newest one. We will do the songs in next concert.”
“We can send you music videos.” Min interjected. “When they make DVD, you can have it as present.”
I thanked him and wondered if it would be bad form to watch the DVD on mute. At the stereo, Bin pressed play and scurried over to sit in front of the love seat occupied by Seong and Yong. When the music started I braced myself for the series of lies I would have to tell afterwards. The fact that I wouldn’t understand the lyrics was a small comfort.
Forty-five minutes later I asked if I could burn a copy. I had learned a valuable lesson: As with electronics, Korea produces a superior product. Also, there was an element to the CD that reminded me of good 80’s pop music: Back when MTV played full videos, not just snippets of them in a roomful of shrieking pre-teens.
“That was really good,” I told them. I noticed that Jun had moved slightly closer to me.
“You understand the songs?” He asked.
“Well, not the words,” I admitted. “But I can tell which ones are sad or serious.”
“Very good,” Seong said. “Maybe one day we will have concerts here.”
“Maybe.” I agreed. “Didn’t one guy do that?”
Min and Yong sighed collectively.
“Rain,” Min lamented. “Girls love him.”
“Don’t girls love you?” I felt Jun shift awkwardly in his seat.
Yong shrugged. “Not like Rain. Rain gets any girl.”
“We are young, though. Maybe it will change,” Min added hopefully. “Then we can get lots of girls, like DBSK.”
“Another singer?”
“Another group,” Min clarified. “They get all the girls, too.”
I can’t remember much about the rest of the day. It was one of those times when events fade pleasantly together and nothing much stands out. The few things that I do vividly recall are of the warm fuzzy variety: Min and Bin being fascinated by the fish in my aquarium, Yong telling me about his cat back home, and Seong looking up their music videos for me on Youtube. None of them seemed overly self-conscious of the fact that I was seeing them half dressed and gleaming with sweat in several of them. They seemed to have a healthy understanding of who they were in real life and what they represented under the name True Seoul. I casually asked if they had girlfriends. The answer was no. Their manager didn’t think it was a good idea, and Seong didn’t think he would change his mind any time soon.
“The fans will be angry if we date,” Seong explained. “If we want good careers, we should wait until we are older.”
I wasn’t sure what to think of it. It sounded like a social relic from the 1950’s, but I could see the logic from a business standpoint. I remembered being in middle school and “in love” with a new singer every few months. A couple of them got girlfriends before I moved on and it always broke my heart. It was stupid, of course, but it always felt real.
Around nine the guys took turns showering and started to get ready for bed. Seong, Min, and Gun took one room. Jun, Bin, and Yong took the other. My room was on the second floor, so I lingered downstairs for a while in case anyone needed anything. By midnight I figured they were settled and decided to get to sleep myself. I hadn’t scored with Jun, but I wasn’t crushed. I had a good time with them, and there was always the next day. On my way to the stairs, I went to pop my head in and say goodnight.
The lights were out in the first room, so I passed it by. I didn’t want them to think I was a freak who spied on them in the dark. Light seeped out from under the second door, the one to the room Jun was in. Given that there were three of them in there, I doubted anything embarrassing was going on and I didn’t think to knock.
Bin was sitting in a chair by the window, idly flipping through a magazine. Jun was with Bin on the edge of the bed, his arm wrapped around Bin’s waist. Bin’s eyes were closed and his lips were pressed tight together. Jun’s face was buried in his neck.
Gay, I thought. Only the picture didn’t fit. Bin’s indifference was a red flag. If he got off on watching I could understand, but he wasn’t even facing the bed. Suddenly Jun pulled back, and I saw the blood: it seeped out of two neat puncture wounds in Yong’s neck. That’s when Jun saw me.
I don’t know how I stayed calm. I think it was the look on Jun’s face. He looked ashamed.
“Madison,” he whispered.
That was enough to snap me out of it. I closed the door behind me and sped up the stairs to my room. I didn’t lock the door and I still wasn’t afraid. If anything, I wanted to give Jun a chance to pretend nothing had happened. After all, it wasn’t like I saw him killing Yong. His wounds weren’t gushing, and his color had been good. As for Jun being a vampire, well – the world was full of all sorts of wonders. As long as said vampires didn’t have me on the menu, I was happy to plead ignorance.
Jun knocked on my door a few minutes later. When he came in he looked nervous, and I could see his chest rising and falling.
“I’m sorry,” he told me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not scared. Surprised, but not scared.”
I patted the side of the bed and, after some hesitation, he came and sat next to me.
“I didn’t hurt Yong. You can see him if you want.”
“I believe you.”
Jun brightened when I said it. I realized then what worried him.
“I should have knocked,” I consoled him. “What happened is none of my business.”
Jun shook his head. “It is your home.”
“I still should have knocked.”
He looked at me and his eye were the saddest I’ve ever seen. Far too much for idle thoughts of lust.
“I have to,” he told me. “Ever since I was changed, I need blood or I become crazy. If it wasn’t for my friends…” he trailed off and looked down at the bed.
It was the most touching thing I’d ever heard. People throw the words “best friend” and say things like “I got your back” all the time. How many would actually let their friend do something so gruesomely intimate?
“I don’t want to hurt people. Seong, Min, Yong, Gun, and Bin takes turns. Without them I am lost.”
It struck me that, if he always relied on the other members of True Seoul, Jun couldn’t have been a vampire very long. If anything, it seemed like he was still adjusting to it.
“Who did this to you?”
Jun’s eyes became distant. “It was a fan girl. She sent me many letters, I knew she was not mentally well. One day after a concert, she attacks me. Makes me drink her blood. After that, I become like her.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I had heard of crazy fans before, but this was bullshit.
“Does she still follow you?”
Jun’s head snapped up and his eyes refocused.
“No! Other vampires took her away. They told me not to worry any more.”
“You mean like vampire jail?” It sounded like a B-movie.
“They would not answer my questions. Later I learn that rebellious vampires get in trouble. We are not supposed to kill unless we have to, and it is forbidden to go against our own kind.”
That sounded reasonable to me. If vampires were human once, it stood to reason that plenty of them would be regular Joes who just wanted to get by.
“Wait.” I thought back to the bedroom. “It takes more than biting?”
“You have to drink the blood of the vampire that bit you before the next moon. I would never do that to another.”
The look on Jun’s face right then told me that immortality was a lonelier than anything I could imagine. No doubt he had thought about his friends. They couldn’t stay by him forever, and one day they wouldn’t be around at all. I reached for Jun’s face and traced his cheekbone with my thumb. He looked back at me, questioningly at first, then moved forward to kiss me. His lips were soft and warm. When they parted, our tongues met and I detected a familiar taste of mint. I pulled back and ran my fingertips over his lips.
“You don’t like blood?”
“I do,” he admitted. He blushed like he had before on the couch. “But with another man, I feel funny.”
Before I could ask him to explain, he kissed me again and I lost my train of thought. Soon he was on top and me and our hands were under each other’s shirts. His skin was hot to the touch, but not unpleasant. I didn’t know if it was a compliment to me, or simply what happened after he fed.
“You like me?”
His shirt was off and I was caressing the muscles on his back. When they got to the waistband of his pants I hooked my thumbs in and pulled down hard.
“Oh, yes,” I promised. “I like you.”
Jun moaned my name and started to kiss my neck. He sucked the skin, then tensed. When he pushed himself away, he was panting.
“I’m sorry.” he said, stricken. “When I want a woman, I want to do other things.”
He was hard against and I suddenly understood why he rinsed his mouth out after drinking his friend’s blood. I pulled him back towards me.
“You can do whatever you want,” I told him.
He started to pull away again, but my neck was close and I don’t think he could have held back, really. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, and as his body pulsed against mine I started to get a sensation that usually didn’t occur above the waist. I panted his name, too overcome to scream, as my body arched into him. As my eyes rolled back into my head, I saw stars, planets, the whole universe exploding and then recombining. Jun shook against me and I grabbed his hair, afraid he would pull away before I was done. He didn’t, and when the last star faded and turned back into my bedroom, he was even harder than before.
You would think that after that, the sex would be a disappointment. It wasn’t. Tasting my blood on Jun wasn’t a turn-off either. If anything it gave me a second wind. This time I did scream. Actually, all five times.
When I woke up it was still dark out and Jun was sleeping next to me. My first thought, after “awww, cute”, was that I needed to pee and grab a snack. After addressing the first issue, I lumbered downstairs to the kitchen. I was half inside the fridge, rooting around for sandwich fixings, when I heard a voice.
“Bitch.”
I popped my head up, but before I could see who was talking a fist slammed into my face and I crashed into the open door of the fridge.
“Whore.”
Whoever it was grabbed by hair and flung me across the room, where I hit the island in the middle of my kitchen. It hurt worse than the fridge.
“I smell him on you!”
Since I knew my own house well, I hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on. All I could see was a figure walking over to me. The voice sounded female, and she was crouched slightly as if anticipating my next move. The truth was I don’t think I could have gotten to my feet at that point, let alone fought back. If Bin hadn’t come running into the room and turned the light on, I would be dead. No more story to tell, let alone sad naked boys in my future. It’s too depressing to even think about.
But I digress. When Bin hit the lights, the woman lurched back and snarled. I knew who it was then: Jun’s stalker. Whatever they did to her in vampire prison, it couldn’t have been pretty. She looked like an anorexic psychopath with leprosy. He skin was stretched so tight over her bones I was amazed one hadn’t ripped through. Her color was horrible, a mixture of green and gray that turned dark under her eyes and around the corners of her mouth. Each of her wrists had a shiny silver shackle on it attached to a shirt length of chain. I could see the skin around each shackle was bright red and covered in blisters. If Jun hadn’t been attracted to her before, she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell now.
With Bin in the room, she looked torn over who to attack first. She stood there shaking and glaring between the two of us, with a look on her face like me when I took second-level algebra. Poor Bin didn’t know what to do. As a gentleman, his instinct must have been to help me. The problem was that anyone with an ounce of common sense would know human intervention wasn’t going to cut it.
“Bin,” I screamed. “Tell Jun to get the fuck out of here!”
I swear what I meant to say was, “Tell Jun to help me, I want to live.” Evidently, in the throes of doom I am incredibly altruistic.
Bin spun on his heel and raced up the stairs. Fangirl, I didn’t know what else to call her, started to go after him, so I used what was left of my adrenaline and kicked her legs out from under her. This did not please her. The next thing I knew, a carving knife was disappearing into my stomach.
“He. Is. Mine,” she hissed, favoring me with breath that smelled like week-old tuna salad.
I locked eyes with her. If I was going to die, I wanted to say something majestic on the way out. A testament to myself and the life I led.
“Up yours.”
Don’t worry. I didn’t die then, either. Can you imagine? Dead people would be laughing at me on the other side before I was even done crossing over. Luckily, Jun arrived in time to distract Madam Tuna-breath from pulling the knife out and giving it another go. That meant my blood was staying in me for the time being.
“Jun!”
The way she said it told me everything I needed to know about how bat-shit crazy she was. There was no indication in her voice that Jun should be anything but delighted to see her. As soon as he saw me, he tried to run to my side. Fangirl stopped him with a punch to the stomach that sent him to his knees, where he promptly vomited blood and bile.
“Do not look at her!”
Jun held his arms up in surrender.
“Please, don’t hurt anyone. I will go with you.”
His eyes pleaded with her as the colors in my world started to blend together. I had a bad feeling about what that meant.
“We will be together forever,” she gushed.
Jun winced. Whether from the prospect of spending eternity with her or the punch to the abdomen, I could only speculate.
“As you wish,” he said. “But no more of this.” He risked a glance at me. “If I go with you, you must promise to leave all of them alone.”
Fangirl gave him a love-struck grin. It was grotesque. What was left of her teeth could have put half a dozen dental professional’s kids through college. Ivy League college.
“I promise,” she cooed.
Jun staggered to his feet and she gripped him by the arm. They left through my front door and I heard car tires squeal in the driveway. I could also hear Bin in the background. He was asking if I was all right, or at least I think he was. My hearing wasn’t so hot at that point. The intense pain in my stab wound had started to retreat and turn into a growing cold patch. I told him to go get the others. After he left, I looked down at the floor and grimaced. I didn’t particularly want to die. And I definitely didn’t want Jun trapped with that crazy bitch. The solution to both was in a rapidly congealing pool on my kitchen floor.
I pretended it was gelatin shots.
Here’s a fun bit of trivia: When you drink the blood of the vampire that bit you, you black out. Right after you get what feels like the word’s worst case of sea sickness. I came to on my back with five pairs of eyes gazing anxiously down at me. I felt like Snow White.
“Madison?” Seong asked, his brow creased in concern. “You are all right?”
“That didn’t taste anything like gelatin shots,” I told him.
Seong didn’t know what to make of that. He looked to the others kneeling around me for clarification, but they only shrugged.
“Maybe she is hungry,” Min speculated.
I pushed myself into the sitting position and was surprised to see that I didn’t feel too bad. I was worn out, but otherwise everything felt great. I lifted my shirt up to check out my stab wound. The knife was gone and my stomach looked fine.
“You are like Jun now?” Bin asked. He sounded like he was counting on it.
“Yeah. I think so.” I grabbed his shoulder. “Hold on, the room is moving.”
Seong directed Yong to switch places with Bin next to me. Gun went to the sink and came back with a wet paper cloth, which I assumed was for my sudden headache. Instead he started to clean Yong’s neck.
“Jun told us about when he became vampire.” Gun told me. “If you do not take blood soon, you will lose your senses. Yong was next on our list, so you should use him.”
“Wait, wait!” I shook my head, which was a bad idea. Seong caught me before I made friends with the floor again.
“Don’t worry,” he soothed. “We are used to it.”
“Jun is our brother,” Min said. “You will be our sister now.”
Gun finished with Yong’s neck and gave Seong the thumbs up. Seong held my hand and told me not to be scared.
“We will stop you if you start to drink too much.”
Yong seemed unperturbed by the situation. I stared at his neck, wondering exactly how this sort of thing was supposed to start.
“It’s her first time,” Seong instructed. “Help her.”
As soon as he spoke, Bin got behind Yong and pulled him back into what I assumed was a more bite-friendly position. Then Min got behind me and held my hair out of the way. It was simultaneously cute and disconcerting. Gun and Seong had nothing to do and politely averted their eyes.
I still didn’t think I could do it. Puncturing people’s necks sounded like the kind of thing you had to work up to before it came naturally. All I could think of was doing it wrong and Yong bleeding to death. Then I got close to his neck.
When I sank my teeth into his neck Yong made a small noise, like I do when I have to rip a bandage off. Then he was quiet. I had about half a second to feel guilty before I tasted blood. It felt like a freight train bursting out of a tunnel. A sensation of pure energy balled up in the base of my skull and shot down my spine. Everything down to my pinky-toe suddenly felt like it was vibrating. I wanted to run. I wanted to do a fucking triathlon. By the time Seong and Bin gently pulled me off Yong, I was practically shaking.
“Good?” Min asked.
“You have no idea.”
Seong held my wrist between his finger and looked at his watch.
“Her pulse is strong. She is ready. Gun, get your computer.”
“What’s the computer for?” I asked.
“Jun always worried that she would come back for him. After many ideas, we arranged to have microchip attached to his bone. Now, we can always find him.”
“If he does not go too far,” Yong interjected, looking none the worse for wear.
“I do not think she will take him far.” Bin said. “She will want to…” He paused and looked embarrassed. “Do things.”
The rest of the band took an immediate interest in their fingernails or random items around the kitchen.
“Ah.” I said. “So we can find him tonight.”
“Yes,” Bin said. He looked slightly mortified.
“I found him!” Gun came back into the kitchen holding his laptop up like Jason’s golden fleece. “They are only five kilometers away.”
“This is good luck.” Seong gave me an encouraging look. “Bin and I will go with you.”
I shook my head. “Jun wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. I can go alone.”
“We will stay in the car. If you are hurt, you won’t be able to drive. We may need to leave quickly.”
He was right. After seeing Fangirl hit Jun, I had no illusions about vampires being immune to pain or injury.
“How do I kill her?” I asked.
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“We don’t know,” Min finally admitted. “I don’t think Jun wanted us to know. If a human kills a vampire it is not good. That human will die, and often their family is killed with them.”
“Fantastic.”
I tried to think back to vampire movies. Unfortunately, I was never really into that sort of thing. How was I supposed to know I would end up as one?
“Can I cut off her head? At the very least it would slow her down.”
The idea seemed to invoke a lot of optimism, so I excused myself and went to my home office. I came back with the allegedly authentic Chinese sword I bought off eBay a few years ago.
“Is it real?” Seong asked.
I took the sword out of its sheath and tested it on my butcher block. The blade sank in about half an inch.
“I think we have a winner.” I announced.
“Then we go.” Seong looked over to Gun. “Are they still in the same place?”
“Yes. I think they will be there for a while.”
“Gross.” I said. “Let’s get going.”
Gun handed the computer off to Bin and I went to grab my car keys. When we got to the Hummer I gave to sword to Seong and told him to take the passenger seat. It took longer than expected to find the place. Jun’s tracking device was good, but it didn’t know roads. As far as the technology was concerned, the best route was a straight line between us and Fangirl. We ended up going down a few wrong roads trying to work with the system. Finally we pulled up to a three-story house with a “For Sale” sign on the lawn.
“Classy,” I told them. “She’s squatting.”
“Squatting?” Gun asked.
“I’ll explain later.” I said. “First the beheading.”
“Yes.” Seong agreed, as he returned the sword. “We wish you luck.”
Bin repeated the sentiment and I thanked them both. Before you think me brave, rest assured that if I had still been human I would have curled up right then and there and commenced shitting myself. Even as a member of the undead, I was getting sweaty palms on my way to the backyard. My plan was to go through the basement, if there was one. If not I would pick a window and cross my fingers. I wished I had a lock-pick or bobby-pin. I didn’t want her knowing I was coming. Then again, I might not have a choice. I had already noticed that my sense of hearing and smell were incredible. I swear, if I seagull took a shit on a buoy I would have known it. My only hope was that Fangirl wouldn’t be able to pick my smell out of the smells of countless strangers who had been house hunting in her make-shift love-den.
Guess what? Sometimes dreams do come true. Not only was there a basement, but the window was unlocked. So was the door leading up to the rest of the house. I felt like kissing whichever lazy real estate agent let that one slip. My night vision, also made amazing, let me roam through the house without so much as jostling an end table. Halfway up the stairs, I heard music playing. Sappy half-assed love-songs transcend language barriers. I flashed back to old high school dances and shuddered. Fangirl was showing Jun no mercy.
When I got to the second floor landing I slid the sword out and let the sheath fall to the floor. I shook the hilt one last time and was reassured when the blade didn’t wiggle. Given how I got it, I was still surprised it wasn’t made of cardboard and rhinestones.
Thanks to the music, I knew which door to go too. It was closed, but the crappy love ballads were loud enough to cover my entry. After opening it a few inches I peaked in and nearly gagged. Forget the music: Fangirl had other things distracting her. Since they were speaking in Korean, I can’t tell you exactly what they were saying – only that Fangirl wasn’t happy. To put it delicately, while Jun was willing to sacrifice himself for the good of the many, his manhood wasn’t having it. And I was pretty sure her tugging on it like she was trying to start a lawn mower wasn’t helping matters. When she sat back to scold him, I noticed the silver stakes through both of Jun’s wrists. He was pinned to the wall behind the bed. I decided it was go-time and rushed her: sword raised and my eyes on the prize.
The good news is that I caught her off-guard. The bad news is that I forgot about the existence of spines. Specifically the part between the shoulders and the base of the head, in which my sword was soon firmly fixed. I tried to yank it out, but all it did was yank Fangirl off the bed in a spray of stump blood. A second yank freed the handle from the sword. I threw it aside and launched myself at her. My plan was to snap her spine off. For the record, it’s harder than you think.
“Oh, come on!” I screamed as Fangirl tried to buck me off. “Break, you stupid bunch of bones!”
Again, not the sort of line you want people to remember you for. Even so, I was about to yell it again when there was a loud snap and, next thing I knew, was holding her head like a deformed lollipop. Fangirl looked at me and winked, right before her head disappeared in a fine mist and reappeared safely on her body. With a flip of her hips, I was the one helpless. Fangirl looked down on me and snarled.
“He will always be mine. Our kind does not die, stupid tramp. And wherever he goes, I will find him. And if you decide to interfere, I will break my promise.” She cocked her head and feigned an expression of innocence. “You don’t want that, do you? Those five deaths on your hands.”
I glared at her, and for the first time in my life I felt hate inside me. My skin burned with it and I could feel my blood pounding so hard it practically burst out of my veins. I wanted to rip the little psycho’s throat out with my own teeth, thrust my fist down the hole and yank her heart out. She started to laugh above me, enjoying my helpless rage. As she opened her mouth to taunt me further, I felt the burning leap out of my body and into hers.
Fangirl burst into flames. She threw herself off of me but didn’t get far before collapsing to the floor. All she could do after that was scream as the flames turned from red to white. It was like watching a person get cremated through thick glass. First her skin went, then her muscles. When she was reduced to a skeleton the screaming finally stopped. Eventually even the bones were nothing but a pile of ash. The entire room smelled like burned hair and bad pork.
So there you have it: Girl meets vampire, girl becomes vampire, girl barbecues another vampire. And no, that last part isn’t normal. I was afraid I would get labeled the “chosen one,” which right off the bat sounds like a whole lot of work, but all I had to do was talk to a couple of vampires in suits. They asked a bunch of questions about Fangirl and overall seemed relieved to be done with the crazy bitch.
As for Jun, he felt guilty for turning me, even though he wasn’t there for it. I eventually managed to convince him that I’m not upset at how things turned out. I do feel weird about using his friends for sustenance, but there’s not much I can do about that. In fact, I’m going on tour with the band.
Hey, a girl’s gotta eat.