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|Night School(Blood Coven Vampire,book 5) by Mari Mancusi|
But I’m not. And now that I’ve survived the initial dose, I’m perfectly fine. Guess the stuff doesn’t work too well on real fairies.
Tinkerbell looks at me, her head cocked in question, probably wondering why I’m not paralyzed, too. She reaches for my wing. I slap her hand away.
“They’re real,” I inform her. “Unlike your breasts.”
Without any more warning, I lunge, slamming my hands into her chest. She tries to take flight, but the tunnel ceilings don’t give her enough air space to take off. Stumbling backward, she flails to maintain her balance, but I charge again, ready to take her down for good this time.
No one paralyzes my boyfriend. Especially not some nasty pixie.
But just as I’m about to knock her down, she snaps her fingers and suddenly she’s the pint-size Tinkerbell from the movies again. Damn it! Flitting around me, she nips at my skin with tiny, sharp teeth.
“Ow!” I cry, swatting at her like a fly. But she’s too quick—buzzing at my back and grabbing a handful of hair. She’s strong for someone so little and manages to jerk me backward. I lose my balance, careening to the ground, slamming my head against the concrete. Tinkerbitch laughs and floats up toward the ceiling, then dive-bombs down at me, armed with a tiny knife.
The knife, which feels like only a pinprick due to its diminutive size, gets lodged in my stomach. Tink lands on me, trying to pull her knife free to stab me again, but I close my fingers around her little body before she can fly off.
“Got you!” I cry, pinching her now really tiny waist. She squirms angrily in my grasp, but I hold on tight. I could easily squash her like a bug, but that seems kind of awful. I mean, killing Tinkerbell?
Unfortunately, my good-hearted hesitation gives her the opportunity to poof back to human size and I’m forced to let go. She’s now straddling me, knife back in her hand (which, luckily for me, is still pint-size).
Before I can react, she leaps to her feet, giving me a sound kick to the side of the head. The pain reverberates through me as I struggle to keep conscious. But it’s not working. I quickly swim into blackness.
Yes, I’m afraid it’s true. I, Rayne McDonald, fairy, vampire, vampire-slayer extraordinaire, have just gotten my ass kicked by Tinkerbell.
I wake up on a creaky cot, my back aching and my head pounding like a mother. Sitting up, I look around, trying to take in my surroundings. I appear to be in some kind of dark, dingy jail cell that smells a lot like a septic tank. In the opposite corner, there’s a small, dirty sink and a broken toilet filled with brown water. A Saw movie come to life.
I suck in a shaky breath. Okay. I’m alive. That’s something at least. Damn Tinkerbell. If I ever get my hands on that pixie, I’ll ...
A deep, familiar groan interrupts my thoughts of revenge. Diving out of bed, I dash to the front of my cell, my fingers brushing the bars. Pain reverberates through me at the touch of metal—a sick burning feeling—and I quickly step back. They must be made of iron—poison to fairies.
Jareth is in the cell across from me, lying prostrate on the ground, bare-chested. Smoke rises from his pure white skin, which has been draped with silver chains. Guess the fairies wanted to make double sure he didn’t use his powers to escape, seeing as vampires aren’t allergic to iron like fairies are. Thank goodness they must have assumed I was just one of them, due to my wingspan and immunity to pixie dust. Though the iron bar thing is going to make it very tough to escape.
“Jareth!” I hiss, trying to wake him.
He tosses his head from side to side, still groaning in his sleep, clearly in agony. I bite my lower lip in worry; if he doesn’t regain consciousness and remove his chains soon, the silver will kill him.
“Jareth!” I try again, louder this time. “Wake up!”
“Hey, we’re trying to sleep over here!” a man cries from the cell directly to my right. I turn to yell back at him, but the words die in my throat as my eyes fall upon two people—a man and a woman—huddled under ratty blankets in the next cell.
“Mom?” I cry, my voice cracking in a mixture of excitement and horror. “Dad?”
The two look up, their faces white with shock. A split second later, they’re on their feet and in front of the adjoining cell wall, careful not to touch the bars. Mom reaches through, clasping my hand in hers and squeezing me so tightly at first I wonder if she’s going to break bone. But I don’t really mind the pain. It’s so good to see her again. To see both of them. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them until now. My mom’s soft scent of honeysuckle. My dad’s favorite Old Spice aftershave. I don’t know how it’s possible they smell so good down here in this dirty fairy jail cell, but somehow they do all the same.
“What are you doing here?” Mom demands. “I thought Heather relocated you somewhere safe.”
“Safe isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe Riverdale,” I tell them. “And besides, the fairies came and kidnapped Sunny. I had to come rescue her.”
Mom’s face crumbles and her hands drop to her sides in defeat. “So they did get her after all,” she says sorrowfully. “We weren’t sure. We were taken prisoner from your dad’s condo and have been down here in this cell ever since, begging for an audience with the prime minister.”
I stare at her in shock. And here I was complaining about the isolation of Riverdale. Mom and Dad had it a billion times worse.