of candied popcorn, pretzels, sanguine chocolates, and golden apples.
“What is sanguine chocolate?” I ask.
Suddenly I feel a wind chill at my side. It settles on my shoulder with mild gloom. My heart jumps to my throat when I realize it’s a person. Sort of.
Frederik, the only vampire I’ve ever met who rocks long black hair and Hawaiian shirts, is standing right beside me. “Ian, I don’t believe the Sea Prince likes blood chocolate.”
I put the blood-chocolate box back on the cart and decide I’m not hungry, leaving Ian selling the same box to a pale girl no taller than my hip.
“Damn, Frederik,” I shout. “That’s creepy as hell.”
Frederik shoves his hands in his long shorts pockets. He shrugs. “Wasn’t my intention to startle you, little merman. Just saying hi.”
Layla points at the swinging pirate-ship ride. “Are those Vikings?”
“Demigods,” Frederik corrects. “Just called them in. After the incident this Friday, the Thorne Hill Alliance feels we need extra protection details until the Sea People are done with their championship.”
I don’t like where this is going. “Wish I had better news for you, dude.”
“Then I suppose we’ll all enjoy the summer solstice festivities in the meantime,” he says, turning to the girls. “Did I hear you say you wanted to go on the carousel?”
“Uhh—”
“Really, it’s no bother.”
Without being asked, the conductor comes out of a nearby ticket booth. His gait is forced, like he’s trying to be calm when the energy around him is more wound up than Principal Quinn after the girls’ soccer team went on a no-sports-bra strike until they got the same funding as the boys.
“Everyone,” Frederik says, “this is Patrick.”
“Heywhatsup?” Patrick says in one breath. He’s tall and lanky, borderline anorexic, with hair down to his hips and an unkempt beard. He can’t be more than twenty and definitely human and definitely shit-scared of Frederik by the way he never quite looks the vampire in the eyes.
“Do you think you could hook my friends up by turning on the carousel?”
The question is a formality. I can sense the tension in the command. Patrick goes to the ride, sticks in a key, and pulls a lever. He waits for Layla and Thalia to hop on. Even Kurt joins them, but I have a feeling that’s more because of his disdain for vampires than his curiosity about carnival rides. The lights come alive, along with the twinkling song I’ve heard all my life. The white hides of the horses are dirty and some of the bulbs are burned out, but the carousel still has the same cool effect.
“Thanks, dude,” I say, about to pat Frederik on the back, but then I think better of it. “Did you just Dracula Patrick into submission?”
“He’s a friend. Of sorts.”
“Meaning?”
“His sister got…turned this winter. In front of him. I’ve been trying to help them acclimate.”
Oh. Suddenly I can’t get that image out of my head. “That’s decent of you.”
“Believe me, it’s not easy watching your sister turn into this,” he says. When I wait for him to elaborate, he doesn’t, and we keep leaning against the railing in front of the carousel. I breathe in the Coney Island air, the lingering cigarette smoke, virgin piña coladas spilled on the ground, the spun sugar of cotton candy.
“Where’s your other half?” I ask.
“If you’re referring to Marty McKay,” Frederik says, “that shapeshifter and I aren’t on speaking terms for the next hour and a half. He spilled my O-Neg slushie and is trying to find me another. You try getting that in the middle of the night when everyone is out partying.”
“That’s tough.”
“It’s tragic, actually. I’m still hungry.” Frederik turns his dark eyes to me. Then he smiles. “Don’t look like that. I wouldn’t bite the future Sea King. I’m the High Vampire of New York. It’d be bad politics.”
I laugh. “I’m glad you have so much faith in me.”
“I take it things didn’t go so well on your journey?” He nods at a pale, brooding couple walking past. The guy is carrying an oversized blue monkey as a carnival prize. Everyone who walks past Frederik stops for the briefest moment to acknowledge him. It’s what I used to feel in the hallways at school.
“Things could’ve gone better,” I say.
“Do you ever think everything happens just as it should?”
“Like that ‘meant to be’ crap? Hell no. If that were true, I’d be sitting around waiting for someone to put a fork in my hand and a crown on my head.”