Author/Uploaded by Mike Chen
Praise for the novels of Mike Chen “A love letter to the power of music, this thoughtful, humorous exploration of what constitutes living versus mere survival sees Chen (Light Years from Home) at the top of his game.” —Publishers Weekly, starred review “Mike Chen always highlights the humanity at the heart of his astounding stories.” —BookPage “Va...
Praise for the novels of Mike Chen “A love letter to the power of music, this thoughtful, humorous exploration of what constitutes living versus mere survival sees Chen (Light Years from Home) at the top of his game.” —Publishers Weekly, starred review “Mike Chen always highlights the humanity at the heart of his astounding stories.” —BookPage “Vampire Weekend finally gives us the painfully relatable vampires we’ve always needed: awkward, cringey, their clothes never quite in style. But with that comes a story of genuine kindness and the gentle wonder of understanding and friendship found in the least likely place imaginable—in your own family, vampire or not.” —Natalie Zina Walschots, author of Hench “Vampire Weekend rocks. It’s a fanged love song to punk, guitars, and vampires, and it shines with hope and humor. I loved every beat.” —New York Times bestselling author Chloe Neill “Mike Chen is at his best here, with a sharp-as-fangs reinvention of the vampire mythos centered on the power of family, born and chosen, and, of course, punk rock. This book will sink its teeth right into your heart.” —Gwenda Bond, New York Times bestselling author, on Vampire Weekend “Never getting old sucks! Mike Chen’s Vampire Weekend is a kicky homage to punk rock and a delightful exploration of what it means to be ‘other,’ teaching us that while vampire blood helps, true healing comes from family and forgiveness.” —Sierra Godfrey, author of A Very Typical Family “Fresh, intelligent, and darkly funny, Vampire Weekend is my favorite vampire novel since Interview with the Vampire.” —Stina Leicht, author of Persephone Station Mike Chen is the New York Times bestselling author of Star Wars: Brotherhood, Here and Now and Then, Light Years from Home and other novels. He has covered geek culture for sites such as Nerdist, Tor.com and StarTrek.com, and in a different life, he’s covered the NHL. A member of SFWA, Mike lives in the Bay Area with his wife, daughter and many rescue animals. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram: @mikechenwriter. Also by Mike Chen HERE AND NOW AND THEN A BEGINNING AT THE END WE COULD BE HEROES LIGHT YEARS FROM HOME Mike Chen Vampire Weekend For the musicians in my life Contents CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16 CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 18 CHAPTER 19 CHAPTER 20 CHAPTER 21 CHAPTER 22 CHAPTER 23 CHAPTER 24 CHAPTER 25 CHAPTER 26 CHAPTER 27 CHAPTER 28 CHAPTER 29 CHAPTER 30 CHAPTER 31 CHAPTER 32 CHAPTER 33 CHAPTER 34 CHAPTER 35 CHAPTER 36 CHAPTER 37 CHAPTER 38 CHAPTER 39 CHAPTER 40 CHAPTER 41 CHAPTER 42 CHAPTER 43 CHAPTER 44 CHAPTER 45 EPILOGUE ACKNOWLEDGMENTS CHAPTER 1 There’s one rule we vampires live by: Never reveal your true nature to a human. Which made sneezing blood during band practice kind of a problem. Nose tickles are rare for vampires, but something triggered it here, at a really inopportune moment. My face squinched, a full-body tension to successfully hold it in, and I continued without missing a beat. My left hand pressed guitar strings taut against frets, my right hand strummed at a steady rhythm, switching to single plucks as notes rang out until going back to chords for the song’s outro. For the moment, I abided by the cardinal rule for vampires. Because as scattered as we were, exposure was really frowned upon, enough that rumors of so-called “fixers” swirled—vampires that put others back in line if they got a little too flippant with community secrets. So it probably wasn’t great that I’d revealed the truth twice already, first to my late aunt Laura, and second by being honest with my best friend/bandmate, Marshall. And though that last time ended in all sorts of heartache and misery, I vowed this time would be different. I’d get close enough to humans to play in a band while being a good vampire citizen. Because for a vampire like me, music was nearly as important as blood. And I’d starved myself of it for too long. That’s why I was here, trying out for Copper Beach—the third band I’d auditioned for in two months. We sped through the audition set, every beat and note building dreams of jam sessions, set lists, earsplitting drums, and crashing guitars in a shitty empty bar. With each passing second, my whole body felt more in sync, the vitality of band life becoming part of me once again. In movies, vampires were desiccated husks until they drank gallons of blood; I’d starved myself of other musicians for so long that I felt that way, and every chord strummed restored me to full strength. A cymbal crashed to end the set’s final song and our collective noise faded, leaving only the muffled rumbles from adjacent rooms. The run-down Oakland warehouse was filled with bands stuffed into similarly tiny practice rooms, sound-insulated spaces where magic happened despite bad ventilation and faulty electrical outlets. Glances exchanged, an unspoken vibe that seemed to acknowledge that my guitar work fit them well. The drummer, a scientist-looking guy named Josh, nodded at me while adjusting a snare bolt, and I offered a smile so pleasant my fangs likely showed. “I think that sounded pretty—” I started before the worst possible thing happened: Another sneeze came. A full explosion, a clear allergic reaction to something in the air too powerful to stifle. Suddenly, blood sprayed all over David—David, as in my white Epiphone guitar. I named all my guitars, and in this case, the Epiphone’s bright crunchy tone matched the glam sound of David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust/Aladdin Sane period to earn the name. And, in that moment, covered in blood: a light splatter over David’s smooth body and the black pickguard. But what triggered it? Not