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  Even the secretary’s smug, tight-lipped smile underneath the pitying eyes no longer stung when Kate entered the main office. She knew them all—from the secretary, to the school counselor, to the principal himself—thought she was failing terribly at her job as mother.

  She couldn’t argue with them.

  “Go on in,” the secretary said.

  Kate felt her cheeks go hot. Now they had stopped bothering to show her in. Just go on in, you know where it is, make yourself at home. She clutched her purse a little more tightly and marched through the principal’s open office door.

  Jessie sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk, head down and her black hair hiding her face. The principal sat with his hands folded on the ink blotter. The burnt orange of a fake tan coated his skin. His smile, all teeth, looked fresh off the whitening strips.

  “Have a seat, Ms. Blake.”

  She knew he was talking to her, but a small part of her always rebelled at answering to the false name. She forced a smile and took the seat next to Jessie. She tried to give Jessie a pointed glare, but Jessie’s hair screened her eyes.

  “Ms. Blake, I want you to know right away that we aren’t upset with Abby.”

  Kate blinked at the sound of her daughter’s fake name. She didn’t like it any more than her own.

  “We’re not here to punish her. We’re concerned for her.”

  Kate’s stomach dropped even before this coaster rolled over the first hill. Not a fight this time. Or a smart remark to one of her teachers. Damn it, Jess, why?

  “Mrs. Malkowski, our counselor? I believe you’ve met her? She’s very concerned.” He bumped over his words like a carriage on cobble stone. “Are you aware of your daughter’s…practices?”

  Her heartbeat rattled her own voice. “If you’re referring to the self-cutting, I am.”

  The principal swiveled in his chair to face Jessie. “Abby, show your mom your arm.”

  “Fuck you.”

  A lance of fire shot up Kate’s spine. “Watch your mouth.”

  The principal grimaced, looking a little green under all that spray-on orange. “Abby, we’re not angry with you. We’re concerned.”

  “Don’t be.”

  He took a deep breath.

  Kate noticed his gaze aimed over Jessie’s head rather than at her. She turned to Jess, reached out to touch her shoulder.

  Jessie shrugged Kate’s hand away. “I’m fine.”

  “Show her your arm, Abby.”

  Kate didn’t like the tone in his voice, that pretentious baritone that expected immediate obedience. It reminded her of Alec. She tried to soften the demand. “Please, hon. Just show me.”

  A heavy sigh that brought Jessie’s shoulders practically up to her neck before sagging back down. Then she held out her arm to Kate while still refusing to look up.

  The cuts looked fresh. Pink hash marks along her arm as if she had been keeping track of days. A few of them still oozed a little while most had begun crusting over with scabs.

  Kate glared at the principal. “You didn’t have the nurse bandage her?”

  He blanched, no amount of orange cover able to hide it. “The nurse disinfected the wounds. But we felt you should see for yourself before covering them.”

  “To what? Rub in my face that my daughter has a serious problem? You people think I don’t know this? You think I’m doing nothing to stop it?”

  He looked like he was clenching his teeth in pain, and Kate wondered if it was some attempt at a reassuring smile. “Mrs. Malkowski gave me a list.” He shuffled through papers on his desk. His hands shook slightly.

  Jesus. When Kate had gone to high school, their principal’s nickname had been Goldfinger, because when you got in trouble he would poke you hard in the breastbone with a rigid finger while scolding you like a drill sergeant. When had school authorities become so soft?

  “Here it is.” He pulled free a yellow sheet of lined paper and handed it across the desk. “Some therapists she suggests. They’re all local.”

  Jessie made a disgusted grunt. “Great.”

  The principal looked at her. “Honestly, we’re only trying to help.”

  Jessie finally lifted her chin. Her hair fell away from her face. Her eyes bored into the principal with a gaze Kate imagined felt as hard as Goldfinger’s accusing jabs. “You have no fucking clue how to help me.”

  Kate leaned forward. “Stop.”

  Jessie turned to her, lip curled and brow creased. “He doesn’t. You know he doesn’t. None of them do. Why do we have to keep lying?”

  The principal cleared his throat. “Lying?”

  “I’m tired of it, Mom.”

  “This isn’t the time to discuss it.”

  “When is the time? You never want to discuss it. You want to pretend none of it ever happened and play house with Craig. Live happily ever after.” She threw a hand up. “Good for you. But it isn’t working for me. I’m not happy.”

  The principal looked back and forth between them, blinking and open-mouthed. “I’m sorry. Who is Craig?”

  Kate’s whole body tensed. Her gut churned. She took a deep breath and shot to her feet. “We’re going. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

  Jessie folded her arms. “Can’t I just go back to class?”

  “Young lady,” the principal said. “This is serious. If you can’t resolve these issues with your mother, I’ll be forced to call Child Services and have them intervene.”

  Jessie scowled, but Kate beat her with a response.

  “There’s no need for that.”

  “You may not think so, but Abby is harming herself. This kind of behavior is evidence of severe depression. And could be a precursor to—”

  “Thanks for your unprofessional opinion. But I think I know my daughter better than you.”

  “I’m not suicidal,” Jessie added.

  He still held out his list on the yellow paper. “You’re right. I’m no professional. But I’ve worked in schools for a long time. I’ve seen terrible tragedy when things like this go unchecked. Please.” He raised the paper to her. “Contact someone. Get Abby help.”

  Kate’s anger at this man deflated. He wasn’t the enemy here. He was genuinely concerned. He just didn’t have any idea what he was dealing with. How could he? He had never been possessed by a specter. He had never performed magic using his own blood. And Kate was willing to bet her life he’d never been married to a werewolf.

  She took the offered sheet of paper. “Thank you. I will.”

  Jessie rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath.

  Kate folded the list and tucked it in her purse. “Let’s go.”

  Jessie stood and stared at the principal a moment. She smirked. “If only you knew.”

  “Enough.” Kate took Jessie by the arm, making sure to avoid the cuts, and escorted her out of the school.

  When they got in the car, Kate put the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it right away. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

  Jessie stared out her window, shrugged.

  “It’s hard enough getting used to the names we have, the people we’re pretending to be.”

  “Then why bother?”

  “Because our lives depend on it.” Her voice turned shrill. She gave herself a second before continuing. “After what we’ve been through, we are not safe. You and I both know what’s really out there. But if you insist on flaunting that knowledge, you put us at risk. Then it’s off to some other remote community, with a new set of names, a new pack of lies.”

  Jessie turned from the window. Her eyes were wet. “What aren’t you telling me, Mom?”

  Kate cringed inside as she told the lie. “Nothing. Craig is just worried that some of Dolan’s people might still be operating and might come after us.”

  “Dolan’s dead. Why would anyone care about us?”

  Kate searched inside for the most honest answer she could afford to give. “Because, like it or not, we’re
part of that secret world now. And it’s a damn dangerous world to live in.”

  Chapter Three

  Niall looked at the young vampires seated at his table. The eldest couldn’t have been more than a mortal century, though he wore his scars well. Black lines crisscrossed his face like claw marks. He’d clearly had an active life on the mortal plane. The others, though. Goodness. None of them more than a handful of decades, and probably only half of that spent in the mortal world. But all of them true born. Niall would not have a vampire conceived on the mortal plane seated at his table.

  In the center of the table sat a gold plated punchbowl filled with a deep red liquid. Empty goblets sat in front of each of his five guests, two of which were actually female. Niall recalled an era where females would never have such an honor. Instead, the women would remain chained in a back room and raped after feasting.

  Sadly, intercourse among vampires had long since faded as a practice. Most vampires raped their meals these days. Uncivilized, but Niall could adapt with the times. He prided himself on his liberalism.

  “The same question glimmers in each of your eyes. Why, by the light, have we been summoned here?”

  His guests exchanged looks. A couple nodded. None of them spoke. They knew better.

  “You all hail from different regions of the South. From Atlanta down to the Florida keys. You’ve seen the growth of our numbers, both mortal and from our home world. And all of you have shown a rare quality among vampires.”

  He smoothed the silk placemat on the table before him. His own empty goblet stood at the center of the red fabric. A color of pride among vampires. An obvious symbol, but no less powerful in its inspiration.

  “Vampires are often a selfish lot. We may hunt in packs, but we still hunt only to feed ourselves. Yet you five have shown a sense of leadership among your kind. You’ve managed to organize the swelling numbers of our kind in your areas.”

  Again, he paused and watched them absorb his words. Did they have any idea what they were capable of? What power they could possess? The possibilities made Niall’s dead heart feel on the verge of beating.

  Niall leaned forward. “Do any of you know who I am?”

  One of the females spoke. “You’re the eldest of our kind known in North America.”

  Niall pounded the table with a fist. His goblet tipped. He let it roll off the table and clang against the floor. “Not my age. Who. I. Am.”

  The five shared uncertain glances. None of them met Niall’s eyes.

  “I am King of the South. I rule over every vampire in this region. They listen to me. They obey me. They work for me.”

  The older of the five threw up a hand. “There is no such thing as a vampire king. Not even in our world.”

  Niall showed his fangs. “This isn’t our world. And I tell you, this is my kingdom you visit today.” He clapped his hands twice, summoning his latest servant. A fresh mortal turn that worshiped the very idea of Niall. Mortals were so pliable, even before turning. How many, especially in New Orleans, had built shrines to vampire-kind? Nightclubs. Films. Costumes. And it didn’t matter that most of their ideas about vampires strayed so far from truth. The Myth. That was what was important. The Myth that made mortals both fear and worship the vampire.

  The servant, a skinny boy scarcely older than seventeen years, entered the room. His skin was nearly as white as his hair was black. Silently, he went round the table and filled the goblets from the bowl in the table’s center.

  The guests watched, each with their own style of wariness. The eldest sneered. The younger female stroked her jaw. A young male leaned away from his goblet as if he thought it poisoned.

  He could smell the fear on all of them.

  The servant boy finished filling the cups and left immediately.

  Niall gestured with both hands to his guests. “Before you sits a cup of our kind’s most precious commodity. I provide this to those who accept my rule. You may drink and enjoy my hospitality. Those of you who deny my rule may simply let me know by leaving your cup untouched.”

  Every gaze rose to him.

  He smiled. “Again, I see the same question in all of your eyes. What possible reason would you accept me as your king? Simple. I shall give you dominion over a portion of my vampire legion. Your shown ability to lead will do more than merely help you survive as it has. It will allow you to flourish.”

  The eldest spat. “What legion? You make it sound as if you have an army to command. No vampire has ever submitted to such rule.”

  “No. Never before. Never before. But change is master of all things.”

  “Lies.” The eldest lifted his cup and dumped it on the floor. “I’ve had enough of this talk.”

  Niall looked to the others. “This one has made his choice. What of the rest of you?”

  The young female stared into her cup. “If vampires stood together as you claim, it could mean a whole new life on this plane.”

  “Indeed. No more hiding. No more starving. No more fear of the mortals that oppress us.”

  The eldest folded his arms. “A youngling like you would be so gullible.”

  She lifted her cup in toast to the eldest and drank deep.

  The older female beside her shook her head and slid her cup away. She bowed her head to Niall. “If you’ll excuse me, my elder. I mean you no disrespect.”

  Niall inclined his own head. “I gave you a choice. It is yours to make.”

  The remaining two vampires looked across the table at one another, then at the female who drank. Her lips shined deep red. Her skin turned a white as pure as sugar. Apparently the men liked what they saw, and both of them drank from their cups.

  The vampire directly to Niall’s right guzzled so fervently, the blood trickled from the corners of his lips and down his chin. When he had drained the cup, he slammed it down on the table and gaped at Niall.

  “You feel it, don’t you?”

  The vampire nodded. His own skin lightened like the young female’s.

  “Good,” Niall said. “Those of you who drank, I offer my first command as your king.” He looked pointedly at the two who had refused their cups. “Kill those who did not.”

  “Ha.” The eldest stood, knocking his chair back. “I’ll take the three of you on myself and show you the light.”

  The young female stood slowly. She gripped the female next to her by the back of the neck and lifted her out of her seat one-handed.

  The older female hissed and thrashed, but she could not break loose. “Put me down you bitch.”

  Instead, the young female wrapped her free arm across the other’s chest and tore her head from her shoulders. Black blood fountained from the stump of her neck, spattering the ceiling and raining over the young female.

  She dropped the two pieces of her victim to the floor, smiling through the gore on her face. She bowed to Niall. “Master.”

  Now the scent of fear permeated the room as the eldest vampire stepped back from the table.

  Niall nodded to his newest male subjects. “Go ahead.”

  They charged the eldest, one leaping clear over the table, the other moving so fast he blew a tapestry off the wall. They tore their elder apart with no more effort than gutting a fish. Only some pieces remained recognizable when they had finished.

  Covered in the black blood of his fellow vampire, one of the males turned to Niall. “I’ve never felt so strong.”

  The female bowed again. “If it pleases you, Master. May I ask a question?”

  Oh, she had learned so quickly. He would have to keep a close eye on her. “Your name?”

  “Alicia Bennet, sir.”

  “Your true name.”

  Her eyes widened. Then she smiled. “Yora.”

  “Ask your question, Yora.”

  She gazed at the bowl in the center of the table which still held a pool of red. “What mortal provided such powerful blood?”

  Niall glided around the table and stroked her bloody cheek. “No mortal.”
r />   Chapter Four

  “You look good.”

  Lockman finished pouring the scotch into Teresa’s glass. “You’re not so bad yourself. You’ve hardly changed.”

  “My ass is bigger.”

  “Ass looked fine to me.”

  She smiled and lifted her glass. “So you checked?”

  “Part of my training. I notice details.” He drank from his own glass and savored the burn of the liquid coursing down his throat. The scotch was strictly for special occasions. He figured seeing an old friend from the Agency days counted.

  After her own sip, Teresa set down her glass and absently turned it on the kitchen table.

  “What’s going on, Tree?” Lockman asked.

  “It’s my sister.”

  Lockman raised his eyebrows. “You have a sister?”

  “Just one of the many personal things we weren’t supposed to share at the Agency.” She shook her head. “Fucking Creed. Wonder what happened to that old coot.”

  Lockman felt a pinch in his chest. “He’s dead.”

  “Aw, shit. I hope it wasn’t something like cancer. I’m sick of hearing about people dying of cancer.”

  “He was murdered. One of Dolan’s people.”

  “Dolan? He’s still operating?” She made a fist. “Oh, I’m gonna track down that son of a bitch and rip his spine out.”

  “Sorry, Tree. I beat you to it.”

  She screwed her lips together, nodded. “Good.” Lifted her glass. “Here’s to bad folks getting what they deserve.” She emptied her glass and pounded it on the table. “Give me another.”

  Lockman topped her off. “Your sister.”

  She emptied her glass again, but didn’t ask for a refill. “Mandy. Stupid girl. Harvard grad and she’s got the common sense of a newt.”

  “Nice analogy.”

  “I used to have a couple pet newts as a kid. They would bite each other’s limbs and tails off. But they grew back. Stupid little things.”

  “Why are you stalling?”

  She pushed away her empty glass and leaned back in her chair. “Because when I tell you what happened and what I want, you’re going to say ‘no.’”