"What happened to you last night?" Olivia asked as she helped herself to a cup of coffee from the pot. She sat down at the kitchen table across from me.

"I forgot to take my medication," I said. "I was feeling pretty lousy so I asked John to take me home."

After Ian bit and infected me, my parents dragged me from one specialist to the next in a vain attempt to figure out what was wrong with me. The consensus was that I had hemolytic anemia. Due to an unknown toxin in the blood, the lab work said.

"Is that why you were in such a bad mood?"

"Uh . . . I guess."

She took a sip of coffee. "Then I forgive you for acting like a jerk."

"How very generous of you."

"Anyway," Olivia said, disregarding my sarcasm. "Speaking from personal experience, I know how hard it is to remember to take a pill every day."

I looked up to see that she was biting her bottom lip in an obvious attempt to keep from smiling. "Out with it," I demanded. "I know you're dying to tell me something."

Olivia's shoulders rose and fell as she swirled the tip of her finger around the rim of the coffee cup. "I'm just being responsible," she said, her smile growing wider. "Taking precautions, you know? I mean, it's not like we do it all the time. I was totally embarrassed when my mom dragged me to the doctor and made him—him, can you believe it?—write me a script for birth control pills. But she said she's definitely not ready to be a grandmother, not with the twins still tearing around the house."

I closed my eyes for one brief moment, shutting out my best friend's prattling. I wasn't sure I had the strength to tolerate her today. "I wasn't aware you and Marcus had reached that point in your relationship."

Her cheeks flushed, but she met my eyes without blinking. "Haven't you and John?"

I stared at her. "As a matter of fact, no."

"Oh," Olivia said, sounding disappointed. "Well, I wish my first time had been with Marcus instead of Gabe." She screwed up her face at the memory. "What a mistake! If I had one wish, I would wish for a do-over."

"Only you don't have one wish," I reminded her. "And there are no do-overs when it comes to losing your virginity."

Olivia put her chin in the palm of her hand, looking distinctly starry-eyed. "Marcus is just so great, you know? I think it's because he's older and more mature. He's nineteen."

I wanted to point out that two years didn't make a whole lot of difference when it came to some guys, but I kept my mouth shut. "Marcus seems like a really sweet guy," I said instead.

"He is," she assured me. "He's not a jerk like Gabe. I can see us getting married one day."

I closed my eyes again to keep from rolling them. Part of me felt obligated to give her the whole "don't be reckless" and "take your time" lecture, but I wasn't her mother. As far as I was concerned, Libby's sex life was none of my business, even if we were best friends. Furthermore, discussing what she did in her private time with Gabe and Marcus was quickly driving me to the edge of my breaking point.

"So when do you think you and John are going to, you know . . ?"

I sighed. "I don't know, Libby. Are you asking me to nail down the exact date and time?"

"You've fooled around at least," she said. "There's a lot you can do without actually—"

I rose abruptly. "You're my best friend and I love you, but I don't want to talk about this with you right now. Or ever. Can we drop it and move on to something else?"

Olivia shrugged as though I had simply suggested we change the channel on the TV. "How are you feeling these days? You're getting your appetite back I see."

Her eyes went to the discarded pile of apple cores sitting in the middle of the table. "Is this a new diet trend? You've eaten, like, four of them in the past half hour."

I guiltily returned the apple I'd just picked up to the fruit bowl. "I can't help my cravings, Libby."

Apples, it turned out, temporarily curbed my thirst for human blood. I was sure there was some metaphorical explanation that had to do with Adam and Eve, and the whole Garden of Eden and forbidden fruit thing. I just hadn't figured it out yet. Not that I really cared.

"Speaking of cravings," Olivia said. "Wanna get some breakfast? I'm dying for a plate of waffles."

"You hate waffles," I pointed out.

When we were in the ninth grade, Olivia puked in the middle of English. She'd blamed it on the waffles she'd eaten for breakfast, but it turned out it was the beginning of a virulent stomach virus that wreaked havoc on the school for a full two weeks.

I grinned, unable to help myself. "Are you sure you didn't forget to take a certain little pill?"

"I am not pregnant," Olivia insisted. "Don't even joke about such things. So, are you in?"

I put on my bravest smile. Going out for waffles meant subjecting myself to the tide of breakfast odors that humans found comforting and nice, but that I, as a vampire, found utterly repulsive.

"Sure. I'm not hungry, though," I said, nodding at the leftover apple bits on the table.

Olivia arched a brow and got up to dump the remnants of her coffee in the sink. She made a shooing motion with her hand. "Go change," she said. "Unless your goal is to look like you don't care, in which case you pretty much nailed it."

Ignoring Olivia's comment, I took the stairs two at a time. Locking my bedroom door behind me, I crossed the room and pulled the cooler out from under the bed. I flipped open the lid. Only one bag remained. I hesitated, my hand resting on the cool, slick exterior of the thick plastic. Maybe I didn't need it yet. I'd eaten all those apples. The craving was more like a dull ache now, instead of the stabbing pain of a knife. Perhaps I should save it . . .

"Are you ready?" Olivia called a few moments later. I could hear her heavy footsteps on the stairs and knew I didn't have time to spare.

Snatching the bag from the cooler, I bit into it, feeling the thirst-quenching rush of blood on my tongue as I squeezed and sucked. Oh, who was I kidding? Eating apples was like putting a bandage on a severed artery to stop a hemorrhaging wound. About the only thing those apples were good for was making me feel a little less like the monster I'd become. I tossed the empty bag back into the cooler, disgusted and ashamed of my weakness, and shoved the whole mess under my bed.

"Sorry," I said, opening the door. Olivia put her hand to my forehead. "What are you doing?" I said, swatting it away.

"Checking your temp. Is that really what you're going to wear? Not too long ago you wouldn't have been caught dead in public wearing an outfit like that. And is that," she said, reaching out to poke the front of my grungy sweatshirt, "blood on your boob?"

I looked down, scrunching my chin to my neck so I could see the slope of my chest. It was blood. "Oh. Um. I think it's ketchup." Pulling my shirt over my head in one swift movement, I balled it up before burying it at the bottom of the hamper.

I pulled on a pair of jeans and a new sweater, then twirled to face Olivia, a smile plastered on my face. "Like it? John bought it for me."

Olivia's face lit up. "Cute! John has good taste for a guy." She snapped her fingers. "That reminds me."

"What?" I said, twisting my unruly hair into a knot at the base of my neck and sending up a prayer of thanks that Olivia was so easily distracted.

"We need a girls' day out." Bloodstain completely forgotten, Olivia led the way down the stairs and out the door, all the while talking about the stores we were going to browse and the clothes we would most definitely be buying.

During the drive downtown, however, Olivia wouldn't stop rambling about last night's dance and how everyone just adored her and Marcus's costumes and spot-on rendition of Islands in the Stream.

"We should have won, at least for our costumes," she said as I looked over my shoulder and twisted the wheel, trying to parallel park in a particularly tight spot. This wasn't the first time today she'd expressed her indignation at coming in second place.

"I can't believe Katie Cunningham and what's-his-name won. Their costumes were so basic. Cinderella and Prince Charming? Please. Katie Cunningham is the biggest mean girl ever. If she's Cinderella, then I'm the Wicked Witch of the West."

We got out of the car and Olivia linked her arm through mine. "Banana Boat!" she yelled as a yellow Jeep sped through the intersection, its back wheel dipping in a pothole and sending up a spray of semi-frozen mud.

"I didn't realize we still played that game," I said.

"If you and John hadn't bailed, you would have won," she replied, ignoring my comment. "Your costumes were killer. Seriously, where did you get them?"

"I think John scrounged them up at some thrift store. Like you said, he has really good taste."

We entered the Commons to find that all the ghosts, goblins, and witches had been taken down and replaced with Christmas trees and prancing reindeer. A few menorahs and oversized dreidels had been thrown in for good measure. There was even a HAPPY KWANZAA sign hanging from one of the shop windows.

I had mixed feelings about being here. The Commons was where, not that long ago, Josiah had informed me in that annoyingly disinterested way of his that I didn't have long to live. Now that I was a vampire, I guess I was sort of dead anyway. After all, my body had entered into stasis. I would never grow old. I would never look any different than I did now. I would live forever, barring some accident that drained my body of blood faster than I could heal.

"So. Waffles," I said to take my mind off more depressing thoughts. At least it got Olivia to stop talking about the dance.

"It just seems like the perfect fall food," she said, shivering and huddling closer to me as a gust of wind blew through the square and hit us head-on. "Come on. I'm freezing!"

She began leading me to the same coffee shop Josiah had taken me when I'd still been human. I yanked her to a stop. "You want to go there?"

She gave me a confused look. "Is that a problem?"

I peeked over her shoulder to see if I could steal a glimpse through the window, but the reflection of the people milling about outside made it impossible to see with any sort of clarity what was going on inside the shop.

"I thought we were going to that new waffle bar. I'm pretty sure this place doesn't even sell waffles."

I half-turned in the other direction, but Olivia grabbed my arm. "And I'm pretty sure they do. Now let's go before my stomach caves in."

The bell hanging above the door tinkled as Olivia opened it and stepped in ahead of me, but her sharp intake of breath alerted me that something was wrong.

"What is?" I said, prodding her to take a few steps more so I could enter the shop. When I did, I immediately realized what it was that had made her pause.

Before I could turn around and run out, Olivia grabbed my hand and pulled me in the direction of the display case full of breakfast pastries. She leaned in closer and spoke from the corner of her mouth . . . as if that would do any good. Josiah's hearing was so acute, he could probably hear the synapses firing in her brain.

"That guy is here."

"What guy?" I said, pretending I hadn't seen my vampire sire.

She elbowed me. "If you'd look somewhere other than your feet, you'd know who I was talking about."

"Sorry. I think I stepped in gum," I said, lifting my right shoe to examine the bottom.

"What's your problem?" With a grunt of disgust, Olivia took my chin in her hand and forced me to look in Josiah's direction. My fangs nearly extended at the encroachment of my personal space, an involuntary response, but I dug my nails into my palms until the urge to attack my best friend faded.

"Oh," I said with a shrug. "Well, it's a small town. What do you expect?"

"So small that we keep running into the guy?"

"It's called coincidence."

"It's called weird."

Just then Margaret Abernathy emerged from the bathroom with a bored expression on her face and sat down next to Josiah. Our eyes met and she wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb before smiling and crooking a finger at me.

"Is she summoning you?" Olivia said. She turned to look behind us as though expecting to see someone else. "She is, isn't she?"

"Uh, yeah. I think so."

"You can't tell me that's not bizarre, Blake. Seriously, since when did you two become so chummy?"

"We're not. I told you we have art together. Maybe she wants to talk about the, um, the thing we're doing in class."

The woman behind the counter asked for Olivia's order. "Get your food and then grab a table," I said. "I'll see what she wants."

Olivia turned to study the menu, apparently too hungry to truly care about whatever Margaret wanted with me. I made my way across the shop to face the vampires.

"Olivia is getting suspicious," I said.

Margaret laughed without opening her mouth. "I guess she's not as dimwitted as I thought."

"Why are you here?" I demanded.

"It's a free country, right?"

It suddenly dawned on me what was going on. "You compelled Olivia to bring me here, didn't you?"

Margaret's eyes went briefly to Josiah. She dared to look surprised, but her answering smile gave her away. She put a slender, white hand to her chest. "Why, whatever do you mean?"

"Olivia kept going on and on about how much she had to have waffles this morning, even though she hates waffles, which you know."

Margaret's smile widened. "So what if I did compel her?"

My face felt hot. "You could have picked up the phone and left Olivia out of it."

"But that wouldn't have been nearly as much fun," she replied.

I looked over my shoulder in Olivia's direction. She was staring back at us, a look of intense interest on her face, as though she was trying to hear what we were saying from across the crowded room by sheer force of will.

I turned back to Margaret. "Or maybe you did it just to show me who's in charge?"

Margaret laughed. "I didn't realize there was ever any doubt."

Josiah cleared his throat and Margaret shot him a dirty look. "My father would like to see you again," she said.

"Fine," I said. "But only because I was planning on seeing him anyway."

Margaret narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. "You will come to my house because it's what my father requested, and not because you have decided to grace him with your presence. Have I made myself clear?"

My fangs descended, and Josiah immediately rose to his feet and put a restraining hand on my arm. "There are humans present," he said in a fierce whisper. "It would be prudent to control yourself."

I took a deep breath, angry for letting Margaret get under my skin.

"While you are there, perhaps Sharon would do you some good," he added. He nodded at Margaret, who rose from her chair and shoved past me with her nose in the air.

It was then that I realized just how well Margaret pulled off the human facade. Though quiet and mysterious at school, she was a terror when in her element. Katie Cunningham, who I considered the litmus for mean girls, had nothing on the vampire. Josiah tipped his hat to me and followed Margaret out the door without a word.

Fighting to get myself under control, I joined Olivia and slumped into the chair opposite hers. "What was that all about?" she asked.

"Just as I thought," I said. "She had some questions about this project we're working on in class."

Olivia pinched off the corner of a waffle and stuck it in her mouth. "A project?"

"That's what I said," I snapped.

She cut a bigger slice with her fork and knife, crisp and dripping with blueberry syrup. "What kind of project?" Either she was oblivious to my tone, or she was a much better friend than I.

The air inside the coffee shop was stifling and filled with too many nauseating odors. Now that Margaret and Josiah were gone, the smells seemed more noticeable. "Uh." I swallowed hard, fighting the rising urge to vomit. "We're . . . uh. We're doing macramé."

"Macramé? What the hell is macramé?"

"You know . . . macramé." I said. I vaguely remembered a macramé owl my grandparents had hanging on one of their kitchen walls. It was orange, cream, and brown, and so very hideous.

"She wants me to go over to her house today to work on it," I added.

"To her house?"

"Yes," I answered. Then I quickly added, "And no, you're not coming with me."

Olivia's face instantly morphed into a pout, her pale pink bottom lip jutting out. "Why not? To my knowledge, no one from our school has ever been inside the Abernathy mansion. I could do an exposé."

"An exposé. I'm pretty sure you're using that word incorrectly. An exposé is—"

"It's a publication of wrongdoing," she said. "I'm not as stupid as you think, Blake. Anyway, who better to expose than Margaret? I don't like her, and I know there's got to be something hinky going on over there. And before you tell me that hinky is not a word, it is."

"Conrad Abernathy is the chief of police," I said. "I highly doubt there's anything hinky going on."

"Just let me come with you," she begged. "I promise I'll stay out of the way."

"Not a chance," I said.

For one thing, the place was crawling with vampires and human blood bags. I did not want my best friend becoming a midday snack. That she didn't have the preferred blood type might protect her to a certain degree, but it wasn't something I wanted to put to the test.

"Fine, but I expect acomplete report upon your return to lesser society," she said. She pushed herplate toward me just then. "Want some? These are the best damn waffles I've hadin my life." 

*****

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