The overhead light blazed to life, temporarily blinding me. I froze, a blood-red apple suspended on its way to my mouth and resisted the urge to hide the evidence behind my back as though I'd been caught doing something wicked.

"Blake Edwards Ehlert!" my mother hissed through her teeth, tempering her surprise with the need to be quiet. Her eyes darted to the two discarded apple cores on the table and then to the mess littering the kitchen counter. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

She drew her robe tighter around her petite frame, shivering against the chill of the sleeping house. Her normally perfectly-styled hair was ratted on one side, looking as though a flock of birds had nested there.

"Honestly, Blake. What are you doing?" she asked again, sounding calmer, though resigned to what she and my father had dubbed my odd behavior of the past few months.

"I was hungry. Is that a crime?" I brought the apple to my mouth and sank my teeth into the taut flesh with an audible crunch.

My mother sighed and reached for the tea kettle. "Not as long as you're eating."

Discovering that I still enjoyed apples had been a recent revelation. This development came after days of trial and error, not to mention a lot of wasted food. For the past seventy-two hours my diet had consisted solely of the O-negative blood my vampire boyfriend John supplied for me, which wasn't often enough.

"I didn't think you'd go through it so quickly," he said when I called him earlier that evening, frantic that I'd drained my last bag and was still sick with hunger. Or was it thirst? I couldn't tell which, only that I had unfulfilled cravings.

"What did you expect?" I snapped, hunger making me jittery and cranky with everyone who crossed my path. "You gave me four bags. How am I supposed to survive on four bags? I feel like I'm on some kind of starvation diet."

"You have to keep blood refrigerated or it will go bad," he said patiently. "Don't you think your parents will notice bags of blood hidden in their condiment drawer? Remember, discretion is key when you're a vampire, especially a new vampire."

"And if my mom happens to look under my bed and finds a cooler of biohazard waste, she's not going to be too happy about that either."

I could practically hear her now: Blake Edwards Ehlert, you'll ruin the rug!

The rug was the least of my concerns, however. As a new vampire, I was going through blood at what I considered an alarming rate. John assured me it was a normal side-effect of the whole human-to-vampire transition and would eventually regulate. Still, as I sat staring at my mother while she filled the tea kettle with water from the sink, I couldn't shake the gnawing hunger.

Or how I wanted to sink my teeth into the thin skin of her neck to feel the warm burst of her jugular against my tongue.

I shuddered at the thought, the chunk of apple in my mouth tasting suddenly much too sweet. Swallowing with difficulty, I carefully placed the fruit on the table beside me as though it were a ticking bomb.

"No wonder you're hungry," my mother said, eyeing me critically. "You hardly ate dinner."

Retrieving a glass from the cupboard, I held it under the tap. At least water had no offensive smell or taste. According to John, all vampires could drink water, though they often didn't.

I took a sip of the cool liquid, swished it around my mouth to rid it of the lingering taste of my mother's imagined blood, and spit into the sink, much to her silent horror. Aside from my behavior, my manners were a disappointment to both my parents these days, too.

"I think my taste buds are still whacked from being sick," I said. My mother was still watching me closely, one dark brow raised in inquiry. Or maybe incredulity.

"Seriously," I said. "Olivia said that when she had the stomach flu, it took weeks before anything looked or tasted good again. She said it was the best diet ever."

"But you didn't have the stomach flu," she said pointedly.

"Hemolytic anemia," I said with a shrug. "Same thing."

My mother picked up the jar of olives I had left out, among various other glass jars and plastic storage containers. "Honestly, Blake. You have the entire contents of the refrigerator scattered across the kitchen counter. And it's—" she paused to glance at the clock hanging on the wall— "barely two in the morning."

"Sorry," I muttered.

And I was. Getting used to being a teenage vampire, well . . . it pretty much sucked.

She reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and as she did, I caught a whiff of blood flowing under the delicate skin of her wrist. I jerked back, but not fast enough. My fangs had already descended.

John had explained that the involuntary descending of fangs was an unfortunate side effect of physical stress, such as hunger, that new vampires were especially prone to. He also said it was an overt display of sexual excitement, a phenomenon he'd been only too willing to demonstrate during a rather hot and heavy make-out session the night before.

As a new vampire, my libido was all over the place. I thought it was mortifying; John thought it was fantastic. But this time I knew the untimely descending of my fangs had absolutely nothing to do with my sexual cravings.

"Is something wrong?" my mother asked to my backside.

"No, it's just—" I said with my hand over my mouth. "I must've eaten a bad olive or something." I took a deep, measured breath, forcing my fangs to retract. Only when I was sure I had my cravings under control did I turn to face her.

She had opened the refrigerator and was methodically putting away the food. "I doubt it's the olives, Blake. More likely poor judgment. Anyone who eats this stuff in the middle of the night is bound to get a stomach ache."

I stared at my mother's slender shoulders as she reorganized the bottles and jars on the shelf. "Do you have to say every critical thing that pops into your head?"

She spun around. "What?"

"Sorry," I said, realizing I sounded like a total witch. "I'm just tired" But I wasn't tired. I was hungry.

"Then go back to bed," she said, as though the solution were obvious. "I'll take care of this mess since I'm up. I couldn't sleep and thought I might as well get some work done while I can. The Wilsons are thinking about listing, and . . ."

Blah, blah, blah. That's what it sounded like to me. Still, my head jerked up when she mentioned the word "school."

"What?"

"I said you don't want to be too tired for school in the morning."

School.

Gross.

Turning in homework on time and making good grades seemed so pointless now. After all, what was high school when you had eternity? I'd argued that point with John, but he refused to see it my way.

"I have my high school diploma," he had said to me, as if he were the litmus for vampire ethics.

"But you were already graduated when you were turned."

"True," he said, allowing me that much. "But I refuse to have a drop-out for a girlfriend."

He had then tried to placate me with kisses and some over-the-shirt groping, but I wasn't about to be distracted.

"How many times have you graduated?" I said, pushing him off me. "Isn't once more than enough?"

"We're not talking about me, Blake. We're talking about you and the fact that you should graduate at least once in your very long life."

"Fine," I said, putting a hand on his chest as I dodged his lips. "But why does it have to be now? If I'm theoretically going to live forever, I can wait another fifty years before getting my diploma. It's just a piece of paper."

But John wouldn't be persuaded. "There's a Halloween party at school on Friday night, so now is not a good time to ditch and run away together."

The Halloween party was another point of contention. I insisted that I didn't want to go, that it was a stupid idea and a total waste of my time, but John said it was important to maintain my human identity. Even though I felt different, I couldn't let on that I had become a blood-drinking immortal.

"I'll wake you in the morning," my mother said, pulling me from my reverie.

"Huh?"

"Don't say 'huh,' Blake. I was talking about school," she said, fussing with the whistling teapot. "I'll make sure you're awake."

"I'll set my alarm."

"I'll wake you," she said more insistently, focusing her attention on placing just the right amount of tea in the infuser before dropping it into the boiling water. The steeping leaves smelled strongly of chamomile with a hint of lavender. Barf.

You play hooky once in your life and then ditch school in the middle of the day, and all of a sudden you're treated like a criminal. "Fine," I said as I shuffled across the kitchen. "See you in the morning."

But what would I do for the next four hours? The amount of sleep I required now was just a fraction of what a human needed. I would have to come up with some new hobbies, and soon, or I would quickly go berserk.

To make matters worse, John had put me on house arrest, apparently for my own safety. Not that I was in any danger myself. He said I wasn't yet in control of my cravings and that I couldn't be trusted around others.

"The smell of blood will hit you suddenly," he cautioned, "and the craving will be almost too intense to resist."

"Almost, but not impossible."

"You're the one who's impossible," he said as he drew me against him and began kissing my neck.

"And highly irresistible," I replied.

Trudging up to my room, I changed from my cozy pajamas and bathrobe—which were strictly for my parents' benefit—and into a pair of jeans and a hoodie. To hell with John's warning to stay inside; I needed to get out of here before I went crazy.

I stepped out onto the balcony, closing the French doors behind me with a soft click. Catlike, I vaulted onto the railing where I perched on the ledge with my eyes closed, face raised to the whistling wind. I didn't know if I would ever get used to intentionally jumping from such heights, but my mom had the ears of a bat, especially when she was convinced I was up to no good. I couldn't risk the squeaky floorboards in the hallway, not to mention the way the front door creaked and groaned whenever someone was coming or going.

Holding my breath, I tipped my weight forward, letting myself fall to the ground some twenty feet below with nothing but the wind to break my fall. I came down in a crouch, not even spraining my ankle. If Coach saw me do that, she'd beg me to rejoin the cheerleading team.

I stood and jogged down the side of the yard to the street beyond. The full moon had come and gone, so at least I had the cover of darkness on my side. If only I had vampire speed like in the movies. Or the ability to turn into a bat and fly. My car wasn't an option at this hour; my mom would hear the grating ignition and totally freak. The bus was also out of the question since public transportation wouldn't be running for another few hours. I did the only thing I could do, which was walk.

There was little traffic on the main road, lending an unearthly stillness to the night. The crunch of brittle grass underfoot was the only sound, loud in my ears. I came across a trio of deer in an adjacent yard, the pools of their eyes dark and fathomless in their slender faces. I knew they couldn't see me—white-tail deer had terrible vision—but they could undoubtedly smell me.

Stopping to watch them as they watched me, I briefly considered running one down and draining it of blood. I was that desperate. But with a twitch of tails, their silent acknowledgement to impending danger, the deer turned and fled. I shook my head to clear my mind. Drinking animal blood was gross. Period. Still, I made a mental note to ask John if he'd ever tried it before.

A car whizzed by at that moment, its tail-lights flashing red and back end swerving as it braked on the damp asphalt. I kept walking, though more slowly, as I waited to see what the driver intended. The car backed up with a rev of its engine and pulled off to the shoulder, waiting for my approach. As I got closer, I heard the whir of the automatic window as it rolled down.

A guy's head popped out from the interior of the car, his breath coiling around his head in a plume of white. "Need any help?"

I stopped in my tracks. "Not really."

I saw the flash of his teeth as he grinned. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"No," I said, wishing I could compel him to mind his own business and leave me alone. Life would be a lot easier if I could tell people what to do.

"Are you a student?"

"A what?"

"A student," he shouted.

I blinked, not sure what he was getting at. "Yeah," I said, which was technically the truth.

"Cornell or IC?"

It was then that I noticed the red-and-white Cornell sticker plastered on his back windshield, advertising that he, just maybe, held some modicum of promise for the future of mankind.

"Cornell," I lied as I cautiously approached the vehicle.

"Need a ride to the dorms? I'm headed back there myself. I can give you a lift." He gave me a sheepish grin. "Killer party, but I'm gonna be dead for my eight a.m."

He held out his fist for a bump, and I obligingly tapped my knuckles against his. "Hop in," he said.

Skirting around the nose of the car, I opened the passenger door. The light flickered on, illuminating the guy's face as he turned to look at me. He was cute, but his clothes reeked of stale smoke and alcohol.

I hesitated. "Are you okay to drive?"

"Totally," he said, showing me all his teeth. "Had a few beers and one joint, but that was hours ago. Seriously, I'm good."

Even if we did get in a car wreck, I'd probably walk away. John said the only thing that could kill a vampire was extensive blood loss. Unless I got my head chopped off or a major artery severed, I'd eventually heal. Still, I didn't want to test that theory. I had stubbed my toe the other day and it hurt like hell, so I was under no illusion that colliding headfirst with another car or tree wouldn't make me at least wish I were dead. Just because I was harder to kill these days didn't mean I couldn't feel pain.

"I changed my mind," I said. "I think I'll walk."

"You're crazy," the guy said. "It's freezing out there and you're not even wearing a coat."

I looked down at myself as though I'd forgotten what I was wearing. "Oh."

The guy lunged over the passenger seat and grabbed my hand, taking me by surprise as he pulled me halfway into the car. "Hey, awesome tat on your neck."

I resisted the urge to rip my hand free. "Thanks."

"Hand of Fate, right?"

"Hand of huh?"

"Hand of Fate. That's where I got mine." The corner of his mouth lifted. "Get in and I'll show you."

He yanked my hand again so that my shins hit the frame of the car and I lost my balance, stumbling forward. I braced my other hand on the car seat to save myself. "Dude. What the hell?"

The guy let go and I crossed my arms over my chest in case he decided to make another grab. "Come on. Get in and I'll give you a lift wherever you need to go."

Instead of getting in, though, I turned and continued walking down the road. "You're drunk," I called over my shoulder. "I'm not getting in the car with you."

The guy put the car in drive and I had to jump out of the way as the still-open passenger door nearly knocked me off my feet. "I swear I'm fine. Come on. If you don't want to go back to your dorm, we can go somewhere else."

I snorted. "Not interested. I have a boyfriend."

"Funny, but I don't see him here with you now."

"Consider yourself lucky."

He laughed. "I can handle myself."

I could feel the blood boiling in my veins. My canines were beginning to ache, too, a sure sign that if that douche-bag didn't take the hint and get out of there soon, I might do something I would later regret. Or possibly not regret at all.

"Seriously, I don't need a ride. Move along." I made a shooing motion with my hand. "Get out of here."

He swore loudly as he continued to roll along next to me. "Man, all you sorority chicks are alike. You're nothing but a bunch of teases."

I clenched my teeth. "You so don't want to mess with me. And I am not a sorority girl."

"No, you're just a bitch."

Stopping in my tracks, I slowly turned to face him. I had a real problem with guys calling me that particular word. "What did you say?"

He smirked, realizing he'd hit a nerve. "You heard what I said. Bitch."

My anger erupted like a volcano and I launched myself at the open passenger door, thrilling at the surprised look on the guy's face. The pointy tips of my fangs jabbed the inside of my mouth and I pulled my lips back, baring my teeth. The guy's eyes widened, and he shrank back in his seat as he threw his hands up in front of his face.

"What the hell?!"

I grabbed his coat collar and yanked him toward me, bringing us nose to nose. "Do you have any idea who you're messing with, dickhead?" I bared my fangs again. "I could kill you if I wanted, you piece of scum." I bent my head and wrapped my mouth against his neck, his high-pitched scream sounding like a train whistle. "I could suck you dry. And then? I could rip out your throat." I continued to threaten him, taunting menacingly in his ear.

He threw his arms up in front of his face and began waving his hands in an attempt to get me to release him. "Stop! Please!"

The sudden reek of ammonia permeated the car and I laughed at his terror. I shouldn't have. The part of me that had been human only a few days before knew it was wrong, but I had never felt so powerful.

"I could—"

My words were choked off as I was pulled from the front seat. "You will do no such thing."

I immediately recognized that deep voice. "Josiah. What are you—"

"Take care of that," he said, though not to me.

Margaret stepped into view, her already pale face blanched white under the artificial light spilling from the car. "Good Lord, Blake. You've been a vampire for how many days and already you're threatening to expose us? Just to inform you, I don't appreciate cleaning—"

"Get on with it, before the boy comes to his senses and flees."

Margaret pinched her mouth shut, apparently annoyed at being interrupted mid-monologue. She bent her head into the car. "You're frightened because you almost hit a deer."

"A deer," the driver said, sounding dazed.

"You never saw a girl and didn't stop to talk to anyone."

"I didn't see anyone."

"That's a good boy. Now off you go."

Margaret straightened and slammed the door, and the guy drove away. She turned to face me then, her slender arms folded over one another and a smug smile on her lips. Then again, I was pretty sure Margaret didn't know how to smile any other way.

"You should learn how to control your temper," she said critically.

"I don't believe I asked for your opinion." I gave my arm an experimental tug, but Josiah only dug his fingers in deeper. "How did you find me?"

"Have you forgotten how attuned a maker is to his offspring?"

"Do not call me your offspring," I said to him. "And will you let go? I'm not a child." Josiah's mouth turned up slightly, but at least he let go.

"You were in such a rage you didn't even hear us approach," Margaret said. "What if we'd been human?" She said human as though it were a filthy word.

"I had it under control," I said. "I don't need a couple of vampire babysitters. I was just toying around with him."

"Toying with him?" Margaret said with a laugh.

"What else am I supposed to do?" I said, my voice rising. "I'm bored!"

"I felt your anxiety and unrest," Josiah said.

"My anxiety and unrest," I mocked. "Seriously, learn to talk like someone from this century. Again, I am not a baby."

"I am distinctly aware of that," he replied.

"So why'd you bring her along?" I demanded, thumbing at Margaret.

"Because he knew you'd need me to clean up your mess," Margaret answered for him. "Which I seem to be doing a lot of these days."

"What are you talking about?"

"Have you conveniently forgotten about that Neanderthal Gabe, and various threats being made as chairs were tossed around?"

"I wasn't responsible for that mess in the cafeteria," I said. "Blame your little brother for that one."

Thomas, Margaret's vampire brother, had come to my aid when I was being bullied by Gabe. He'd since proven to be an invaluable friend and ally.

Margaret flipped up a lock of hair and began examining the ends, seemingly disinterested in anything but her own self. "Thomas appears harmless on the outside, but what you must remember is that his temper's really just as bad as yours. It's going to land him in trouble one of these days."

"That douche bag called me a bitch!" I exclaimed, thrusting my hand in the direction the car had gone. "What did you expect me to do?"

"Oh, please," she said, leveling her gaze at me. "It's just a word. Do you know how many times I've been called that, and worse, in my lifetime?"

"Ladies," Josiah interrupted. "While you might be content to argue semantics on the side of the road, I am not. We must go before anyone else comes along."

I threw my hands up in resignation and began walking in the opposite direction toward home. All of a sudden I had no interest in going out anymore. John had been right. I was a liability when not under the direct supervision of another vampire.

Josiah's hand snaked out faster than any normal person's reflexes and closed around my arm. "Where do you think you are you going?"

I cast a pointed look at his hand. "Home."

"No, you're not. My father wishes to see you," Margaret said impatiently.

"Why does Mr. Abernathy want to see me?"

"Come along," Josiah said, as he began to drag me to the idling car parked on the opposite side of the road.

I dug in my heels, suddenly wanting nothing more than to go home and soak in a hot bubble bath. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Why do you think you have a choice in the matter?" Josiah said.

"Stop it, Josiah. Don't you see you're making her nervous? Remember, Father said we must play nice if we're to get what we want. Father doesn't wish to harm you," she said, turning to me. "On the contrary. He simply has something you need. So you can either come willingly, or we can . . ." She left the sentence hanging, but her meaning was perfectly clear.

I stared at her, my heart beating like a caged bird underneath my ribcage. "He has something I need?"

"Yes," she said. "Now be a good girl and come along. My father doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Fine," I said. "But I have to be home in a few hours. My mom will totally freak out if she wakes up and discovers I'm not in my bed, let alone in the house."

Josiah's hand touched my waist, light as a feather, as he guided me to the car. "In another fifty years, your parents will be of no concern."

"Why do you say that?" I said, getting into the backseat.

He took his place in the passenger seat and slammed the door, only then turning around to look at me. "Because they will both be dead."

"Thanks," I said. "You really know how to put a girl's mind at ease."

*****

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