My mother placed her hands over her ears as I trailed after her into the kitchen, so close on her heels that I bumped into her when she stopped. "I don't want to hear it," she said, not for the first time.

"You don't want to hear what?" my father asked from behind his newspaper.

She poured a cup of coffee and took a sip. "Blake claims she doesn't feel well. Again."

Lowering his paper, my father studied me with a critical eye. "She does look a bit rough around the edges this morning."

I gave him a look. "Thanks a lot, Dad."

"I'm only trying to help your case," he replied before returning his attention to the news.

"She isn't staying home, Bill. If Blake doesn't get back on track—and soon—she won't graduate with the rest of her class. And after that stunt she pulled yesterday—"

"It wasn't a stunt, Mom. I told you I had an errand to run. Besides, it's not even the end of October. Graduation is a million years away."

She breathed in deeply through her nose as she continued to glare at me. "You've always been an excellent student, which is why your apathy toward school lately is so concerning."

"Dad doesn't seem too concerned," I pointed out.

"I am concerned," he intoned from behind the newspaper.

I pulled out one of the chairs and slumped into it. "But I have a migraine. And I think I have a fever." My head really did hurt, if only because playing hooky seemed more trouble than it was worth.

My mother placed her hand against my forehead. "You do not have a fever, Blake. You're cool as rain. Cold, in fact."

"Which means I should stay home," I said. "I'm obviously not normal."

Her eyes narrowed. "Does the fact that you want to stay home have anything to do with a boy? Maybe you're planning on skipping school together?"

"What? No!" I glanced at my father, who had lowered the newspaper once again, suddenly more interested in the conversation now that it possibly had something to do with a boy.

"Because if it does," my mother continued. "If you're staying home from school so you can . . ." Her voice trailed off, but I got the picture.

"Don't even go there," I said, unsure if the burning in my cheeks was because I was embarrassed or just plain angry at the insinuation.

My father cleared his throat and rose. "I'm going to be late for work," he said. Pressing a kiss to the top of my head, he then gave my mom a quick peck on the cheek.

"I am not skipping school to hook up with anyone," I said once my father had cleared the room. "It hurts my feelings that you would automatically go there. Don't you trust me?"

She closed her eyes and massaged her brow. "I am exhausted before this day has even begun," she muttered under her breath. She looked at me then. "You're a beautiful girl, Blake. Every parent's mind goes there. Wait until you have kids. You'll understand."

"I'm never having kids," I said. My mother raised a brow but didn't comment. "So does that mean I can stay home?" I asked hopefully.

"No, it does not. If you insist on not going to school today, you can get your things and come to work with me."

"Why do I have to go with you?"

She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath, and I had the sinking feeling I wasn't going to win this argument no matter how hard I fought. "Blake, whatever it is, I suspect you're up to something. I don't have time to worry about you today, so go get your things and meet me in the car. End of discussion."

"Fine!" Storming out of the kitchen, I grabbed my bulging backpack sitting on the foyer bench.

My agitation was compounding exponentially as I wondered how John was faring at the Abernathy mansion, and now I wouldn't get a chance to search for Ian, thanks to my mom holding me hostage in her office all day. How long would John last without any blood to drink? He'd never told me how many days a vampire could go without tossing one back, but I didn't think it was more than a few.

Suddenly I remembered there were two other vampires who could shed some light on the whole situation. Rushing outside, I met my mom at the car. "I changed my mind. I'm going to school."

"If you're tricking me, Blake—"

"I'm not! I swear."

"Because I'm tired of playing games. This behavior has got to stop, do you understand? You're nearly an adult."

I pulled up the hood of my coat in light of the mist that had started to fall. "I thought about what you said, you know? How if I miss too much school I might not graduate on time. I couldn't stand summer school."

Her expression softened then. "All right. At least try to make it through lunch, okay? If you're truly not feeling well by then, give me a call and I'll excuse you for the rest of the day. But you'll have to come straight to the office. No more playing hooky."

"Thanks, Mom." I gave her a quick hug and then got into my car, on a mission.

**********

I went through the motions until third period. As soon as Margaret Abernathy walked into the art room, I grabbed her arm and pulled her to the far corner. We got a few strange looks as we stood partially hidden behind a shelving unit displaying failed pottery projects, but I was used to that by now.

"Blake Ehlert," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I would ask how you are, but I can smell that for myself."

I leaned in close, pitching my voice low. "Cut the small talk, Margaret. How is John?"

"Specifically, or in more general terms?"

"You know what I mean," I said through gritted teeth.

She smiled slightly, leaning in as well so that our faces were no more than an inch apart. "He's not well, I'm afraid. The young ones grow weak so quickly. I suggest you find Ian McAvoy soon if your beloved John has any hope of surviving."

Hysteria welled inside my chest, threatening to boil over, and I clutched the shelf to keep from physically lashing out at her. "How am I supposed to find him if I don't know where he is?"

"That's not my problem," she said.

"Ladies," the teacher called in our direction. "Talk time is over. Take your seats."

Reluctantly, I trudged back to my table and checked my phone for any missed calls from Ian, but there were none. There was, however, a text from Zach asking again about the dance, and one from Olivia who wanted to know if I had any interest in going with her to The Daily Grind after school. She was meeting Marcus, her new boyfriend, who worked there as a barista. I ignored them both.

Margaret slipped out at the end of class before I had a chance to speak to her again, but I figured I might have better luck with her brother Thomas. Luckily, we both had lunch fourth period. The only problem was that Gabe did, too, and he cornered me the minute I walked through the cafeteria doors.

"Move," I said as he blocked my path. "I don't have time for your crap today."

"Hey, check this out!" He waved to some of his jock friends who ambled over. They had all turned on me once they found out I broke up with Zach, never mind the fact that most of us had been friends since elementary school. Gabe grabbed me by the arm and pulled my hair away from my neck. "Look what she's done!"

That's when I remembered I'd forgotten to cover my tattoo that morning. No wonder my teachers had been giving me odd looks and asking if everything was okay.

"Get your hands off me!" I yelled, struggling against Gabe. He and his friends laughed.

Gabe's grip tightened and he shoved me ahead of him, parading me from table to table. People stared and whispered and outright laughed. Zero tolerance for bullying, my ass! Where were the adults in charge when you needed one?

"Let go of me!" I ground my heel into the top of Gabe's foot, which only succeeded in making him angry. He clutched my arm tighter and gave me a teeth-rattling shake.

"I believe she said let go."

"Piss off," Gabe said, glancing over his shoulder at the vampire.

Thomas picked up a nearby chair and, without warning, slammed it to the ground so hard its metal legs buckled. If people weren't staring at us already, that got their attention. Thomas, despite being much smaller than Gabe, advanced a step in our direction. "Tell me to piss off again."

Gabe's grip on my arm loosened. "Who the hell are you anyway?"

Thomas took another step closer. "No one you want to mess with, I assure you."

Gabe snorted. "No, I know who you are. You're that freak Margaret Abernathy's little brother." His expression hardened as he lowered himself to eye level with Thomas. "I said piss off."

Thomas bared his fangs. "And I said let her go."

Gabe's eyes widened and he lurched back, dragging me with him. "What the—"

"Last chance," Thomas said. "You won't get another warning."

Gabe pushed me into Thomas's arms, not needing to be told again. Thomas steadied me and I rounded on Gabe. "You are the biggest jerk ever! Olivia was smart to break up with you."

"Leave Olivia out of this," Gabe said.

I laughed, gaining back some of my diminished confidence, and thrust out my bottom lip in a mock pout. "Aw . . . is the poor, heartbroken baby going to cry because his girlfriend broke up with him?"

"Don't antagonize him," Thomas whispered in my ear. "I don't want to have to hurt him if he goes ballistic."

But it was too late. Gabe lunged at Thomas, and I barely had enough time to avoid getting caught in the middle.

"You think you can hurt me?" Gabe demanded. "You're nothing but a little ass pimple!" He pushed Thomas's shoulders hard enough to make him rock back on his heels, and yet quicker than seemed possible, Thomas's hand snaked out, his fingers wrapping around Gabe's neck. Those closest to us gasped in unison and crowded around to get a better look.

"People have a very bad habit of underestimating me," Thomas said through his teeth.

Gabe's eyes bulged as he made frantic wind-milling motions with his arms, his toes barely dragging the floor.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, grabbing his arm as I looked around at everyone gawking. Thomas released Gabe, who doubled-over and began coughing.

"Come on," Thomas said. "We should leave."

"But what about—"

"Don't worry. Margaret will clean up the mess." He took my hand and we headed quickly for the exit.

"What's Margaret going to do about it?" I asked as we ran down the hallway.

"Let's just say my sister can be very persuasive."

We made for the student parking lot, somehow managing to escape through the front entrance without anyone stopping us or demanding to see our hall passes. We got in my car and I peeled out of the parking space, my back tires spinning and squealing on the wet pavement. Two minutes later we sat idling in a gas station parking lot, both of us laughing.

"You were amazing!" I said.

Thomas ran his hand through his dark hair, dripping with water. He grinned from ear to ear, his cheeks flushed pink. "That was fun, wasn't it? I haven't let loose like that in a long while."

"No offense, but I would never have guessed you had it in you."

"There are a great many things about me you would never have guessed," he said.

We sat quietly for a few minutes listening to the rain coming down, and the rhythmic swoosh-swish of the windshield wipers. I blasted the heat as high as it would go and held my hands in front of the vents, my fingers stiff with cold.

"Thanks for helping me," I said at last. "Isn't this sort of a conflict of interest, though?"

Thomas shook his head. "John is my friend, as are you."

My eyes stung with tears as my adrenal glands began to calm down and I had a chance to think about what had just happened with Gabe, and what was happening with John. "Thank you, Thomas."

"For what?"

"For being a friend. I've been feeling very alone lately."

"You're welcome," he said, squeezing my hand. "As for John, I've known him for many years. He's always been very focused on his work, but I think that was because he, too, was lonely. When we came here, and there you were . . ."

"Wait a minute," I said. "John came here with your family?"

"Of course," Thomas said. "He joined us years ago. He was barely keeping himself alive then, feeding only when absolutely necessary. He was but a year into this new life, but his maker had abandoned him."

My heart broke for John, imagining him alone and starving in a life he did not understand. "You never knew who his maker was?" I asked.

Thomas shook his head. "John would never say. He hardly spoke to anyone then and never about his human life, or how he became one of us. June," he said, smiling as he said her name, "took pity on him and nurtured him as any mother would. It was when John demonstrated a talent for compulsion that Father showed a particular interest."

I pulled my coat tighter around me. "Have you seen John?"

Thomas met my eyes, a pained expression on his face, and I could tell he didn't want to say how dire the situation was. "You need to find Ian," was all he said.

"But I don't know where to look."

"It's entirely likely Ian will find you. The bond between maker and vampire—"

"Is strong," I said. "I know. People keep telling me that."

Thomas squeezed my hand again. "I have no doubt Ian senses John's distress, even now. That is why my father is withholding blood. He hopes Ian will reveal himself if he knows John is in danger. Still, it's a risk. John is very good at what he does and is much too valuable to lose should Father's plan backfire."

"It seems like your dad is going to a lot of trouble just to catch one vampire."

"He takes his duties as Head Watcher very seriously."

My phone vibrated in my pocket just then, causing me to jump in my seat. "I don't recognize the number," I said, looking at the screen. I pressed the TALK button. "Hello?"

"Blake," came a familiar voice over the line. "Oh, thank God!"

"Ian," I said, giving Thomas a look.

"I returned to the house and found your note saying John's been taken."

"Where are you now? I'll come to you."

"At the house still, but I can't stay. They're looking for me. I've got to go."

"Don't leave. I'll be there in ten minutes. I'll explain everything to you then."

"Do you know if John okay?"

I hesitated to say anything at all but decided I couldn't spare his feelings. "What do you think?" I replied, and then ended the call.

*****

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