Little silver car jumps two lanes and cuts us off to get on the exit ramp at the last second—going about one third of the speed as us.

Slam on the brakes. Tires shriek. Feel Katrianna’s head smack the seat behind me. Edgar’s hands grab the dash. Inches from slamming into the back of the car.

Ambrosia’s body bounces with the turbulence, but she doesn’t look as though she feels any of it.

Soon at the bottom of the exit ramp—stopped behind the silver car at the traffic light. Its stereo booms—louder than its little engine, shaking the car. Heads bounce to the music. Not looking to turn right—just sitting and bouncing. No room to go around—trapped between concrete ramp railings.

Look over my shoulder at the motley company packed in the small interior. Ambrosia’s mind is no longer in the car. She stares out the window, a hand at her stomach. Edgar still licks over his filthy nails—casting glances at Ambrosia, and Katrianna taps her fingertips together, striking the nails of one hand against the other as if readying them for destruction.

“Edgar said there’s three floors. Ruby’s probably in a locked room on the second floor—only room with a door. Look-outs probably on the first floor. Mass of people in Roderick’s main room or balcony on the second floor. Third floor’s where any kind of intimate party is going on—this time of night, something’s going on up there for sure.”

Rethink plan, catch breath, continue, “Katrianna, are you sure you can get to the third floor?”

She makes a feline growl and waves her fingers, showing the edges of her knifelike nails. Can feel the rage in the tone of her voice. She’s going to be wild—savage. Hopefully it won’t ruin this and condemn us all to Roderick’s demented imaginings. Have to chance it—going to need all the help I can get.

I continue, “But if they’ve figured out we’ve picked up Edgar here, everything we know about what’s going on in there is going to be wrong—they’ll be waiting for us—know what we’re aiming for—and they’ll use what we know to trap us.”

Look over at Edgar who fluctuates from a smile to a sneer, “Edgar, you stay the hell out of the way—as soon as we park, get lost.”

“Oh, I’ll be around, but don’t worry about me.”

“Edgar, I’ll kill you—you know it.”

“We’ll see what we all know and don’t know before the night’s through,” looking back to Ambrosia, tongue to the corner of his mouth.

Light turns green. Silver car sits. Driver bounces his head in a circle.

I lay on the horn.

Single finger is raised at me. Car still sits. Heads bounce again. Finger stays in the air.

“Katrianna, when was the last time you drove a car?”

“Years.”

“Can you do it again?”

“Yeah.”

Opening my car door, “I’ll be right back.”

 

 

 

 

Shove gas pedal to the floor. Borrowed silver car jumps the curb—its little engine screaming like an angry chainsaw. Fingers squeeze the steering wheel—digging into it—cracking it—whitening my knuckles.

Seatbelt buckle bangs between the door and the seat—chiming out a warning for the disaster I’m racing toward.

Heads on the balcony turn to look in my direction. At least eight of them.

Tearing through the grass—slinging mud into the air in a shower of filth, the house looks larger and larger—closer and closer. Aim the passenger corner of the front bumper at the right column of the porch.

Front of the car ruptures the boards of the porch. In an instant, wood cracks—splinters—and flings up. Car reaches the column—body rises in the seat—head breaks through windshield—column cracks like a tree struck by lightning—thunderous and menacing.

The shattering glass surrounds me. Slicing. Piercing. I soar over the hood—flying over the porch. The front wall of the house seems to rise up toward me as my face crashes into it.

Loud snap in my neck. Pain shoots down spine.

Balcony creaks and snaps. Cracking in half on the right corner. Crashing to the ground—people are sent flying onto the lawn, sidewalk, and driveway.

Having trouble moving my left arm—crawl with right, push with numb legs. Roll off the porch onto the ground. Right behind thorn bushes. Kick in rotten lattice work that lines the bottom of the building—fencing in the area under the raised house. Roll myself underneath it.

Pain shoots through me in shocks.

Hope I’ve crawled out of sight enough to give me time to heal. Hope I can heal—gonna take a ton of energy. Hope it was enough to get Katrianna in the third floor without being noticed.

Hope it gives her a chance to get Ruby—get her out of here before they find me.

 

 

Stick my head out into the hallway—fully expect something to lash out and cut it off—leaving my blue and black prison chamber for the dank, off-white corridor.

Loud thuds and screams come from the third floor above.

Carvelli knocked out on the right. Step over Quint on my left—he starts to stir. Maxine’s hand pushes my back firmly—sending me flying over him. Feet hit the floor—look back to see if it woke them up. Quint’s hands rub at his face—Carvelli still not moving.

Maxine’s eyes are commanding beneath the brown wig she dons, eclipsing her blonde hair—subduing her brazen brightness to take my form, squeezed into my clothes that are too small and too tame for her, as she gives me a nod to move forward and throws me a last look as she closes the door, leaving herself inside.

Screams stop upstairs. Hear feet coming down the stairwell that’s out of sight and around the corner.

So crazy—so unexpected. Surreal—like I’m planning or dreaming an escape—not actually doing it for real, as if I’m still trapped in the blue-black void. Trusting Maxine deep inside Roderick’s cavernous house—taking an escape route provided by a succubus.

What am I doing?

Can’t just sit still waiting for Simon to come into this hell to save me. Waiting on him to get slaughtered—waiting on Roderick to grow tired of toying with me—tormenting me. Soon he’ll move from attacking my mind to my body. Who knows what else he has waiting for Simon? Have to do something. Have to try.

Put my life in the hands of a female beast—a vampire who loves my Simon, one who’d be better off if I wasn’t.

See sharp fingernails hanging around the corner. My hand grasps the same stake that struck Maxine. Dim light reveals little, but what it does show breeds dread.

If this is it, I wish I could press against his lips one last time—let my soul soar inside his eyes—feel his heartbeat pulse into my chest.

Whatever horrors are around this corner—whatever monster belongs to those claws, I hope Simon stays free of them.

 

 

Follow me into the vampire’s den. Not really our place—Roderick’s place. All who can bow are welcome.

Enter through the back window under the shadow of the rear balcony—the dark, unseen entrance is appropriate. So much happens inside these walls that the sane would love to turn their backs to—pretend it never happens—not in their happy world. Would kill to be in their world. Sometimes kill just to stay alive in my own shadow of a world.

Slide the window up—it’s always unlocked. Wood frame cries a little—squeal into the darkness of the back room.

Hear shuffling—maybe a mouse—a rat. Can’t see anything. Streetlight doesn’t reach back here—not much else does either.

I’d say you’d get used to the smell, but numbing your senses is the only thing that makes it reek less. Can’t explain it exactly. Can’t live like an animal and not have your home smell like a wild den. Musky on the edge of rotten, but human girls associate it with sex. They don’t seem to mind it on us, but most of them have drank, smoked, or shot their senses dull before being brought here. We find them late in the night—coming for them when we know they’re ripe, and we know exactly where to look.

Step through the window. Hand flies at my face—nails extended—threatening.

Grasp its wrist mid-air—inches from my eye.

“Little touchy tonight, Desirée?” I ask.

“Dangerous night to be creeping though windows, Edgar.”

“Always dangerous creeping though windows—especially in this place.”

Barely see her eyes in the darkness. Haven’t seen her in weeks—a girl after my own addictions—hooked on the same things but not in as deep as me. Not yet.

“Where’s Roderick?” I ask.

“Upstairs—where he always is.”

“Crowd with him?”

“Yeah. Supposed to be a busy night. War’s going on outside.”

“Will be. Very busy.”

“Speaking of busy, Maxine’s here. Borrowed a wig from me.”

“Maxine’s here? Wonder if Roderick knows she’s here. He won’t like that. Not tonight.”

“He’s looking for you, you know. Pissed—said you ran off at the bar.”

“Roderick still got the girl—what’s he pissed about? Didn’t need me.”

“He got the girl to get the other girl—still doesn’t have the one he wants—didn’t get the blue-haired one. Besides how’d’you know he got any of them if you cut out early?”

“No need for questions, dear. Why don’t you keep those sweet lips shut and forget you ever saw me come in here?”

“Can’t, Edgar. Roderick’s gone nuts. Kill me if he finds out I saw you and didn’t tell him.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, not this time,” Desirée resists, shaking her head trying to convince herself. So feeble. So pliable.

She looks like she’s made of angles. Always twisting her body askew before she says anything. Shoulder cocked up at one angle—her chin down at another angle—her eyes aimed up and over at me from yet another. Three separate angles to separate her from what she says. One for satire, one for sarcasm, and one for style. Never looking head on—but behind a few turns, distancing herself from what she says, making a simple phrase seem deeper because the words must travel through the maze of curves in the pose she holds, hiding her real intentions down the crooked path into her mind, far away from being responsible or ridiculed for them—the listener having to look from her pointed shoulder, down to her neck, from her neck to her chin, from her chin to her lips, and from her lips to her eyes that lie beneath batting lashes. She makes it a winding journey for anyone to see inside her, and most are too lazy to travel through her bends and folds.

I see into her because I just like breaking through doors that I’m not supposed to open.

“Yes, you can—you will. You find a nice place to hang out—a quiet corner in here, and I’ll bring you some of the good stuff.”

Her face lights up—can see it even in the darkness that my eyes are slowly becoming used to, “The new stuff?”

“Yeah, the new breed. What else?”

“You promise?”

“Now, what good are words, sweet thing? Desire is good enough—you know I want it as much as you. Ache for it,” fight to keep my eyes from rolling in the back of my head, “All the better to feed on it together.”

“How are you gonna get it?”

“Just found out where it’s kept.”

“Okay…okay.”

I pat Desirée’s cheek with an open hand and finally release her wrist. She disappears out the doorway, so far into the pitch black that I can’t see her, but the marks of my pressing fingers are still red in her wrist and my promise in the dark tantalizes her senses. Her heartbeat pounds with the thought of the new breed—not even the darkness can hide her lust for it.

She’ll keep quiet. At least until her rising urges make her scream out in impatience. Better not take too long.

 

 

Birth of flames. Hungry tongues surging out—lusting for air to burn more—hotter—faster—spreading.

They burn out of the engine—flickering high in the air around the hood that has been busted open and mangled.

The edge of the fallen balcony crashed into the driver’s seat—crushing the roof of the car—smashing it down toward the ground—mangling its axles under the immense weight—bending the wheels crooked and sticking out. Flames rise up and scorch the wood.

Don’t know if I hate or welcome the fire. Definitely welcome the dark smoke billowing from out of the hood—wish it would be thicker, more dense—everywhere, granting me a smoky cloak to hide beneath.

Don’t know if I’m far enough away if it explodes suddenly—flames could reach the gas tank—could have ruptured the gas line—could engulf me in an instant. Start to wiggle my body—push with my legs to shove myself deeper under the house.

Need a minute to heal. The sting still shoots through me. Maybe need two minutes.

Even in the darkness I can see discoloration in the shape of puddles and drips on the wooden floorboards above my head. The terrible tales these stains could tell—each dripping from some atrocity, spilling from something wicked.

Sharp nails pierce my left ankle. More dive into my right. They tense and drag me back toward the smoke and fire.

 

 

Nails hanging around the corner move in my direction. Swing the sharpened stick at them—all my strength. Feel like time’s grown lazy and slow as the stake slices through the air.

Much faster than the small, pointed branch moves, the sharp-nailed hand chops at the stake, slicing through it, shattering it—sending splinters shooting in all directions.

The jagged edge of the stub left in my hand dives into its shoulder, scraping and tearing.

Woman—it’s a woman. Black and gray hair—angry, lit eyes.

She grabs my forearms and slams me hard against the wall. Fangs threaten. Frantically she scans over my face—my eyes—then to my fingernails.

“You’re no vampire.”

“No.”

“Ruby?”

Scared, “Yes.”

“Damn it, girl—I’m here with Simon.”

“Simon! Simon’s here!” my heart touching joy I thought it’d never reach again.

Her hand presses over my mouth.

“Keep quiet,” she commands in a hard whisper, then releases my mouth.

Looking over the wildness in her eyes and her gray and black hair, I say, “You’re the one he went to see—Katrianna. I mean Kari—”

She cuts me off, “It’s fine—Katrianna’s fine. I am what I am. Suits me better anyway.”

“I-I’m sorr—”

“No time. Got to get you out of here. Out the back—the back door.”

“That’s what Maxine said.”

“Maxine! Oh, God! Where?”

Quint pushes himself off the floor onto an elbow.

She looks at me with untamed eyes, “Run! Down the stairs—out the back—red car—five blocks toward downtown—can’t miss it. Now!”

She turns to go after Quint. Carvelli starts to twitch.

Without looking back at me, she says, “Run!”

I can hear her feet charging down the hallway as mine scramble toward the stairs.

Hear male screams as soon as I hit the first step. Hard to remind myself it’s a good thing—sounds so far from anything good.

Flames flicker in the tall windows that flank the front door—one of them shattered and cracked.

See something at the base of the stairs. Man—not impressive enough to be Simon—but imposing enough to be deadly. Keep my head down. Pray the craziness—flames—and Maxine’s clothes keep whatever horrible thing he is from noticing me. Not likely.

 

 

On the mangled front porch, my throat is pinned against the shut door.

Roderick’s eyes look even more maniacal with the flames raging behind us and half the balcony above us cracked and crashed onto the roof of the car. He looks perfectly at home in the midst of destruction—belonging as much to the fire as the smoke and flame.

“Where is she, Simon? Where is my girl?”

Trying and failing to not wince at the shocks still shooting through my spine, “Don’t think I’d bring her to you, do you?”

He stares into my eyes, his gaze brushes past the physical pain and the worry for Ruby, searching for himself in them—knowing that if he finds a shred of himself in me that I’m lying to him.

“Yes, I do, foolish young one; yes, I do. Is she here?”

“Of course not,” I answer, hoping it to be true—hoping she’s waiting in the car just like we told her. Figured if we had no other options, could use her as bait to get us out of a jam—a chance to get Ruby out of here, but best to keep her away from all this until we need her. Her life, Ruby’s, Katrianna’s, and mine could all depend on if she’s going to do what she was told. God help us.

“Metal wrenches, buildings burn, and bodies bleed.”

“What?” I ask.

“All of this—this destruction is all so unnecessary. So much in life is so unnecessary…so meaningless…so irrelevant—the world would never know the difference whether you win this struggle or lose. So little changes no matter what we do.”

“That’s the creed of every coward I’ve ever known: doesn’t matter—why bother? It’s a lie. It all matters—every breath, every thought, everyth—” heavy coughing stops my words.

“So wrong, young one. A human is nothing but a speck flittering for a fraction of a second and then vanishing from our world forever. The whole race of them will be gone in an instant compared to the eons we will come to know, and so few of them flicker for even the briefest moment that their little lives last anyway.”

“How can you say that? Maybe we’re some mutated branch of humans. We could all be the same. No one knows where we came from.”

“And maybe, my deceived young friend, maybe they’re a branch of us, sickly and rotting in the sun long past their time.”

Little feeling returns to my right arm. Slide my hand into my pocket. Fingers grasp a small stake that I sharpened in the woods. Pull it out of my pocket quickly and slam it into the side of Roderick’s head.

 

 

In Shakespeare, I’d be Shylock. Except my gold is chemical and flesh, and no one despises me for my race—no one who knows my race exists lives long enough to even have the opportunity to hate me for it.

Deep down I know how vile I am. Unlike man, I need no one tell me. The taste of my dark thoughts lingers like the taste of cyanide—bitter and burning, and the hole where my compassion should reside swallows a little more of my dwindling warmth every day.

My fate is certain—I have no strength to stop it. I’ll become this addiction—I’ll let it consume me now. Seeking out its next feeding in the darkness. Heading for the stairs. About to do the despicable to dive my fingers into what I crave.

I will let it consume me. The only question is will I care when there is nothing left of me inside—when I’ve lost all of myself and become full of this lust. Will I even remember? Will I remember what I used to be?

At least the self-hatred will be gone when it’s complete. When I’ve surrendered all of me to it.

My fate is to burn forever, resisting the desire swelling in me—aching for its fulfillment—screaming for a hit. Or, I quench it and then drown in hatred of myself for giving in to it—no delusions over how ugly it is—how ugly I’ve become.

I hate or I burn. Hatred or burning. Hatred or burning.

Trapped like a man swimming upstream in a never-ending river—I fight the itch like fighting the current, constantly wearing myself out, or I quit fighting and let the desire consume me—give in and let it wash me away with the current—drowning in self-hatred for giving in.

Know how revolting the path to the next hit is. Imagine the new breed on my tongue and injected into my arm. Heart races too fast—can almost taste it—breathe it in—feel it alive inside my veins. Know I’ll dive into the unspeakable to quench this thirst—to put out the burning.

Ambrosia—I know she’s too dumb to stay away—can’t stay away from the excitement to save her life or anyone else’s. Probably here somewhere in the darkness already. Maybe here on the third floor with the other girls Roderick’s been hording up there—they must all be pregnant. No matter—the others are here if she’s not, and just one will be plenty. One is a deep enough plunge for tonight. Dark—cruel—savage enough just to use the one girl.

Maybe I’ll take two…

Hatred and burning. Going to dive so deep into the flames—killing all the feeling inside of me so hopefully I’ll never feel this burning again—surrender completely, leaving this struggle behind forever—along with leaving all that I am behind me too—gone forever.

I take the first step onto the staircase—knowing I won’t come back down again the same. I’ll become an abomination to quench this—to kill this burning. And I don’t really care.

 

 

His body passes beside me on the old stairs like I’m not here. As if one of us were ghost and not concerned with the other. Not sure if he viewed me as dead and shear or if he was the ghost on another plane of existence and uninterested in me. Either way his mind was so fixed on something upstairs that he didn’t notice me.

If an apparition were ever going to be real and reveal itself to me, this would be the house for it.

Still, I race to the bottom of the stairs—wanting to be far away from him before he has a chance to look back and see me—come after me.

The darkness at the bottom of the stairs is only broken by the inconsistent flickering of one stubborn chandelier down the hall. All the other lights must’ve shorted out with the explosion. Flames cast their moving glow on the hazy windows beside the front door.

Bodies move on the porch.

Just as the deep darkness of the downstairs reaches and touches my feet, arms, and face with my first step into it, a hand grasps my shoulder and yanks me backward.

It’s him. The ghoul from the stairs. Pale skin. Red hair and beard. Fangs.

No longer looking like a ghost, but a very live beast—hungry and violent. Something familiar about him.

“You may wear Maxine’s clothes, but you’re no vampire.”

“These are my clothes,” I say looking up to the flickering chandelier that suddenly goes completely dead. Darkness falls over me like black air.

“Nice try, pretty thing, but I can smell her all over your clothes.”

“You—you’re wrong.”

“Where is she? In the blue room? Taking your place so you can sneak out?”

Panic stalls my mind, shows up on my face.

He smiles a pointed-smile—sharp corners of his mouth—two long, fierce teeth. Know I’ve seen them before.

“Who are you?” I finally ask.

“I’m the wolf, drooling over a tender lamb, and you’re a peace offering for a traitor.”

“What?”

“Roderick’ll be glad to see you—glad I brought you to him. That’s all you need to know.”

“You! You’re the one from the woods—Edgar!”

Sharp nails tear through the front door behind him, ripping through it like a saw blade.

The beast that holds me at my shoulders releases me and turns around to see what’s slashing into the door.

My whole body aches to run, to tiptoe swiftly into the darkness of the hallway, heading for the back door, not knowing what else is hidden in its pitch. I turn and quietly enter the dark corridor.

No, what if it’s him? What if it’s Simon? Turn my back on the dark hallway, returning my stare to the beast who has just attacked me and to the unknown being tearing through the door.

 

 

The first thing I see through the hole I’m ripping in the door is nails flying at my body. Grab his wrist and yank it forward through the hole, slamming his body into the remaining shell of the door—his head hitting above the hole—his lower body smashing and cracking the wood below the hole.

Flames scorch my shoulder. Fire raging on the porch—closing in on the house itself.

From the smell, I know it’s Edgar whose hand yanks free and retreats back into the house.

Roderick lies on the wooden porch—flames rising closer to his unmoving body, stake still lodged in his head.

Fire department will be here soon—this place is either going to be engulfed in flames, killing us all, or the vampires are going to clear out fast, taking Ruby with them. Not much time. Have to get to Ruby—God, I hope Katrianna’s gotten her out of this mess already.

Flames sting at my shoulders again. Rush the door, slamming my body into it, ripping the hole I made wide open—my body falls through it onto the floor.

Look to my left—my right—up the stairs. Edgar’s gone. Vanished.

Eyes stare at me from a few steps into the hallway. I can see them strain—trying to take me in—trying to see who I am. Definitely not Edgar’s—too soft. Beautiful. Ruby!

I get to my feet—spine still stinging—movements slower than normal.

“No!” she shouts from the darkness, “Look up! Simon, look up!”

Before I can get my eyes off her in the darkness, Edgar falls onto my shoulders from the burned-out chandelier above. Feel his nails slicing into my shoulders and back.

“Aaah,” he shouts.

I didn’t touch him. He falls off my back to the floor. See Ruby hitting him repeatedly with a beaten-up bit of wood in her hand.

Swing with all my might, punching him in the back of his head. His head sways. Hit him again. Sways more. Step back and land a kick square into the back of his head. Falls over.

“How are you doing, Bright Eyes?” I ask.

Her arms fling around my neck, making my sore muscles come alive. She buries her head into my chest. The wonderful scent of her fills my nostrils, awakening my numb body.

Put my lips to her forehead. Bring my hands up to hold both sides of her face.

“They didn’t hurt you, did they? Are you alright?”

Shakes her head, “No, they didn’t hurt me. What about you—are you alright?”

Looking down into her emerald green eyes, feeling her hands caressing the back of my neck, “Never been better, Ruby. Never been better.”

Scrambling noises come from behind us through the hole in the front door.

“Don’t look back. Walk to the back door. Keep walking—keep moving no matter what.”

Creaking noises come from the balcony. The fire is either weakening the wood of the porch or the remaining half of the balcony, making one of them crack and about to collapse. Sounds of breaking—destruction.

There were a lot of people on the balcony. Maybe some are hurt—maybe some ran in fear—but some had to stay. They could be anywhere—still on the front lawn, inside the house again through the back door, just a few feet away from us in the darkness—reaching out to grab us right now.

Got to get Ruby out of here.

A woman shrieks—a horrible sound echoing down the stairs.

Ruby turns around and grabs my arm tightly, “Ambrosia! That’s her screaming!”

Shake my head, but Ruby continues before I can curse, “Go help her! Please, now!”

“You get out that back door and find the car.”

“I know: five streets down—bright red car. Got it.”

“Ruby, I—”

Scream comes again—piercing, haunting.

So close to Ruby—where I’ve wanted to be for so long. So worried she had been hurt—now she’s here where I could throw my arms around her and keep her safe or die trying, and I have to run again. Her eyes sparkle like jade, even in the darkness.

Kiss her lips quickly and rush to the stairs.

The front door has been kicked in completely—someone came through after me. Look at the ground—Edgar’s body’s gone too. There’s at least two of them in here—they have to be what’s causing the screaming upstairs.

Hope Ambrosia’s okay by the time I get there. Hope Ruby gets out that back door.

Body’s recovering—taking the steps three at a time. Joints crack and muscles are sore, but the shocks through my spine are weakening.

Don’t know where Ambrosia is in all of these dark hallways, but I’d bet she’s on the third floor with the others—exactly the most dangerous place for her to be, and the furthest place in the house from Ruby. And, all that depends on if Edgar was telling the truth about what’s on the top floor. Either way, it’s a safe bet that Ambrosia’s near the chaos, and the chaos is up there somewhere.

A different female groan-wail comes from above—definitely the third floor. Not Ambrosia’s voice—a little deeper, a little too raspy.

Reach the edge of the second floor. Make a 180 turn, immediately heading up to the third—going after the last scream. Hope Ambrosia’s there too.

 

 

The darkness feels much colder—chilling, since Simon disappeared into it. Before we found each other in this lethal, dim hole of a house, my eyes had just started to adjust to the dark horrors, growing used to rushing through it to the back door, waving my hands in front of me to find objects I couldn’t see.

Then I caught a glimpse of him before me—touching him—arms around him—quick kiss in the lightless hallway. For a moment, the pitch dark posed no threat—I was happy in the middle of this hell as long as he was near me, making the darkness around our entwined bodies seem so harmless. He was here, and everything was changed. The shadows were suddenly weakened by having something so wonderful in them.

I know it was a kiss goodbye in case he didn’t make it back to me. That’s what freezes through me now—stinging cold.

With him gone—even his footsteps on the stairs have faded—the blackness looks so thick—so dense—mind racing to fill every inch of it with images that terrify me. The red-bearded one who grabbed me just moments ago dropping down on me from a chandelier as he did to Simon, Carvelli awakened and after me, attacking from the front, Quint grabbing me by my throat from behind, and Roderick’s evil smile—angry fangs exposed and flying toward my neck. Even Maxine’s sharp fingernails slicing through the air and tearing into my face. I know she helped me—I know I owe her, but her image is still scary in the shadows.

All of the images stay fresh on my mind—keeping my skin feeling prickly—heart pounding like a sledgehammer in my ears.

God, I hope Simon comes down those stairs safely with Ambrosia. I sent him after her—couldn’t live with myself if something terrible happens to him—couldn’t live with myself if we ran out and left Ambrosia to die either—Simon didn’t know it was her—didn’t recognize her voice—it was all up to me…can’t wait to get out of this awful place.

Want to be up there with him now—my eyes on his every move to see that he’s alright—to know he’s alive before every breath I take. Don’t know what help I’d be—I’d do whatever I could. But, he told me to get out of here and get to the car. Last time I didn’t listen to him they kidnapped me at the bottom of the stairs at the bar and drugged and beat Simon. That’s what’s gotten us into this mess and into this awful house. Better do what he says—just hate not trying to help keep him safe.

Something squeaky and furry rushes past my right ankle. My whole body jumps. Rat—running from the fire. Its feet patter down the hallway ahead of me. Wonder how many more of them are coming.

Fire rages on the porch—its flickering the only violation of the darkness, casting its glow into the building behind me through the windows and the hole in the door. Too bad it’s not lighting up the side of the house where I’m headed. As it grows—ravaging the front of the building, the rats may not be the only creatures fleeing this burning nightmare.

Eyes strain to see what sharp, menacing creatures might be coming toward me.

Knees smack something unseen. Body flops forward—crashing into the unknown. Feet lift off the ground. Hands reach out in front of me. Fingers slide into grimy fabric—stirring up stale dust—face following behind, breathing in its stagnant odor.

A sofa. I’ve crashed onto a short, grimy, velvet couch—the dust on it like a layer of slime.

I was just taken out by old fabric stretched over moldy cushions on a thin wooden frame—landed on my face and hands—and it nearly gave me a heart attack. How in the hell am I going to get out of here—past the things with fangs and cruel hearts?

Push my body off the couch and get back on my feet.

Speaking of cruel hearts, my mind flashes to Maxine in the woods, enraged and charging at me—nails reaching out to slice into my head. Why would she help me now? The only time she wasn’t entirely brutal to me was right after she cut my hand to save Simon. It was all about Simon—not me. Why would she care about me now?

Maybe she had a reason to get me out of that room. Too hard to kill me in there. Two guards at the door—she did take them out, but she wasn’t safe from anyone else who could’ve come in the room—Roderick coming in to torment me, Simon coming in to save me. Either one wanted me alive—Simon forever, Roderick just long enough to snare Simon and get his hands on Ambrosia.

Maybe she just wanted me out in the open darkness where no one would be looking for me. Get me away from the action where she could let me wander down these creepy hallways, toying with me in a dark game—taunting an uppity, little, human girl who took her man from her.

She helped me—I know she helped me, but it looked like she could’ve killed me in the woods if she hadn’t promised Simon. She hasn’t promised tonight, and if she kills me in the lightless hallways, no one’ll know it was her. Simon’d think it was Roderick.

If Maxine broke into my room just to kill me, Simon’d know it wasn’t Roderick. He’d know it was someone else—Roderick doesn’t need to break into rooms in his own house—no one’s going to stop him from killing his own prisoner.

Maxine didn’t kill Quint or Carvelli—just knocked them out. She had to know they’d wake up and eventually figure out it was her in the room and not me. Why would she leave them alive? They’ll know she had to be the one who knocked them out. Maybe she wanted them to wake up—that she’d be long gone herself by then. Have them not know what happened to them—just that I was gone. Leave no signs that she set me free—they’d think it was Simon.

Maybe she just wanted to get me out here in the open to kill me in the shadows of the hallway—where no one can see, no one can hear me scream, and no one can save me now.

She’s everywhere in my thoughts—behind me—at my sides—popping up out of the darkness in front of me, the black air swirling, gathering, and forming her body like a specter out of a fog.

Tiny scampering ahead of me in the hallway—sounds like more fleeing rats. Suddenly, they don’t seem so eerie.

The darkness appears more solid ahead of me. Wall. Quicken my pace toward it. Finally an end to this long hallway. Strain my eyes searching for the door.

Blue eyes break through the darkness right in front of me, as if suddenly awakened, and pierce their way through the black air like midnight suns rising and birthing a wicked nocturnal dawn. Either I’ve lost my mind or a female vamp is reaching out to grab me.

Too short to be Maxine—still little taller than me. Hair even blacker than the darkness. Eyes like Simon’s blue pools if they were drained of all that shimmers and shot full of murky, swamp-like, unholy pollution.

She cocks her shoulder up and out—pointing it at me like a weapon, her chin aimed the same way to the tip of her shoulder, and she wrinkles her nose before opening her mouth. Her voice slithers through the dark air, smooth like Maxine’s but softer and more menacing, “Lost in the shadows, love?”

Heart races erratically—mind full of fear and shock—terrified for Simon. Don’t know if I’ve lost my mind or am about to die.

Raise my hands either way—to disperse the hallucination or to shove the beast to the side.

She moves as otherworldly fast and frightening as an apparition, avoiding my hands with ease, but her grip is all too real as she grasps my neck, shoving me several feet back into the hallway, turning me sideways, and slamming me against the wall. I feel the sheetrock crack behind my shoulders, neck, and head.

“You’re the one Roderick brought here earlier—Simon’s little princess. The one that got between us all—starting this little war.”

Squirm—struggle to get free, but her hand keeps the back of my neck pinned to the wall. Know she could kill me at any second—crush my throat completely, but I’ve got to try. Got to try to make sure Simon and Ambrosia get out too. Try to fight to see him one more time. At least go out swinging.

“The bad thing about starting your stupid war with them, princess, is that the little people like me go hungry. Right now Edgar’s trying to sneak something out for us little ones who don’t really matter but got caught up in the middle of all this somehow.”

Drive my knee up hard into her thigh.

Her fingers squeeze tighter—deeper into my neck, and she tosses me roughly onto the hardwood floor.

My shoulder hits first, then the rest of me crashes down. Roll onto my back as fast as I can.

In a flash, she’s atop me, knees crushing my shoulders against the floor, her poisoned eyes glaring into mine. Slowly she brings her hand over my face—stretching her fingers wide, flaunting her dangerous nails. Her scent of sweat and patchouli invades my senses.

“I could kill you now. I could put a stop to all of this fighting you’ve started over your silly little friend. Should’ve just given her to Roderick—he’ll get her soon anyway—he always does. The more you keep her from him, the more he’ll destroy to get to her.”

“She’s not anyone’s property to give away, especially not to give away to Roderick.”

“We’re all disposable in the dark, princess. It’s not like your world—your world isn’t real. Your world is what you see when the sun’s bright in the sky—blinding you from seeing all the horrible things that are around you. They’re always there, princess—the daylight just keeps you too dazzled to see them—it lets you pretend we don’t exist.”

“My nose won’t let me pretend you don’t exist. Sweaty patchouli smells worse than death.”

She hisses, sliding her knees further down my torso so she can bend over farther, bringing her exposed fangs closer to my face.

“Your mouth is faster than your little body. Words are all you have—you’re just not fast enough to back them up. I’ll rip your tongue out as soon as I don’t need you anymore.”

“Simon’s fast—he’ll kill you.”

Her knees slide a little lower—digging into my breasts terribly. My arms are free but I can’t move them—strain to breathe.

She sees me wince and smiles, bringing her fangs closer to my face, “Just shut your mouth, and I’ll trade you for some of the new stuff if Edgar gets himself killed up there. Let you breathe—just a little—till then. After that, princess, we’ll see about shutting up that smart-little-mouth of yours for good.”

A loud thud cracks through the air—coming from somewhere above us. A dark sound—something large broke.

Simon! Hope he’s alright—God, let him be alright. My thoughts focus on Simon somewhere in the upper levels of this house that resembles a cavern. I push my chest up hard to catch a breath.

She loves the panicked concern and struggle showing on my face, leaning down even closer—centimeters from diving her fangs into my face, “Maybe I’ll keep you alive just long enough to get the stuff…and…to let you watch just how fast Simon will die.”

She sits up a little—her eyes grow wide and excited as the thought sinks in. The image of Simon dying while she laughs wildly burns inside me.

Stick my right thumb out and jab it into her eye.

She screams—immediately bringing both hands over her hurt eye.

Quickly I jab my left thumb into her other eye.

Her scream turns into a squeal.

I shove both hands into her chest, and she falls backward onto the floor.

My own chest hurts as if she were still kneeling on it.

Her hands still cover her eyes, rocking back and forth on the floor. I give her a kick into her stomach.

“Was that fast enough for you, stinky?” I ask.

She kicks the air in my direction but misses me as I turn back toward the fire, away from where Maxine and Katrianna told me to go—away from where Simon told me to go—away from the only way out that I know that’s not engulfed in huge flames.

Darkness must be eclipsing my sanity. Heart pounds with the thought of Simon upstairs and in danger. Run into the pitch black, much faster than before, hanging to the left to avoid the couch, hoping that’s the only unseen thing waiting to trip me in the hallway.

Sprint into the darkness toward the fire.

 

 

My nails rip through the bookcase that’s been shoved in front of the torn entrance to the large room on the third floor. Something unspeakable must be brewing behind the books for the room to be blocked off this way. Fling my arms out, tearing the bookcase apart further, knees and head slamming into it, breaking what remains in the way of my body.

Crash into the room.

Edgar has Ambrosia over his shoulder—she pounds her fists on his back, while he grabs at the closest of three other women backed into the far corner of the room—her arm scraped from his attempts. The two girls behind her try to push her forward into Edgar—keeping his claws further away from them and offering her to him to fill his other empty shoulder so he’ll hopefully go away and leave them alone.

I shout, “Hey, big red, you can’t keep the one girl on your shoulder happy. What makes you think you can handle two?”

His face is ugly with anger—twisted and snarling beneath his rust-colored beard.

“Better run after your own girl before someone picks her up downstairs and does something nasty to her.”

Rush across the room toward Edgar. He turns from the terrified three girls backed against the wall to face me, both his hands at Ambrosia’s waist. He tosses Ambrosia at my head—sending her flying toward me with her back facing me—leaving her unable to see where she’s going—her arms, legs, and blue ponytails flailing.

Both of my hands catch her near her hips. Try to dump her on her feet to the side of me as swiftly as I can. Know something’s coming at me fast.

Before I can release her, Edgar’s boot kicks me in the temple. Ambrosia drops out of my hands—lands on her feet and stumbles till she finds her balance.

Raise my arm—block Edgar’s fingernails from scraping my face. He kicks my leg at the knee—body buckles. He throws a right cross—aiming for the bridge of my nose—pull my head back—grazes me. Kicks at my stomach—I catch his foot, taking away most of its force as it pushes against me—holding onto his foot and calf I turn fast—twisting and falling toward the floor—pulling him over me by his leg—slamming him to the ground. The floorboards crack.

The three girls run to the hole I tore through the bookcase that was blocking the exit. The girl, with the scratches on her arm who was being pushed toward Edgar, smacks her hands at the backs of the other two as they disappear into the hallway.

Ambrosia’s backed herself against the wall, and from beneath smeared and runny blue mascara, she watches Edgar and I scramble to our feet.

First one standing, I charge toward him—jumping—putting my entire body in the air—kicking him square in his shoulders with both of my feet, sending him off his feet and shooting into the wall near Ambrosia.

She jumps back—getting far out of the way as Edgar crashes into the wall.

He bounces back onto his feet, fist clenched and cocked back—looking square at my face where he wants to plant it.

Kick him in the center of his chest. Solid—deep thud. He falls back into the wall again.

Ambrosia squeals.

Arch my back to land as hard of a punch as I can throw—sting pierces my neck—sharp.

Turn to see the source of Ambrosia’s squeal and the hand that threw the needle lodged in the back of my neck. Roderick—his smile is content, but his eyes are hungry with rage—hungry for destruction but enjoying that all he lusts for has been delivered to him inside his own house.

Grab the piercing needle—feathered at its end. Yank it out. It’s indeed a dart. Red feathers at its handle end—discolored at its tip—stained with something.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Roderick. Darts?”

He raises his left hand, revealing three more of them held between his fingers.

“Life gets boring, Simon, without new, little toys to play with.”

“You’ve lost your mind, you crazy, old psycho. Might as well be throwing feathers at me after all we’ve been through.”

“Feathers add up—eventually breaking any beast’s back.”

“What do you know about beasts? All you’ve been doing is bullying young girls. You wanna break me, Roderick?” pausing while I turn and punch the blur of Edgar rushing toward me. Then as he drops back to the wall, I continue, “Come and break me, tough guy.”

Roderick’s face stares at me—unmoved.

Edgar’s on his feet again, hands slicing the air in noisy chops. Turn to face him with my hands covering my head. His first hand smacks my forearm, but his second goes to my ribs—scraping them. Finally went to the body—he’s learning. Guess he hasn’t fought too many people who know how to block him.

Throw an elbow into Edgar’s forehead, and another dart digs into me—into the center of my back.

Roderick moves toward me. Edgar shakes the remaining dizziness from my elbow shot to his head.

Ambrosia is standing on her toes looking from the door to Roderick and back to the door.

I charge at Roderick and shout, “Run, Ambrosia, get out of here! Now, now, now!”

Roderick throws another dart that lands in my left biceps.

Ambrosia runs over the books scattered on the floor before the bookshelf and then disappears out the hole.

My head grows foggy—muscles feel heavy.

Roderick throws a punch at my head. Dodge—sway my torso back. Too close—I’m moving too slow. Something’s wrong.

Catch Edgar moving in the corner of my eye. Have to move fast—got to get both of them on the same side of me or this won’t last very long.

Roderick swings wildly at me again.

I duck down and with a leg scissors trip him face-first to the floor.

Edgar’s footsteps are scrambling loudly on the wood floor, but they’re moving away from us.

I jump onto Roderick’s back, pushing my knees into his spine and pulling up on his chin—tying him up and putting pressure on his lower back.

We both look to Edgar who’s nearly out the hole in the bookshelf.

Roderick shrieks, “I need you, you weasel!”

Edgar puts a hand to the edge of the hole in the bookshelf and stops. Pointing with his other hand to the corner front window, “No, you don’t. Look to the window.”

I drop my hold of Roderick’s chin as I see two vampires—Quint and Carvelli crouched on the ledge and lifting the window. Their faces are scratched harshly, but they’re ready to fight.

Head’s sludgy—dizzy—breaths coming hard—balance is off. Darts must’ve been poisoned—same stuff as before.

Quint and Carvelli drop down to the hardwood floor.

I break a leg off a nearby lamp stand—lamp crashing and shattering on the floor.

Two more figures have jumped up to the window sill—must be climbing to the edge of the balcony that is still standing and not completely in flames and then jumping to the sill.

The two jump into the room. Desirée—one of Edgar’s little needle girls—her eyes look raw. Speaking of needles—my eyelids are getting heavy. Poison’s working fast. The other vamp is a guy—young one, short brown hair—long sideburns—don’t even know his name—must’ve been born in the last five decades when I was away.

Footsteps pound their path up the stairs—a lot of them.

Did Ambrosia have enough time to get downstairs? Hope so.

The approaching horde stomp higher and higher up the stairs—some smacking their feet down this hallway—getting close to this room.

Another dark figure jumps to the windowsill.

Roderick, now up on his knees, throws the last dart—piercing its way into my thigh.

Yank it out of my leg—yank the other out of my biceps. Put both of them between fingers in my left hand—going to need them—won’t be enough. Can’t reach the one still stuck in my back. Thoughts getting slow…heavy.

Roderick smiles as the first of his lackeys reach the opening in the bookcase. Must be the horror shelf.

I hate it because it’s his smile. Hate it because of the malice in it. Hate it because it’s smug. Hate it because I’m fading. Hate it even more because it’s the last thing I may see. Hate it worse ‘cause don’t know how far Ruby’s gotten away from all this.

I’ll fight till my eyes shut for good, but looks like Roderick’s won. Fighting just to keep eyes open now, and it hasn’t even begun.

Doesn’t look good.

Run, Ruby, run.

Hold them off as long as I can. Fangs and claws surround me—closing in at all sides.

Dear God, Ruby, run.

 

 

Pale, pointed-tooth creatures rush past.

Their footsteps were close behind as soon as I started up the first set of stairs. Sprinted up to the second floor—ran down the hallway where I was imprisoned just a short while ago.

That’s where I peer at them now, from behind the corner of the hallway—right where I ran into Katrianna earlier.

At least a dozen of them—loud racket—running up to the third floor.

Look back to the room where I was held captive—no guards—dead or alive. Door is shut but blood covers the floor in front of it.

Maxine—hope she’s alright. Hope she struck the blood and didn’t do the bleeding herself. Have to check on her before we leave, but right now I have to follow after this unholy herd up the stairs to save Simon.

The trampling feet are off the stairs and on the third floor now—where all the noise was coming from before they started stomping up the stairs—must be where Simon is, maybe Ambrosia too.

“Aaaaaah!” squeals from my old cell.

Ambrosia—it’s her. Girl squeaks like no other. Run toward the door. Grab Ambrosia—go after Simon—get the hell out of here. Smile everyday that I wake up somewhere other than this hellish place.

 

 

I slam Ambrosia’s wrists against the wall, and holding them between my thumb and fingers, I drive my fingernails into the wall, shackling her to the sheetrock with my flesh.

Her eyes weep as she whimpers, spreading her overdone makeup down her face like she’s crying blue blood.

Her blubbering almost makes my aching body feel better after fighting Simon. Thinking of the hell he’s going through now makes me feel better. And, looking down at Ambrosia’s stomach that squirms left and right with the rest of her body, trying to break free of my hold, my senses think of what they’ll be enjoying later on—the special fix like no other. That definitely makes me feel better.

Was all too easy to grab her, stumbling clumsily down this hallway, running away from the clamor coming up the stairs toward her. Breathing on her neck, sliding my fangs across her thin skin before she knew there was anything in the darkness behind her but her fear. With a quick, “Hello, sweetheart,” a moment to enjoy the terror in her eyes, and a hand over her mouth, I pulled her in here. As easy as breathing—grabbing a scared, little thing in the dark.

“Let me go, Edgar! I have a child now.”

“You have a monster child, Ambrosia—an abomination. Something that would be better off never being born.”

Her chest pumps up and down—sadness shuts her eyes that still leak.

“What—what are you going to do?” she asks.

“Nothing much, love. Just take away something that should never have been. Who knows—if you’re a good little blue thing, you might not even have to die.”

“Share it with me,” she whimpers.

“What?” I ask.

Raising her glossy, smeared eyes to look at me, “Share it with me, then.”

Pushing my tongue to the tip of a fang, “Want a taste of the good stuff, do you? You’re a sick one…starting to like you, blue.”

“Just—just wanna know what’s worth all of this fighting. What could possibly be so good? Must be something special.”

“You have no earthly idea.”

 

 

The moonlight and flames of the fire below reflect in the myriad bits of shattered glass that fly and twirl in the air all around me.

The third-floor broken window they just threw me through looks like a jagged black hole into the white house. My shoulder slams onto the second-floor balcony—sliding toward the front edge.

Can see flames flickering and rising in the air at the front of the half balcony that remains. The tiny partial platform sags to the side at my right, and flames rise there against its edge too.

My shoulder’s slide toward the front edge of the balcony begins to slow down, and my body starts to slide down the slope into the flames to my right.

Reach up for the remnant of the wrought iron railing—too far away. Slide down deeper—feel the heat on my boots.

The adrenaline rush of being thrown through the window has awakened me a little—stirred up some panic. Won’t last, though. Poison’s too strong.

Slam my hands into the crooked, wooden balcony. Nails dig in. Heat rises up to my ankles. Tighten pressure on my hands’ grip into the wood and get enough leverage to stop my descent into the rising flames.

Pull myself up to the top of the broken balcony. Grasping the iron rail with one hand, I pat my flaming pants’ legs with the other. Patting hand sears with heat—flames on pants go out.

The entire balcony beneath me is hot—growing hotter. Smoke from the fire makes the night sky look more ominous, and the moonlight reflecting in the smoke makes it look alive. I’d welcome it if it were thick enough to keep me out of the eyes of the mob above me—glaring down at me now, but it’s just enough smoke to be foreboding and choke my lungs.

Well, if I’ve got to die, at least the smoke that will irritate me till my last breath might help cover Ruby’s escape.

Try to pull myself all the way up to the rail—too sore to do it—beat me pretty bad before they decided that throwing me out the window onto a flaming, collapsing balcony was the way to liven up their party.

Cold rush as I hold onto the rail trying to keep myself out of the flames—the adrenaline’s building up—too still—cold sweat at my brow. Only me—swear that only I would end up on a flaming balcony, about to be burned alive, and still have the cold shivers.

Hope Ruby’s escaped—somewhere safe. Knew I probably wouldn’t make it out alive—it’s okay as long as Ruby got out, but I’d go through hell twice to have this end differently. Do it just to be with her. Do it just to surely know she’s out of danger.

Have a beautiful life, my Ruby, far, far away from here.

 

 

“You have no earthly idea,” are the words that drop out of his mouth as I kick him with all my might from behind—right between his legs.

He wheezes and drops to the ground—his nails coming out of the wall and taking bits of sheetrock with them.

She saw me creeping in the door quietly over his shoulder. Don’t know how he didn’t hear me coming—must’ve been too focused on what he wants from Ambrosia to have noticed—can’t believe what he was trying to do—so disgusting to hear him talk about it. But, she saw me coming and set him up—distracting him.

I grab Ambrosia by the hand and run out the room and down the hallway toward the stairs. He’ll be after us in seconds. Don’t have much time.

Getting near the stairs—I run toward the upstairs staircase—Ambrosia pulls toward the ones leading downstairs and out of this hellhole. Can see the flames outside growing larger—lighting up the entire length of the front windows that flank the busted door.

“What are you doing?” Ambrosia asks in a panic.

“Upstairs—got to find Simon!”

I can hear footsteps coming down the hallway. See three figures running around downstairs by the flaming front door—look like normal girls—don’t look like vamps—no time to find out.

Ambrosia says, “Simon’s upstairs—told me to get the hell out of here—run!”

Without looking in her direction, I pull on her hand and force her to follow me upstairs, as I answer, “Have to help him—now!”

Halfway up to the third floor, I can hear Edgar’s steps finish running down the hallway and start heading down the stairs to the first floor.

 

 

Mind’s growing slow—energy from shock fleeing. Hot from flames—cold from adrenaline, fatigue, and the beating I’ve taken. Burning and freezing. Body’s got to make up its mind—got to fight—not shake. All it does right now is shake and wheeze like a dying man.

Quint jumps down onto the balcony from the hole in the window—the entire broken, crooked platform shakes like it might break free and fall into the flames.

Quint is just one—the other must be coming too. Thud—shakes wildly again. Can see Carvelli.

Quint grabs my wrist that clings to the iron rail—squeezes it tight with both of his hands. Carvelli crowds in—close to the flames—and he presses his foot on my elbow.

Can’t hold my grip on the rail—my hand opens up. They must be trying to drop me into the fire. I pinch Carvelli’s ankle with my knee—squeezing it between my calf and hamstring—trying to make it harder for them to throw me. Slam my other hand back into the wood of the balcony, digging my nails in—may need something to hold onto—may not matter—gotta fight anyway.

Quint puts my hand between the bottom of the rail and the balcony—Carvelli grabs it and holds it there, ignoring my knee squeezing his lower leg.

Try to take in deep breaths—lungs tired—air full of smoke—poison flowing, slowing body down—eyes trying to shut. Shake my head hard.

Eyes spring back open to the sound of pounding and bending metal. Quint kicks the rail—stomping it into the wood—pinching my wrist on the right side.

Struggle to breathe.

Quint kicks the rail down on the left side, smashing the metal tightly into the wood. Trapped. Pinned to a little wooden bit of balcony—fire rising at the sides—beasts of hell looking down on me from the hole in the window, and the two goons climbing back up to them—their heavy bodies now standing on the rail, pushing it further into my wrist as they make their way back to the window sill.

Just wanted to make sure I couldn’t escape from the flames—that’s all. Roderick must be ecstatic with the drama of watching me slowly burn to death—only reason I’m not already dead—only reason they’d come down here just to make sure I couldn’t get away.

Eyes growing black. So drained—body’s struggling to heal wounds—so dry…spent. If I could just catch breath, I could try break free—maybe…jump over fire. Blackness taking over sight—smoke filling lungs—mind shutting down. Awaiting flames to scorch my body, preparing for the end—then, the one sound I prayed not to hear shocks my eardrums.

 

 

“Here’s Ambrosia! Come and take her, you miserable, disgusting demon!” I shout, holding her captive at her wrist.

Holes have never been so terrifying. Just came through the hole in the bookcase into the large room with broken furniture, cracked walls, and about seventeen vampires—some bleeding, some just lusting for blood. Then, I saw the hole in the window into the smoky, fiery, black night. Even worse—across the room by the window, Roderick’s eyes look like holes into an abyss.

Ambrosia tries to pull away from me—can’t break free. Not this time—not going anywhere. Maybe should’ve told her this was coming. Too late now.

The vampires part a path between me and the window. Roderick with his hand on its sill—someone trying to climb in from the outside.

“What’s made you bring this little treat back to me, Ruby? Decided Simon’s worth more than a two-faced friend?”

“What are you talking about?” asks Ambrosia with a trembling voice.

“Oh, this and that about you saying Ruby was only man-bait—someone you were using to attract guys—not really a friend of yours.”

“That’s not true!”

“Oh, but you did say it—said she was ‘boring.’”

“No—yes, but that’s not how I meant it.”

“Shut up!” I shout.

Roderick says, “Alright, Ruby, reasons don’t much matter I suppose—Ambrosia’s right here. No reason to keep you from your man any longer.”

“If I let her go, you’ll bring me to Simon?”

“In a room full of vampires, you’re awfully demanding—you humans so self-absorbed, such a sense of entitlement. I could rip her from you right now, and there’s nothing you could do about it.”

“Wouldn’t she taste all the better if her best friend betrayed her?”

“Women—dramatic even till death,” Roderick exhales and smiles, “I promise wherever Simon may be when you let her go, I’ll be happy to send you there.”

“No, Ruby, don’t!” Ambrosia pleads, whimpering like a small, terrified dog.

I turn my back to Roderick and the other vampires to face Ambrosia and throw her a wink. As I start to wink, Ambrosia looks intently at something over my head, and knifelike fingernails land on my shoulder—pushing as hard as they can without breaking the skin.

“Time to let her go, love,” Roderick says, his voice sounding even creepier when he’s close enough for his breath to touch me.

His other hand grabs Ambrosia by a blue ponytail and yanks her completely away from me—her shoulder smacking mine in the process. I didn’t even notice her wrist coming free from my hand—ripped away so forcefully, so quickly.

He drags her toward the window. Both of my former guards stand there—the two of them scratched up pretty badly—they must’ve been the ones coming through the window when we first walked in here.

I call out at Roderick’s back, “Alright, now bring me to Simon.”

He swings Ambrosia around by her ponytail, sending her stumbling and crashing into Carvelli. Carvelli grabs her by her arms, twisting them behind her back, and holds her captive—both of her wrists grasped tightly together with just one of his hands—his other squeezing where her neck meets her shoulder.

Roderick turns his attention to me.

“Your wish is my command, young lover,” he says as he bows mockingly toward me, “Grab her and drag her to me now!”

Hands grab at me from all sides—they pass me up through the crowd from one sharp, nasty hand to the next—my feet dragging on the floor as they yank me closer and closer to Roderick and the busted window.

Smoke starts to billow in through the window, creating a thin, gray mist around Roderick. Gray—how sweet the color looked to me just a short while ago—been my favorite shade next to the blue of Simon’s eyes since my world was changed on that dance floor. Now that Simon’s gone—the gray of the smoke just looks evil.

The girl I fought in the hallway stands beside him—her eyes still raw and red. She must’ve been in the crowd rushing up the stairs earlier—maybe she went outside and came back in the busted window—scary how fast they move—evil how fast they recover.

Roderick’s filthy fingers with razor-like tips seize my neck and lift me off the ground—my feet dangling. Eyes feel like they’re bulging from his strangling grip.

The patchouli girl swipes at me—trying to get her nails into my arm—without looking in her direction, Roderick shoves her backward with his foot.

Ambrosia calls out, “Ruby! Jealous friends say stupid things, especially when they’re drunk…I’m sorry.”

I try to say don’t worry about it, but Roderick’s pressing fingers keep me from speaking.

If a second were a vast ocean, before even one droplet could pass, he spins around flinging his arm and me hanging from it out the jagged hole in the window. Between his hand clasping my neck and the thick, smoke-filled air, I don’t know if I’ll ever breathe deeply again.

Stare at the moon above—starts to go out of focus.

“Edgar’s gone!” a female voice declares loudly from inside the room.

Can’t see inside, but know the voice—familiar—can’t place it.

The familiar female continues, “He’s gone, and he took two of the human girls with him.”

“What?” Roderick demands, his fingers squeezing my neck tighter, “What are you doing here, Maxine, and what the hell are you wearing?”

Of course—was Maxine’s voice.

She says, “Just trying something different.”

“And the clothes?”

“Them too.”

A different woman’s voice cuts through the air—harsher than Maxine’s—must be patchouli girl, “So what? What about the stuff—the new breed? Said he was going to get the stuff for me!”

Roderick grunts.

Maxine answers, “The girls are pregnant—vampire babies are the new breed.”

Many feet rush toward the other side of the room, must be heading to the opening in the bookshelf—fast footsteps, loud with desperation.

Roderick’s hand releases me —— I drop —— falling through the hazy, hot air—transferring the heat of the fire onto me—penetrating deep into my skin.

Sound of cracking and metal wrenching—something scrambling beneath me. My legs hit something—then my back hits something else.

Simon. Caught me mid-air. His arms holding me—standing crooked—at an angle. He smiles at me, wobbles, and falls—both of us crashing to the broken bit of balcony that still stands.

Fire flickers near our feet—we’re sliding down the slope of the balcony toward it. His arm wraps tightly around my waist—his other grabs the top edge of the balcony and starts pulling us higher and away from the hungry orange and red tongues flickering at us—waiting for us to slide down into them.

He pulls us up higher and lodges his arm around the edge of the balcony—his other arm still pressing me to him—snugly wrapped around my waist.

He drags me up his body until my face is just above his.

“How’re you doing, Bright Eyes?”

Press my lips against his. So tense—emotion exploding.

His chest convulses—I pull back—he starts to cough.

“Can’t hold you much longer, Ruby—too weak—too much of that poison in me—can’t breathe—can’t last much longer. Gotta get you out of here.”

Put my hand to his cheek—it’s cold, even with the flames coming so close to us. Look down at his hand holding me to him—his wrist is bruised horribly—like he’s broken out of shackles.

“Bite me, Simon.”

“Have to try to throw you over the flames onto the yard—your only chance.”

“No, Ambrosia’s up there—gotta save her too. Bite me—bite me now!”

“Throw you clear—you try to roll when you hit the ground. I’ll try to get back up there to help her—you get out of here—far away and safe.”

“Dammit!” I shout and grab his face with both hands, kissing him very hard, then backing off and staring into his eyes that are starting to look faded and pale, “Bite me, Simon! Do it—now!”

He kisses me quickly, slides his lips over my cheek and down my neck. Lips make a circle on my neck. Sudden sting. Tender, but still feels like a kiss—enough to force an exhale charged with emotion out of me.

His free hand still holds me to him, but he’s moved it to the small of my back, his fingers caressing me.

My eyes close—all I feel are his teeth and lips—and the tender stroke of his touch. The blackness behind my eyelids turns teal.

His mouth leaves my neck, and his hand tightens at my back. He starts to stand—pulling me up with him. Still at an angle, but he feels balanced now—strong enough to hold me steady too. Bruise on his wrist looks much better—fading away already. His eyes blaze bright blue.

“Going in the window now—get on my back, put your arms around my neck—wrap your legs around my waist—as tight as you can—quickly.”

“Okay,” I answer as he’s already turned around, looking at the wall he must climb.

Sliding my arms and legs around him, I know the danger we’re heading into—I feel the heat of the fire below us—hear the broken balcony creaking and threatening to give way at any moment, but I still feel tingles spark through me with my body wrapped around him—pressed to him. Even the threat of probable death can’t hold back the sensation. So insane. So wonderful. So deadly.

He reaches his hands up, digging his fingernails into the wood and lifting the both of us off the balcony—climbing the wall up to the hole in the window, one floor above us.

Think about what was in that room when I was dropped out of it—know what waits for us up there—a feeling surges up inside me. Can’t go another second without doing it. Might never have another chance to do it.

“Simon, stop—look at me.”

He turns his head as far as he can in my direction. Hanging onto his neck two and a half floors above a raging fire, I lean to the side, putting my face an inch in front of his.

“Simon, I love you.”

He smiles the sexiest smile and says, “I know you do.”

Before I can register that his words aren’t what I’m dying to hear, he’s already moving toward the window—faster now. Hold tighter to his neck.

As our heads peer through the busted window, the conversation reaches our ears.

“Bit convenient that you’re here tonight, Maxine, don’t you think?”

“What’re you talkin’ about, Roderick? You know I hate you—ain’t nothing changed. Just nothing else to do tonight.”

“Really? Here in my house with all this going on—humans running here and there—cars crashing into the front of the building—fires—and a little vampire civil war, and you just happen to be here in the house of someone you hate? Then you come prancing on in here telling everyone a secret you’re not even supposed to know—sending nearly all of my people racing out of here after a fix, and you expect me to believe it’s all a coincidence?”

Quickly scan over what I can see of the room—does look like most of them have left—running after Edgar to satisfy their revolting addiction. Those that I can see have their backs to us and the window—all facing Maxine.

Maxine says, “Don’t really care what you believe, ugly. Never have.”

Roderick walks toward Maxine with his fingers spread out near his sides, ready to swing them at her.

Maxine holds her ground, bending her knees, and stretching her own hands in front of her.

Simon holds both of us with one hand on the windowsill and both of his boots pressed against the front of the house. His free hand slides gently up and down my right forearm that is still wrapped around his neck.

A young-looking vampire with short, brown hair and very long sideburns whom I’ve never seen before follows behind Roderick, also approaching Maxine threateningly—don’t recognize him. Carvelli still holds Ambrosia–can see one of her blue ponytails peeking out past his shoulder. Patchouli girl stands to the side of Carvelli with her tongue pressed to the tip of a fang—staring ravenously at Ambrosia—the only one not watching what’s going on with Maxine.

Another voice calls out from the opening in the bookcase, “Look at the two brave, male vampires attacking one girl all by herself.”

It’s Katrianna.

Roderick stops, surprise freezing his movement, and says, “You’re supposed to be dead. They said they killed you.”

“I’m supposed to be a lot of things—not many of them are true.”

Stopping at Maxine’s side, Katrianna continues, “If you want a nasty job done right, Roderick, don’t leave early next time, trusting imbeciles to do it for you. And, who said they killed me—this idiot straining to hold that little girl over there—Carvelli? Please. They killed my helpless little ones, but not me. Or was it his sick, little idiot-twin that bragged about killing me? Where is Quint anyway?”

Carvelli’s face grows angry, and Ambrosia scrunches her shoulders under the increased pressure from his hand squeezing her.

Maxine answers, “Quint ran out with the others after Edgar and the new breed.”

“Ha!” explodes out of Katrianna, “Never know who your friends are, huh, Roderick? And you, too, stupid,” she says pointing a razor-like fingernail at Carvelli.

“Still four of us to rip you two apart—that’s all we need,” Roderick says cold, flat, and steady.

Maxine says, “It seems all you’re good for Roderick is a lot of talk, and talking to you has always made me sick anyway.”

“Me, too,” Simon adds, jumping through the hole in the window, landing his feet forcefully onto the hardwood floor with me still hanging onto his neck.

Roderick turns around, looking back and forth from Maxi and Katrianna to Simon and me, slowly backing away from being caught directly between them all—moving himself toward Carvelli and patchouli girl, the young vamp with the long sideburns following his lead.

Staring at Simon, Roderick says, “Well, here’s the boy who’s having a lot of trouble dying tonight—we can take care of that for him soon enough.”

“Let Ambrosia go, and none of you have to die,” Simon commands.

“Oh, I think we’re way too far gone for that, Mr. Hero, and I’d say your luck has got to be running out soon,” he pauses looking over all the girls in the room, still backing up slowly, getting closer to Carvelli and his captive, “Let’s see here...Katrianna, Desirée, Ruby, Maxine, and Ambrosia—isn’t anyone named Jane anymore? Only in Uptown New Orleans could those names come together in the same room. Only here could all but one of them be very dead together—very soon.”

All eyes scan over the room—all of them except for Roderick’s and patchouli-girl/Desirée’s—they both stare at Ambrosia.

Simon turns his head sideways toward me—still keeping his eyes on the room, and says, “Ruby, stay in the corner once this starts. Try to get away from this window—get over to one of the corners by that torn bookshelf.”

“Okay.”

Roderick reaches Carvelli and Ambrosia, grabs her at the shoulder, and says, “I’ll take the girl—let her go.”

He slides his hand down Ambrosia’s back, grasping her trapped wrists, and takes hold of her from Carvelli.

Katrianna and Maxine move toward them slowly from the front of the room, and Simon does the same from the rear. Still outnumbered four to three, but they’re the ones making the first move.

Roderick looks to the young sideburns vamp, Desirée, and Carvelli, and says, “If I have to dirty my hands with this, none of you will ever taste the new breed again.”

The three henchmen stare at each other, thinking it over, and Roderick adds, “I swear it…never…again.”

With her head cocked at a harsh angle, Desirée stares at Maxine and says, “Well, if the whore bleeds on me and infects me with some godforsaken disease, I’m gonna expect alotta the stuff from you, Roderick.”

Desirée looks back at him for his reaction.

Roderick says, “Don’t worry; there’s plenty of it for all of u—”

Maxine’s opened hand smacks Desirée’s face so hard the whole room seems to shake, and she falls to the floor, not moving. So fast—didn’t even see Maxi charge her.

The room becomes a blur—Simon lunges forward, grabbing Carvelli. A blur of yellow is Maxine, gray-black smear is Katrianna—the rest are hard to make out.

I see a clear path to the front of the room—I move, trying to get in that corner like Simon said.

Just in front of me—nearly hitting my face—Sideburns crashes into the wall—cracking some bricks in the fireplace. He falls to the floor.

Two more bodies speed close by me. My hands go up instinctively before I realize it’s Katrianna and Maxine.

Quickly, I run past them toward the corner.

Grabbing Maxine tightly by the arm, Katrianna says, “Maxine, find Edgar—save those girls! Go now—before it’s too late!”

Maxine nods and turns toward the exit.

Sideburns jumps back to his feet, swinging wildly at Katrianna. While she dodges his punches, she calls after Maxine, “Nice to see you doing something worthwhile, darlin’.”

Maxine doesn’t look back, but she’s smiling as her blazing fast body whizzes past me, shooting out the hole in the bookshelf with the fear-inducing fluidity of a bat bursting out of a cave.

Focus hard, and my eyes are able to make out more of the quickened, blurry movements. Sideburns lands a punch on Katrianna—she grabs his arm and slams him to the floor.

Simon kicks Carvelli solidly in the stomach, and he drops to a knee.

Katrianna catches a punch by Sideburns, and holding onto his fist, she rolls onto her back—pulling him toward her—jamming her feet against his chest and flinging him into the air like a missile.

She’s accidentally sent him soaring toward Simon, who has his back to them, throwing a punch of his own at Carvelli.

Sideburns’s boot cracks Simon in the back of his head. Simon falls forward onto Carvelli, who is still on one knee.

Sideburns hits the floor and rolls with the momentum—popping himself back up on his feet, turning quickly, and attacking Katrianna again.

With Simon still flopped over him, Carvelli spins around, grabbing Simon around his waist, and quickly stands with my love hoisted on his right shoulder—head out in front.

Katrianna’s busy fending off an onslaught from Sideburns.

Roderick flashes his fangs and flings Ambrosia into the far corner of the room—at a diagonal from me. His eyes land on me as he sprints across the room, fangs and nails exposed.

Smiling, Carvelli charges toward the brick fireplace, aiming Simon’s head to crash directly into it. Close to the bricks, Simon shoves himself off Carvelli’s shoulders, propelling his combatant into the fireplace face first.

Nearly an arm’s-reach away, Roderick cocks his hand back—ready to slash into me—hideous, sharp nails angled at my face.

Landing and spinning in one motion, Simon throws a kick into the air, crashing hard into Roderick’s chin. Roderick smashes into the corner of the giant bookshelf, cracking the wood, and then he falls to the ground about a foot in front of me.

Simon grabs him by his shirt and pants and throws him atop Carvelli in front of the fireplace.

Moving toward me so smoothly that it looks as if he were sliding, Simon grabs me—both hands firm and tender at my waist. Lowers his eyes closer and closer to mine—reflecting and becoming one.

His voice rushes through me like a current, “Ruby, I love you.”

His lips press against mine, pulsing the intense truth of his words into my soul—surging from the energy of his kiss.

Two steps pound toward us—Simon spins round and charges in a flash—slamming his entire arm across the upper chest and then crashing higher into the neck of Sideburns, who falls to the ground grasping his throat.

Just as fast, he spins back to me.

“I love you, Ruby.”

The words are even more beautiful being said a second time—feels like they’ve grown even stronger.

“Where were those words a little while ago?”

“Left it unfinished on purpose—knew I couldn’t die without having said those words to you. And no way on earth I’d let anything happen to you without telling you I love you.”

Simon glances over his shoulder. Roderick still lies face down in front of the fireplace and stirs on the floor but isn’t up yet—Sideburns coughs and rocks but is still on the ground, Katrianna fights Carvelli near the windows—didn’t even see Carvelli get up. They move so fast.

I say, “I’m hard of hearing, and we still could die tonight—say it again.”

“Ruby, I love you.”

He leans in to kiss me again, but Sideburns struggles to get up—barely getting himself on his knees, and Roderick rolls to his side in front of the fireplace.

Simon grabs Sideburns by his shirt and lifts him off the ground.

Sideburns’s punches smack Simon with no force—no effect—no strength left. His head spins in circles, eyes half shut.

Simon says, “Last chance—get out of here now, young one, or you’re never going to leave this room again.”

He nods his head.

With that, Simon spins around and tosses him toward the bookcase—Sideburns staggers right through the opening, not looking back.

Katrianna kicks Carvelli between his legs—he drops to his knees—she kicks his forehead—his whole body topples to the wooden floor.

Looking up at her from the planks as he strains to push himself up and back onto his knees, Carvelli says, “Was a shame we had to kill all of your cats.”

Katrianna’s chin drops to her chest. Eyes close tightly shut.

Shoving his knees off the ground and into a wobbly standing position, Carvelli says, “Awful shame we had to kill all of them tonight. Would’ve loved to have gone back again and again, having a little fun catching those filthy, furry things and listening to them shriek.”

Katrianna is a blur speeding toward him—diving at him—soaring through the air—arms outstretched, hands tearing into his stomach, sending the both of them crashing out the window and out of sight. They hit the balcony with a deep thud, followed by a thundering crash. The last bit of the balcony must’ve collapsed, sending them both diving into the flames.

Pulling my attention away from the window, I see Roderick, standing now, quickly taking an iron poker from the fireplace into his hand.

Sirens scream in the distance, getting louder and louder.

Staring Roderick down and taking a slow step toward him, Simon says, “Come on, Roderick—it’s over. Sirens are blaring—heading here now. Enough blood’s been spilled today—give all of this up—you’re beaten.”

Waving the tip of the iron poker in the air at Simon’s head, Roderick says, “It’s not over.”

“What’re you going to do with that except waste your time and irritate me?”

“Oh…it’s not for you,” he says smoothly, looking toward me with a gleam in his eyes.

Keeping the poker pointed at Simon, he takes a step closer to me.

“Roderick, I’ll kill you! I swear I’ll kill you if you touch her—slowly.”

“Just hold it right there, hero boy. Don’t take another step.”

Simon holds his hands open and beside his shoulders, “Alright, you don’t move either then.”

Roderick lets his fangs scrape his own bottom lip, “For the moment, maybe. For the moment…look at you, Simon—so terrified I’m going to take away the thing you love most. So ironic, it’s the same exact look Eleni had in her eyes half a century ago, soaked in gasoline, right before I dropped the match that lit the fire that burned her alive.”

Simon’s chest spasms—rough exhale, and his words come in spurts between pained, choppy breaths, “You lie—I saw them—got there just as it was finished—saw them all leaving—there was a crowd—they thought she was one of us—a vampire—someone saw me leap up to her window late at night—thought she must be one too. You’re a liar—I saw them—know every one of their faces—every last one of their terrible faces.”

On the floor just past Simon—several feet behind his back, Desirée’s eyelids flip open—revealing hideous blue.

Roderick says, “Indeed they were there, dear boy. Tied her up—brought the gasoline—brought the matches—not one of them with the guts to light it. I was all too glad to spark their murderous plans into action—to give them the strength to bring their anger to life.”

Desirée charges at Simon’s back—her teeth and nails are furious triangles bent on tearing into him.

Roderick turns toward me—in a flash he has the iron poker cocked back like a spear over his head—ready to be thrust through the air and into me—all the way through me—aimed at my chest—pointed and threatening.

Desirée’s arm swings at the back of Simon’s head. Simon spins toward her, catching her arm at the wrist, grabbing under her elbow with his other hand.

Roderick’s arm starts to come down toward me.

Simon arches his back and pulls Desirée’s arm over his head and shoulders—tossing her into the air.

Roderick’s arm comes down—hand opens—iron spear flies out.

Throw my hands up in front of my chest.

Desirée’s body smacks my hands to the side as she smashes into the wall—the iron poker dives into her chest, and she falls to the floor.

Simon’s on me—hands at my arms, frantically looking me up and down, “Are you alright—did it dig into you?”

“I’m fine—I’m fine.”

Ambrosia shrieks.

Roderick’s kneeling before her—his hands stretched over her lower stomach.

Simon traverses the room in a burst, crossing his forearms in an X-shape in front of his head—one set of sharp fingernails aimed far to the left, the other to the right. He flings his arms—uncrossing them in an instant—slicing clean through the back of Roderick’s neck.

A thud hits the floor.

Roderick’s headless body drops to the hardwood.

Simon throws his arm around Ambrosia’s shoulders and leads her toward me. I move to meet them.

Sirens blast louder outside the window.

“We better move—now,” Simon says.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say.

Ambrosia nods her head, patting her stomach, looking shocked that she’s unharmed and whole.

Simon grabs my hand and leads the way through the hole in the bookshelf.

A clang echoes through the room—iron poker lies on the floor, followed by the sound of feet scampering. A blur rushes out the window.

Roderick’s body remains on the floor, but his head is gone—along with Desirée. Into the night and fire.

Ambrosia’s hand lands flat on my back—trembling, and it stays there as we exit the room and run quickly through the hallway.

Going down the stairwell behind Simon is a much different experience—looks so different watching the surroundings appear over his broad shoulders with each step he takes ahead of me—like being flown out of a cave in hell on the broad wings of an eagle.

Getting close to the bottom now—on the last set of stairs. Orange and red burst through the giant hole in the door—blowing the few remnants of the door wide open and shattering the glass completely out of the windows beside it.

The flames reach into the house like fiery vines—the old, dry wood readily feeding its ravenous tongues. They flicker and reach their way onto the staircase, covering the last few steps at the bottom.

Simon stops and says, “We’re going over the rail.”

He grabs me behind my knees and at my back—lifting me into his arms.

“Ambrosia—jump on my back—arms tight around my neck like you’re trying to choke me.”

As soon as her arms clasp around him, he puts a foot to the rail, and shoves off the step with his other foot. Clearing the railing, we fall to the floor.

His feet pound the wood; his knees buckle—absorbing the shock of the jump, all his weight, all of Ambrosia’s, and all of my own.

Ambrosia lets go of his neck and drops to her feet. Simon puts me down.

“To the backdoor—fast!”

He grabs my hand, and we sprint down the hallway, him leading the way again.

“Lookout—there’s a couch on the left side,” Simon calls back to us over his shoulder.

“Yeah, the couch and I are old friends,” I say.

We breeze past my dusty, upholstered nemesis and delve further back into the hallway than I’ve been before.

Feel an opened hand flat on my back between my shoulder blades. Panic is nearly given birth in my chest; then I remember it’s just Ambrosia following close behind.

Sirens wail much louder—bright flashing lights make their way through the blown-out windows and front door—even faintly reaching us so far in the back of the house.

Finally, I can see the backdoor—where I was so desperately trying to reach earlier—just a little while ago when I was alone and terrified in the darkness—but now feeling Simon’s electric touch in my hand—safe by his side, it feels like it was a whole separate lifetime ago.

He turns to me and pulls me to his chest while looking over my head at the intruding, spinning light from beyond the fire somewhere in front of the house.

“Not going to be able to get past them easily. There’s a dead body upstairs—drugs everywhere—stolen car crashed into the porch—they’re not going to let us leave—don’t want to have to hurt them either, but we can’t let them take us.”

“What’re we going to do?” I ask.

Ambrosia says, “I’ve got this.”

“What?” asks Simon.

“I’ll go running out the backdoor and up the driveway screaming my head off—coughing, yelling—everything.”

“What are you going to tell them?”

“The truth.”

“What?” Simon shouts.

“Some jerk guy took me here after dancing. We drank—danced—hooked up. Next thing I know, I wake up and the house is burning down. Scream my chest hurts, and I can’t breathe. When they’re busy with me, you guys slip out down the street. Got it?”

I ask, “You sure, girl? Are you gonna be okay?”

Bats her eyes and smiles, “I could steal the show at a circus, sweetheart. They won’t even see the fire when I’m done.”

As she turns and runs to the backdoor, her blue ponytails bounce—colorful and unreal—making me believe she can do it.

Stopping with her hand on the handle and looking back at me, she says, “Ruby, call me tomorrow—gonna need some help with a few things.”

“You got it.”

Ambrosia looks as though she may cry for a moment, but she takes a deep breath, and says with a smile, “Hot, sexy firemen, here I come.”

 

 

 

 

“Imagine a beach.”

“Yeah.”

“Deserted—except for you and me.”

“Hmmmm,” I hum.

“The two of us lying under the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms, no sound but the whispering of the waves.”

“Mmmmm…sounds wonderful, but I thought you guys hated the beach.”

“No more than any other pale person—love to be there with you right now. Got a car that can get us there in no time.”

Seems so odd that after all we’ve been through, we’re walking side by side down the sidewalk under the dark night sky. After all the horror, a gorgeous guy holds my hand, talking of whisking me away for a late night date under the stars. Feel his hand gently squeezing mine—hasn’t let go of me since we left the house. He loves me—he really loves me. Amazing—how far I’ve left my old life behind in just a few days.

Quickly he steps in front of me, still holding my hand, bringing his other up to my cheek, “Tell me you’ll come away with me—tonight—we could use a moment—just the two of us surrounded by nothing but beauty—your lovely eyes in the moonlight, the dazzling center of it all.”

Never dreamed I could feel this way. Just three blocks out of a nightmare, and I’m about to burst with joy, blushing like a peasant girl meeting the handsome prince.

“Come on, Ruby, my lovely one—sparkling, emerald-eyed, resplendent all the way to her fingertips,” the words so smooth, so inviting as he raises my hand to his mouth, kissing the ends of my fingers.

“Anywhere, Simon. Anywhere with you.”

He lets go of my hand, and just as my heart is about to begin to sink, he brings the touch he just removed to my other cheek—now caressing both sides of my face.

His kiss brings my lips alive—filling me, electrifying me to my fingertips, tingling down my legs to the ends of my toes.

Another police car passes—its siren loud—its lights spinning and bright.

Taking my hand in his again, he says, “Better get you to the beach before we run out of night to enjoy.”

“There’s always another night—there’ll be many of them for us. I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks ahead, trying to spot the car down the street, but I can see the smile growing on his face.

“By the way,” he says, “I need to tell you something.”

“What? What is it?”

He stops and looks seriously into my eyes, “There’s a pack of werewolves that live between here and the car—they’ve been hunting me down at every turn ever since I met you.”

“Oh, God—werewolves? You can’t be serious.”

That painfully sexy smile returns, bringing to life the gorgeous contours of his face, “Of course not. Vampires and werewolves fighting over the same girl? That’s just ridiculous.”

He looks into my face, waiting for the smile he’s trying to bring out. It comes bursting through, and I know he sees it as his own grin grows brighter—completely thrilled to see me happy.

“Although,” he says, “I’d have fought the whole world for you. You know that, don’t you?”

I want to answer, but that boy takes my words from me when he looks at me that way.

Pulling me close to him, his eyes dive into mine, blue and green merges into teal, his precious kiss so close to my lips, and he says, “I’d have fought the whole world just to protect you, just to hold you—just to love you.”

“No need to fight anymore—no need to choose between protecting, holding, or loving me. Multitask, my boy, multitask—you can have them all.”

His kiss takes me—all of me—I melt into him. Warm. Electric. One.