The voice belonged to a woman, though one I didn't immediately recognize. And while she didn't sound precisely old, she spoke with a soft, cultured accent. "Remain still," the woman said unnecessarily. Fortunately, I wasn't going anywhere seated and bound as I was.

There was a sudden tugging sensation at my wrists as the mystery woman picked at the rope secured tightly around them. When my hands came free at last, I pulled the wadded scarf from my mouth and took a deep breath, coughing against the dryness. I swallowed several times, willing the saliva to flow. The woman came to stand in front of me then, lit in a shaft of pale moonlight.

"Mrs. Abernathy," I gasped. I made a move to stand but she motioned for me to stay seated. "What are you doing here?"

She glanced toward the door before turning her attention back to me. "You have learned to resist Margaret's compulsion, I see."

There were a million questions in my head, all of them swarming to rush out at once. Mrs. Abernathy must have seen the look of confusion on my face, for she spoke again.

"I am not as ignorant as my husband and daughter think," she said, her mouth puckering with disdain. But then she smiled, a gleam in her eyes. "Though there is a marked benefit of having them believe so."

She walked on light feet to the door and leaned one ear against the wood paneling. Listening for a moment, she engaged the lock before returning to me.

"I taught myself to resist Margaret's compulsion many years ago and it has served me well to this day. As for your question, Miss Ehlert, I come here often to be alone and face the ghosts of my past."

"How did Margaret not sense you here?"

Mrs. Abernathy raised a slender finger to her lips. "Quietly, please. Margaret takes no notice of anyone but herself," she whispered. "I, on the other hand, notice everything."

"Then you must know about your husband's plans," I said, my excitement building that we might have one more Abernathy on our side.

"I do."

"But you've done nothing to stop him or save the people of this town," I said, unable to help myself.

Her expression hardened, though it didn't mask the swell of grief in her eyes. "What could I have possibly done to stop my husband or save anyone when I could not save even my two daughters, taken so cruelly from me?"

I hadn't expected Mrs. Abernathy to speak of her other children, both of them dead now for over a lifetime, but I realized they must weigh heavily on her mind always. "It wasn't your fault they died," I said.

"A mother is supposed to protect her children," she replied.

I rose then, if only because I couldn't remain a spectator to her grief. "The Queen is on her way."

"I am aware," Mrs. Abernathy responded coolly.

"She will deal with your husband. And with Margaret."

"I hear the Queen has gone mad," she replied, almost off-hand. "Serves the beast right for siring a world of monsters."

Only belatedly did I remember it was the Queen who had sired the entire Abernathy family and killed the youngest of them. "Is that how you see vampires, as monsters?" I asked.

Her lips parted with the hint of a smile. "I presume you are of a different opinion?"

"Wasn't it the Queen who created rules for our existence so that we could live in peace with humans?"

She laughed quietly, but without humor. "Can vampires ever truly be civilized, Miss Ehlert?"

"I'd like to believe so. I want to believe we are more than just parasites to the human population. I want to believe we are what we are for a reason."

"No reason that I can see. You are very young, Miss Ehlert," she said, though not in a condescending way. "I am afraid my husband got more than what he bargained for when he conspired to make you part of our family and harness your particular talent."

I laughed quietly. "That's basically what he said."

Mrs. Abernathy raised a brow. She was dark-haired and fair-skinned like Margaret, and petite. She seemed almost frail, but there was a marked fire behind her eyes that had burned to life with our continued conversation.

"I would say he deserves whatever he gets. My husband assumes he can bend others to his will or use Margaret to do it for him. He fails to remember that humans and vampires alike have wills of their own. The question remains, what are we going to do about it?"

"We?"

"My husband is not the only one who has been waiting for you, Miss Ehlert. If you think I am going to sit here for one minute more and do nothing, you are mistaken. I have kept my mouth shut and ears open for far too long to stay silent any longer."

I opened my mouth to respond but Mrs. Abernathy put a finger to her lips and motioned me to the far side of the room, amongst the shadows and rubbish. Seconds later the doorknob jiggled as someone tried to enter.

"My love?" I held my breath. It was Mr. Abernathy, returned already from his evening hunt. "Are you in here?"

I heard the click of the lock and creak of hinges as Mrs. Abernathy opened the door for him. "Here I am," she said, her voice sounding meek once again.

"What are you doing up here? There's a terrible amount of dust and filth."

"I wanted to be alone."

"You are sad," Mr. Abernathy said. "Why?"

"I have lost two children, Conrad. I will never know happiness again." The ache in her voice was real, and my heart went out to her.

"Come with me," Mr. Abernathy said. "I've brought back a surprise for you. I think you will like her."

"Very well," she replied.

I breathed a sigh of relief, only then realizing I'd been holding my breath. Although our conversation had been abruptly cut short, with Mr. Abernathy now occupied, at least I had a decent chance of slipping away before Margaret returned and discovered that her compulsion had not worked on me after all.

Mrs. Abernathy let out a sudden cry, and I peeked around the corner of my hiding spot in time to see her careening over the threshold and tumbling down the short flight of stairs. Mr. Abernathy slammed the door and locked it from within. I pressed against the wall, closing my eyes as I wondered what I was going to do now.

"I know you are hiding, Miss Ehlert," he said. "You may as well reveal yourself and save us both the embarrassment."

My legs felt like they were cemented to the floorboards. Despite myself, I was more scared now than I had ever been in my life, even more so than the day Josiah had made me a vampire. Mrs. Abernathy, who had quickly recovered from her fall, was now pounding on the other side of the door, shouting for her husband to let her in. The racket surely wouldn't escape Margaret's attention for long.

"I can smell your fear, Miss Ehlert. I hear the wild beating of your heart. Come out now and let us speak to each other, face to face."

Taking a deep breath, I revealed myself. "As far as I'm concerned, we have nothing to talk about."

"Ah . . ." he said, his fangs visible beneath his lips as he smiled. "There you are."

"You won't get away with this," I said.

Mr. Abernathy threw his head back and laughed. "Isn't that what they all say? And yet I always do."

I fisted my hands at my sides. "Well . . . I mean it."

"Of course you do." He pointed at the door then, indicating the noise his wife was making, and grimaced. "That is quite bothersome, is it not?" He shook his head as though to clear it. "I can't decide who has disappointed me more this evening, you or my wife. I have only so much patience and it is wearing quite thin."

"Then you probably won't want to hear that Margaret is ticked off at you."

"Margaret is always upset with someone. What is it this time?"

"She says you have no faith in her and that you don't believe she can compel the town's vampires by herself. She resents our relationship, yours and mine, or whatever you want to call it."

Mr. Abernathy waved a hand, seemingly at ease. Still, I could see the strain around his eyes and the glistening of his fangs. "Margaret, while skilled, has always lacked self-control. While you are not as skilled as she—yet—you have restraint. Too much of it, I am beginning to think," he added.

I heard Margaret on the stairs then and we both turned toward the door. I was running out of time. "Isn't it self-control that keeps us civilized?" I said, raising my voice over the yelling coming from the landing. Margaret was repeatedly trying, and failing, to compel her mother. I knew Mrs. Abernathy wouldn't be able to resist forever.

"It is self-control that keeps us from being who we really are, Miss Ehlert," he said, his voice and words clipped. "We are the hunters."

"You're assuming vampires want to hunt, or even know how to hunt without hurting anyone. You are forcing them to break the rules, to turn on their friends and family and put everyone at risk."

Mr. Abernathy took a step toward me. "I am the Head Watcher. You must do as I say!"

"Or what?" I challenged. Gathering my courage, I brushed past him and reached for the door, hoping I was strong enough to execute my plan.

Without warning, Mr. Abernathy grabbed my arm and pulled me against him, sinking his fangs into the side of my neck where Ian had bit me many months ago. I screamed as my knees buckled, more out of fear than pain, but I held Mr. Abernathy's head to my neck, forcing him to drink as much of my blood as possible. The sounds on the other side of the door were becoming more indistinct as the edges of my vision began to go black. I didn't know how much blood a vampire could lose before she lost the capacity to heal, but at the rate Mr. Abernathy was going, I wouldn't last long.

I pushed his head away at last and we fell to the floor together. "You drank my blood," I said, laughing weakly as I lay sprawled on the dusty floor. "You drank my blood."

Mr. Abernathy's eyes widened as he seemed to realize his error. He stood shakily, pressing his hands to his ears as he stumbled toward the door in an attempt to make a quick escape.

"Do not move!" I commanded, with as much force as I could muster. He stopped. I could barely see him, and yet I knew he was there. Just as he had sensed my fear from before, I sensed his now.

"Miss Ehlert—"

My ears rang and I put a hand to my neck, pressing as hard as I could. "Do not . . . do not speak . . ." I commanded, my voice trailing off.

Trusting that he was going nowhere for the moment and that Mrs. Abernathy could handle Margaret on her own, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to pass out.

**********

The smell of fresh blood roused me, pulling me from a deep and dreamless oblivion. "Drink this," a man's voice said, low but commanding. I opened my eyes with effort—my head felt like a split melon—to find Andrew Larsen pressing the edge of a glass against my lips. "Donor blood," he supplied. "Gathered only just now. It will help you heal."

I sipped the blood slowly at first and then more eagerly as I began to feel its restorative effects. The blood was fresh—very fresh. Images of the girl from whom the blood originated bloomed in my mind's eye, snippets of her life, like a fragmented picture show, bursting in vivid color. I could smell the sharp pine resin of the Christmas tree she had decorated only just this morning and taste the rich hot cocoa and sugar-spiced cinnamon buns she'd eaten.

"John brought her in," Andrew said, answering my unvoiced question. "She's on the list of approved Donors. Do not worry," he added, noting the look on my face. "She will be compelled and returned home shortly, none the wiser."

"Good." I pushed the glass away and wrapped my fingers around my head. I felt like I had a hangover, or how I imagined a hangover might feel. My brain throbbed against my skull, and my eyes burned as though they were on fire.

The door opened, revealing Olivia looking hesitantly in. I held out a weak hand to her and she took the invitation, entering the room and climbing onto the bed beside me.

"Welcome back to the world of the living. Pretty swanky, huh?" she said, fingering the sheet between her fingers. "Although I wouldn't expect less from Thomas. This is, like, four-hundred count Egyptian cotton. Man, I wish I—"

"Olivia," Andrew said, his voice sharp. "Focus."

"Right!" she said, seeming to recall her purpose. She dropped a bag of blood on my stomach. "I brought you a gift. It's not super fresh, but it'll do the trick if you need a boost."

I propped myself on my elbows, repressing another groan as I tried not to vomit the blood already in my stomach. "Thanks. I think I'm good for now. How long have I been out?"

"Hours," Andrew replied, as though I'd inconvenienced him somehow. "You nearly died. What a mess that would have made of things."

Olivia play-punched my arm, though her concern was genuine. "Seriously, Blake. What were you thinking?"

I rubbed my arm, though she hadn't hurt me. "I was thinking I needed to make Mr. Abernathy drink my blood so I could compel him."

"You poked the dragon," Andrew said.

Olivia's face scrunched in confusion. "Huh?"

"Meaning," Andrew said patiently, "Blake purposely provoked him. Risky, but effective. I always knew you were a smart girl."

"Where are Mr. Abernathy and Margaret now?" I asked. "And what about Mrs. Abernathy?"

"Conrad and Margaret are currently being dealt with. As to Mrs. Abernathy," he said, chuckling under his breath. "Well, she has centuries of pent-up animosity to deal with. I believe, despite the circumstances, she has found a common ally in the Queen."

I sat up all the way now, disregarding the pain in my head, which had subsided to a dull ache. "The Queen is here? As in, this house?"

"The whole gang is here," Olivia said. "You should have seen the look on Margaret's face when Hannah showed up. That alone was worth the drama!"

I waved my hand dismissively. "But what about the Queen?"

"She's just as crazy as they say."

"Hush!" Andrew hissed, glaring at Olivia. But she just shrugged and tore open the pint of blood for herself.

"Is she really crazy?" I whispered.

"Aren't we all?" Andrew replied with a grin.

The door opened once more and Josiah entered this time, the expression on his face unreadable. "I think that's our cue to leave," Olivia said to Andrew, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She handed the half-drunk pint to me. "Holler if you need anything." On her way out of the room, she squeezed Josiah's arm. Odd, I thought, seeing as how she normally couldn't stand him.

Andrew looked from me to Josiah. He sighed audibly, and I could practically hear the unvoiced conversation that passed between them. They had each watched over me for the better part of my life, though for very different reasons. To Mr. Larsen, I had been nothing more than a cog in the complicated wheel of Mr. Abernathy's delusions. Had it not been for Andrew and his revelation to Mr. Abernathy that I had the scent of a Compeller, where would I be now? Certainly not in Thomas's bed in a house full of vampires. I would be the same Blake Edwards Ehlert that I had always been—straight-A cheerleader with the quarterback boyfriend, applying to universities and making plans for a future beyond high school. My heart constricted in my chest as I thought of Zach. Hopefully his family and mine were having a good time wherever they were right now, compulsion or not.

To Josiah, however, I had represented something else. Memories of his humanity. Love lost. Unimaginable pain. And finally a glimmer of hope and personal salvation. In the end, he had saved me the only way he knew how, by making me a vampire. By making me his.

Had these past few months not happened the way they did, our town would be in danger, unbeknownst to me. Would another vampire have tried to stop Mr. Abernathy, or would they have stood by as he executed his plan, turning humans into walking blood bags and making monsters out of good people?

Andrew glanced at me, dropping his eyes. "I have never apologized to you," he said. "For the part I played in shaping your life. The first time I saw you, when you were quite small . . ." He shook his head. "I should have turned the other way and let you go, never once mentioned you to the likes of Conrad Abernathy. And yet the promise of richness is hard to resist."

"It's okay," I replied.

"You are lucky to have so many who care for you," he said, casting a meaningful look toward Josiah. He left without another word then, leaving me suddenly alone with my maker. And feeling very shy.

Clearing his throat, Josiah sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. He removed his hat, gripping it in his hands and unconsciously bending the rounded corner. "You are either the bravest person I know," he said, "or the most reckless."

"Whatever gets the job done, right?" I said, attempting to lighten the mood.

His eyes turned fierce. "You could have died."

"I guess it's a good thing I didn't."

"When I found you there . . . motionless on the attic floor . . ." His eyes swam with unshed tears.

I covered his hand with mine. "I really am okay. I'm sorry I scared you."

Josiah blinked several times. "I have been scared for you every day of my life since you entered it."

I swallowed hard, feeling we were on the cusp of something new and life-changing. But what exactly? "Josiah, I don't know that I can be what you want." After all, what he wanted had died a long time ago.

He placed his hand, calloused and warm, against my cheek. "I have never wanted you to be other than what, and who, you are."

Rising to my knees, I leaned toward him, pressing my lips against his. It was a feather-soft kiss, but he pulled me against him and wrapped his arms around me. In another world—in another lifetime—we would never have worked. But we lived in this world, in this life. Despite getting off to a rocky start, it was clear that Josiah and I were perhaps meant to be together. I still loved Zach in a way that I always would, and I had unresolved feelings for John that would need sorting out, but Josiah had been steadfast since the beginning, since before I was aware of his existence. We had been through the good and the bad—together. I did not question his feelings or intentions.

"Am I selfish for wanting you?" he asked, his breath warm against my cheek.

"No," I answered. Because the truth was I wanted him, too. What I had felt for both Zach and John seemed so juvenile compared to what was between Josiah and me. My parents would never approve, of course. To human eyes, Josiah was the older man. But what was age, or time, when you were an immortal?

It was some time later—minutes or hours, I didn't know—when the door opened yet again. Josiah and I couldn't have cared less, and we stopped kissing only at the sound of a throat being cleared rather loudly.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Hannah said.

I glared at her. "We're busy, in case you didn't notice."

Her answering smile was acidic. "In case you've forgotten during all your groping and making out," she said, swirling her finger at Josiah and me, "we're in the midst of a political coup here. The Queen is requesting your presence. So fix your shirt, do something with that mess of hair, and get your butt downstairs." Hannah backed out, slamming the door behind her.

"Do we really have to?" I said. I was perfectly happy where I was, with Josiah stretched out on the bed beside me.

"I am afraid so." Witha deep sigh, Josiah stood and tucked his hat under his arm. Then he held outhis hand to me. "Come," he said. "Let me take you to meet your queen."

*****

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