Two bodies were discovered early this morning in what is known locally as The Jungle, a permanent encampment to a number of the city's homeless men and women. The individuals' wounds are strikingly similar to those of a man found late last night in the inlet behind The Marauder's Cove, and another found just days ago in Stewart Park. Some are speculating the murders are cult-related, as the injuries mimic vampire bite marks. Similarly, all the bodies were drained of blood, and yet not a trace of blood was found at the crime scenes. Despite the speculation, authorities believe rising gang violence is the real culprit. Police Chief Conrad Abernathy reports a team of investigators is in the process of questioning anyone who may have seen or heard anything at the time of the murders. In the meantime, both the mayor and Chief Abernathy urge the community to stay indoors at night. If you must go out, it is advised that you travel in groups and be vigi—

I reached for the television remote, muting the newscaster's voice mid-sentence. "I can't listen to this anymore. It's nothing but lies."

"They have bodies," John said beside me.

"I'm not talking about the murders," I replied. "I'm talking about Conrad Abernathy's so-called concern for human welfare."

John glanced at the muted footage of a body bag being loaded into the back of an ambulance. His brow creased with deep lines, making him look older than his eighteen human years. "There was a time I believed in him, would have done anything for him, but now . . ." He shook his head, his words trailing off.

Gingerly pushing my vampire boyfriend off me, I sat up and fastened the buttons of my plaid flannel shirt, no longer in the mood. "It's happening, isn't it? Conrad Abernathy raised the price of blood and now the vampires who can't afford it are getting desperate. They're turning on humans, just like we knew they would."

"That," John said, "or there really is some satanic cult terrorizing the town and it's all one big coincidence."

I made a face, showing how much stock I put in that theory.

We'd been making out on John's couch, the television no more than a dull hum in the background. Nothing like the news of a recent string of murders to kill the mood.

"This is my fault," I said.

John spread his arms on the back of the couch, looking far more relaxed than I felt. "You didn't kill those people, Blake. How is any of this your fault?"

I rose and stared down at him. His cheeks were still somewhat flushed and his lips swollen from our vigorous kissing. My lips throbbed at the memory, but I couldn't think about that right now. Not when innocent people were dying at the hands of vampires.

"Hannah said I'm supposed to be a Compeller, that she could smell it in my blood," I said. "But if that's true, why haven't I been able to compel anyone? If I could just—" I fluttered my hand, searching for the right word. "Harness my ability, I could put a stop to Conrad Abernathy."

John laughed and reached out a hand. I took it, allowing him to pull me into his lap. "You're not some superhero," he said. "Do you think you alone have the power to bring down Conrad Abernathy and everyone who stands with him?"

My breath came out slow and steady as I relaxed against his chest. "Maybe," I said hopefully. At the look on his face, however, I relented. "Not really, I guess. No."

John circled his arms around me. "We're a team, Blake. The two of us plus a bunch of other vampires who have agreed to join the fight. We have to work together."

"Yeah, but—"

He placed a blunt finger against my lips, silencing my protests. "We'll figure it out. In the meantime . . ." John leaned in to kiss me, his lips a welcome barrier against thoughts of rogue vampires and murdered humans.

"You're hungry," I said, for the first time noticing how disconcertingly cool his lips felt against my own. "When did you last eat?"

In my initial eagerness to be with him, I hadn't detected the dark smudges under his eyes or the chalky pallor of his skin once the blush of lust had faded. But now that I was looking at him—really looking at him—I saw the physical effects of his hunger.

"Don't worry about me," he said.

He moved in for another kiss but I stopped him with a restraining hand against his chest. "Don't tell me not to worry, John. You're my boyfriend. When did you last eat?"

"I'm fine. I know my limits. I'll eat when I'm hungry."

The front door creaked open just then, and a familiar voice called out, "Whatever you're doing, don't stop on my account."

"Hannah," I said with a suppressed groan, raising my head to peer over John's shoulder. "What a lovely surprise."

"Impeccable timing as always," John added, the sarcasm in his voice echoing my own. She had interrupted us on more than one occasion, and I was beginning to think she had a sixth sense about these things.

Circling the couch, she dropped a pair of bulging department store bags on the braided rug. "Well, far be it from me to stop two consenting vampires from having a little fun," she replied. "At least one of us is. Your mall, by the way, sucks."

Hannah, a powerful Compeller whose help John had enlisted to teach our group of misfit vampire friends the slippery art of compulsion resistance, was now a resident guest in his home. Upon her arrival, she'd sprung on us the very surprising news that I was a Compeller. In addition to teaching others how to resist compulsion, she'd been helping me tune in to my powers of persuasion. Or rather, she was trying to. I was of the opinion that I was the most incompetent Compeller that ever existed.

I was sure the fact that I couldn't stand Hannah had something to do with my mental block. Despite John's assurance that their romantic relationship was strictly a thing of the past, it was all I could think about when I saw the two of them together. Never mind that he hadn't seen Hannah in years, or that they hadn't kept in touch. Vampires measured time differently. What seemed like a lifetime ago to me, still practically an infant in my new life, was but a dot on Hannah's timeline. As far as she was concerned, their break-up could have happened last week. Still, as much as I hated to admit it, we needed her.

"Don't antagonize them," came a high-pitched voice.

Bridget, a small and spirited vampire, her arms laden with brown paper grocery sacks, chided Hannah as she entered the room. John rose immediately to take the bags, though being older and stronger than he, she was certainly capable of handling them on her own. Judging by the chocolate mess ringing Bridget's mouth, Hannah had made a pit-stop at the store to stock up on the little vampire's favorite human food.

Giving Bridget a wink of solidarity, I mouthed a silent "thank you." I liked the vampire, even if she did intimidate me. She had been young in human years when she was turned—a pre-adolescent by today's standards—but she was centuries old. Speaking to her could often be a surreal and discomfiting experience, if only because I was tempted to think of her as a child, and yet she was probably more intelligent and quick-witted than the rest of us combined. I was glad to have her as an ally.

"Don't be a drag, Bridget. You know I'm only playing." Hannah sank dramatically onto the couch next to John and brought up her feet to rest on the edge of the coffee table. I dimly thought my best friend Olivia would kill for her shoes.

"There's nothing to do around here except train a bunch of unskilled vampires," Hannah complained. "I'm sick of skulking around in the shadows whenever I go out."

"You shouldn't be going out at all," John said. "If someone recognizes you—"

"Oh, lighten up," Hannah said with an impressive eye roll. "You know how careful I am. Besides, I was dying to go shopping and Olivia offered. My winter wardrobe is in serious need of updating."

"We should be practicing compulsion and resistance techniques," John pointed out. "Not shopping."

"Killjoy," Hannah retorted. "And after I was nice and bought a week's supply of apples and strawberries for you and Blake. Besides, all we've been doing is practicing, practicing, and more practicing. I need a break."

I snagged a Red Delicious from one of the bags, refraining from pointing out that they were my least favorite, and handed the container of strawberries to John. If he wasn't going to drink blood, at least he could eat something to keep the worst of the hunger pains at bay. I had a steady, though insufficient, supply of blood, and I was constantly hungry. If he was purposely not eating to conserve his own supply, no doubt he was in worse condition than I.

"As much as I hate to admit it," I said. "Hannah has a point. We have been doing a lot of practicing and not much else."

"Thank you," Hannah said to me. To John, she added, "It would help if she was making any progress whatsoever, but she's hopelessly untalented. It's exhausting, you know."

I glared at Hannah, knowing the "she" to whom she was referring was me. "I have a name, for your information. And thanks for the vote of confidence."

As for being hopelessly untalented, she spoke only the truth. Not only had we'd been practicing compulsion resistance as a group, but Hannah had also been giving me private lessons in basic techniques of persuasion. We'd been working at it in my spare time for weeks, and yet I was no better at mastering the art of compulsion now than I had been when we first started. I was quickly losing hope that I would ever get the hang of compelling a human, much less a vampire. Furthermore, I'd had only minimal success in resisting John's compulsion, and no luck at all resisting Hannah's. I was quickly losing hope.

"Arguing will get us nowhere," John said. "Do I have to remind you both that we're all on the same side? We need to pull together."

"Well said, John. Excellent point," replied Bridget.

The small vampire divided a severe glance between Hannah and me, a note of reproof in her voice when she spoke. "Ladies, you must put your differences aside for the sake of a greater cause. If there is division from within, we will surely fail to accomplish our shared goal of protecting the sanctity of the vampire-human relationship."

Wanting very much to respond that I would be fine as long as Hannah kept her hands off John, I only smiled and said, "You're right, Bridget. I couldn't agree more."

**********

"Let your mind go blank," Hannah instructed, her melodic voice pitched low. She wrapped her long, slender fingers around John's head and used her thumbs to massage rhythmic circles at his temples. His mouth hung slack, and he was looking, in my opinion, just a little too comfortable under her influence.

"That's it," Hannah cooed, her breath ruffling the dark tuft of hair hanging across his pale forehead. "Relax and let all your conscious thoughts drift away."

I cleared my throat, unable to stand by and watch any longer. "Shouldn't we be practicing these techniques on me?" My voice came out loud and abrupt in comparison to Hannah's, shattering the relative calm of the moment.

Removing her hands from John's head, Hannah clasped them in her lap where the two of them were sitting cross-legged on the floor. I couldn't help but notice their knees touching intimately. The corner of her mouth curved up as she craned her head to look over her shoulder at me. "Does this bother you?"

"Does what bother me?"

Hannah was baiting me, just like she'd been doing ever since walking through the front door on her first day here. Still, I refused to fall victim to her flirty provocations. I refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing that her presence in John's home, always showing up during our more intimate moments, had me so on edge that I wanted to rip off someone's head. Particularly hers.

Okay, so maybe I was a little jealous.

Hannah rose gracefully onto long, willowy legs. Her eyes held nothing but contrived innocence as she met my glare. "Try not to worry yourself so much, Blake. John is perfectly safe with me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, trying to save face. No one liked the desperate girlfriend.

"Blake—" John began, still looking a bit dazed under the lingering effects of Hannah's compulsion, but she cut him off.

"The thing is, Blake, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about."

She held up a finger, her left brow arching sharply as she spoke. "One, you're jealous that John and I used to have a relationship. That's understandable. What went on between us was—" She breathed in deeply, her chest heaving as she recalled some distant and private memory with more satisfaction than was appropriate. "Well, let's just say you have every right to be jealous.

"Two, you're concerned we won't be able to resist each other and that what you have with him will never compare. After all, it would take only a little bit of stoking to rekindle that particular flame."

John got to his feet, a murderous expression on his face. "Hannah, that's—"

"No. It's okay," I assured him. Hands fisted at my side so I wouldn't punch her, I responded to Hannah through clenched teeth. "That flame was extinguished. It burned out a long time ago."

The other vampire smiled slightly, revealing the tips of pointed canines. "Oh, Blake. Some flames never burn out. Not completely."

"Now, now. Put your fangs away. There's no reason to be nasty." Bridget, who had momentarily left the room for refreshments, returned with a tray on which glasses of blood wobbled precariously, in danger of tipping.

"Don't worry about it, Bridget," I said, moving quickly to take the tray from her before the blood spilled on the rug.

"I'm not being nasty," Hannah replied to Bridget's scolding. She plucked a glass from the tray and took a sip before added defensively, "I'm being honest. Despite what John and I had, and notwithstanding the lingering feelings we clearly harbor for one another, our relationship is firmly in the past."

She turned her gaze on John and sniffed critically. "I prefer vampires who challenge me both mentally and physically. No offense, John, but you were always too much of a softie. And your notion of romance could be a trifle suffocating. Today's enlightened woman would accuse you of being—oh, what's the term they use these days?—a control freak."

John took a glass for himself and drank deeply, pointedly turning away from Hannah.

"I quite like John," Bridget said dreamily, settling on the couch. Her stockinged legs dangled off the floor, the pink tutu she insisted on wearing ruffling ridiculously around her small frame.

"His eyes are the color of spring grass," she said. "And he's got the most adorable spattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose—just here—like stars in a constellation." She pointed to her own snub nose in illustration. "Have you noticed?"

"It's disgusting that you have," I commented, unable to contain a laugh.

"You forget my age," Bridget replied, her mouth puckering. "I'm allowed to notice and appreciate beautiful things. Many of the male species are, indeed, quite lovely to look at."

Hannah made a gagging noise. "That's creepy, Bridget. Even for you."

As young as the little vampire appeared, however, we couldn't underestimate her. To have survived as long as she had, when she was so small and childlike in many ways, meant she was an undoubtedly resourceful vampire.

"Here's an idea," John said, cutting off my train of thought. He shook his head violently, still trying to clear away the remaining haze. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here. Especially you," he said, pointing an accusing finger at Bridget. She tended to embarrass him with her frank observations.

"My sincere apologies," she said, looking down to hide a smile as her fingers busily pleated the hem of her tutu.

"We're supposed to be practicing compulsion resistance before the next gathering," John said. "We don't have time to waste."

"I agree," I said, shooting a pointed look in Hannah's direction. She merely raised a shoulder before taking charge again.

"Right now," she said, "compulsion resistance is our best and only defense. People are turning up dead, which means we must train harder."

So far we had succeeded in recruiting a few dozen vampires to join our cause. We'd been meeting regularly and in secret. The formation of our group was a direct response to uncovering rumors about the unsustainable and unethical ways in which Conrad Abernathy, chief of police and Head Watcher of the town's vampire population, had been running his domain.

Mr. Abernathy had been steadily raising the price of blood, giving the vampires in his jurisdiction little choice but to illegally hunt humans instead of obtaining blood through verified Donors. He justified his actions by claiming that a decrease in supply had forced him to temporarily jack up the price of blood. According to John and Andrew Larsen, however, there was no shortage of blood. Donors were just as plentiful as ever. And who better to judge than the vampires in charge of keeping track of them? This had led us to the startling conclusion that Mr. Abernathy was abusing his position of authority to cover up a much bigger and more dangerous ruse: He had unofficially declared open season on the town's innocent and unsuspecting humans.

None of us knew exactly how high up the deception went or how widespread it was, but the recent news of humans turning up dead with suspicious vampire-bite wounds meant we had to act soon before the problem got even more out of hand. Conrad Abernathy could not be trusted, and neither could the vampires around him, least of all his daughter Margaret. As the most powerful Compeller in town, she could force humans and vampires alike to bow down to the reigning family's authority. Although it hadn't yet come to that, there was an unmistakable tension in the air. It was only a matter of time.

And we were quickly running out of it.

Fortunately, we had a secret weapon of our own. Hannah was a powerful Compeller herself, perhaps nearly as powerful as Margaret. With Hannah on our side teaching other vampires to resist the pull of persuasion, as well as training me to hone my own powers of compulsion, we would hopefully stay one step ahead of Conrad Abernathy and the rest of his criminal clan.

"We must find some way of helping Blake break through this mental block of hers," Hannah went on, tapping a thoughtful finger against her mouth. "I don't know why she's having such a difficult time learning. It's not that hard."

"Compulsion might not be hard for you," I said irritably, "but it is for me. Quit being so judgmental."

Hannah made the ability to compel sound as easy as flipping a switch, but wrapping my head around this strange and manipulative mind game—a game that was so very nebulous and mental—felt slippery and impossible. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to do it. I'd been practicing on John, my best friend Olivia, my vampire friend Thomas, my parents . . . even random strangers. Every chance I got. All to no avail. I was beginning to doubt that I had any talent at all, no matter what Hannah claimed. But if I did, I needed to harness the power as soon as possible so that I could be ready for the inevitable day when Conrad Abernathy discovered some of us weren't going to just sit idly by and watch as he forced our kind to hunt our human friends and family to extinction.

"With an attitude like that," Hannah said, pulling me out of my thoughts, "it's no wonder you haven't made any progress."

"Hey," John said. "Don't be so hard on her. She's trying."

Hannah glared at him. "Trying won't cut it. You'll do Blake no favors by coddling her, John Kelly." She narrowed her eyes and lifted her nose in the air. "You might want to brush up on your own skills as a Compeller. You've gotten lazy."

John's mouth compressed into a thin line, but he said no more. Neither did I.

"As I was saying," Hannah went on, dividing a critical glance between John and me in case either of us dared to interrupt. "It's all about outlook. And yours, Blake, is all wrong. You are a Compeller, no doubt about it. I don't need the nose of a Seeker to know it's true. Frankly, I find it difficult to believe John didn't realize it the moment you were turned."

"How many times do I have to tell you I didn't know?" John said. "I would have told her if I did."

Hannah flapped a hand. "Lighten up, John. I believe you. I'm sure there's a very good reason you didn't realize your girlfriend is a Compeller."

"If we're done talking," John said, "maybe we should practice."

"Oh, goodie!" Bridget raised her hand enthusiastically. "You can practice on me if you'd like, Blake. I'm always willing to help."

"Fine," I replied with a sigh, knowing that if I couldn't compel my own parents—mere humans—there was no way I was going to compel a vampire as old as she. "Might as well get this over with."

**********

"Let's take a break," Hannah said later with a scornful look in my direction. "It's apparent some of us can't handle hard work."

"I used to be a cheerleader," I said. "Haven't you heard the saying: 'If cheerleading were easy, they'd call it football'?"

Hannah stared at me, her mouth hanging slightly open. "That's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard." Throwing her hands up in the air, she stormed out of the room, leaving me staring after the swinging door.

Bridget placed a small, conciliatory hand on my arm. "I've known Hannah a long time," she said. "She's very good at—what's the phrase?—pushing buttons. In fact, I'm sure she finds a certain amount of joy in bringing other people misery."

"So I've noticed."

"You should know she's no real threat to you. She's merely trying to help you realize what we all know you are capable of becoming. She has her methods. Be patient."

John tugged one of Bridget's blonde braids, which made her cheeks blush adorably. "Would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?"

Bridget's eyes met mine, her gap-toothed smile widening. "Not at all. I'll just check on Hannah." Collecting the empty tray and glasses, she made her way to the kitchen.

"You're worked up," John said to me once we were alone. He pulled me onto the sofa next to him, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

"You noticed?" I rested my head against his chest, listening to the slow, intermittent thud of his heartbeat. "Do we really need her here?"

"I heard that!" Hannah yelled from the kitchen.

"Of course she did," I muttered under my breath. "Hannah's only the most beautiful and fabulously talented vampire to have ever walked the face of the earth. Whatever would we do without her?"

"If I didn't know better, I would say you're envious." I heard the grin in his voice, which only fueled my anger.

I opened my mouth to refute the accusation, but what was the use? "Don't I have reason to be?"

John withdrew his arm, scooting ever so slightly away from me, which might as well have been a hundred miles. "You know nothing is going on between Hannah and me." His jaw hardened, "Unfortunately, I can't say the same about you and Josiah."

Josiah.

Even the name touched a raw nerve and dredged up a million conflicting feelings. As my vampire sire, Josiah Butler and I shared an undeniable and unavoidable connection. But there was something more to our relationship than that . . . something I had been keeping from John.

I had consumed a small amount of Josiah's blood, and now my feelings for him were disorderly and conflicted, made all the more confusing by the fact that Josiah had kissed me. More than once. I hadn't told John about those awkwardly intimate moments and didn't want to, but the secret was like a weight bearing down on my conscience, and it only got heavier with each passing day. I didn't know how long I could keep it hidden from him.

Despite being in love with John, I occasionally found my imagination running wild, recalling the way Josiah's mouth had felt against mine for that brief confusing moment, or how my body seemed to fit just right against his. As a maker who was annoyingly attuned to my emotions, there was little doubt that Josiah had sensed these adulterated thoughts. Being his progeny was bad enough without these sexual feelings to further complicate what was already a very awkward situation.

I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry. I know there's nothing going on between you and Hannah."

"Do you really?" I could tell by his tone of voice that he didn't believe me.

"Yeah. I'm just . . . stressed out. I'm still getting used to being a vampire, not to mention being a Compeller, and now we're getting dragged into vampire politics. I didn't think it would be so hard."

John's breath rushed out as he ran a hand through his hair. "Don't apologize," he said. "I'm the one who's sorry. Your relationship with Josiah is completely different than my relationship with Hannah . . . which is a thing of the past, I swear. It happened so long ago they teach it in history."

I laughed, practically melting into the cushions as his nimble fingers released some of the pent up tension in my neck I'd been holding inside for too long. "I'm sorry for acting like such an insecure dork."

John's hands stilled, and he bent forward and rested his chin on my shoulder. "But you're my insecure dork. If there's one thing I've learned from being alive longer than you, it's that things always have a way of working out. Try not to stress."

"I'll try," I said.

But I couldn't see how it was possible not to stress out when it seemed that all of humanity was resting on our shoulders.

*****

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