“Nicholas came by to show me the northern lights,” I explained hastily. It wasn’t technically a lie. And it worked. She looked distracted.

“Really, the aurora borealis is out?” Usually that meant she’d be out in the yard, naked, singing old songs. “Finally, a good omen.” She tucked me back into bed. “We just got word from the Drakes.”

“About Christabel?”

She nodded, looking sad. “Yes.”

I felt cold all over. “She’s okay, right? Right? And Connor?”

Mom forced a smile. “She’s okay. They both are. And they should be at the Drakes’ before dawn.”

I frowned. “Why’s she going over there instead of back here?”

Mom sighed. “She was turned.”

My mouth dropped open. “What? Christabel’s going to be a vampire?” I thought of Solange and all the Drake brothers and what they’d gone through, and I shivered. There was a chance Christabel might not survive. I suddenly felt heavy, as if I were wearing clothes made out of stone. “Can I go see her?”

“Soon,” Mom assured me. “They’re taking care of her. Try not to worry.” She ran a hand over my hair, as if to prove to herself that I was all right. It was supposed to be me, after all. I was supposed to be turning into a vampire, if Saga’s plan had gone as expected. “It’s late. You should sleep. You’re not a vampire, honey, and you shouldn’t be keeping their hours. It’s not healthy.”

“Mom, I’m fine.”

“Promise me you’ll try.” Her voice was strained and the lines at the corners of her eyes more pronounced. “It could’ve been you.”

“But it wasn’t.” I didn’t say it, but it might have been better if it had been me. At least I was prepared; I knew what was going on. Poor Christabel.

I couldn’t sleep, not until I got a text from Nicholas telling me he was home safely and Christabel was tucked into one of their guest beds.

The next day I tried to follow my mom’s advice and act like a normal teenage girl, one who didn’t know anything about vampires and whose life wasn’t constantly in danger.

If only because Christabel couldn’t anymore.

I sat in the sunshine at lunchtime with Nathan and Linnet.

“Where’s your cousin?” Nathan asked. “I haven’t seen her around since she kicked Peter in the balls.”

“She has the flu,” I said. “She’s all sweaty and gross.” If you embellished a lie with just the right details, people generally didn’t want to know more.

Linnet wrinkled her nose. “Is your mom making her drink that herbal thing?”

I nodded. “And anyone else who comes by the house, just in case.” Both Linnet and Nathan knew my mom’s herbal concoctions intimately. She made them for colds and headaches and allergies. You had to strain big lumps of valerian or hyssop through your teeth. Nathan shuddered.

“Tell her we say hi,” he said. “And thanks.”

“Sure.”

We talked about school and skipping gym class and whether or not we could sneak off campus for a latte before our next class. I tried not to think about Christabel or Connor or tainted blood being delivered to the Drakes.

After school we wandered down Main Street with mochaccinos and chocolate-chip muffins. We threw crumbs for the seagulls and I stopped to buy soothing incense for my dad. We had another latte and Linnet started talking really fast. Nathan and I grinned at each other.

“We need to give you extralarge lattes before your presentation next week,” Nathan decided. Linnet was deathly afraid of public speaking. She made a face at us and licked more milk foam off the lid of her cup.

We were crossing through the parking lot toward Linnet’s car when it happened.

We’d had a nice afternoon and I wasn’t even feeling particularly jumpy. Plus, the sun was still out, so there was no need to worry.

But when the guy came up behind us on his bicycle, I heard the squeak of his wheels, the soft scrape of rubber against the pavement, and everything in me went on high alert. Especially when a quick glance revealed he was wearing blue.

I gave a battle cry Xena would have been proud of and spun around, throwing my cup in the air with one hand and a stake at him with the other. The stake bounced off his wheel well and veered him off course. He went one way and his bike went the other. He landed awkwardly and rolled up against a garbage can.

“Oh my God!” I yelled. “I’m so sorry!”

“Oh my God!” Nathan yelled too. “What’s the matter with you?” I knew he was only saying that because the guy was cute. He rushed over to see if he needed help. I grabbed the stake before anyone got a good look at it and started to wonder why I carried sharp sticks in my bag. The biker got to his feet, his jeans torn at one knee and dirt clinging to shirt. He pulled off his helmet and stared at his bike, then at me.

“I’m so sorry,” I said again. “Really.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Are you crazy?” He rode away before I could apologize again.

I’d almost maimed a guy because he was wearing a blue shirt.

In my defense, I associated that particular shade with Hel-Blar determined to tear my head off my shoulders.

Still.

“You need to lay off the caffeine, too,” Nathan told me, his eyes wide. “There aren’t so many cute guys in this town that you can just throw shit at them like that.”