“So spill, Hamilton.”

“I took out most of the books in the school library,” I said. “And after talking to Spencer and reading several hundred very boring texts written by extremely biased asshats, I think I figured something out.”

“What’s that?”

“Why I’m immune to Solange.”

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“It’s partly what we’ve always thought,” I explained, sliding off the bed to sit next to him. I wasn’t sure how long we had together and I didn’t want to waste a single second. “I’ve grown up with it so my body doesn’t recognize vampire pheromones as anything out of the ordinary. But with Solange, I think it’s more than that. I think that if you have her blood in your system, you can resist her.”

He frowned. “I’ve never drunk from her.”

“But you drank from me.” He winced. I waved it aside.

“Wait.” He paused. “That doesn’t explain it. You never drank from Solange.” His jaw hardened. “Right?”

“I never drank her blood,” I reassured him. “Not only is that gross but . . . actually, it’s just gross.” I made a face. It was one thing for a vampire to drink blood, they needed it to survive. “But when Solange and I were thirteen, we swore an oath to be blood sisters. We made cuts on our little fingers and pinky swore. My theory is because we mixed blood, it’s protected me.”

“Actually, you might be right,” he said slowly. “Solange used her blood to heal London when she was injured, on the assumption that because Solange once had minute traces of Madame Veronique’s blood in her system, it might save London the way it saved Solange on her birthday. And it did.” He took my hand, weaving his fingers through mine. “Have you told my parents?”

I nodded. “I e-mailed Connor before I came here. I’m pretty sure checking their e-mail isn’t very high on your parents’ to-do list right now, but he’s always online.”

He lifted our joined hands, kissing my knuckles. His mouth was soft, tempting. “Maybe you just saved us all, Lucy.”

“It might not mean anything, but at least it’s another possible weapon.” I thought I might be blushing. “And I think you should drink from me again.”

He recoiled so sharply I nearly laughed. His eyes widened as he pressed himself back against the wall, dropping my hand like it was on fire. “Are you crazy?”

“According to everything I read, this kind of blood magic can fade, sometimes more quickly than others, especially when it’s not straight from the source. London would have healed faster if Madame Veronique had given her blood directly, and lots of it. You’d have better immunity if you drank from Solange directly, but you can’t. And you barely drank from me. Plus, Solange’s blood must be so diluted in my system only magic could detect it by now. And you said yourself, your resistance is fading.”

“No.”

I frowned. “Nicholas, it makes sense.” “I don’t care.”

I scooted closer. He skirted away, keeping out of arm’s reach. I paused. “Nicky.”

“No way,” he returned tightly. “You just stay right there.”

“Are you afraid to touch me? Seriously?”

“Just, please.” He looked like he was in pain.

I shifted back against the bed. “Okay,” I said gently. “Hey, it’s okay.”

His fangs were out and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot. He looked worse than that time we’d made out in the tree fort so long it had taken us fifteen minutes to find my shirt snagged on a pine branch. The veins tracing his wrists and neck looked as if they burned and I could see faint scars under his shirt collar. It took a hell of a lot to scar a vampire.

“What did they do to you?” I asked, feeling a kind of bone-searing fury that made me literally see red. Nicholas licked his lips.

“Change the subject.” He was practically begging, though his eyes were the eyes of a hunter.

I tried to control my temper, trying not to let the anger and sorrow turn my entire body into a grenade. “Okay, but that’s not all.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

“The Drakes are a little too good at multitasking when it comes to disasters,” I agreed. I took a deep breath. “I think Solange is possessed.”

That was enough to distract him from his bloodlust. “Is that even possible?” He sounded bewildered.

“Spencer says it is but I can’t get a hold of Isabeau to find out for sure. Regardless, all the research I’ve done so far says it’s possible but unpredictable. Magic and vampires are a volatile mix. There’s a reason the Hounds are so . . . you know.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “They are.” He sat back on his heels. “If she’s possessed then she didn’t really do all the things she’s done.”

“Explains a lot, doesn’t it?” I smiled grimly. “And if she’s possessed, then it means she can be unpossessed. Or exorcised or whatever.”

“How?”

“No idea,” I admitted. “But still. And it has something to do with the twelfth century.”

He finally closed the distance between us. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that, right?” He’d said that to me once before, the last time we’d been trying to save Solange. He kissed me again, long and deep until my breath trembled in my throat.