To die is landing on some distant shore.

-John Dryden

The gates loomed in front of them from several miles away, towering above the tops of trees and bright with floodlights. They'd been built after the outbreaks, at the height of superstitious fervor, and were constructed from planks of sacred oak, ash, and hawthorn-all soaked in holy water, and then nailed with thousands of silver devotional symbols from around the world. And beyond that, the tallest of the ruined halls, factories, and church spires were visible inside the walled city, some glowing with flickering light, some overgrown with a heavy carpet of ivy.

It looked nothing like a prison. The gates seemed as if they were the doorway to an ancient temple or the opening to some enchanted country. Tana had seen them before, on the news, but somehow, in footage from helicopter-mounted cameras, they hadn't radiated the same feeling of majesty they had now.

As they rounded a bend in the road, the guard station came into view. It was small and ordinary, resembling a tollbooth. Two guards in heavy flak jackets stood together out front, sharing a cigarette. They looked up at the car when its headlights swung through the gloom, but they made no move to pick up their flamethrowers.

"Pull in over there," Winter said, touching her shoulder and pointing toward a stretch of cracked asphalt curving down into overgrown grass. Other cars were parked haphazardly, some covered in a thick layer of grime. A hand-printed sign nailed to the post of a streetlight read TEMPORARY PARKING ONLY, a corner of it flapping in the wind. Underneath it, another metal sign said, RESTRICTED ACCESS AREA. PERMIT REQUIRED.

Tana pulled in and stopped her Crown Vic next to a beaten-up station wagon. She looked at the clock on her dashboard. In less than two hours the sun would be coming up.

"I'm going to walk over there and figure out the paperwork or whatever for bringing him in," she said, turning in her seat. "Winter, you better come with me, since you knew what to say to that guard."

Winter glanced at Aidan warily. Aidan winked.

"Here," Tana said, ignoring them as she pressed her keys into Midnight's hand. "If something goes wrong, just get the hell out of here before sunrise."

"Oh, no," Gavriel said, pulling a hand free and unlooping more chain. "If there's trouble, I would be at its heart."

"The sun's coming up soon," Tana reminded him. "And stop messing with the chains-you need to keep all that on until we get inside. You're still supposed to be our prisoner, remember? This is your plan."

He shook his head. "You bid me to bide, but if I'm to burn, then surely you will let me put that fire to some use."

If his lazy, crazy half smile and the gleam in his garnet eyes were any indication, he meant every word he'd just said. He wanted trouble. But why he thought she could let him or stop him from doing anything, she had no idea.

Midnight grabbed for Tana's fingers and squeezed them. "Just don't take any crap from those guards, okay? Get that marker. No matter what happens, it's worth a lot. We're going to storm into Coldtown like heroes, you know that? People are going to talk about us online for months."

"Careful," Winter told his sister, nodding toward Aidan, who gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence in return, and then toward Gavriel, who was staring out into the darkness, thinking whatever thoughts blood-starved vampires who liked to quote Shakespeare had.

"Oh, no." Midnight sounded giddy. "We left careful back home, along with uptight and normal."

Tana got out of the car, taking a deep breath of air, leaving the twins to bicker. It was odd to be in such a desolate place and be able to hear the distant hum of music amplified by speakers and smell cooking on the other side of the gates. Not just cooking, either. The scent of wood smoke and burnt plastic drifted to her nose from the city beyond, along with another smell, a sweet foulness that took her a moment to recognize as rotten flesh. It made her think of sitting on the rug in the living room of the farmhouse with her friends' bodies around her.

"Winter," she said. "Come on."

For a long moment, he stayed where he was, staring at his sister, having an argument entirely consisting of things unsaid. Midnight played with one of her lip rings, turning it nervously. After a moment, Winter sighed and slid out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

"The faster we get back, the less can happen," Tana said, hoping that would reassure him. She was nervous, too.

"You're really going to Coldtown with us?" he asked, falling into step beside her as she crossed the empty black road.

"Yeah, I guess." She took a deep breath; it was unfair not to warn them of the situation they were putting themselves in by traveling with her. "I'm infected-I think. I mean, probably. I've got a few hours before I'll be sure."

Winter looked over at her in surprise. "Probably?"

"It's not a good thing," she said. "Don't act like it's a good thing."

He took out another black cigarette from his silver case, fitted it into his cigarette holder, and lit it. The air smelled like lemongrass and incense. "You want one?" he asked, his expression growing calculated. "They're herbal."

Tana shook her head. She didn't want anyone to see the nervous tremble of her hands.

The guards watched them walk closer. One was smoking, leaning against a flamethrower about the size and shape of a rifle. The other pointed his weapon directly at Tana. Both looked bored.

"Everything okay?" the guard asked.

"Um," Tana said. "Yeah. We want to know how to turn in a vampire for the bounty. The guy at the checkpoint called ahead...?"

The guard flicked his cigarette onto the concrete and stomped on the butt. "You kids have a vampire?" He and his partner shared a significant glance.

"Maybe," Winter said, taking a long drag on one end of the lacquered holder.

The guard dropped down the barrel of his weapon and then leaned on it, mirroring his partner. He cocked his head to one side, evaluating them. "Okay. So if I were to go across the street-"

"Just tell us how it works," Tana said. "We're going through the gates-all of us-and we want a marker."

"Oh yeah?" the other guard asked. "A bunch of kids want to go into the quarantined area with all the freaks and ticks? You get dropped on your head too many times? Your mommies not understand you?"

"You say the company in there is bad." Winter tapped on his cigarette holder, causing a line of ash to fall to the dirt, and gave the guards his most sneering, contemptuous stare. "Seems like the company out here is even worse."

The guards chuckled.

"The office is that way," one of them said, pointing toward the administrative buildings to one side of the gates, built of stone, with a single window and a cheap, flimsy door. "You want to kill yourselves, go right ahead. Just fill out the forms first. And if you've got a vampire, well, congratulations. Just be sure he's not some kid with red contact lenses." They laughed again at that, clearly filing Tana and Winter into the slot of no threat at all.

"Thanks, wow, you sure are helpful," Tana called back with clipped sarcasm, turning and walking in the direction they'd indicated.

On the other side of the wall, she heard a high-pitched wail that sounded more animal than human. She shuddered. Winter looked back at the car and took a deep, shaky breath.

After a few moments, it died away. Winter slowed his stride. "Why does he do what you say? The vampire."

"Gavriel?" Tana shrugged. "I have no idea."

"There must be some reason." Winter ground the stub of his cigarette against the wall.

"He was chained up when I found him. The vampires-Aidan heard them say that the Thorn of something or another was hunting for him. It's a Russian city-my brain's fried and I'm blanking on it. You know the guy, though-the one who killed that journalist in Paris. Gavriel is in some kind of trouble with him."

Little mouse.

"An enemy of the Thorn of Istra," Winter said, an odd expression on his face. "That's what he told you?"

"He helped me back at the house," Tana said, not sure why she was feeling defensive. Winter and his sister were supposed to love vampires so much they wanted to be vampires; why should he sound as if she were demented for unchaining one? "He's still helping us, remember?"

"But why?" Winter asked. "No offense. I just don't get it. I'll bet he's been a vampire a long time-before the world went Cold, even. Those old vampires hate humans, and they hate people like me and Midnight, specifically-any vampire turned in the last decade and anyone who wants to be a vampire. And here he is, letting us restrain him, voluntarily surrendering to imprisonment in a Coldtown. It doesn't make sense."

I struggle for my most rational moments, Gavriel had told her when they were driving. She'd seen the strain of it since then-moments when he seemed lost and others when he seemed lethal. "I don't know," she said. "He wanted to come to Coldtown, though. He's not doing it for us."

Winter took a moment to digest that, then he wrenched open the door to the office. A bell jingled overhead. He held it wide for Tana. She slipped past him and went inside.

As she did, Tana thought of what Gavriel had said to Winter earlier. You know me. You've known me since outside the rest stop, when I turned and the light hit my face.

Who was he that Winter could know him? She had a moment of anxious panic that Winter was playing her in some way, but she couldn't think how.

Fluorescent lights overhead bathed the whole room in a harsh blinding glare that made Tana blink several times. A counter of cheap laminate was covered in sloppy stacks of multicolored forms. Two pens, each attached to dirty string with even dirtier tape, dangled down from either side of the counter. Behind the counter were four metal desks. Only one of them was occupied. A large woman in a bright dress with big abstract poppies on it stood up slowly, as though her knees hurt. Her gray hair was piled into an impressive danish-size bun on the back of her head.

She looked at Tana and Winter for a long moment, then walked over. "What do you kids want? It's four in the morning. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"We want to claim the bounty on a vampire," Tana stammered. She was unprepared for how much the way into Coldtown looked like a shoddily run DMV.

The woman's eyebrows went up. "You some kind of baby bounty hunter?"

Tana sighed. "We just need forms for going inside, and we want to turn in a vampire for a marker."

"De-registration?" Now the woman shook her head. When she spoke, she sounded tired. "Don't be stupid. You don't want to go into Coldtown. Take your bounty for the vampire and live another day. One marker isn't going to get the both of you out anyway."

Tana looked at the clock. "There's four of us, not counting the vampire, so please just get us the paperwork. We know what we're doing."

The woman sighed. "Everyone's always in such a hurry to rush off to their own death. Well, hold your horses a minute. We had a woman and her three children-can you imagine!-through two nights ago, so I know the packets are around here somewhere. I just need to find my notary seal."

While she rustled around at her desk, Winter circled the room, stopping in front of a bulletin board with a sea of posters tacked up, one stapled over the next. Most advertised higher bounties for particularly famous or dangerous vampires. A few were from parents looking for someone to take on a commission to buy back their child with a marker-and begging for a hunter who'd charge them a price they could pay. Some promised rewards other than cash: cars, property, old engagement rings, stocks, and even the vaguely ominous ANYTHING WE HAVE, ANYTHING YOU MIGHT WANT, ANYTHING AT ALL.

"Did you ever see the Matilda feed from a couple of years back?" Winter asked suddenly, looking toward Tana. The spikes of his blue hair had wilted, and his eyeliner was a little smeared under one eye, as though maybe he'd rubbed it without thinking.

Tana shook her head.

"There was this vampire, Matilda, who came to Coldtown. She infected another girl by accident-well, the girl wanted to be infected-but anyway, Matilda detoxed her and filmed the whole crazy twelve and a half weeks. And the part that was really fascinating was that sometimes she would sit in front of the camera and talk about what it was like being a vampire. She told us about the people she killed, what blood tasted like, how her vision was different, how she was different. She wanted to warn everyone, she said, that being turned wasn't like the Eternal Ball or the Coldtown feeds made it look. It wasn't glamorous or special or anything."

Tana watched his face as he spoke. "And you still want to be a vampire? I mean, that's why you're both going inside?"

"Yeah." Winter's voice was firm, but there was something in his eyes-fear and a kind of awful, drowning look, like a man who is slipping deeper and deeper into quicksand and knows that struggling will just make things worse. "Messed up, right? But somehow Matilda made it seem real-like since it wasn't glamorous and special, then maybe I could have it. But I know it's what every wannabe coming here wants. Most of them are going to die without getting it. Get used for blood or get turned and find out they're not any better at their new life than they were at their old one."

Tana didn't say anything.

"You think we're going to wind up like them, but we're not."

"I don't think anything," said Tana.

He sighed as if he was annoyed but kept talking anyway. "Midnight was obsessed with it before me-immortality, the dark gift-you should have seen the walls of her room when she was twelve. Scrawled with poetry about eternity and piled with animal teeth, pastel candies in the shape of coffins, pages torn from Edgar Allan Poe books and pasted over her dressers and spattered with her blood. But I was the one that started going on message boards and meeting other kids who wanted to run away to Coldtown. After a while, Midnight wanted us to make our own board, so we could talk about the real stuff-and eventually we realized that it was time to put up or shut up. So we know what we're doing and even if you think-" He stopped speaking abruptly, ripping a page off the wall.

"What is it?" Tana asked.

The woman walked back to the counter, nodding to herself and muttering. She put down a couple of forms in different colors. "This isn't something you do on a lark. Or because you're sad. Or because you're young and stupid. It's forever."

"Thank you for the warning," Tana said coldly, gathering up the papers.

"You kids don't really have a vampire, do you? That's nothing to joke around about-you put down false information and that's a crime. You'd need to present the vampire or, if it was a kill, you need to have preserved the head."

"Oh, we have a vampire all right," Winter said distractedly, darting a glance toward the door. "In fact, why don't I go get everybody? You can start the paperwork, Tana."

"Okay," she said, puzzled.

On his way out, he shoved a piece of crumpled paper into her hand, the same page he'd pulled off the wall.

"I didn't know, honest I didn't," he whispered. "I thought maybe-but I swear, I wasn't sure."

She tried to focus as the gray-haired clerk explained acceptable forms of identification and where Tana would have to stand to get her photo taken and the dotted lines on which she needed to sign, but it was difficult. She kept getting distracted and looking back at the poster she was smoothing out, as though the image on it might change.

The paper promised a $75,000 bounty for the kill or capture of the Thorn of Istra. But it wasn't the amount of money that shocked her-it was the picture.

Despite obviously being the blurry copy of a copy of a copy, she knew him immediately. Gavriel looked as though he'd stepped out of the late nineteenth century, in a smart suit on an old Parisian street, a bow tie over the starched white collar and a derby half hiding his black curls. Gavriel, looking directly at the camera with a sneer on his wide lips and eyes that smoldered with banked fire. Gavriel, holding a walking stick in one hand as though he were going to whip the photographer across the jaw with its silvery handle.

Her first thought was, what a funny mistake. The Thorn was hunting Gavriel, had broken out of his cage underneath Paris to find Gavriel. And then she remembered, as she stared at the paper, how when Aidan had insisted the vampires whispering through the door were threatening to take Gavriel back to the Thorn, Gavriel had said, no, not exactly. He'd tried to correct Aidan, but she hadn't been paying attention.

No, not exactly.

The Thorn of Istra, the mad vampire. She thought of the grainy video of him she had seen, head tipped back, so covered in blood that she hadn't remembered his features, hadn't remembered him as looking like anything but a monster, laughing, endlessly laughing.

Mad as a dog. Mad as a god.

Gavriel.