“Okay,” I reply in a stunned whisper. I want a moment to hold the gift he just gave me, to tuck it deep inside myself where it will keep me warm forever.
Jay leans over and gives me a quick kiss. “Come on, let’s go inside. They have really good snacks.”
“You’re impossible.” I shove myself out of the car, and he does the same. We crunch across the gravel, up weather-beaten steps, and across the creaky porch to the front door where Jay knocks. “The bell doesn’t work,” he explains.
The night is full of music, the sawing and chirping and singing of a million tiny creatures. Night is never black, not really. It’s deep blue, sugared with stars, fringed with the silhouettes of trees, frosted with scraps of dark-gray clouds.
Jay knocks again, louder, and leans toward the door. “I don’t hear anyone talking.”
“Do we have the wrong night?”
“No.” There’s an edge to his voice. “This is the right night. See the other cars, there, and over there? There are people here, but they’re not talking, or moving, or—”
His nostrils flare and his face changes, as if he has scented something that horrifies him. “Oh god.”
He flings himself against the door, ramming it with his shoulder, but it’s a solid piece of wood and it doesn’t yield. “Fuck. I have to get in there. I’m breaking a window.”
“Wait…” Tentatively I reach out and try the handle. It moves down, and the door swings open, flooding us both in amber light.
The smell hits me first. Raw, meaty, coppery, tinged with ammonia.
23
“Don’t look, Daisy. Don’t look.” Jay’s voice is a shattered plea, as if his words can erase the scene already pressing into my memory. He’s braced in the doorway, rigid with emotions I can’t fathom, because he knew every one of the bodies crumpled in the room beyond. He made them all.
“If you have to look at it, so will I.” I wrap his fingers in mine and step inside, pulling him with me.
We’ve entered a cozy living space, with a cluster of couches around a thick wooden slab of a coffee table. Slumped on the couches and sprawled on the floor are headless bodies, leaking blood into the brown upholstery, into the shag carpeting.
A dead body is one thing—a headless body is something else. A deeper atrocity, the symptom of a vile hatred and disrespect.
Jay stands helpless and motionless while I walk forward, drawn into the center of that terrible room. Beyond the seating area there’s an open kitchen with a broad island, where trays of snacks filter savory smells through the reek of death. The stuffed mushrooms, bowls of herb-flecked dip, dishes of chips—they’re all splattered with blood.
Two more bodies lie behind the island on the floor. One of them slipped down in front of the open refrigerator, propping its door open, and the cold pale light casts an uncanny glow over the shoulders and the severed neck.
I’m going to be sick.
I race back outside and heave the contents of my stomach onto the grass. The acid sears my throat, burns in my sinus passages. I spit and cough, my shaking hands braced on my thighs.
I can’t fall apart, not now, because I can hear Jay in the house, gagging through great broken sobs. So I suck my emotions back into myself, into that secret place where I can’t be harmed, and I let my autopilot take over. It’s not a healthy way to deal with a crisis, but it’s the only one I have.
Slowly I mount the steps and return to the carnage.
Jay is leaning against the wall, his head sagging.
“Do we need to call someone?” I ask calmly.
“Daisy,” he whimpers. “Daisy, my people.”
“I know. Give me your phone.”
“I should… I should be the one to—”
“You can’t call anyone, not in this state.” My fingers trace his spine, travel between his shoulder blades. “I can calm you down, if you want. I can make it hurt less, for now.”
“No.” He chokes on the word and repeats it, louder. “No. I need to feel it.”
“Any idea who could have done this? Maybe humans, afraid of what you guys are?”
“It’s possible, but we’ve been careful.”
“There’s no way word hasn’t started to travel around, though, with as many people as you’ve been turning.” Even as I say it, my cool, objective self knows that’s not the cause of this massacre. No mob of terrified humans did this. Vampires are stronger and faster, and if humans had been the attackers, Jay’s people would have fought them off or killed at least some of them. In that case there should be a few dead humans here too, but everybody I can see is wearing one of Jay’s special bracelets.
No, these vampires were killed by someone who knew exactly what they were, why they were meeting, and how to kill them. Brutal as the scene is, there’s a surgical precision to it, too.
“Who do you need to call, Jay?” I repeat.
“Cody first.” He swallows hard. Sweat films his forehead, and his lashes glimmer wetly. “Then the other group leaders. And my contacts with the police. They can help with this, create a cover story.”
“Serial killer or mass murderer is pretty much the only cover story at this point.” My knees are starting to tremble, pulling together like magnets. I want to sit down, but there are splatters and sprays of blood everywhere.
“We need to get out of here.” Gently I tug his elbow. “There’s nothing we can do for any of them. We’ll call from outside.”
The night air whisks cool across my face as we leave the house. Jay pauses on the porch, tilting his head slightly like he’s listening. “I don’t hear or smell anyone else around.” He sits heavily down on the steps.
I close the door and join him. He hands over his phone and I call Cody, who answers with a gruff “What?”
“Something’s happened.” My throat is sore from the acidic vomit, and my voice is starting to shake in spite of my superficial calm. I grip my kneecap painfully tight to steady myself. As I start to explain, Cody lets out a string of swears, tossing one in every time I take a breath, until I’ve finished telling him everything. “Jay is kind of overwhelmed,” I say. “What should I do?”
