“They’re dead, Jordan. All of them. And we’re afraid your support group might be next on the list. The leader isn’t answering his phone.”
She doesn’t answer for a minute. Coping with the news in her own way. I bite my lip, waiting.
“I have numbers for a couple other people in the group,” she manages at last. “I’ll call them.”
“Tell them we’re on our way.”
I end the call and tuck my phone back into my bag. I’m not shaking anymore or disassociating. I’m wholly myself, buzzing with adrenaline, every nerve and muscle in my body screaming go, go, faster, faster.
Jay takes a tight curve too quickly and swerves into the opposite lane. There’s a flash of headlights and an earsplitting horn blast, and I scream, louder than I ever have in my life.
We swerve back onto on our side of the road just in time. The truck whips past us, honking again.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Daisy. I’m sorry.” Jay slows down. “Are you okay?”
My throat was already raw, and after that scream it feels like I scraped it with sandpaper. “I’m fine,” I say hoarsely. “I thought we were dead.”
“I’m turning you tomorrow. I can’t live like this, with you so human and weak.”
“That offends me.”
“You know what I mean. Not weak, but vulnerable. Easy to hurt, easy to kill. I can’t live with that.”
“I’d rather not live with that either,” I rasp. “Especially if I’m going to be in cars with someone who drives as fast as you do.”
“So we’re agreed. When we get there, you’ll stay in the car, and I’ll turn you tomorrow.”
“Wait a second, I never agreed to stay in the car. Don’t be that guy.”
“The guy who wants to protect the love of his life?” He throws me a blazing look.
“You think that’s gonna work, calling me the love of your life? No, Jay. You can’t go in there by yourself. You were shaking and crying like ten minutes ago, and you’re in no shape to face it alone if someone already attacked—”
“We’ll probably get there just in time for the attack, which means I will have to vamp out and fight. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll use my—” My heart sinks as I feel the raw scrape of the words past my vocal cords. “My voice. Crap. I don’t know if I can get the right tone now. Why’d you make me scream like that?”
“I didn’t make you do anything.”
“You almost smashed us into pulp with your reckless driving.”
“You’ll stay in the car,” he snaps.
“Fuck you.” It’s a stupid thing to say, but I’m so mad and sad and frustrated I can’t think of anything else.
We don’t speak again, not until he’s careening into a neat little suburb, his tires shrieking around a bend.
“You’re going to draw a lot of attention,” I mutter.
Jay speeds up, sweeping into the cul-de-sac and straddling the curb, one of a curving row of cars in front of a two-story colonial. I’m out of the car before he can try to lock me in, and he actually snarls at me, fangs and everything.
“Down, boy,” I tell him. I’m still hoarse. If only I had a little more time, or some water—
Jay marches around the car, wraps a stiff arm around my shoulders, and hustles me onto the front porch. His gaze darts into the deepest shadows with the practiced ease of someone who spent his childhood ducking, and hiding, and waiting for the next bad thing to jump out of the dark. He rings the doorbell, and there’s a scuffle and a murmur of quick panicked voices that even I can hear. Which means the vampires inside are alive and aware of the danger.
The door creaks open a crack. “Yes?”
“It’s me.” Jay wraps a clawed hand over the edge of the door.
“It’s Gatsby.” The voice is drenched with relief. “Y’all, it’s just Gatsby. Come on in. We just got a call from Jordan. What’s this about some people bein’ killed?”
The man who let us in is the one who twirled Jordan at the last party. His broad, handsome face is seamed with worry. He shuts the door behind us and bolts it.
“Cheadle’s group was killed,” says Jay. “All of them, including him. We were afraid whoever attacked them might come here.”
“It’s almost time for the meeting now.” A thin woman with gray hair steps forward. She’s in scrubs—probably one of the medical personnel Jay turned for free. “Are we still in danger? Should we leave?”
“I don’t think you should leave right now. If they’re out there, they might pick you off.”
“Pick us off? Who’s doing this?”
Jay hesitates, swallowing hard. “There are some First Gen vampires who don’t like what Cody and I have been doing here, turning people like you. They believe humans should be turned rarely, using the old way—the way that usually ends up killing the candidate. Cody and I have tried to explain our reasoning, and I wanted to believe that it worked, but…I can’t fool myself into thinking they will live and let live, not after what I’ve seen tonight. These First Gens are like a cult—fanatical, and they won’t listen. We suspect they’ve decided to take drastic action to stop us.”
“First Gens? Angry, fanatical First Gens?” exclaims another woman. She’s tall, red-haired, dressed in a crisp pantsuit. “And this is the first we’re hearing about this problem, or the potential danger?”
“We didn’t think they posed a serious threat, Keziah. Nothing like this.”
“Obviously you underestimated them,” says Keziah. “You and Cody should have warned us. I’ve had enough of your secrecy and need-to-know crap. From now on, the whole community needs equal access to any information you have that pertains to the rest of us.”
