The blood wasn't Tristan's, or I would have recognized it instantly. But this blood definitely had a strong common thread. It had to be descendant blood. No donor blood ever smelled quite this irresistible.

Pain exploded in my mouth. Whimpering, I opened it and checked my reflection in the mirror.

My incisors were longer and sharper than before.

Holy crap. Fangs again.

I had to get rid of the Clann blood.

I tried to scrub the blood off. The soap dispensers were all empty, so I was stuck using plain water and my hands to get it off, feeling like Lady Macbeth in Shakespeare's Macbeth, which we'd studied last year in English. Out, damned spot, out I say! The blood was stubborn, refusing to come off at first. Had Dylan or the Brat Twins put some kind of spell on it to make it stain my hand?

By the time I finally got my skin clean, I was breathing fast and on the edge of true panic. The Clann was darn lucky there was a peace treaty between them and the vamps, or I would have hunted them down for this.

If they kept this up, I'd have no choice but to put a protection spell on everything I came into contact with.

And maybe hex them with a wart or zit curse or something while I was at it.

Ron was waiting by my locker. "Hey. I found a janitor to help me clean it up. It took a bit of work, but I think we got it all."

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Thanks, Ron."

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Somebody really ought to put those descendants in their place."

Exactly what I was thinking.

Distracted, I nodded and headed for the library doors. "Too bad they run half the friggin' world."

"And all of East Texas," he added.

I returned his grin. "Yeah."

In the library, we sat at the same corner table as before, taking seats opposite each other. Which reminded me...

"By the way, you left that book here yesterday. You know, the one about the East Texas myths and legends?"

He shrugged. "I've read it so much I've just about memorized it anyways."

"You're into that stuff?"

"Sure. Some of it's actually true. Or pretty close to it."

I snorted. "Oh yeah, like what?"

He leaned back in his chair, and I caught the thought, Maybe Mom's wrong and she knows after all. Her mom still could have told her. "Well, for instance, they got some of the facts right about the monster black cats that run around in the woods outside Palestine."

"Monster black cats. Here in East Texas? Yeah, right. Panthers are jungle animals, aren't they?"

"Not this kind. They came over hundreds of years ago with the Irish and Scottish settlers."

Okay, now I flat-out knew he was joking. "And why would the settlers have great big exotic cats for pets?"

"Not for pets. For protection. Originally, Scottish and Irish lords relied on them to guard their castles from attack and to battle at their side against the English and other enemies. By the time they came to America to settle the new land, it was only natural to bring those protectors with them for defense against bears and other predators in this area."

"And now they run around wild in the woods." I didn't bother trying to hide my lingering skepticism in my voice.

He nodded, returning my stare. "Over the last century, those settlers turned to technology and weapons for protection instead."

After a long moment of silence, I shook my head. "I've lived here my whole life and never heard about these so-called monster cats. Why didn't we ever talk about them in history class?" Growing up, we'd had to take Texas history not once but twice in elementary school. The teachers had covered the Alamo, Davy Crockett and Sam Houston, bluebonnets, mockingbirds and the yellow rose. We'd even had to learn how to sing "The Yellow Rose of Texas" and recite the pledge of allegiance to the Texas flag. But not once were any legendary black cats mentioned.

Nope, Mom's right, he thought. She doesn't know.

I wanted to growl in frustration. What didn't I know?

"Not everyone knows about them. The cats prefer to stay deep in the woods out of sight. But some people have seen them while out hunting. Including me."

"Seriously?"

He grinned. "Yep. In broad daylight, not twenty yards away from me. It was huge, at least six feet from head to butt, and massive."

I leaned forward. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. It didn't come after me or anything. It seemed kind of nice, actually."

"Were you deer hunting at the time?"

"Yeah, why?"

"If you used that deer pee hunters around here like to use, you probably stunk too bad to eat."

Ron threw his head back and laughed. "How do you know about deer pee? You go hunting, too?" His eyebrows rose in obvious doubt as his gaze slid down to check out the heels Dad had finally talked me into wearing today.

"No. Anne mentioned it. She goes hunting with her Uncle Danny every year...."

He winced, and I could have bitten off my tongue.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

He looked down at the table. "We should get to work. Lunch break's almost over."

"Right." Clearing my throat, I reached for my bag.

Someone walked over to our table. It was the librarian. Crap.

Ron reacted first. "Oh hey, Mom."

The librarian was Ron's mother? No wonder he could get away with being in here every day without a teacher's pass.

"Hi, son. Getting your homework done?" Her eyebrows rose, and I could see the family resemblance between them. Ron had her eyes and hair color.

"Yeah," he replied, cheeks turning red. "Oh, sorry, this is-"

"Savannah Colbert. Yes, I know," Mrs. Abernathy finished for him. Her tone was solemn.

I searched her face, still surprised she knew who I was. But I couldn't pick up her thoughts for some reason. All I could hear was her humming an unrecognizable tune in her head.

Had the Clann been talking about me around town or something? Maybe she'd heard the rumors about me and Tristan that were still spreading throughout the school like trash blowing on the wind?

"It's nice to finally meet you," she said. "You're welcome to come here on your lunch breaks any time you need to." Smiling, she reached out to ruffle Ron's hair before walking away.

After she was out of hearing range, I leaned forward and whispered, "How does she know who I am?"

"Mom's the head of the local genealogical society. She knows who all the descendants are."

Heart racing, I froze in my seat, the wooden edge digging into the back of my thighs. Descendants. He'd said that word before, back in the hall by my locker today. At the time, I'd been too freaked out over the blood to pay attention.

"How do you know they're called descendants? Is your family in the Clann?" Only descendants knew to call themselves that. If Ron was a descendant, the Clann could consider my being alone with him as possibly breaking the rules.

"No. But my family's heard a lot about them."

Why hasn't her family told her about the Keepers? he thought.

I yearned to ask him what the Keepers were. But then that would reveal that I could read his mind sometimes. And I couldn't think of any other way to bring them up casually.

"We'd better get to work," he muttered, pulling his chemistry book over and opening it to today's lesson. When I didn't move, he glanced up at me. "Do you want help with this stuff or not?"

He didn't seem angry, and his thoughts were entirely focused on the homework now. But he was definitely acting different.

Sighing, I gave in for the moment and reached for my chemistry book.

The next day, I thought I might find a way to somehow bring up the Keepers during study time. But while on my way to second period English lit, I ran into Michelle in the main hall as she was leaving the office.

"Hey, we missed you at lunch yesterday," she said. "You'll be there today, right?"

"Um, sure. Of course." Maybe I should try to eat in the cafeteria again, face my growing fear of crowded places and see if I could learn how to control the ESP. I sure hadn't mastered it in any of my classes yet. If it weren't for the occasional lecture notes displayed on the overhead projector in each class plus textbooks and Ron's help in chemistry class, I would be in serious trouble already. Hearing the teachers' oral lectures was going to remain impossible until I found a way to turn down the noise of everyone's thoughts in the room with me.

"Good! We'll see you then." Grinning, Michelle waved before turning down a side hall toward her second period class.

With a sigh, I went to English class.

It was hard not to fidget and sneak peeks at Tristan while the teacher's lecture droned on and on. Tristan stayed slouched down in his desk, legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles, his arms crossed over his broad chest. A lovely frown completed the look.

He hadn't moved from that position since I'd first entered the class, as if he couldn't care less that I was there.

Unlike me. The more I thought about him, the louder everyone's thoughts became inside my head. I needed to calm down, think about something else. So I closed my eyes and imagined I was on a sunny hillside somewhere doing tai chi, a cool breeze caressing my skin...

"Miss Colbert."

My eyes snapped open. Mrs. Knowles was staring at me from where she stood at the dry-erase board.

"Could you kindly try to stay awake while you are in my class?"

Someone giggled at the back of the room. But at least the ESP had finally turned down enough for me to actually hear the teacher for a change.

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry," I mumbled.

"Thank you. Now as I was saying..." Mrs. Knowles returned to her lecture and writing notes on the board.

Unfortunately, turning down the noise of everyone's thoughts only seemed to increase my ability to sense Tristan's emotions. And the emotions pouring off him now were anything but sunshine and rainbows.

The anger and hurt were nearly overwhelming, rolling from him in dark waves that I could practically see if I had dared to look at him.

Maybe his wounded pride hadn't gotten over us quite as fully as everyone thought.

I was surprised when the bell rang for lunch. Tristan was slow to leave, so I hurried to gather my books and escape first so we wouldn't have to walk near each other out of class.

"Hey." A male voice near my left ear made me jump just outside the classroom door.

I froze and looked up. It was Ron.

"Oh. Hi, Ron." We left the alcove that the two English classrooms emptied into, merging with the traffic already flowing through the main hall.

"Are we meeting for lunch again?" he asked.

"Oh, um, actually I promised Michelle this morning that I'd eat with the girls today. Can we meet tomorrow instead?"

A low level of disappointment flashed from Ron, along with the chorus from Celine Dion's "All By Myself" in his thoughts, which nearly made me laugh out loud. I only managed to hold it in by biting my lower lip.

He gave a lopsided smile and a half shrug anyway. "Sure, no problem. See you then."

With a wave he strolled toward the library.

Giving in to the urge to smile now, I watched him head for the library alone. If not Ron, then somebody in his family sure was a Celine Dion fan. His thoughts were harder to hear under the crowded hall's collection of brain waves. But I could still just barely make out him humming the rest of the tune in his mind.

He seemed like such a nice guy. Why didn't he have any friends? Shouldn't he at least eat with the other football jocks at lunch?

Needle pricks of pain stabbed over my arms and the back of my neck as Tristan walked past, his long legs helping him put distance between us faster than some shorter people could manage at a jog.

The sensation on my skin faded, taking my good mood with it. But the knowledge of its meaning refused to go away as quickly. Tristan was furious. At me? At the Clann and the council?

Probably all of the above.

Tears sprang to my eyes, burning them and forcing me to blink fast before the tears could run down my cheeks. He knew I had only done what I'd had to for his protection. Did he think I actually liked to feel miserable without him all the time?

Besides, he had Bethany now to keep him happy.

He joined the crowd exiting the far end of the main hall, and I could move again. Still, I took my time in getting to the cafeteria.

As soon as I entered, the whole room morphed into some weird version of an audience at a tennis match, almost everyone's heads turning to look from me to where Tristan was seated at the Charmers table beside Bethany.

My stomach lurched.

I sat down beside Anne and opened a book. Feeling my friends staring, I forced a smile and glanced at them over the top of the pages. "What?"

"Are you going to actually eat?" Carrie asked.

"Um, not right now, no. I'm not really hungry."

"Told you so," Carrie grumbled to no one in particular. Eating disorder, plain as day, her thoughts added.

Michelle leaned forward. "Savannah, is there anything you want to talk about with us? I mean, you know we're here for you, right? We know things have been kind of tough for you lately, what with your grandma dying and moving into a haunted house with your dad, and the whole thing with Tris- I mean, other stuff. But none of that is because of you or how you look or whatever."

I stared at her, completely lost. "Yes, I know you guys are here for me. Thanks."

"Does your dad know that you're anorexic?" Carrie blurted out, her hands clasped together on the table before her.

Oh wow. So that's what this was. I sighed, propping my forehead in my hand. "You guys can stop the intervention. I'm not anorexic."

"Told you so," Anne said, her tone more than a little exasperated.

"He probably doesn't care enough to notice," Carrie said.

"Huh?" I said. "My dad cares about me." A little too much at times, in fact, what with his constant warnings and less-than-subtle questions about how I was feeling every other minute I was home.

Carrie acted like I hadn't said anything. "Even if your dad doesn't notice or care that you're slowly killing yourself, we do. And you need to get some help."

I leaned back in my chair. This was going to be such a long lunch break. "I don't have an eating disorder. I'm just on a new-"

"A new diet? Please, we've already heard that one," Carrie snapped. "How stupid do you really think we are? It's obvious you've got a problem. Why else would you bail on Anne's birthday party? And you skipped lunch yesterday, and you didn't eat anything the day before, either. And now you're not eating again today."

I didn't know whether to be thrilled that they cared so much, irritated that they couldn't just believe me, or worried that I had no plan for how to lessen their concerns. If I ate anything, it would just come right back up and worry them even more.

I tried one more time. "Guys, I swear I'm not trying to lose weight here. I've just been having trouble eating stuff like I used to."

"Like I said." Anne turned to face me. "I told them you were just having stomach problems. But Miss Future Doctor of the World over there's convinced otherwise."

Michelle's head whipped from side to side like she was watching a tennis match. "I always thought you had a cast-iron stomach, Sav. Was it eating all those chili cheese French fries last year that hurt you?"

"Well, actually," Carrie began, her tone more than a little reluctant now. "People can develop digestive problems after experiencing prolonged periods of stress. I guess she could be suffering from an ulcer, which would make it hard for her to eat much for a while until her stomach lining heals."

"And she's definitely been stressed out lately." Michelle shot me a sympathetic smile.

"So why'd you miss lunch yesterday?" Anne asked.

"Um, about that," I began. "I've been meaning to tell you...you'll never guess who I have both chemistry and English lit with."

"Ron Abernathy?" Anne asked drily.

"Yep. And he needs help in English, and I'm clueless in chem. So we agreed to help each other out with our homework during lunch sometimes in the library."

Anne stared at me. "In the library, huh?"

"Because it's quiet there," I added. "And his mom's the librarian, so she lets us work there without requiring a teacher's pass."

"Makes sense," Anne muttered, as if it were no big deal.

However, the flashes of heat from her told a different story, almost as if...

She was jealous.

"Anne, it's really not like that," I said, feeling like I was suddenly facing a wild animal that needed soothing with an extra calm voice. "I would never, ever go after your ex. Plus he's not my type."

"Really? Because your type isn't the tall, blond earnest-eyed football player?" Carrie said.

I could have almost laughed if it weren't so insulting. "Ron's nothing at all like...you know who."

Carrie glared at me, while Anne pretended to be very interested in her soda.

I touched Anne's shoulder. "Come on, Anne. You know me. You know I would never go after anyone you cared about. And I know you still care about Ron. Even if you didn't, I still wouldn't date him." After my last two dating attempts, I definitely would not be trying it again. Two total disasters were enough for one lifetime.

"I know that," Anne mumbled, but it didn't sound like she believed it. She looked up at me, sighed and said more firmly, "I do know that. I know you'd never date Ron."

"Still, he could have asked someone else for help," Carrie muttered.

"Does he have any friends?" I asked, curious now.

Shrugs and a head shake were the general consensus.

I turned to Anne again. "Is there a reason that I shouldn't at least be nice and help him pass English lit?"

"You mean besides the fact that he's your best friend's ex?" Carrie said.

"Anne dumped him, not the other way around," Michelle argued.

Silence from Anne.

"Anne, you decide," I said. "Say the word, and I'll find a different lab partner and tell Ron to wing it on his own in English lit."

If it made her that uncomfortable, maybe I shouldn't try to help patch up their issues after all.

"You don't have to tell me what happened between you two," I added. "But at least tell me this...should I go kick his butt for you? Because if so, I'll do it. I'll go right now and give him a good ole smack-down in the library. Just say the word, and I'll bury him in the heaviest hardbacks I can find."

Michelle snickered. Even Carrie's lips twitched at that.

Anne gave a reluctant smile. "No, don't kick his butt. You'd only end up snapping those puny arms of yours like pretzels. You're right. I did break up with him, not the other way around. And...I guess it's not really his fault, either. I mean, it wasn't something he actually did. It was just something I had to do."

A glimpse of black kitty cats running through Anne's mind this time. What was with the black cats already?

"So it's okay if I meet with him for tutoring during lunch every other day?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. "Well, I'm certainly not around to help him anymore. And the boy is an idiot at English stuff. If you don't help him, he'll probably wind up flunking and missing out on playing football. And heaven help that from ever happening."

Carrie snorted.

"So by all means, help the big lug with his English, I guess." Anne grabbed her soda, trying to act like the whole conversation was no big deal now.

But I saw through her act. The flares of emotion coming from her told the real story...she was still crazy about Ron and desperately wishing she were the one meeting with him at lunch instead of me.

Which meant there was still hope for the two of them.

Smiling, I leaned sideways to bump shoulders with her. "Deep down, you are such a softie."

She choked on her soda. "Don't ever say that again!" She glanced around us, making a show out of being horrified. "I've got a rep to maintain here!"

* * *

The next day during chem lab, I said, "I told Anne about our tutoring exchange."

Ron's hand froze in the act of reaching for a glass dropper. "What'd she say?"

"She wasn't thrilled about it, but she said it was okay."

"She wasn't happy about it?"

"I think her exact words were something along the lines of 'well, I'm not going to help him, and he is an idiot in English class, so somebody better help him pass.'"

He smiled at the beaker as its green contents began to bubble.

I wrote down the chemical reaction as the teacher had instructed earlier. "Ron, be honest. You're not having me help you with your homework just to make Anne jealous, are you?"

He scowled. "What? No way! It was your idea in the first place. And besides, why would I need to try to make her jealous? She already knows how I feel about her." He measured two drops of water then added them to the beaker, and the contents turned blue. "She knows if she changes her mind, all she has to do is tell me."

"And you'd take her back? Just like that? Even after she dumped you?"

He shrugged. "Pride just gets in the way in life. The less pride you have, the easier it is to have what you want."

"Huh. Ever told Anne that?"

He frowned at his lab directions. "I'm hoping she'll figure it out someday."

"You do remember how hardheaded she is, right?"

He grinned. "It's one of the things I miss the most about her." After adding two more drops of water to the beaker, he glanced at me and said, "You know, I could ask you the same question. Are you working with me to make a certain guy jealous?"

It was my turn to scowl. "No. Why would I? I broke up with him."

"I heard he and a certain Charmer have turned into a real couple lately."

I swallowed hard and focused on taking notes in my notebook. "Good for him. He deserves to be happy."

He was safe. It was all that mattered.

"With someone else?"

"If she makes him happy."

"That's big of you. Not sure I could say the same." He leaned back on his stool, making the metal legs squeak.

I forced one corner of my lips up into a half smile. "Trust me, it's a daily effort."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, my life slipped into a routine that, while not exactly always happy, was at least comfortable. Mostly. Except for English class, I found ways to stay focused on other things...helping the Charmers at practices, pep rallies and games...helping my friends with their homework and listening to the latest gossip from Michelle at lunch every other day...working and joking around with Ron in chemistry class and our lunchtime tutoring sessions...practicing tai chi with Dad and Gowin when he was visiting in the evenings before doing my homework and then falling into bed. And of course finding ways to sneak out to Nanna's for magic practice every spare moment I could. The only problem was I couldn't seem to tap into my Clann side in the first two or three days after feeding. My current theory was that feeding empowered the vamp side too much to allow my descendant abilities to work. Either that, or filling my body with human blood made me temporarily too human and not witchy enough.

English class and the weekends after feeding were the bad times when I couldn't pretend everything was okay.

Every Friday night after the football games, no matter how late I was in coming home, both Dad and Gowin were always waiting in the kitchen with a vial of donated blood for me. Not drinking it wasn't an option. I'd already tried every excuse I could think of to get out of it without success.

"Eventually you'll come to enjoy the blood memories," Gowin had promised one time when he found me sitting on my bedroom floor drenched in sweat and holding my head in my hands as the images whirled past inside my mind.

"How could anyone possibly enjoy this?" I'd managed to gasp.

"Think of it like a mini vacation from your life. You get to be someone else for a while."

"But nothing I'm seeing makes any sense! I don't know who these people are, who I'm supposed to be in the memories."

"So think of it like one of those artsy-fartsy films instead, where you're not supposed to understand. Does your own life always make sense? Does the world around us make sense? Of course not. And it's not supposed to. Real life is chaos, sweetheart, not order. It's only humans and the lingering humanity within vampires that drives any of us to try and make sense out of it."

But I hated the chaos. I hated being so totally out of control over my own mind. And I definitely resented anything that prevented me from regaining my magical birthright.

English wasn't much better. In every other class, I'd managed to master the ESP enough to turn down the volume of thoughts. But that only allowed me to better tune in to Tristan. And now I was starting to pick up the occasional thought from his mind.

Hearing Tristan's thoughts was both a pleasure and a torment. In those moments when I could hear him speaking within my mind without censorship, I felt closer to him than I ever had before.

But that only made it harder to control my feelings for him.

Especially now that everyone was getting ready for the upcoming annual Charmers masq ball, our biggest fund-raiser of the year. During practice, it took constant effort to block out Bethany's excited mental chatter as she pondered what matching costumes she and Tristan should wear to the dance. Apparently he'd agreed to wear whatever she picked out.

Last year, he had been the one to insist that we secretly dress as a couple, he as a knight and me as an angel, like Leonard DiCaprio and Claire Danes in the movie Romeo + Juliet. And then Bethany had shown up that night dressed as Guinevere, making everyone think Tristan was actually dressed as her Lancelot.

Even then, Bethany had managed to look like the perfect girl for him.

This year, she could openly choose any matching set of his-and-hers costumes that she wanted. She would be hanging on his arm all night long, just like she'd done during the homecoming dance in September.

And of course kissing him as much as she wanted to without any danger of killing him.

At the masq ball, they would be able to flaunt just how perfect a couple they were. And, as usual, I would be relegated to cooking and serving food and drinks in the concession stand where half our money was made.

While she danced the night away in Tristan's arms, I would be sweating it out over a big Crockpot full of cheese sauce and a plastic jar of pickles.

I was so ready for Halloween to be over. Too bad it was still weeks away.

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