TRISTAN

It was a dumb thing to do, going out to Drip Rock Road. I was already running fifteen minutes late in picking up Bethany, and my favorite hilltop was in the opposite direction of her house.

Still I found myself driving out there, needing...something. Fresh air. Quiet. A few minutes of freedom.

My parents had kept me on total lockdown every minute I wasn't at school. They'd let me loose tonight because I'd taken Mom's repeated, not-so-subtle suggestion and asked Bethany to go with me to the dance. Not because I had any interest in Mom's choice of replacement girlfriends. I just needed to see Savannah outside of class one last time before the school year ended.

So I'd called Bethany as instructed last week. And then I'd thrown on the tux Mom had rented and left the house tonight with the corsage Mom had picked up for Bethany. But when it came time to exit my driveway and cross the road to the country club subdivision where Bethany's house was, I'd turned in the opposite direction and come out here instead.

Even though the sun was setting, the air was still warm with no breeze to cool it off. The darkening sky over the pines below shimmered from the heat. And it was only the start. In the coming weeks as summer came on full force, being outside past eleven in the morning would become pure torture. Already it felt like I'd stumbled into a swamp. Even the air was trying to choke the life out of me.

I glanced at the corsage, waiting like a silent demand from my mother on the dashboard of my truck. Mom would be ticked off if she knew I was letting the corsage wilt instead of rushing straight over to Bethany's with it like the good little boy Mom expected me to be.

I looked at the hills around me, and then to the sky. In the east, the first stars were just starting to wink into view. And I wondered for the thousandth time where Savannah was right now. Was she at Anne's house with her friends, getting ready, smiling into a mirror while those long fingers of hers fixed her hair and makeup?

Was she thinking about me at all?

I knew she was going to arrive at the dance looking more beautiful than ever. Earlier this week in the office, I'd picked up an image from Michelle's thoughts of Savannah in a long black satin dress. Michelle had been really proud about finding that dress for Savannah. If Michelle's memory was anything to judge by, she had a right to be proud. Savannah was going to look even more stunning than usual.

Tonight, watching Savannah but unable to hold her in my arms or dance with her was sure to be an exercise in torture. Especially with another girl on my arm all night.

A smarter guy would have stayed home.

Except I couldn't. Just like I couldn't convince myself to give up on us. I'd tried. Over and over, I'd told myself that there was nothing we could do. There were too many powerful people standing in our way. But every time I told myself to let her go, everything inside me rebelled. I couldn't imagine my future without Savannah in it.

How could two people seem so perfect together, be so happy together, and yet be so wrong in so many others' eyes?

There had to be an option I was missing. Maybe I was too close to the problem. Or maybe I didn't know enough about the council. My parents I understood...they were just trying to protect me. They couldn't understand that Savannah wasn't dangerous to me. But if the council could be convinced to change their minds about Savannah and me, and if I could create a bloodlust-dampening spell that would make it safe for Sav to be around me, surely my parents would change their minds, too. There was no way their fear of vamps could be stronger than their love for me. I knew that, deep down, they wanted me to be happy. I just needed a way to get rid of their fear.

I'd thought Savannah and I were it, that our love would be the proof everyone needed to break down the fear and hate on both sides. Now it looked like we would have to get rid of the prejudice before we could be together. But how?

Savannah knew more about the council than I did. If I could get her to talk to me, we could figure something out together that might appease the council. But she wouldn't talk to me, because she was listening to everyone else, letting their fear beat her down and convince her to stop fighting for us. And yet I knew she loved me. There wasn't a single doubt in my mind about that. Yes, we'd both kept the secret about her vampire side from each other. But what we'd felt together hadn't been a lie. The way we'd talked, kissed, held each other, the way she'd looked into my eyes so many times...I'd never felt anything more real, no magic on earth stronger, than that.

I would never feel anything like it again.

But I couldn't fight this battle alone. I needed Savannah's help. How could I convince her that we could make this work when she wouldn't even talk to me?

Magic. I could do a spell that would allow her to feel how I felt. I could literally give her my confidence, my faith and belief in what we had together. Then she'd have the confidence to want to fight again.

The cafeteria would be dark during the dance. Surely there would be the perfect opportunity to pull Savannah out of sight at some point. If the spell worked, she would agree to dream connect with me later tonight. And then we'd figure out a new game plan together.

What spell should I use? Dad had never taught me how to give someone confidence.

Then again, why worry about using a specific spell anyways? Using magic wasn't about the words I said. It was about focusing on what I wanted to make happen, injecting those intentions with my willpower, and then releasing the spell so it could take effect.

As I got back into my truck, feeling for the first time in weeks like I could breathe again, I created the spell in my mind.

"I want you to feel what I feel, Savannah," I murmured as I started my truck's engine. "I need you to have faith in us like I do. I need you to want to keep trying, to fight back with me, to help me find a way to change their minds." I envisioned those thoughts filling with energy. And then I released them into the air toward where I figured Sav would be by now...at the dance.

I carefully turned toward town and headed down the hill. I could pick up Bethany and be at the dance in fifteen minutes. The spell would probably take effect immediately. I hoped it lasted long enough. Once I got to the cafeteria, I would need a few minutes to find Sav, another minute or two to talk to her and get her to agree to dream connect with me tonight.

The truck rushed down the steep road, which was straight for a long stretch. But I could see the sharp curve ahead. I tapped on the brakes to slow down for it.

Nothing happened.

I pressed the pedal all the way to the floorboard. The brakes didn't respond, the truck still picking up speed as the curve drew closer and closer.

Muttering a curse, I tried downshifting to force the transmission to slow the truck. But it was too late.

Jaw clenched, I gripped the wheel as hard as I could and tried to turn the truck with the curve, but I was going too fast. The truck rocked onto its left wheels and kept right on going. The world flipped over and over as glass shattered and rained through the air. My seat belt jerked tight, slamming the air out of my chest.

Maybe I shouldn't have tried to use magic and drive at the same time, was the last thought I had.

SAVANNAH

I hung up the phone, and that's when I heard him. It was like Tristan was right behind me, whispering in my ear.

"I want you to feel what I feel, Savannah," he murmured. "I need you to have faith in us like I do. I need you to want to keep trying, to fight back with me, to help me find a way to change their minds."

His voice was so clear inside my head that I actually whirled around, thinking he must have snuck into the bathroom after us.

But he wasn't there.

I popped my head outside the door. No Tristan in sight, not in the short hallway leading to the bathrooms or in the cafeteria-turned-dance-floor beyond.

"Savannah?" Carrie said, pausing in the process of reapplying her mascara. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I forced a smile. "Just thought I heard someone yelling for us outside."

I shut the door again, pretended to check my makeup in the mirror.

And then it hit me...wave upon wave of pain over my entire body. Pain on a level I'd never experienced before, not even during that week when I was sick my freshman year as the start of puberty awakened my two genetic sides and caused an internal battle between them that nearly killed me.

Oh sweet God in heaven. I really was dying this time.

I grabbed the counter, bracing my hands on the cold laminate, my legs shaking so hard I was afraid I would fall down without the sink's support. What was wrong with me?

"Sav? Sav! What is it?"

I could hear my friends' voices, distant, muffled. I shook my head, my focus turning inward. What was going on with my body? Was this a sign that the bloodlust was about to take over completely or something? No, it couldn't be. I'd felt the bloodlust before. It was nothing like this.

"What's wrong with her?" Michelle asked in a high voice.

"I don't know. Get a teacher," Carrie ordered.

Anne moved toward the door, but I grabbed her arm to stop her. "No, wait. It's not..." I closed my eyes and mentally searched for the source of the pain. "It's not me. I mean, I'm okay."

"Then what's the matter?" Anne said, crouching down in front of me.

I shook my head again. "I don't..."

And then I knew. And in that moment, I actually wished it had been the bloodlust or any other new vampire development in my body. Anything other than what my heart, my instincts, my very soul said it was.

"Oh God. It's Tristan," I whispered. I didn't know how I knew. But I knew. Something was wrong. He was hurt badly. And I had to tell someone.

"Huh?" Anne said.

My eyes flew open as I pushed her to the side and fumbled with the bathroom door. But it was locked.

"Is Emily Coleman here?" I asked, trying to get the lock turned on the knob.

"Who?" Michelle asked.

"Tristan's sister!" My shaking fingers couldn't manage to work the lock properly. Stark fear combined with desperation, turning me into something close to an animal. I wrapped both hands around the knob, heard a satisfying breaking of wood and groaning metal, and the doorknob came off in my hands. I tossed it to the floor with a loud clang.

"Savannah!" Carrie gasped.

But I was already headed out the door and down the short hall toward the strobing lights and shallow pool of balloons in the middle of the cafeteria, searching for a certain blonde who ought to be here. The senior cheerleaders always ran the semiformal dance; it was their way of helping to raise funds to support the cheer squads. Emily had to be here somewhere.

Bingo. The punch table.

"Stay here," I shouted to my friends, and something in my expression or my tone made them listen to me for once.

I tried not to run, settling for pushing my legs into the longest strides I could manage in these stupid heels on the slippery floor.

Emily's head popped up when I was still halfway across the dance floor. She must have read something on my face because she stared at me as I approached.

"Tristan," I gasped when I finally reached the table and leaned across it. "Something's wrong. You need to call him."

Her eyebrows drew together in worry or confusion. But at least she grabbed her phone and tried to call him.

"He's not answering," she shouted over the music.

"He's hurt somewhere. We have to find him," I told her as she circled around the table.

"How do-"

"I don't know how. Maybe he was doing a connection spell or something. I thought I heard him talking to me, and then I felt his pain." Even as I led the way across the cafeteria, I could still feel an incredible amount of pain throbbing throughout my body.

I pushed the doors open too hard. They slammed into the brick wall of the building. Emily's eyes widened.

But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except getting to Tristan in time.

"Where's your car?" I asked her.

She turned right, and I spotted the infamous pink convertible in the row closest to the sidewalk.

"What are you doing?" she asked as I grabbed the passenger door's handle.

"I'm going with you," I said.

"You can't. You two are not supposed to-"

"I can still feel his pain." In fact, it was stronger now that we'd left the cafeteria. "I think we can use it to find him."

"You can't be serious."

I opened the door and slid in.

Huffing out a loud sigh, Emily got in, started the car and headed out of the parking lot. At the stop sign, she said, "Which way?"

I twisted toward the left, and the pain was a little less. "Go right."

Our progress was too slow as we repeated the process at every intersection. But my feelings were all we had to go on. Emily had tried calling her parents, but they had no idea where Tristan was. Apparently he was supposed to have picked up Bethany half an hour ago but never showed up. Emily ended the call without explaining why she was worried about him or that I was with her.

Ten minutes later, we found ourselves heading out of town toward Drip Rock Road.

"Why would he be out here?" Emily muttered.

I had to wonder the same thing. It was in the opposite direction of Bethany's house.

But I couldn't worry about that right now. I could barely breathe, the pain was so strong. "He's close. Go slow," I said.

Thankfully she slowed down. Otherwise we might have ended up with flat tires from the glass in the curve of the road, which she narrowly avoided running over.

Tristan's truck had taken out a huge section of wood and barbed wire fence as it either rolled or plowed through the ditch and field, coming to a stop right side up several yards off the road. I didn't remember getting out of the car or even pulling to a stop. I just found myself running through the field toward that crushed-in hunk of metal and praying that he would be okay.

As I ran around to the driver's side, I felt all his pain stop like a switch had been flipped off.

"Tristan!" I screamed, grabbing the handle of his door. But the twisted door wouldn't budge. "Emily, I can't feel him anymore. Call for help!"

I reached in through the broken-out window, carefully found the side of that strong column where his pulse should be throbbing out a steady beat to me. It was there, but just barely.

"Tristan, please," I whispered. "Please don't go."

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