“Hey. You’re my reason. Having a normal life—well, as normal as hiding out in a wine cellar gets—I’ve waited a long time for that. The fact that I get to live that life with you just makes it more perfect.”

“Okay, you don’t need a mission.” I folded my arms. I wasn’t actually annoyed with him, but I felt Lucas needed to know I had his number. “But you really like having one.”

Sheepishly, Lucas nodded. If the situation had been any less grave, I might have laughed. He looked so boyish when he got called out. It was cute, really.

I hadn’t become a master hunter during my six weeks with Black Cross, but I had learned a few key things, including the first rule: Never go out for a hunt unarmed. Lucas and I didn’t have the Black Cross arsenal to turn to. We searched around in the Woodsons’ garage to see if there was anything we could use; it worked on the same security code as the wine cellar, and was happily laser free. Obviously Vic’s parents weren’t going to have gallons of holy water stored near the riding mower, but whatever they had on hand would beat going on patrol with nothing but good intentions. Luckily, Lucas found some gear—including several wooden gardening stakes, which could serve if needed.

The garage was closed on Sundays, which meant that Lucas and I had the next day free. I’d come up with all sorts of plans for us earlier in the week, like maybe taking a carriage ride through the historical section of Philadelphia or maybe just staying in bed for hours.

Instead, we set out for the downtown neighborhood where that woman had died.

As the sun set, Lucas and I arrived in the alleyway. We couldn’t walk all the way down to the site of the murder; part of the alley had been sealed off with strips of yellow tape that read CRIME SCENE.

“We could duck under it,” I suggested. “Even if the police did see us back there, they’d just think we were going to see it because it was gross or something. On a dare, maybe.”

“Not worth the hassle. We know how things ended here. What we have to figure out is where it started.”

Lucas and I began making our way through the neighborhood, looking for a place where a vampire might scope out potential prey. Neon beer signs in the window of a nearby bar served as a pretty good guide.

“I’m going to go in,” he said. “Get a look at the crowd in there.”

“Don’t you mean we’re going in?”

“No.” When I gave him a dirty look, Lucas sighed. “Listen, we’re both too young to be in a bar legally. But I’m twenty and can pass for older. You’re seventeen—”

“Only for two more weeks!”

“—and you look seventeen. If I go in, chances are nobody’s going to throw me out. If you go in, it’s fifty-fifty at best that the bartender’s going to let us stay. Besides, dressed like that”—Lucas gave my blue sundress an appraising glance that made a slow smile spread across my face—“you’d definitely draw too much attention.”

“Well. When you put it that way.”

Lucas kissed me softly, and I rested my hands against his chest. I liked feeling the rise and fall of his breath. He murmured, “Get yourself something to eat, okay? We ran out of Ranulf’s stash a couple days ago. You’ve got to be starving.”

I hadn’t even noticed that I’d gone without blood. “I’ve had a few things,” I lied. “Don’t worry.”

He gave me an odd look, and I thought that I’d betrayed my concern. But Lucas kissed my forehead and headed toward the bar without another word.

You know, I really should eat. I began looking around for any sign of life. Probably it didn’t matter that I hadn’t wanted blood. Humans lost their appetite when they were sick, after all. Probably I had a touch of the flu or something, and instead of having human symptoms, I had vampire symptoms. I should make sure I had plenty of blood so I could get well.

Alleyways are good places to prowl for food, both for vermin and the creatures who hunt them. Within a couple of minutes, I heard some scurrying behind a garbage pail. I wrinkled my nose from the odor as I darted behind the can and grabbed—a rat, a small one, twisting in my grasp. It smelled no better than its surroundings, and I didn’t like the thought of where it had been.

This never bothered you before, I told myself. Remember the pigeons in New York? Flying rats, basically. Before, my craving for blood had driven me past the gross-out factor. Without any appetite, this was a lot harder to do.

As the rat squirmed, I said, “Sorry about this.” Then, before I could chicken out, I bit down, hard.

The blood flowed into my mouth, but the taste was—flat. Empty. Like a bad imitation of the real thing. I forced myself to take all four swallows the rat offered, but it did nothing for me. In fact, it tasted sort of disgusting. I recalled the one time Lucas had tasted blood, and the face he’d made as he spit it out. Finally I knew how he felt.

I tossed the rat’s corpse into the garbage can and hurriedly fished some mints out of my bag. The last thing I wanted was rat breath.

Yet the mints seemed flavorless, too. Maybe I hadn’t really noticed, because Lucas and I had mostly eaten bland microwaved food these days, but human food didn’t taste right either.

What’s wrong with me?

“What’s wrong with you?”

I jerked back to attention. The voice I’d heard—a woman’s voice—came from perhaps a block over. With my vampire hearing, every word was as clear as if I stood only a few feet away.