“He was more resourceful than most.”

“Well if he does come back, he’ll think I’m in Portland, right? There is no way he’d know to look for me here. Besides, this is werewolf territory and the werewolves are doing sweeps of Portland to find the vampires.”

“The werewolves might not catch him either.”

I shot him an angry look. “Are you trying to scare me?”

“No but I will not lie to you either.” Nikolas sounded sincere and for some reason that annoyed me even more. I wanted to go home and put him and the Mohiri behind me, to go back to the life I knew and understood.

We reached his motorcycle and I stopped and faced him. “I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful for you saving my life because I am, more than I can say. But your way of life, your people – I don’t belong with them.”

He did not look happy. Obviously most orphans were willing to give up everything they knew for the Mohiri. I was not one of them.

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a white card containing only a phone number. “This is my number. Call me if you need me or when you reconsider your options.”

I took the card and stuck it in my back pocket knowing that it would end up in a drawer somewhere and I’d never use it. “I won’t reconsider.”

“One more thing.” Nikolas put his hand inside his jacket again and withdrew a sheathed dagger. He turned the knife over in his hand and thrust it toward me handle first. “You may feel safe here now but as you found out Friday night, danger can find you when you least expect it.”

I tried to refuse the weapon but he pressed it into my hand and my fingers closed around the handle of their own accord. When I pulled the knife free of its sheath the silver blade gave off an almost ghostly gleam in the fading light. It looked like the one I had stabbed Eli with, only smaller, and the intricately carved handle was made of a dark polished wood. It fit my hand like it was made for me.

He donned his helmet and swung a leg over his motorcycle. “I’ll be seeing you, Sara,” he drawled before the Ducati purred to life.

“No you won’t,” I replied, but it was drowned by the roar of the engine as he sped away.

I moved like a sleepwalker as I made dinner. It was a good thing Nate was too busy working on a big scene to eat with me because I was incapable of making normal conversation. After I finished my tasteless meal, I escaped to my room where I watched TV, read a book, even did homework; anything to avoid thinking about the weapon hidden in the back of my closet and the train wreck that was my life. No matter what I did, the truth hovered over me like a wave of misery about to crash down and suffocate me and there was nowhere to hide and no way to outrun it.

I paced the floor of my room like a lion in a cage, except I could not roar out my anguish with Nate downstairs. How could I tell him what was going on and who or what I really was? I pictured the revulsion on his face if he learned that I was part demon. My skin tightened and my stomach rebelled whenever I dwelled on the fact that a demon parasite was burrowed inside me. I wanted to scream and rip the ugliness from me so I could go back to feeling human again.

But I never was human, was I? My whole life was a lie. Did my dad know what Madeline was? Did he die knowing his daughter had a monster living inside her?

I stared at my face in the bathroom mirror, looking for signs, anything that would give my horrible secret away to the world. But all I saw was a normal, seventeen year old girl. I’d always scoffed at the kids at school for not being themselves, for trying to be something else to fit in. Jock, cheerleader, bully; they were all masks that hid the real people. But now I knew that I wore the biggest mask of all. I was a demon wearing a human face.

How could I live like this, to endure this knowledge for the rest of my life – my immortal life? I put a hand over my mouth to smother the sob torn from my throat. Nate, Roland, Peter, even Remy; everyone I loved would die someday but I would live on. I could never have a normal relationship because everyone around me would eventually grow old and die. The thought of such a dismal existence brought on a swell of loneliness so fierce I almost doubled over from the pain in my chest.

Sleep was impossible and the next morning I was bleary eyed and hollow as I got ready for school. I managed to avoid talking with anyone all morning and instead of going to the cafeteria at lunch, I holed up in the library. I had no appetite and I couldn’t bear to face Roland and Peter yet. The werewolves had made it clear they did not like the Mohiri. What would my friends do when they found out I was Mohiri? I couldn’t keep something like this from them, but I needed more time to prepare myself. I needed a few more days to pretend my life was not being ripped apart from the inside out.

The week passed in a blur of classes, skipped lunches and tormented nights. On Thursday after school, Roland caught me before I could slip away and asked me if I was sick because I was pale and even more withdrawn than usual. I mumbled an excuse about the flu and escaped before he could see through my lie.

At home it was easier to hide my turmoil. Nate worked long hours on his book, trying to meet a deadline. When he wasn’t writing, he was on the phone or going out to meet with a group of local environmentalists who were concerned with rumors about some oil company suddenly showing interest in the area. Fishing and tourism were the main industries in New Hastings and any kind of energy exploration could be damaging to both of them. I liked my town just as it was and I hoped the oil companies would leave it alone. It was easy to forget my own misery for a little while when I thought about the animals and other creatures that could be hurt or displaced if such a thing came to pass.