Balthazar nodded. “Lucas should take you back, then return. And we’d better hide the fact that we’re here.” He leaned down and blew out the candle. The room went dark.

That’s when we realized there was light outside the window.

“What—” I silenced myself instantly. Whatever it was holding the light outside (another candle? a flashlight?) didn’t need to hear me, too.

None of us moved, and I strained so hard to hear that I could feel all my muscles tensing. Lucas’s hand tightened around my forearm. He and Balthazar shared a look. Balthazar put one hand on the doorknob and visibly braced himself; in the dim light I could see both fear and hope in his face.

He opened the door. Instead of twenty crazed killers lunging at us, we were met only by a frigid blast of wind. Squinting into the dark, I saw Charity.

She wore mismatched boots and a long, threadbare coat of gray wool that had been patched and mended in dozens of places. Her fair hair hung loose, blowing in front of her face. In one hand, Charity held a flashlight; her hands were sheltered from the chill only by thin, finger-less gloves. “Balthazar?” she said in a small voice, more childlike than ever.

“Charity.” Though he had sought her for so long, Balthazar seemed unable to go to her and unsure of what to say. “Are you all right?” She shrugged. Her dark eyes alighted upon Lucas. “Strange company you’re keeping.”

“I’m off duty,” Lucas called, a smirk on his face. I didn’t think joking was very appropriate and swatted his arm. He glared at me but shut up.

“The girl I understand,” Charity said. “She’s so much like poor Jane.”

Balthazar’s face went pale. “Don’t say that name.” Who was Jane?

“You’ve been following me.” She took one step backward and let the arm holding the flashlight drop; the illumination now only shone on her feet and the deepening snow on the ground. “I want you to stop it.”

“I’ll stop if you’ll come home.”

“Home? Where is home? We lived here once, but that was a long time ago.” Charity brushed strands of hair from her face, the kind of confused gesture people make when they’re struggling against tears.

“Don’t even think about asking me to come back to Evernight. You know how I feel about that woman.”

Lucas and I shared a look.

Balthazar stepped off the front steps, and Charity skittered back a couple of steps in the snow. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought she was afraid of him. He said, “We could find somewhere else. Something else you and I could do. All that matters is that we’re together.

Charity, I miss you.”

She stared down at the icy ground. “I don’t miss you.” It hit Balthazar so hard that he flinched. I put one hand on his shoulder; it was the only comfort I could offer. Lucas watched me but said nothing.

“You remind me of too much,” Charity said. “You remind me of what it felt like to be alive. To think of sunlight as something you could enjoy instead of something you could bear. To breathe and have it change you, refresh you, awaken you—instead of just churning on and on, some old useless habit that taunts you with what you used to be. To sigh and feel relief. To cry and let your sadness pass, instead of having it all bottled up inside you, forever and ever, getting more and more jum-bled until you don’t know who you are any longer.”

“I know who I am,” Balthazar said.

She shook her head. “No, Balthazar. You don’t.”

“At least promise me you’ll leave the tribe.” His voice broke with the strain of surrender, and my heart ached for him. “As long as you’re hanging around with them, you’re not safe from Black Cross.” Charity glared at Lucas. “While you’re hanging around with Black Cross, you’re not safe from my tribe. So try taking some advice before you give it, Balthazar. And get out of here now.”

“Charity, we can’t leave it like this.”

Fear hit me so hard I nearly reeled. “She said now.” Both of them glanced back at me. Lucas said, “What?” I knew before I knew, sensed it as deeply as I’d sensed anything.

“They’re here. Watching us. I think we’d better go.” Charity smiled at me. “You’re much too smart to be hanging around with a vampire hunter. You’ll probably get out alive.” Lucas turned toward the small grove of trees a couple hundred yards away, and his eyes narrowed. “Get to the truck.”

“Not yet.” Balthazar’s eyes widened in dismay as Charity began walking off in the direction of the grove. “Give me one more chance to get through to her.”

“Truck,” Lucas repeated. I could see how badly he wanted to fight, but he remained focused on protecting me. “Now.” Instinct told me to run. But other instincts—my vampire instincts—

told me that running prey was somehow more inviting. I forced myself to walk slowly toward the truck, and I grabbed Balthazar’s arm so that I could pull him along. Lucas kept his stake at the ready as he edged toward the driver’s side door.

My belly sank as I glimpsed, behind Charity, the footprints of at least half a dozen people. I knew that somewhere nearby they were watching us. I imagined that I could feel their eyes upon me, and, as the wind rus-tled through the ice-stiff trees, I thought I could hear faraway laughter.

Balthazar started walking faster. “We’ll be all right,” he said.