Slowly, I said, “You struck a bargain with the wraiths. They—they made it possible for you to give birth to me.” They actually looked relieved that I’d said it, though relief was about a thousand light-years away from what I was feeling. Mom said, “We found them. We asked for their help. We didn’t know what they’d ask—

most vampires don’t know about this, and we’d only heard whispers, rumors—”

Dad cut in. “The spirits…took possession of us, I guess. Only for an instant.”

I grimaced. “While you were—”

“No, honey, no!” Mom crisscrossed her hands in front of her like she was trying to erase those words from existence. “It wasn’t like that! I don’t know what they did, but sure enough, within a few months you were on the way. We went back to thank them.” She repeated bitterly,

“Thank them.”

“And they said that you belonged to them.” Dad’s expression was grim. “They said when you came of age, we had to let you become a wraith instead of a vampire. Now they’re trying to kill you—to murder you, because murder creates wraiths. They’re trying to steal you, Bianca.

But you don’t have to be afraid. We won’t let them.” My whole life, I had felt so special—so loved—because my parents had told me I was their miracle baby. I had always felt safe with them.

But I wasn’t a miracle. I was the result of a dirty, ugly bargain that both sides had betrayed. And the parents I had always trusted with all of myself had been lying to me since the day I was born.

“I’m going,” I said. My voice sounded strange. I pulled the pendant they’d given me from my neck and threw it to the floor.

Dad said, “Bianca, you need to stay and work this out.”

“I’m going, and don’t you dare try to stop me.” I ran through the door, willing myself to make it downstairs before I started to cry.

Chapter Twenty

I’D THOUGHT NOTHING COULD BE WORSE THAN losing Lucas, but I was wrong. The worst was realizing that I’d lost him for nothing because he’d been right about all of it—vampires, my parents, everything.

He told me my parents lied. I yelled at him for it. He forgave me.

He told me vampires were killers. I told him they weren’t, even after one stalked Raquel.

He told me Charity was dangerous. I didn’t listen, and she killed Courtney.

He told me vampires were treacherous, and did I get the message?

Not until all my illusions had been destroyed by my parents’ confession.

I decided that the only vampire who had never lied to me was Balthazar, but after seeing what Charity was capable of, I thought he probably did most of his lying to himself. Every other vampire—including my parents—was deceitful and manipulative.

Well, maybe not Ranulf. But the rest of them.

And Lucas? Lucas had told me only one lie, ever; he’d kept the secret of Black Cross because it wasn’t his secret to tell. In every other way, he’d been honest with me and shared the hard truths nobody else thought I deserved to hear.

I wasn’t only mourning losing Lucas, of course. Too many other things had gone horribly wrong. But the grief was worse for my realizing that, if I’d only listened to him, everything might have been different. Better. Happy. Instead of this.

April was almost the worst month of my life. My parents tried to talk to me a couple of times, but I didn’t want to hear it; after about a week, they gave up. Probably they thought I was sulking, that I’d just “get over” learning my whole life was a lie and come crawling back for dinner some Sunday. I knew I’d never do that again. They’d figure it out soon enough.

The second Sunday I skipped, Raquel said, “Not going upstairs?”

“Nope.”

“Last week I thought—you know, maybe you guys were just taking a week off.”

“I’m not going up there.”

“I thought your parents were better than mine,” she said quietly.

How often had my parents discouraged me from hanging out with Raquel, just because she was a human? She had given them more credit than they’d given her. I could’ve hugged her, but she would’ve hated it.

“Maybe I’d rather hang out with you.”

“I’ve got homework.”

“So we’ll do homework.”

That was fine with me. Even researching boring psychology papers was preferable to facing my parents again.

Balthazar and I were officially “broken up,” so far as the student body knew. Vic had made a few half-baked attempts to mediate so we’d be friends and hang out again; I hadn’t had the heart to discourage him, but after he backed off suddenly, I realized Balthazar hadn’t taken the suggestion kindly. Balthazar wasn’t angry with me, exactly, but he was kind of angry at the world in general, and he wanted to be alone for a while.

It was probably good for us to spend some time apart. I understood that, but I’d spent more time with him this last year than anyone else, even Raquel. I hadn’t realized how much I’d grown to rely on him cheering me up after a rough day, or simply giving me a smile when I walked out of class, until he wasn’t there anymore.

I still had Vic and Raquel, but if Mrs. Bethany had her way, I wouldn’t even have them much longer.

“Your regrettable refusal to discuss this with your parents compels me to deal with you personally,” Mrs. Bethany said, watering the line of violets along her windowsill. I sat in one of the uncomfortable, high-backed chairs in her carriage house. “You realize by now that you are a specific target of the wraiths.”