aura showed him to be almost as weak as Nissa.
“Come on in,” the vampire greeted her. Sarah could only nod mutely as she realized what was going on. She had just walked in on a bash.
“Thanks,” she answered, dazed. The vampire gave her a strange look, but Sarah paid no heed to him, because her attention had just been drawn to a couple seated on the couch.
A more naпve guest might assume they were making out. One pale hand was wrapped around the back of the boy’s neck, and the girl’s long hair fell around her face, blocking from view the seam between her lips and the human boy’s throat. His eyes were half closed, and one hand twined absently in the vampire’s hair, holding her to his throat.
Sarah recognized the dark hair, the slender form, and she wished she did not. Nissa.
Forcing her attention to the rest of the room, her aura brushing over the others, Sarah picked out the vampires easily. This crowd was weak, not killers—and for that she thanked every god and goddess she had ever heard of—but she did not recognize any of them from Single Earth, either.
That meant there was some danger here for her. Even vampires who did not frequently kill would be nervous in the presence of a Vida, and entering a large group of them, barely armed and weakened by injury, seemed a bad idea.
She was about to leave, but the vampire who had opened the door was talking again. “I haven’t seen you around here before,” he said. “Who invited you?” Though his tone was not exactly suspicious, she could tell the vampire was uneasy around her. Having someone ask about her was unusual; at most of the bashes she had crashed, the vampires didn’t care who a guest was, so long as she could bleed.
“She’s with me.” Sarah turned, barely checking her instinct to draw her knife, as she sensed someone approach behind her.
The vampire who had been asking sighed. “I should have known.” He wandered off.
Christopher ran his hands through his short black hair, nervous. “Sarah . . . I would have invited you, but . . .” She could guess his thoughts.
“You don’t have to explain,” Sarah offered in an attempt to save the vampire the unease of beginning the conversation. She could sense Christopher’s shock even through his midnight eyes.
“I don’t?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah saw Nissa release the human she had been feeding on. He lay back, a bit dazed, but he looked like he would be fine; if there was anything a vampire knew, it was how much blood a human could afford to lose without being harmed.
The girl looked up, and her eyes widened as she saw Sarah standing with Christopher. She wiped her lips clear of blood with the back of her hand.
“I already know what you are.” The sentence had been directed at Christopher, though Sarah was busy reading Nissa’s features. Seeing blood on her friend’s mouth had unnerved her.
“Why don’t we go upstairs for a minute?” Christopher suggested, looking from his sister to his unexpected guest. Nissa nodded.
“That sounds good,” Sarah answered. Christopher led the way, and Sarah saw Nissa quickly snatch a mint from a table next to the couch before the wall cut her off from view.
A few moments later, the three gathered in Nissa’s room, which was not open to guests. Sarah hesitated in the doorway as Nissa and Christopher made themselves comfortable.
The room was surprisingly normal. While Sarah had known better than to expect a coffin, bats, and bricked-over windows, it was still surprising to see the scattering of schoolbooks that littered the desk. A composition book had been tossed casually in a corner amidst a flurry of crumpled paper and pens, and the pastel blue walls were decorated with posters from musicals like Rent
“Well, then,” Nissa breathed, and Sarah caught the scent of mint barely disguising the reek of fresh blood.
Sarah meant to speak instantly, telling them who she was, but Christopher forestalled it, asking hesitantly, “Are you part of Single Earth? Or . . .”
She barely managed not to laugh at that question. Sarah Vida, a member of Single Earth? Oh, Dominique would have a heart attack at the very suggestion.
Nevertheless, she was here, talking with two vampires, two
She was flattered at least that he thought of SingleEarth before the alternatives. He still thought she was human, and if she was tolerant of his kind, then it stood to reason that she was either part of SingleEarth, or one of those pathetic creatures who chased after the vampires in order to have her blood taken.
“No, I’m not,” she said slowly, trying to decide how best to tell the truth. She would rather have been somewhere else, anywhere but in the middle of a house full of vampires she did not know and whose behavior she could not predict. “I didn’t know you had a circuit,” she stalled.
“It’s Nissa’s,” Christopher answered, nodding to his sister. “She hosts. I just hang out.”
The vampire bashes that Sarah frequently crashed followed a pattern. The members of each party circuit alternated hosting, so as to keep the hunters guessing where the next one would be. All that Sarah had attended had been violent, deadly for any humans who attended, but she had heard about ones like this, where the human guests were simply that—guests, not a main course. They donated blood occasionally, but not at risk to their lives.
“Do you go to bashes often?” Nissa asked from her perch on the bed.
“When I can,” Sarah answered truthfully, wondering how—and if—she should ease into the topic she had come to discuss. The presence of several unknown vampires downstairs made her a little hesitant to reveal herself.
Christopher flinched, worry in his eyes. “Not all of them are as safe as Nissa’s group.”
“I know.”
“The worst is Kendra’s circuit,” Nissa warned. “If you stumble on one of theirs, they’ll probably kill you without a thought.” Softly, she added, “That’s the one Kaleo travels in.” The name seemed to strike a chord in both vampires, and Sarah remembered Nissa’s sculpture of the leech.
“Kaleo . . . was the one who changed me,” Nissa said hesitantly. She glanced at her brother, who just shrugged.
“If you want to tell it, it’s your story,” he pointed out.
“We grew up in the South, just before the Civil War,” Nissa began softly. “Our father worked at a nearby plantation and I took care of the owner’s two daughters, while my brothes worked as stable hands for one of the other wealthy families. We weren’t rich, but we were happy. My mother died when Christopher and his twin brother were both very young, and I more or less raised them.”
With a sigh, she continued, “We were an artistic family. I was the singer, though both of my brothers had talent in that area too. Christopher would write songs and poetry. Even when he said grace at night, his words could bring you to tears.
“That’s what damned us—music and art,” Nissa went on. “Because it drew Kaleo to me. He was also an artist. If he hadn’t learned about my talent, he never would have given me more than a passing glance. As it was, he fell in love with me . . . and I with him.” That admission sounded painful. “I was seventeen, a romantic and an optimist, and Kaleo was—
When she continued, her voice was barely more than a whisper. “For a while our relationship was wonderful, but I learned what he was when I caught him feeding on the woman I worked for.” With difficulty, Nissa explained, “He did not have time to hurt her before I interrupted. She woke up later, unharmed, and I stupidly assumed that Kaleo wasn’t dangerous, that he would not have hurt her even if I had not interfered.”
Her voice wavered as she confessed, “I forgave him, and even came to love him more. Then he offered me immortality, and I said no.” Nissa took a deep breath to keep herself composed. A hint of anger entered her voice,
