All Just Glass

control, but neither of them understood what it was to be a Vida. She had been trained to ignore pain, and cold, and hunger. The moment of hyperawareness earlier had been no different, really. Self-control and discipline were at the heart of a Vida’s training, because they meant a hunter could continue to fight no matter what happened.

A Vida did not give up, or make deals, or compromise, or flinch even when death seemed to be the only alternative. Their line had survived intact for tens of thousands of years by obeying that mandate. Dominique probably wasn’t even as strict as some of her ancestors. At least Sarah had been allowed to attend public school and, to an extent, fraternize with hunters of a less-pedigreed birth.

On the other hand, if Dominique had been as harsh as Vidas had been historically, Sarah might not be in this mess.

“You don’t have to follow Vida philosophy to learn some basic self-defense,” Sarah said to Christine, keeping her “what if” thoughts to herself. “It’s helpful to have some concept of focus and control, but most hunters don’t go to the lengths my line does … did. Look at Nikolas and Kristopher. They fight well, especially when they’re together.”

Again, the words brought an unpleasant memory to mind. Sarah knew how well the two of them fought, and how cooperatively they worked in a fight, because that had been how she had lost.

Every hunter knew that the day would come when she was too slow, but most never needed to reflect on it afterward. They certainly did not wake up in the arms of the one who had taken them down.

“Anyway,” she said. “I can teach you whatever you want to learn, even if it’s just how to throw a punch or get out of a hold.”

Christine nodded. “I think I would like that,” she said. “It’s finally getting through my mind that I could be around a long time, and I don’t want to be a victim forever. Some of the bloodbonds I’ve met are like that. They just expect Nikolas to take care of everything. I want to scream at them, ‘Who’s taking care of him?’ ”

Sarah smiled. “You know,” she said wryly, “if you weren’t in love with a vampire, you would probably make a good hunter. You have a strong instinct to protect people.”

“Back at you, sister,” Christine quipped. “We’re in the same boat, maybe for eternity. So teach me something!”

Christine used it casually, but that word, sister, threw Sarah off balance. Where was Sarah’s real sister now? Was she stalking innocents like Christine to get to Nikolas and Kristopher? Was she moving ever closer to checkmate, when Sarah would have to decide whether to stand with her birth kin or her blood kin?

Unsettled, she said, “I didn’t really mean right now. What about calling Robert?”

Christine took a breath and dropped her gaze before saying, “Yeah, like I didn’t see your face when I first asked. And you’re right. Robert thinks your family is the good guys. I want to talk to him, but it would only get him into trouble. After this is sorted out, I’ll call him, but until then I need to do something. C’mon. What else do you have to do tonight?”

Christine’s heartbeat had already been fast because of her anxiety, but now her scent changed. Sarah wasn’t sure how she recognized the difference, using a sense so new, but she could tell that Christine’s fear dropped. The tangy spice of adrenaline filled the air. Her face flushed.

“What?” Christine asked.

“Hmm?”

Christine frowned. “Never mind, I guess. You looked like you were going to say something.”

Sarah nodded, but she realized she could barely hear the words Christine was saying. The sound rising above all others in her ears was the whoosh-whoosh of blood racing through a hundred thousand miles of arteries, veins and capillaries. She realized that if she looked closely enough, she could see the beat not just at the pulse points, but across the surface of Christine’s skin. It flickered like a fluorescent light.

And now there was fear in the air.

“Sarah?” Christine asked nervously.

The word—a name, so powerful that many ancient peoples had kept theirs forever secret from all but those closest to them—was just enough to let Sarah pull back a little and realize the tone her thoughts had taken.

Even once she was aware of it, she couldn’t stop looking. She fought the instinct to move closer. She forced herself to take a step backward instead, but hellishly, contrary to any common sense, Christine responded by moving closer and reaching out as if she intended to touch Sarah, possibly to offer comfort but … insanity!

She had to get out of there.

She had been so confident about her self-control, so arrogant, she had forgotten something she had learned every day of her life: how “good” a person a vampire was, or tried to be, ceased to matter when the vampiric blood took over. There was a monster inside, and it would use the body it inhabited to do what it wanted. Sarah might think she was in control at that moment, but the blood inside her now would be with her the rest of her existence, just waiting for her to slip up.

Eventually, inevitably, she would. A moment would come when she was too weak to stop herself, and when that moment was done, she would be left with an innocent corpse in her arms.

She pulled away from Christine. She had to get somewhere safe … where she was safe … no, where she would be made safe. Her self-control would only get worse from here on out.

She had to do this while she still could, before she did something terrible.

She went home.

CHAPTER 7

SATURDAY, 7:05 A.M.

ZACHARY WOKE SHAKING, sweating and scared. He didn’t remember the dreams that had forced him from sleep with his heart pounding and the sharp tang of adrenaline on his tongue, and for that he was grateful. Sometimes he did remember, and those mornings were never easy.

He didn’t get up immediately, didn’t even open his eyes. Instead, he lay perfectly still, barely breathing, until the flush of fight-or-flight passed. He realized his jaw was clenched, as if he had been bracing against pain and struggling not to scream.

He tossed onto his stomach, curling his arms under his head until his right hand found the hilt of his knife sheathed on his left wrist, like a child grasping a teddy bear for comfort. He wished he could sleep for another hour. Maybe he would have a good dream.

Or maybe another nightmare.

What dragged him up was not fear of sleeping demons, but the knowledge that Dominique wouldn’t approve of his oversleeping when there was work to do.

By the time he opened his eyes, he was perfectly composed, enough that even Dominique wouldn’t have recognized the terror that had filled him only a minute before.

He glanced at the clock; he had slept for twenty-four minutes, just enough to revive him and get rid of the headache.

He ducked briefly into the kitchen, where he found Michael, Jay and Robert. Michael was bent over a SingleEarth-published book about shapeshifter physiology. Jay was looking through the window with a pair of small binoculars, probably bird-watching. Robert was staring at Heather, who was either sleeping or unconscious. Maybe someone had finally gotten fed up with her.

Jay replied to what Zachary was about to ask before Zachary could say anything out loud. “We’re fine here. Dominique just called. She’ll be back in a minute, probably in a foul mood, since she says her informant stood her up, but you should have some time to clean up first.”

Robert looked confused when Jay first spoke, and then startled to find another hunter standing over his shoulder. Michael glanced up and then returned to his book without uttering a word.