The Lair

“We just passed a town,” I tell him. “Amarillo, I think. I’m sure there will be Ticks there. Do you want me to go back, so you can hunt?”

“No,” he answers without even considering. “Let’s do something different this time.”

Dread tiptoes across my skin. I’ve had too much different. I would prefer routine.

“Circle back, but head just south of town. There’s a Farm in Canyon.”

“A Farm?” I ask stupidly. We have not yet hunted near a Farm.

“That makes you nervous?”

I shrug. Trying not to sound nervous, I say, “There will be many humans around.”

“You were much closer to far more humans last night. Your control can be trusted.”

“But is it smart?” I ask. Is it necessary?

But I don’t ask that aloud because I don’t want Sebastian to know that I’m afraid of being too near a Farm. Too near humans.

Yes, I was near humans last night at Sabrina’s but that was twelve hours of hunger ago. Besides, I’d been afraid of Sabrina and the rifles her guards held. Fear had restrained me. Since I don’t want to say any of this aloud, I ask Sebastian, “Why should we hunt near a Farm now, when we haven’t in the past?”

He gives a disinterested shrug. “Because I am hungry and tired. The Ticks who live near Farms are lazy. They’ll be easier to kill.”

I don’t question him, because his logic makes sense. Besides, he hasn’t once led me astray. He has berated me and pushed me. He has tested me and hurt me. But every trial has made me stronger. Every test has given me new focus. If I can’t trust his judgment, then what can I trust?

If he believes I’m ready to be near humans without losing control, then I believe him. If he is gearing up for a battle against Roberto and he believes I can help, then I will. I can be a force for good. I can turn the tide in this battle.

We park a few miles from the Farm and leave the car in the parking lot of a strip mall. Sebastian brings his Arkansas Toothpick, a wickedly sharp fourteen-inch dagger. He uses it to kill Ticks, neatly slicing off their heads before draining their blood. Before we leave the car, he pulls out another blade. It’s longer than his—about two feet long with a gently curving blade. Holding the blade on the flat of his palm, he extends the handle toward me.

“For me?”

“It’s a katana. Sabrina thought you might like it.”

“That’s  . . . generous,” I say, automatically suspicious.

“Even doing as well as she is, she can see the benefit of thinning out the Ticks. Besides, I think she liked you.”

I shiver and I’m not sure if it’s trepidation at the thought of Sabrina’s fondness or if it’s excitement. The katana speaks to me. Murmuring my name. Almost singing to me in a way that no thing has done since I was turned. Everything sang to me when I was human. Now it’s only other vampires and Ticks. And this sword. In my palm it feels as if it was made for me. It is light and nimble and makes me feel like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, which my mother never let me watch. And now I’m the sleek assassin. For once, I feel powerful. And strong.

We run the Ticks to ground outside the Farm. The fences are silent and dark. I know there are people inside, because I can smell them, distantly. Behind the layer of ozone of the high-voltage fences. The fences smell like death and steel, but still I know why the Ticks can’t stay away. Also, there is the faint buzzing, which at first I think must be the thrum of electricity through the wires, but when I ask Sebastian he shakes his head.

“It’s the tracking chips.”

Each of the Greens inside the Farm has a chip implanted in his or her neck, which tracks their diet, their health, and their location. When we had first escaped from the Farm—back when I was human—Sebastian had said he thought the chips attracted the attention of the Ticks. I can see why he thought so. It’s a constant thrum, thrum, thrum in my ears. I can see why it would drive someone mad. The Ticks howl with rage when we corner them.

I kill them quickly, taking off their heads. I will drain them and feed later, just like Sebastian has taught me. Their muddied blood is an easy temptation to resist. Like eating catfish. It’s not bad if you don’t think about the mud and the muck the fish lived in all their lives. About the excrement they ate to survive.

I’m still waiting to feed when Sebastian calls my name. The wind shifts and I smell it at the same time. We are not alone out here.

Before I can stop myself, I bound over the bodies of the Ticks and run. My mind is screaming. No! The other way! You know what’s there! Why are you going there?

I round the corner of the fence and stop cold. Despite my hunger. My hunger that is not a hunger but a bone-deep, craven need. A compulsion. Despite that, I stop when I see them.

Greens. And they are almost green in the moonlight, unnaturally pale and gaunt. There are three of them. Sebastian uses the tip of his Toothpick to break open the locks that keep them chained beside the fence. The two boys are free first and they bolt like frightened deer but with none of the grace. The girl, he grabs by the scruf of the neck.

“Come here,” he orders.

My mind and body war. I am less than ten feet away before my mind wins.

Sebastian has a hard grip on her shoulder, holding her in place. She cringes under the weight of his hands, too terrified to fight him.

“Please,” she begs, so softly the register of her voice is almost inaudible over the delicious beat of her heart.

He uses the tip of his Toothpick to flick her hair off her shoulder. To me, he says, “You’ve hunted vermin long enough. You deserve a real meal.”

My mind stumbles as clumsy as those Greens thrashing away in the darkness. He has told me over and over again that I can’t eat from a Tick. I can’t eat from a human. And yet he is offering one to me. I have learned to obey his every order, but which command do I follow—the one to abstain or the one to indulge?

I take another step closer. Then I hesitate. My mind catches and falls over itself.

I knew I was a monster, but until now I didn’t know how monstrous I was. I question his orders before I question whether or not I should eat. I think of him before I think of my own morals. He has become my compass. Have I lost true north forever?

I take a step back. I cannot let him control me. Not if I want to be me. To be Mel.

I am shaking my head, backing away. Not just one step, but several.

“No!” he barks. “You can’t deny your true nature. You want to drink her blood. You will drink her blood.”

His words finally pierce her shock. Her gaze darts to mine as terror grips her. She claws at his hand, trying to wrench herself free, but he simply lifts her up into the air so her feet kick uselessly. He is both right and wrong. I will not give in. I cannot lose so much of myself. Despite what he said back at Sabrina’s compound, I am determined to resist. Even if the rebellion succeeds, even if there are someday no more Ticks, I still won’t feed on humans. I cannot.

“No,” I say again, barely daring to say it aloud. I am sure he will retaliate. I am sure he will pounce on me and make me submit to his will again, with teeth and force.

Instead, he stalks toward me, dragging the Green behind him. He holds her in one hand and sheathes his dagger in order to grab me with the other. He gives me a shake.

“Look at her,” he orders. “What do you see?”

I make myself look. Not only because he orders it but because it’s impossible not to look. At first all I see is the lovely webbing of blue and red veins, brilliant against her fragile skin. Calling to me.

But then I force myself to look beyond her blood. She is young. Tender. Long, dark hair. High cheekbones. Eyes so frightened, she must be in shock. Her heart is beating so hard against her skin, I’m amazed it doesn’t burst right from her chest.

Suddenly, she isn’t food. She is fear. She is me. The me I was just a few weeks ago. The me I was my whole life.

My stomach turns. I am no longer hungry.