Page 1

Chapter 1

Lana

The clothes Iwore felt strange. Strange and coarse.

Foreign.

I forced myself to avoid fidgeting in them as I crossed the parking lot to the small, fairly nondescript building labeled American Blood Bank.

A native wouldn’t fidget in their clothes, I reminded myself. They all looked so sure of themselves. Even the ones who you could tell wanted to be someone else. They still moved with surety.

I stopped myself from grimacing as I passed the trash bins tucked away behind the building. Everything about this place grated. The smells, the sounds, but most of all, the sights.

I tightened my grip on the satchel I carried.

This place was foreign to me, but I was also foreign to this place. The natives sensed that the longer their attention focused on me. These clever humans missed nothing.

I cast my own gaze above me. It was still very early, the sky a deep blue. Too early for work. I checked the clock I wore on my wrist, just to be sure.

5:32 a.m.

The first employee didn’t get in until 6:30, which gave me roughly an hour, for whatever good that knowledge was worth. Counting time was still a relatively new concept to me, but humans did it, so I had to as well.

The rear door of the building was lit, I noticed with disappointment. Last time I’d been here I’d knocked the light out. People had such absurd fears of the dark. Then again, things like me lived in it, and I was something to fear.

I tried the back door of the building.

Locked. Not surprising.

There was a simple enough way to enter. Simple and forbidden because it was inexplicable to the natives. That’s what had gotten others like me killed in the past. The inexplicability of our ways. They were breadcrumbs for hungry humans to follow. I wasn’t dying today, so the simple way was out.

I slid my hand into my pocket and pulled out the lock picks I carried with me whenever I came here. I fitted them through the slot in the door knob, angling and twisting them like I learned to do long ago. I heard the lock tumble. Pocketing the picks, I entered.

Ignoring the light switch next to me, I headed up the dark hallway to the main room at the back of the building, where a large “L” shaped desk took up most of the space. I moved behind it, eyeing the computer that faced me.

Opening a shallow drawer, I reached inside and drew out the metal key I was looking for. Crossing to the other side of the room, I used this key to unlock another drawer. The inanity of it all.

Rolling the drawer open, I peered inside. A handful of plastic, rectangular cards waited for me. All served the same purpose—unlocking yet another room I needed access into. So many keys when only one was necessary. The only difference between them were the names printed on each.

The natives were careful, crafty, I’d always been told. They thought in ways I didn’t and likely never would. But this felt less careful and crafty than it did redundant and impractical.

Their world, their rules.

Picking one at random, I pocketed the metal key and the plastic one, then headed down the hall, my shoes squeaking against the floor.

This place always raised the hair on my arms. It smelled unnatural—a place where life came to rot.

I tugged at my pants. Seams and zippers and buttons. Odd, all of it.

Stop fidgeting, I reminded myself.

I had to be cautious, take no chances.

In and out.

I stopped in front of a thick metal door and held the plastic card to a box next to it. A light blinked green, and the door unlatched, venting chilled air that made me shiver. I slipped inside and stared.

From wall to wall, nearly floor to ceiling were rows upon rows of blood. My fingers twitched at the sight of it all.