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“W here are you from?” I’m sitting on my sofa, my feet up under me when he strides in. I’ve made a vow to myself not to mention what happened the night I was drunk. I’m pretending it didn’t happen. I simply added it to the previous night when he almost had me naked and begging. Never happened.

“What?” He has blood spattered on his shirt.

“Shit, are you injured again?”

He smirks. “It’s not mine.” When he sinks onto the other end of the sofa, he sighs. “Progress?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.” He turns his head, his dark blue eyes taking me in. His stare is always too direct, almost like he’s seeing through all my layers. At least he doesn’t seem like a gloating asshole, so maybe he’s put that night behind him, too.

“Where are you from?”

He throws his arm up on the back of the sofa and lays his head back. Like this, in profile, he looks like a Renaissance sculpture. Sharp nose, straight jaw, the curve of his adam’s apple, the fullness of his lips.

“Drunk again?”

Shit . “No!” I can feel my cheeks heating with embarrassment. “I’m not.”

“What a comfort.” His smirk only grows more dastardly. “Why do you want to know where I’m from?”

“I don’t know anything about you.” Except the way you taste, your smell, the feeling of your skin against mine .

“I was born in a village on the outskirts of what is now Budapest.”

“When?”

He closes his eyes, his long lashes like brush strokes against his cheek. “A long, long time ago.”

“And when did you become a vampire?”

“What makes you think vampires aren’t born?” His voice is soft, smooth.

“That’s …” Honestly, that’s never occurred to me. “I thought you had to be bitten and?—”

“Gregor has always enjoyed the stories Hollywood tells about us. It allows us to stay hidden in plain sight. Key to our survival.”

“So you were born a vampire?”

“I didn’t say that.”

I swear I’m not naturally violent, but I’d love just once to knock the smug look off his face. “Why can you survive the sun?”

“Do you still love your sister?” he asks.

Whatever balance I thought I had is knocked askew with that one simple question. “What?”

He turns his head, his eyes opening as he gives me that undressing stare of his. “I thought we were asking questions. That’s mine for you. Knowing what you know now, do you still love her?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” He turns back and closes his eyes.

“Why ‘hmm’?” I ask.

“She’s committed some of the greatest sins against humanity of anyone in history. All for power. And yet, you still love her.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“She made a deal with Gregor.” He clucks his tongue.

“She knows what she’s doing.”

“Because you still believe in her?” He smirks.

“Yes.”

“You’re lying to yourself.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I snap back at him. I clench my eyes shut and take a deep breath. Why do I let him rile me up so easily?

“I think you’ll find that’s incorrect.” That smug smirk is back. “Orphaned or abandoned as a child, not sure which, adopted by a fine family where you met your sister Juno. She was both a friend and a mother-figure for you, looming large in your life and encouraging you to continue your path of excelling at your studies. You would’ve easily outshined her had you desired to; however, you never craved the spotlight as she did. Instead, you locked yourself away in an attempt to learn the secrets of immortality?—”

“What?” I make a choked noise I don’t recognize. “Immortality?”

Eyes still closed, he nods. “Of course. Why does anyone become a physician, truly? You are searching for ways to prolong life. As I was saying, you allowed your sister’s star to burn artificially brighter than your own, and you followed in her wake. Your bleeding heart saved many, many lives until you met your match with the plague. This clash of titans led you to the governor’s mansion, then here, where you are currently both Juno’s sister, her captive, and in many ways, her unwilling co-conspirator. You still follow her light despite knowing full well it’s simply the glint of the moon at the bottom of an endless well that will drown you and everyone else around you.”

“Shut up.” Stunned is an understatement.

“As you wish. Besides, I feel I covered most of the highlights.” He gives a non-committal shrug.

I sit there fuming, a dozen comebacks flitting in and out of my gray matter. I settle on, “I believe in Juno because I know she’s doing the right thing even if it looks on the outside like it’s the wrong thing.”

“Good.”

“Good?” I don’t think I could be more confused. “Why is that good?”

“Because it means you can love something evil.”

I swallow that statement, unsure of its bitter taste. “She’s not evil.”

His smirk only grows. “That’s love talking, isn’t it? Because you know—in your human heart—you know what she’s done. But you won’t admit it to yourself.”

“There’s nothing to admit.” My cheeks grow hot, anger bubbling through me. “You don’t know her.”

“I know she sold you out. She sold out all of humanity. All for a brief moment, the blink of an eye in vampire years, of power. Of wielding the scepter.”

“I think you should leave.” I tuck my feet more tightly beneath me. Why did I think I could have a normal conversation with him?

“Invite me to your bed.” He turns to look at me again, his eyes seeing too much.

A shiver races along my spine. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you.”

His damned smirk reappears. “Lying to yourself again, I see.”

“Get out.” I hold my book up, blocking his view.

“I don’t know why you punish yourself like this.” He stands, his gaze landing on me again like a touch. “Pleasure is worth it for its own sake.”

“Spoken like a truly ancient creep.”

He laughs, the sound foreign and so warm that I almost drop my book. His eyes twinkle as his laughter subsides. “Tomorrow, then.”

He leaves, his scent still lingering right along with the unexpected fizziness of his laugh.

* * *

The power goes out the moment I step into the lab, Wyatt’s record slowing to a stop, the music stretching into a creepy mess of notes before going silent.

In the 20 seconds of quiet as the voltage changes over, a wave of yelling voices interspersed with gunfire meets my ears. Then the generator kicks on, an intense guitar solo covering the yells.

“What the hell?” Evie looks up from her desk.

“Another protest?” Wyatt glances at the doors and takes the needle off the record.

“This one sounds big. Bigger than before.” Gretchen spins in her seat, her eyes wide.

“Maybe the food banks are running low again?” Evie shifts from one foot to the other. “We had all those riots back in the early days. People shooting each other over a loaf of bread.”

“I haven’t heard anything about shortages.” I throw a guilty glance toward the coffeemaker.

“How could you? We’re living in this bubble. The only thing we know is our work, and beyond that, whatever bullshit your sister feeds us on the government-sanctioned TV.” Aang, his face haggard and unshaven, sits in his armchair.

“Dude, don’t,” Wyatt mumbles.

“Don’t what? Don’t tell the truth? Her fucking sister is killing us. Selling us out to the?—”

“Don’t!” Gretchen speaks more sharply than I’ve ever heard her before. “Don’t do it, Aang.” She wheels over to him, then leans close and they whisper back and forth.

His angry voice rises a handful of times, but after a few moments he sits back and wipes at his eyes.

“He’s just upset. Idrine …” Wyatt shrugs. “He knows it’s not your fault. You’re just in front of him is all. Easy target.”

“I know.” It’s all I can say. I can’t do anything, can’t help, can’t even ask my sister for the whole truth about the camps, about whether the people who go there will ever come out. Until then, we’ll all be imagining the worst possible scenario for them, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“I’ll ask Valen tonight. Maybe he knows—” A boom shakes the building.

We all look at each other, wide-eyed and fearful. Another boom, this one so forceful it sends some of Aang’s piled papers cascading to the floor.

“What the fuck was that?” Wyatt strides to the doors.

“Don’t go out there!” Gretchen yells.

He pulls up short. “Good point. Probably safer in here.”

The gunfire increases, the pops louder now.

“We should go up to my floor. The elevator won’t let anyone?—”

The doors swing open, and the gargoyles appear. “This way!” Their voices—it’s the same hissing sound that the creatures who were looking for me made outside Valen’s door. My skin crawls at the tenor of it, and the others hesitate even as the roar of hundreds of angry voices grows louder.

“Now!” they bark in unison.

Wyatt is the first to move, then the rest of us follow.

“What’s going on out there?” Evie asks.

The gargoyles don’t respond as they lead us through the lobby and toward the elevator. They take a circuitous route, always careful to avoid any direct sunlight. The two soldiers, guns drawn, have barred the lobby doors, stacking furniture and taking position behind it.

“What’s happening?” Wyatt calls.

“Unrest.” One replies, irritation in his tone. “We’ve got this. Get to the basement.”

The gargoyles herd us to the elevator. When I step inside, I realize Gene’s missing. “Wait.” I hit the ‘door open’ button on the console. “We have to find Gene. He needs to come with us.”

“No.” The closest gargoyle swipes my hand away from the button.

“We can’t leave him! It’ll only take a minute to find him. He’s probably in the kitchen.”

The gargoyles ignore me and hit the ‘B’ button. The doors begin to close. At the last moment I dart forward and squeeze between them. One of them tries to grab for me, and I scream when his nails scratch my arm as I yank it away.

“Shit!” Blood wells along the three short gouges on the back of my wrist. The gargoyles screech as the doors thump shut, and I take off toward the kitchen.

Another boom rocks the hotel, the chandeliers overhead shaking, crystals falling and shattering. A chunk of plaster almost drops on me as I rush through the back hallways until I find the kitchen doors.

“Gene!” I call out as I run into the kitchen, everything stainless steel in a maze of stoves and tables. “Gene, where are you?”

My arm stings, and I grab a hand towel from one of the counters to wipe away the blood. “Gene!”

Something nearby slams. I jump and whirl, listening for whatever made the sound. It’s quiet for only a moment, then footsteps. A lot of them that quickly up their pace.

“It’s here!” a woman yells, and there are more noises, closer now.

I spin around, the instinct to hide ringing like a bell in my brain. Where? I hurry deeper into the kitchen, then climb under one of the long steel tables.

The rear door opens right as I pull my feet up and wrap my good arm around my shins.

“The lab is somewhere down here. We need to find these fuckers.” A man strides past, then more. Someone turns on the lights, and I feel more exposed than ever. All it would take is for one of them to look in my direction at the right angle, or even bend down.

I try to keep my breaths slow and deep, not making a sound. More men pour past me, some dressed in camo and others wielding axes and guns. Why are they here? I clench my legs so tightly that I feel a cramp begin to start in my thigh. I don’t move, not even when the pain is so bad I have to bite my shoulder to keep from making a sound.

A loud clang followed by an explosion of pots and pans hitting the ground makes me jump. Thankfully, the sound of my movement is lost in the cacophony.

“Found it!” someone yells from deeper in the hotel.

“Come on. Payback time.” A man with a bat walks past.

Payback for what?

God, I hope Gene found somewhere safe to hide. These people are here for blood, and I don’t think they care who they get it from.

The kitchen is quiet again. But not the rest of the hotel. Glass breaks, gunshots fire. People whoop and yell in triumph.

My leg hurts so badly that I risk straightening it just a little. I rub the cramp violently, trying to work it out as my eyes water. When the muscle finally unbunches, I pull my leg back in and wait. The destruction goes on for a while. I can only imagine what’s happening in the lab. If they go into the HCL and wreak havoc without protective gear, they’ll unleash the plague on themselves in short order. Damn it, we all need to evacuate the building. It’s not safe on a myriad of fronts.

I think about Valen, but I don’t have my phone. He must not be here. He would’ve heard the explosions and the shots and come for us. Or would he? I don’t have time to ponder it, not when the plague could already be leaking into the air ducts.

Slowly, I lean forward and look left and right down the aisle. No one’s in here. But the lights are on. If I pop up and anyone simply walks past the door, they’ll see me.

Scooting from under the table, I get on my hands and knees and crawl toward the back door. The vandals are still tearing apart the lab. I have to hope they stay there while I find a way down to the basement.

I ease through the back doors of the kitchen and end up on a long hallway. Someone runs across far down to my left, and I plaster myself against the door and wait. My heart thumps double time, and my hands shake from the adrenaline rush. When I peek again, it’s clear.

Down at the other end of the hall is an illuminated exit sign. Those usually lead to a stairwell or an outer door. I take my chances and rush into the hallway, then run as fast as I can. When I reach the door, I stop and listen. I don’t hear anything, but it’s hard to tell from the destruction happening elsewhere.

I have to go. Someone could come along this hall at any moment. Pushing open the door, I peek around, then step inside the empty stairwell. Footsteps echo down from somewhere above. I hurry down the steps, keeping to the wall so no one could look down and see me. When I reach the basement door, I pause again and listen.

Nothing.

Right as I move to open it, it swings open so hard it hits me right in the side of the head. My vision goes black, and I drop to my knees.

“Holy shit.” A woman’s voice I don’t recognize.

I scream as she grabs me by the hair and yanks me sideways.

“Tell Clay! We got one!” she yells.