Page 2 of The Book of Blood and Roses

“That’s none of your business, Rebecca,” Penny says, putting down her pen. She can’t have a meeting with me without writing my every word down in a leather-bound notebook.

“You don’t have to give me an exact number,” I add.

Her cold eyes pause on mine. “We’ve talked about this.”

We have. I breathe out between my teeth. There are so many things I need to know but Penny never tells me. How many humans survived the blood party. How the surviving humans can go back to their ordinary lives after crossing paths with creatures that shouldn’t exist.

Who killed my parents.

I still remember sitting in this very office, four years ago, when she made her promise.Work for us, and I’ll tell you who didit.

But not yet. Only when I’m ready.

“When’s my next mission?” I ask, tapping on the chair. Penny tugs at her scarf, loosening it slightly, though not enough to reveal the bare skin of her neck. I know she’s been hunting since she was sixteen, shortly after she and her sister were kidnapped for a blood party. Penny made it out alive. Her sister did not. I’ve never seen her without her scarf, but I can imagine that if I ever see her neck, it will be riddled with bite marks.

She shuts her notebook and pulls out a folder. I have never seen Penny smile, except on the day I agreed to join Callisto. Tonight, her expression is more guarded than usual. Instead of replying, Penny flicks through the folder until she lifts out a photograph. She hands it to me, and I study the image. “Cassie Smith,” Penny says. “Heiress to an Edinburgh-based textile-distribution company.”

I stare at the girl. Large, gold-framed glasses and long red hair, the colour of blood. There’s something eerily familiar about her, and it’s only when I focus on her eyes that it hits me. “She looks like me, doesn’t she?”

“Sheisyou,” Penny says, leaning back. “Cassie is your new identity.”

I gawk at her, then back down at the picture, which I only now realise must have been photoshopped. “Identity for what?”

“You didn’t go to university, did you, Rebecca?”

“Bit busy hunting vampires,” I say.

“Well, congratulations,” she says, taking a black envelope out of the folder and pushing it across the mahogany desk. “Cassie Smith just got accepted into Tynahine University.”

I tighten my grip on the chair, not looking at the envelope, focusing only on Penny.Tynahine.My heart skips a beat. “Who am I going to kill?” I ask. I’ve never been allowed anywhere near the kind of vampires that go to Tynahine.

“No one,” she says. “There are only treaties-abiding vampires at Tynahine. You know that.”

“Thetreatiesdon’t mean shit,” I hiss, ignoring the fact that she said I’m not killing anyone. Killing is the only thing I’m good at. Before I can askwhyI’m going there, Penny rises and walks to the bookcase by the door, a silver sword hanging above it. The weapon belonged to Catherine Lovelace, founder of Callisto. The greatest vampire hunter to have ever lived.

She runs her fingers down a leather-bound spine, and then turns to face me. “You’re going to find a book,” she says.

“Abook?”

“The Book of Blood and Roses,” she says, leaning against hercollection. “An ancient compendium of every vampiric weakness we haven’t discovered.” There’s a gleam in her eyes now. Still, she doesn’t smile. “This book is the key to finally rid the earth of all leeches.”

“But how did ahumanget into avampireuniversity?” I glance at the black envelope. For some reason I’m scared to openit.

“For the first time in Tynahine’s history, they’re accepting human students.”

A chill runs up my spine. “What?”

“The Council’s new initiative,” she says, walking back to her desk. A medieval tapestry, depicting Michael slaying a serpent, hangs behind her chair. “To encourage integration with humans who are alreadyin the know.”

“Bullshit.”

“There’s no one better suited for the job than you,” she adds.

“I don’t want to go back to Scotland,” I say. I know these words show my weakness. But it’s true. I haven’t gone back since my parents died.

I still remember being eighteen, standing on the damp and grey platform of Glasgow Central. My hands trembling on my dad’s old suitcase. The sky was heavy, rain pattering on the grimy roof of the station. That was my last day in Scotland, and I can’t imagine going back now.

“If you find the book, I will make sure you get promoted.”