I stared at him. I was still stuck on the word vampires.
“Like, they drink blood?”
“Yes,” Trace said.
“Then who are you?”
“I,” Trace said, “Am part of the group that wants to bring the Syndicate down.”
I felt a little dizzy. “And what does the Syndicate want with me?”
“You’re just Victor Branaugh’s latest attempt at an heir,” Trace said.
“And what do you want with me?” My head was beginning to clear, enough that I felt the beginnings of nerves plucking at my consciousness. I should have been terrified, but the Lethe was still keeping me calm enough to function.
“Victor is a high-ranking member of the Syndicate. If you became his heir, you would have access to information. People.”
“So, you want a spy.”
Trace nodded. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes.”
“And why in the world would I risk my life for you?”
Trace smiled tightly, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I understand you have a sister. And she needs an operation? A life-saving one?”
My stomach clenched. These bastards knew exactly how to get to me, didn’t they?
I’d do anything to save Lucy. Anything.
“Tell me more,” I whispered.
CHAPTER NINE
I WAS QUIET on the ride back to my house. My head was swirling with the information Trace had given me.
They wanted me to be a spy. They wanted me to gather information on Victor and his vampire friends. If I attended an upcoming gala event with him, they would give me ten thousand dollars to pay for Lucy’s operation.
Vampire.
My mind almost couldn’t process it. My thoughts kept flitting away from the hard reality and then circling back to touch on it again, like birds on a busy road. Vampires. I’d had a childhood friend who believed in vampires. I remember her telling me in a hushed tone that I would turn into one if I drank a teaspoon of her blood.
That led to another thought. How did one become a vampire? The teaspoon thing couldn’t be right. Blood transfusions would make vampires of hundreds of thousands of people. Right?
I was shaking. My hands trembled in my lap, and sweat made them damp.
Would I get attacked again? Would someone try to drink my blood? Try to turn me into a vampire?
Khalil kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror. His somber face was knit with concern. He was probably wondering if the stuff they’d given me was making me sick.
I pretended it was making me drowsy, and slumped down in the seat and shut my eyes.
I needed to think.
Was Khalil a vampire then? I recalled his comments about food when we’d been at L’atmosfera. I felt a chill.
My first instinct regarding Trace’s offer was to say no, to get as far away from these creatures as fast as I possibly could.
But, Lucy. The operation. The money.
The money could mean everything. I felt like I was playing one of those silly games I used to play with my friends, the “what would you do for a million dollars?” games. Like, would you drink horse urine and lick dog crap? Would you walk on a tightrope across two skyscrapers?
Would I go to another gala knowing the hosts and guests were fucking VAMPIRES?
Yes. The answer was yes. For Lucy, I would do it.
Khalil took me to the vast white apartment first, where I changed in the echoing bathroom from my gown into my clothes from the morning. I stared at my reflection in the glistening mirror, wondering how in the world I was going to do this.
My phone buzzed on the countertop. It was Brandy, checking in.
Are you still alive??
I sent her a picture of me giving her a thumbs up, my mouth stretched in a smile that felt like a bald lie. Then I used some of the fancy products lining the counter to wash off the makeup, and I took down my hair and combed it out before pulling it back in a ponytail.
My transformation back to normal Alex was complete.
~
Mom was up when I got back, but she only grunted at me when I came inside. She didn’t ask about where I’d been. She didn’t seem to notice I’d been gone later than usual at all.
I went down the hall to my bedroom, stopping along the way to stick my head into Lucy’s room. She was still gone, but the room smelled like her favorite scents—citrus and melon—and just looking at her cheerful collection of pictures of giraffes taped to the wall above her desk made me feel better. After a moment’s hesitation, I stepped inside and turned on the twinkle lights we’d hung above her bed to make it pretty. Then, I sat down on the edge of the mattress to look around at the pink accent wall I’d painted with some paint I’d found behind our porch one day, left there by some painter along with a bunch of trash. On it, I’d taped a poster with the words YOU’RE STRONGER THAN YOU KNOW.
The words were meant for Lucy and her illness, but at the moment, they felt like they applied to me.
Was I strong enough to be a spy for some undercover organization that aimed to take down a powerful cartel of vampires?
I wasn’t so sure.
But I was sure as hell going to try.
For Lucy.
I stood slowly, not wanting to leave this cozy room full of things that made me feel close to my sister. But I needed a shower, and I needed to sleep.
When I walked into my room and flipped on the light, Trace was standing beside my window, arms clasped behind his back, waiting for me.
“What the hell!” I jumped back, startled. “Trace. How—?”
“Tracking device,” Trace said simply. “I put it on you when I bumped into you at the beginning of the night.”
“I changed clothes.”
“Yes. At the apartment. And then I followed you home from there.”
“This… this is alarming. Creepy, maybe?” I scowled.
He shrugged. “We’re spies. This is what we do, Alex. We follow people. We break into their houses. We plant tracking devices.”
“Why are you here?” I asked, studying him. “I thought you said you’d get me more information in a few days.”
“Change of plans. There’s a party tomorrow, and we need you to be at it.”
“Tomorrow?” My stomach jumped just thinking about it.
Trace reached into his pocket and produced a phone. “For contact purposes,” he said, handing it to me. “Hide it somewhere; don’t let anyone find it. I’ll text you more details of your assignment in the morning.”
I looked at the phone, amused on top of everything else I was feeling. Yesterday I didn’t have a phone at all. Now, I had two.
The memory of the woman leaping at me, her fangs flashing, chased through my head and made me shiver. I looked up and found Trace studying me.
“Can we count on you?” he asked.
I thought of Lucy.
“Yes,” I said with a confidence I didn’t quite feel. “Yes, you can.”
CHAPTER TEN
THE PHONE FROM Trace buzzed in the morning from where I’d hidden it inside my pillowcase, waking me from a dream about vampires and cotton candy. Groggy, I pulled the phone out and squinted at the screen in the early morning light.
There’s an event tonight involving several high-ups among the v. Get an invite to the gala. Wear a dress with pockets. Will send more information once you’ve secured the invite.
Get an invite. I chewed my lip as I thought about how to accomplish that, and then I pulled out the phone from Victor and composed a text to him.
Did I drink something last night at the party? I can’t remember much.
I paused, staring at the screen, trying to strategize. I didn’t want to sound too accusatory, lest Victor become defensive. Or worse, suspicious that I remembered anything. I wrote,
I’m so embarrassed!!
I added the two exclamation points for an extra oomph of girly hand-wringing. Better. My finger hovered over the send button. I hesitated, then added,
Still considering your offer. I feel like I need a do-over of the party.
I hit send, and then I laid down on my bed with the phone clutched to my chest. My stomach tied itself in a knot as I waited for his reply.
Lucy. This was all for Lucy, I reminded myself.
The phone vibrated. I opened the message from Victor.
Don’t be ashamed—everyone has parties like that, my dear. As for do-overs, there is a gala tonight at six that’s being hosted by a close friend of mine. If you will do me the honor of accompanying me again, I’ll make sure there are no embarrassments tonight.
Bingo.
I exhaled in relief. He’d bought it. I quickly texted Trace that I was in, and then I hid the phones under my mattress and went to take a shower. Maybe the heat would clear my head. It still felt a little foggy from the Lethe the night before.
When I returned from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel with my hair dripping, a text from Trace was waiting for me.
Good work. Like I said before, wear something with pockets. And expect them to keep a close eye on you today—they’ll be nervous about the Lethe working. Don’t give them any hints that it didn’t. I’ll be in touch with full instructions soon.
My phone from Victor buzzed a few seconds later.
Khalil will pick you up in fifteen minutes. You’ll need another dress.
I set the phones down on the bed. I needed to get cases for them to make sure I never got them mixed up. What a nightmare that would be. No, more than a nightmare. Such a mistake could cost me my life.
I went to the mirror that hung over my dresser and stared at my reflection. My wet hair, my wide and frightened eyes, my pale cheeks.
It would all be worth it for Lucy, I reminded myself.
~
My mother was awake when I ventured into the kitchen. Dark bags beneath her eyes suggested that she hadn’t gotten a lot of rest the night before. I knew she’d mentioned a party a few days ago.
I rarely engaged my mom in conversation, so I didn’t ask.
“You’re up early,” she said accusingly as I searched through the cupboards for something to eat. The last cereal box was empty. I shook the crumbs into my palm and tossed them back before looking in the fridge.
It was empty except for a jar of mayo and a single, moldy lemon.
“What happened to all the food?” I asked. “There was more yesterday.”
“I got hungry last night,” my mother snapped. “I ate it. You should buy groceries today—didn’t you get paid recently?”
She was always taking the money I’d earned, or pushing me to use it to support us. Even though she had a job too. Even though I was paying for Lucy’s stuff, and trying to save for college.
“Didn’t you?” I responded. “I need the money for Lucy’s therapy.”
Her eyes tightened with anger. “What are you trying to say, Alex?”
“I don’t know, what are you hearing?” I responded. She ought to feel guilty for spending money that should go to my sister’s care. Not that I thought she ever would.
“Don’t get an attitude with me,” my mother growled. “I work hard, and I deserve to have fun. You don’t understand what I go through. Your life has been handed to you, girl. When I was your age, I was sleeping with men twice my age just to get enough to eat. And you have no idea what it’s like to give birth to a child with Lucy’s condition. To raise her.”
I ground my teeth together. My mother always liked to play the Lucy card when she wanted to weasel her way out of responsibility. It worked well on strangers and occasionally with my grandparents. It didn’t work on me. I was the one who’d raised Lucy. I was the one who’d read her stories so she could fall asleep and who fixed her breakfast and brushed her hair. I was the one who took her to her doctor’s appointments. I knew better than my mom.
But I didn’t say that, because I didn’t want to get slapped. My mother seemed agitated this morning, pacing the kitchen and fidgeting with the knobs on the cabinets. I knew better than to poke the proverbial bear.
She glared at me, as if resentful of my lack of fighting spirit. She probably wanted a reason to yell at me.
A tense silence filled the kitchen. I kept one eye on the window. There was a place in the shade where one of our cats had gnawed a hole, and through it, I could see the street.
When Khalil’s car drew up alongside the sidewalk, I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. My mother squinted at me and then went to the window and peeked out of the shades.
“Who’s your boyfriend?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow as she threw a sour smile in my direction. “He looks too old for you.”
“Just a friend,” I said, pulling the door open. “Don’t wait up for me—I’ll be home late. Tell Lucy I love her.”
“You’d better not be sleeping with him, young lady,” she snapped at me.
The last bit of her words cut off as I closed the door and strode for the car. I thought I’d be nervous to leave, but my mom had done me a favor. She’d made it easier for me to walk back into the company of vampires.
Khalil smiled warmly at me as he opened my door and ushered me inside the smooth leather interior of the SUV. Soft electronic dance music played over the speakers, and a bottle of water and selection of soft drinks were waiting for me.
“Have you had breakfast?” Khalil inquired as he steered the car away from the curb.
“Well, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“I had a handful of cereal,” I answered. “Not sure if that counts.”
Khalil’s mouth pursed. He looked at me in the rear-view mirror. I wondered what he saw. My jaw hurt from grinding it together. “Everything all right?” he inquired.
I thought about Trace’s comment. About how they might be worried about what I remembered. I didn’t want him getting the wrong idea.
“Had a fight with my mom,” I offered, although I wasn’t exactly interested in talking about my mother with anybody. “Sort of a fight.”
He nodded at this.
“Let’s make a stop before we go shopping,” he suggested. “I know a good place. Do you trust me?”
I was startled by his words. They seemed to go deeper than just the suggestion of appropriate dining accommodations.
Another test relating to last night? To the Lethe?
“I, um, yes,” I stammered, meeting his intense gaze in the mirror and then glancing away.
Weirdly, despite the whole vampire thing, I wasn’t lying. I did trust him. His kind eyes and calm voice made me feel safe. If something or someone tried to attack me, I believed he would jump in front of me without hesitation.
Khalil put on his blinker. “You are going to like this,” he promised.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KHALIL WAS RIGHT about our destination.
I did end up liking it.
The restaurant wasn’t what I expected—it wasn’t some glittering, exclusive venue with fountains and swans. Instead, we parked behind a gas station, and Khalil led me down a gravel pathway lined with kitschy garden ornaments like gnomes and frogs. A deck sat just beyond, surrounded by trees and strung with strands of unlit Christmas lights. A cluster of picnic tables sat around the perimeter, along with a few wrought-iron tables and chairs that looked like something my grandmother used to have on her back patio.
“Where are we?” I asked, surveying the scene. “What is this?”
“This,” Khalil said, selecting a table and gesturing for me to sit, “is Frankie’s.”
“Frankie’s,” I repeated as I sat across from him.
A door slammed in the direction of the gas station, and I heard the crunch of feet on gravel, and then a woman appeared, her graying hair pulled up in a bun. She wore a name tag on her shirt that said FRANKIE, and she was carrying two glasses of water that she plunked down in front of us.
“Speak of the devil, and she shall appear,” Khalil said with a smile. “Hello, Frankie.”
“The devil?” Frankie snorted. �
�I’m more like an avenging angel, Khalil, and you know it. The devils are the ones you run around with.”
Did that mean she knew about the vampires? Or was just merely against excessive displays of wealth and extreme imbalances of power?
“And who is this that you’ve brought with you?” she asked, stopping before our table and smiling at me.
“My name is Alex,” I said. I was curious about this friend of Khalil’s. She didn’t seem like the type to be friends with the driver for a vampire. “Nice to meet you.”
Frankie shook my hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Alex. And how do you know Khalil? You’re too young to be dating him. I didn’t think he had any friends besides me.”
I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer such a question. I’m a spy for his vampire overlord wasn’t exactly something I could say.
“She’s friends with Victor,” Khalil supplied smoothly.
“Ah,” Frankie said simply, as if she knew Victor and did not care for him. “Two breakfasts for you, then? What’ll you have?”
“I haven’t seen the menu,” I murmured, looking around the table.
“No menus,” Frankie said. “I only make one dish. Eggs and waffles. But they’re the best eggs and waffles in the city. The waffles can be blueberry or chocolate chip.”
“Oh,” I said. “Chocolate chip, please.”
“And the eggs?”
“Scrambled.”
Khalil ordered blueberry waffles and his eggs sunny side up. I was a little surprised at his order. If he was a vampire, what did that mean for his food consumption?
But I couldn’t exactly ask him about it.
Frankie left, her footsteps crunching back down the gravel path. I glanced around. “Is this the only place to sit?”
“There’s a little inside section,” Khalil answered. “But I thought you’d like it out here. It’s peaceful.”
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