Veronica awoke feeling unsettled and fatigued. She squinted against the bright morning sun and rubbed her head, hoping to erase her awakening thoughts of yesterday’s insanity—and of Murphy. She glanced at her bedside clock. I hope he’s still asleep, she thought. Lord knows, he’d need the rest, after their harrowing night. She felt the need to protect him, to remove him from danger. Not just for his sake, but for her own.

  She stretched her arms over her head, arched her back, and then swung her legs off the bed. The high-pitched voice of the perky morning newswoman caused her to scowl. She’d left the TV on last night, feeling the need for human company, even if it came from an LCD screen.

  On unsteady feet, she wobbled toward the TV to silence the bubbly news anchor. No one should be so energetic at this hour, she thought. As she dodged the coffee table, an envelope propped against the remote control reflected the sunlight. A lump swelled in her throat, and the taste of sour bile filled her mouth. With everything that happened, she forgot about the envelope Alexis had given her. Her hands trembled when she picked it up and turned it over. A red wax emblem sealed the flap. She slid a fingernail beneath it to pop the seal. The envelope contained one small square of parchment. She stared at the handwritten words in disbelief:

  “11 pm, Saturday.

  Dark Sepulcher

  –Lambert”

  Veronica swallowed hard.

  Today is Saturday.

  Her hand flew to her neck, her fingers fluttering. Finally, she would come face to face with a person—if he was a person—who could help her. And at his request. She felt her heartbeat accelerate.

  Hmmm. Wait.

  It seemed too easy.

  Why would Alexis, a vampire who drained the fluid from her stomach, give her the opportunity? The fact that Alexis didn’t like her kind played fresh in her mind. But then, it probably was Alexis who saved her from the Deamhan twins in the bathroom and again on the street. Now, she’d been invited to go back. Tonight. On the busiest night of the week.

  She grabbed her cell phone from the kitchen counter, anxious to speak with Sean.

  He answered on the first ring. “Sean, speaking.”

  His voice thrilled her. “Sean!” She heard the phone fumble.

  “Veronica?” He’d lowered his voice to a whisper. “How’re you doing?”

  “I’m fine. Why are you whispering?”

  “You called me on my cell at the office.”

  “Oh . . . Are you in a meeting? Am I interrupting something?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” The tension in his voice relaxed. “You sound tired. Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine.” Two close calls with the Deamhan, my search for information is stalling, and now I’ve involved Murphy. Yeah, I’m dandy, all right.

  “Are you sure?” He sensed her shaky voice. He knew her better than she knew herself at times. He was always able to read her just by the twitching in her voice.

  She yawned and scrunched her nostrils to the smell of morning breath entering her nose. “I guess so. I went to the burnt home yesterday.”

  “Did you find anything?” Excitement colored his voice.

  “We didn’t find anything that could help me.”

  “We? Who did you go with?”

  She felt his instant cooling through the phone. “Well,” she said, fidgeting with her nails. Her eyes locked on the broken red seal of the envelope lying on the coffee table. “Oh, no one. It’s not really important.”

  “What do you mean, ‘It’s not really important?’”

  “Really, it’s not.”

  “Veronica, what happened?”

  She let out a deep breath and spilled the details, careful to not place Murphy anywhere in her recap. “I took a taxi,” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

  As she continued her story, the lies compounded; the taxi driver waited while she searched the burned ruins, the blue van never appeared, and the men in black masks never existed.

  “So you went with the taxi driver?”

  She held her breath. Had he heard anything she’d said after that? “Yeah.” She mouthed a curse and covered her mouth. She hated lying to him, but she didn’t want to listen to his sermon just now. Besides, he really didn’t want to know the truth—not this truth—even if she was in the wrong.

  Finally, he broke the silence. “So what happened when you reached Dark Sepulcher?”

  She told him about the waitress and the bathroom incident, but lied again when she said she’d been alone when attacked outside of the club. She finished her deluded recap with the note from Alexis. She also decided to keep her protection status a secret, for now.

  “Don’t go back there,” he said immediately.

  She expected his response, as her encounters always exploited his overprotectiveness.

  “You can’t go back there, Veronica. You almost got yourself killed.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Alexis could’ve killed you.”

  “But she didn’t. She actually helped me.”

  “No vampire or Deamhan ever helps a human. It doesn’t happen, especially now. I warned you about this before you left San Diego.”

  “Don’t you think I know that, Sean? But what was I supposed to do? Refuse her help? I could’ve died.”

  “Look, they can’t be trusted,” he argued. “Not now. Not since they don’t follow their Dictum and their rules anymore.” He took a deep breath, and she knew he waited for her compliance.

  “That’s only a Brotherhood theory,” Veronica contested.

  “No, it isn’t. It’s reality. If you don’t believe me, ask Rick’s parents.”

  “Rick?”

  “Rick Sorfield.”

  “What does he have to do with it?”

  He sighed. “He was buried the other day.”

  “Buried? Sean, what happened?”

  “He was killed by a Deamhan.”

  “What? Rick?” What little she knew about Rick came from Sean. They’d only had the most distant of acquaintances; she’d recognize him if they passed in the hallways of The Brotherhood’s office in San Diego, or they’d wave at company picnics.

  “Look, it’s dangerous out there. I’m not kidding. The Deamhan have basically given up on their own rules. They kill everyone and anyone, including their own kind.”

  “But I only went to Dark Sepulcher because you told me it was vital to my search.”

  “I know, but . . .”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t back away now. I’m so close I can taste it.”

  “Just be careful, please. You know I’m behind you, Veronica. I’m always behind you.”

  She heard his frustrated huffing and sighing.

  He once told her about the Deamhan’s Dictum and how they followed it and respected its rules religiously. These rules favored secrecy and protection of sanctuaries. It also outlawed siring a Deamhan at a young age. Now they acted as if these rules never existed.

  Sean broke the stillness. “Your father spoke with me at Rick’s funeral. He warned me about helping you, saying that my actions could cost me my position here.”

  “He did, did he?” She felt heat creep into her face.

  “Yeah, well, the air is starting to get thick around here, anyway.” He chuckled. “I wasn’t worried. I just took it all in with ‘yes sir’ and ‘no sir.’ “

  “He hasn’t changed.”

  “Oh he has, believe me. I was thinking that maybe I should come out to Minneapolis to help you.”

  “What! Why would you? I thought you wanted to avoid any type of field research.”

  “Yeah, I do but I just think that maybe I can help you more by being there.”

  Veronica paused. “You can’t just leave The Brotherhood like that, Sean. They won’t let you go.”

  “I know. Frankly, I don’t care.”

  She propped her fist on her hip. It didn’t feel right. Why was he so curious to come see her? “Sean, The Brotherhood is the only thing you know,” she said sternly. “And besides, I need you there. Who else can I trust besides you, to get me information when I need it?”

  “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. Just thinking about everything you’ve been through since you got there made me realize that you’re not safe.”

  “You forget how well I know you. Feeling afraid for me can’t be the only reason you want to come here?”

  “What other reason should there be? If you go back to the club, I’m flying there. I mean it.”

  “Look, I don’t need a bodyguard,” she snapped. “If that’s what you’re suggesting, you can forget it.”

  “I’m not suggesting that.”

  “I don’t think you could help me if you were here.” She laughed to ease the tension between them. “I simply can’t see you fighting a Deamhan.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I can’t, either. I could see myself running from a Deamhan, though.”

  “I can see that too.” Sean’s words were slow, uncertain.

  “Why are you so adamant that I stay away from there? Besides the obvious, I mean.”

  “I know you’re curious, but just—just be careful, okay? I worry about you being alone there.”

  She changed the subject. “What about that information I wanted you to get for me?”

  “Still in progress,” he answered. “Truthfully, I’ll be surprised if I find a piece of scratch paper in their archives that hasn’t been lined out in permanent black ink.”

  A quick knock at her front door interrupted their conversation. She turned to look, seeing dark movement through the tiny space underneath the door. The shadow moved right then left.

  “What’s that?” Sean asked.

  “Someone’s at my door. Hey, can you look up something for me?”

  “Yeah. What?”

  “A name.”

  “What’s the name?”

  “Lambert.” She walked to the door. “I don’t know if he’s a Deamhan.” She looked through the peephole. “He might be the vampire who owns Dark Sepulcher.” She saw Murphy on the other side.

  “Okay.” Sean sounded unsure.

  “And one more thing. . .”

  “Sure.”

  “I remember you mentioned something about sanctuaries being burned and that The Brotherhood speculated they were Deamhan sanctuaries. Do you think you can find the locations of other sanctuaries in Minneapolis?”

  “I can check.”

  “Thanks, Sean. For everything.” She put her hand on the door’s chain guard, rattling it so that Murphy wouldn’t leave.

  “Yeah you do owe me.”

  “And call me back this afternoon.”

  “What about tomorrow night?”

  “No, this afternoon.”

  Murphy knocked again. “Veronica, are you okay?” She heard his muffled voice through the door.

  “I’ll talk with you later.” She snapped her cell phone shut and opened the door.

  Murphy immediately looked up at her. “Hey, I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

  Disturbing me? His sudden appearance thrilled her but she viewed her uncombed hair and morning breath being far from looking her best.

  “Oh, no, I just woke up.” She covered her mouth. “I haven’t had time to brush my teeth. What’s up?”

  “Oh.” His eyes jumped from her face to the floor. “Sorry. Want me to come back?”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.

  “Oh, nothing.” He looked into her eyes and smiled as a hint of red crept into his cheeks. “I just came to check in on you, see if you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.” Veronica felt a flutter in her stomach. “How did you sleep last night?”

  “Good”—he nodded, as if trying to convince himself—” better than I thought I would.” He nervously scratched the back of his head. “Yesterday was intense, huh?” He cocked a half smile. “It’s weird. I know I’m going to be looking over my shoulder if I leave my apartment at night.”

  “Everyone should.”

  “Only if they knew. Well after yesterday, I was curious, and I looked on the Internet for the Deamhan.”

  “The Internet?” Veronica felt her eyes bulge.

  “Yeah. Did you know that Deamhan means demon of the air in Irish tradition. In English it means evil and of course demon.”

  “No, I didn’t know that.” She slowly smiled and her brow scrunched. She didn’t know where he was going with the conversation.

  “I also looked up Lugat. Did you know that a Lugat was a creature that people considered harmless? They only feed on victims for a short period of time. Yeah . . . well these Lugats in Minneapolis seem far from harmless.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Why would they call them Lugat? Those Deamhan don’t resemble a Lugat.”

  “Why call them Deamhan?” She offered. “I don’t know, Murphy. Hey, ummm, I have some stuff to do and—I don’t mean to cut you off.”

  He nodded, staring at the floor in thought. “Yeah, I have some things to do myself. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

  “I’m fine. Thanks.”

  “Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you later.” He turned away, then turned back to face her. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow night?”

  “Plans?”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out two tickets. “I have these two tickets to a comedy show in downtown Minneapolis. My friend chickened out at the last minute. Do you want to go?”

  He handed the tickets to her and she glanced over them. Two front row seats, sixty-nine bucks each. She felt it again, this falling feeling. It felt like rocks tickling her insides. Her face flushed. A date?

  She didn’t want the romance. She didn’t need it. Not now, maybe not ever. Yet, she felt drawn to him. He’s so cute, so sweet, so—stop it.

  “Sure,” she said, more brightly than she’d intended. So much for doubtful thoughts.

  His face brightened and, for a brief moment, it glowed. “Great.”

  “Sounds like fun. Besides, I could use a few laughs.”

  He nodded. “After maybe we can hit a bar or something. Unless you don’t drink.”

  “I drink sometimes.”

  His expression turned serious. “I don’t drink as much as my friends. Well, I’ve really gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

  “Okay, yeah. See ya.”

  He flipped his hand in a brief, childish wave and turned toward his apartment. He opened the door, glanced back with a silly grin, then stepped inside and closed the door.

  “I’m not the only one who’s as giddy as a schoolchild,” Veronica whispered, then shut her own door and collapsed against it in a fit of giggles.