Another voice said, “I told you, didn’t I?”

Torija turned around and saw her father, sitting on the windowsill of her castle bedroom in a black suit.

He was smiling. Then he repeated, “I told you that you couldn’t keep up this Torija facade.” Gilbert pushed off the windowsill and walked over to her. “You’re a Dred, Victorija, and you always will be. Blood and hunger are not things we Dreds can control.”

Torija couldn’t speak. She looked over at the bed and felt tears fall down her face.

Gilbert stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered over towards Daisy.

“And why should we control it? Humans are weak, they are food and there to serve us. That’s the natural order of things.”

Torija was shaking with fear and disgust. Gilbert leaned over Daisy and said, “Beautiful human, looks like she’d have delicious blood. Maybe I’ll have a taste of Daisy MacDougall too.”

Torija didn’t need any time to think. She ran at her father and pushed him to the floor—

“Tor? Tor?”

Torija came out of the replay of her nightmare to the sight of Daisy looking down on her. “Are you okay? Where did you go? What happened?”

“My nightmares, that’s all. Come here.”

“Wait,” Daisy said. Daisy pointed to the green vein that was now well up her bicep. “We need to go and see this witch, Sybil. I think that has to be our top priority.”

Sybil was not on Torija’s agenda now. As the Reaper said, the only way to release Daisy was Torija’s death. That became even more acutely clear after her dream. Sure, she might be doing well now, but as time passed, and she came back into the paranormal world, her selfish impulses and hunger for blood and violence might return, just as Gilbert had suggested in her dream. She was a Dred, after all.

Her mind was made up. “We will, but I think first we should contact your grandmother and tell her you’re—we’re coming to stay.”

“Why? I mean, I need to call her, and Amelia and Byron. God, they are going to kill me. We need a phone.”

“We can’t call anyone. We might be tracked, and you don’t want vampires heading to your grandmother’s home,” Torija said.

“But why don’t you want to go straight to Sybil? You need help with whatever this green poison is. It should have gotten better when you fed from me.”

Torija had to think on her feet. “When I was talking to the Reaper—”

“You mean when he stopped time just so you and he could have a private conversation and leave me out of things?”