The house where Sergej had tried to kill me. His eyes had been like this, too, sucking holes of black

tar starred with speckled dust. None of these three had the sheer weight in their gaze to crush all in-dependent thought, but it was bad enough when they opened their mouths and hissed at me. The female dropped back, moving with oily grace.

The worst thing about them was that they looked about fifteen. Sergej himself had looked no older

than Christophe, except for his eyes. And oh, God, but the fangs slid free of their upper lips, curving

down to touch their chins. Not like a djamphir’s smaller canines that only touch the lower lip—no, a

full-blown vampire’s teeth mean business. Their jaws distend when they hiss, too. Just like a snake

trying to get down a big egg.

The female crouched slowly. Her joints moved in weird, inhuman ways. They just moved wrong,

worse than seeing a crowd of djamphir or werwulfen at once. Ash’s warning growl deepened a

notch or two. My sweat-slick fingers found the doorknob, twisted—and slipped.

Shit. Of course. The door was locked. It led outside, of course it was locked. The two male vampires moved forward. The klaxon was still going on, the sound of shouts and running feet almost

drowned in it.

Think, goddamn you! Think!

But my thinker was busted. My head gave an amazing flare of pain, and the scene unreeled in front

of me. The males were going to swarm Ash, and if they could hold him down the female was

crouched, ready to spring right over the top of them and collide with me. I’d seen the pictures, what

vampire claws do to flesh. I didn’t even have my switchblade—I’d just slid the key in my pocket.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I should have left, with or without Graves. But I promised not to leave him behind.

More cries. A howl of despair—maybe there were more suckers up causing chaos all over the

Schola. And here I’d thought it was so safe.

Be honest, Dru. You knew it wasn’t safe here. But you’re tired, aren’t you. Sick of all this.

I swallowed hard. Freed my fingers from the slippery doorknob and shook them out, drew myself

up.

If I was going to go down, I was going to go down fighting.

I don’t know if Ash figured out their plan, but his hindquarters bunched, fur rippling, and he flung

himself forward, colliding with the two males. I raised my hands, both of them fists, and almost

choked on the taste of rotten, candled citrus.

And everything . . . stopped.

Roaring filled my ears. My mother’s locket flared with molten heat; the fang marks on my left wrist

twitched like fishhooks in flesh. I had time to see every stone in the walls, every hairline crack as