I searched the dark all around me, half hoping to see my immortal kin emerging from the shadows, but none came. Still, it wasn’t such a wild hope, was it? There had to be one or two vampires around here. I would not have said that a month ago, but if I’d learned one thing, between a retired slayer’s cabin for wayward souls and oddball coffee shop owners who seemed to know more than they should, Nowhere, Iowa, wasn’t such a normal place after all.

If the Elders would not reverse our punishment, perhaps it was time to seek immortality the old-fashioned way. I pushed up the sleeves of my sweater and pulled the scarf from my neck, exposing my strongest pulse points to any vampire within hearing distance. A young woman alone in the dark with a bare neck was almost irresistible.

And young men, too. My mind reached back to the boy whose blood had been too sweet to stop, who we’d nearly drained, who’d been administered a memory fade so thorough he couldn’t remember his own friends and family. Except when I pictured his face now, I saw Dexter; I saw Poe. A tiny pinch of guilt squeezed at my heart, gave it a little twist. Guilt was a mortal condition, rarely inflicting vampires, and it had to be the worst thing about being human. I would be happy to be rid of it. I just needed one thirsty friend. . . .

The seconds ticked by, and the only movement was the occasional scurry of a field mouse or a curious rabbit poking its head out from its hole. The rest of the night remained devastatingly still.

“COME ON!” I let loose a wild, guttural cry. “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!”

My chest heaved in and out, and my body shook, every muscle taut. “I’M RIGHT HERE!”

But of course, they weren’t coming. Even if there were immortals within earshot, they wouldn’t dare violate the treaty and turn a teenager. Any greedy vamp who did find me would be more likely to drain me than change me. Defeated, I knotted my scarf and wrapped my arms around my body, partly to protect against cold and partly as a reflex, as I imagined what it might feel like to be drained of my blood. It was an immortal power I’d thought little of, until I found myself potentially on the receiving end.

A snapping sound in the corn rows to my left caused my heart to race—but not in the way I expected. It pounded not with excitement but with sudden fear.

What if it hurts?

Another snap . . . and an unnatural shift in the stalks . . . something moving.

What about Reg?

I was about to run for the road when a figure glided out of the corn and into the field, between me and the pavement.

Stupid, stupid!