Max followed her into the living room, where she reached for one of the research texts they’d abandoned the night before.

“You should get some sleep before sunup,” he suggested. “That way, if we need anything during the day, you’ll be awake enough to go for it.” Really, he just wanted her unconscious so he wouldn’t have to deal with her, and having her sleep seemed like less trouble than knocking her out.

To his annoyance, she settled on the couch, not in the tangled nest of blankets she seemed to prefer to furniture. “I will be fine. I am going to go through these books and see if there is some way I can help your friend.”

“I’ll go down to the shop, check if there’s anything I missed.” Max left before she could offer to come with him, and bolted down the stairs two at a time.

Outdoors, the night was slowly becoming morning. Since the day after he’d been changed, Max had always been able to tell the subtle shift from one day to the next without looking at a watch.

It’s the smell of it. Night smells like death and dirt. When the morning wakes, no matter how dark the sky might still be, everything smells new again. Even this foul city.

Max swiped at his cheek, remembering his sire’s lips there. Marcus had taught him so much that night, as they’d sat on the ledge atop their building, gazing across Chicago’s impressive skyline. It had been different then, of course. When Max was home, which wasn’t often, and when he couldn’t find someone or something to distract him from his solitude, which was even rarer, he went to the roof and wondered at the changes that had been made, even in his short lifetime. Or, after-lifetime, if he was feeling particularly sorry for himself.

I wish you were here, Marcus. I have no idea what I’m doing.

But his sire would have laughed and said something so sickly sweet and inspirational, such as “I believe in you” or “Have faith in yourself,” that Max would have had to trust him. Marcus always had a way of spinning frothy sentiments to concrete.

Shaking his head at the thought, Max turned, only to find a pair of startling gold eyes studying him intently.

“Jesus Christ, make some noise when you sneak up on a person!” he shouted, trying to calm his thundering pulse.

“You should not take his name in vain.” Bella moved past him, somehow still exotic and graceful in jeans and one of Carrie’s T-shirts. “I came down to look through the herb pantry. There might be something I can use to calm him.”