“I could, like, read their minds,” I whisper. “I knew their memories, and what they were thinking, and … maybe I even saw parts of the future, too, I’m not sure.”

This is a lie. I’m positive it was the future, but I don’t want to have to explain what I saw—bowls of blood, and Jude taking off his pants. I’m still confused by both visions. But Daphne isn’t going to let me off the hook that easy. “This vampire, the one you said was part of a Corrupter group … did you read his mind, too?”

“A little bit. I saw…” He lost his virginity on a beach at night, terrified and ecstatic; he tells people his necklace is about finding the strength to move on, but he still isn’t over his ex. “He thinks I’m going to die. He wasn’t even sure the Corrupter was real until he met me, but now he believes, and he’s depressed about it—if you can believe that.” I laugh, wiping my eyes. “Jude thinks the same thing. The only way this ends is with my death.”

“Jude Marlowe?” Daphne’s hand slips off the gear shift. “You partied with Jude Marlowe?” She doesn’t even wait for a reply, exclaiming, “What have I tried to tell you? You can’t trust him, Auggie! Of course he thinks the only way to stop this is to kill you—it’s either make you serve the Syndicate or make sure you can’t serve anyone else, and considering how much power they’ve got already, I’m not sure they care either way!”

“I … I don’t think that’s his agenda.” I can’t put it any clearer than that. I didn’t read all of his thoughts, but the flavor of them still lingers. “He doesn’t want the Corrupter to Ascend, Daph, bottom line. But the stuff I saw in the future…” His skin warmed by candlelight, tonight is about us. “He doesn’t want to hurt me, either.”

“Don’t be so gullible,” Daphne snaps, her voice surprisingly cold. “He’s over four hundred years old, and there’s no way a Syndicate ambassador hasn’t encountered mind readers before. I’m sure he knows how to protect his thoughts. What else did you see?”

For a moment, I stare out the windshield, trying to formulate an answer. The ribbon of incense, Gunnar saying words I can’t remember as his finger drips into a bowl. “Why would a vampire mix his blood with mine?”

“What?” She cuts a look my way that actually scares me, her face taut with alarm. “You saw yourself taking a blood oath with Jude Marlowe?”

“I don’t—” I choke, her anxiety contagious, and don’t correct the misunderstanding. “What’s a blood oath, what are you talking about?”