I felt that vampire enter Sugar Mama’s. That strange prickling sensation that pebbled my flesh with goose bumps—the same one I experienced the night I walked Daphne to her car, just before we realized there was something on the neighbor’s roof—it was a warning.

Plenty of legends describe Chosen Ones developing special abilities to aid in their mission: strength and agility, accelerated healing, extrasensory perception … and with the Nexus in play, nothing is too weird or wild to consider. The vivid dreams, these histories I don’t recognize could be the result of some burgeoning power connecting to a mystical record of those who once shared the same calling. We’re linked across centuries, across lifetimes, and now the torch has been passed to me. No wonder Jude did the whole sexy, come-with-me-if-you-want-to-live act; he must know what I am, what I’m soon going to be, and he intends to stop it from happening.

And maybe he’s not the only one. It is beginning. The wild-haired vampire looked at me like he was searching for something, and once he’d found it, he smashed clear through a window to escape. What I can’t understand is why he didn’t just kill me when he clearly had the chance—Jude, too, for that matter. But I’m not exactly planning to look this gift horse in the mouth, either.

I’m also not planning to tell my parents about any of this. Not only will they think I’ve lost my mind, but if I’ve truly been chosen by the powers that be, then I need to keep my identity secret. The same myths that tell of swashbuckling jocks and warrior girls also tell of vengeful monsters and heaping piles of dead loved ones.

If I have dreams that night, I don’t remember them when I wake up the next morning, my mind still spinning with questions. In the harsh light of day, the thought of being chosen no longer sounds cool. A life of battling monsters is generally a short one—and as far as supernatural gifts go, getting the creeps when vampires are nearby is … kind of disappointing.

School is little more than background noise to my mounting anxiety. Adriana can’t stop talking about last night, asking how I am and if I’m still coming over for dinner, until I want to jump out of my skin. She means well, but my nerves are utterly frayed. All I can think about is getting to the end of the day so I can go back to the art room.