“I’m sorry, August.” Jude’s voice is smooth as a satin cord again when he pushes to his feet. “I wish I could say more, but I can’t—not in front of someone who would see my kind purged from the Earth. The Syndicate can help you, though. Back at our headquarters, we have a research center staffed by some of the most knowledgeable mystics in the world, and a fully appointed alchemical laboratory, so if there—”

“You are unbe-fucking-lievable, you know that?” In just twelve syllables, Daphne manages to hit notes across two entire octaves, and she places herself between us. “You come rolling in here with this square-jawed, pouty James Dean act, pretending like you think this whole thing is nonsense, and then it’s all, ‘come away with me to the secret alchemical laboratory in my vampire fortress where you’ll be safe’? How gullible do you think he is? And what do you take me for, that you think I’d just sit here while you try to gaslight him into becoming a Syndicate lab rat?”

“I don’t take you for anything,” Jude retorts hotly. “And for the record, you were the one who pointed out the Syndicate’s stance on the Corrupter legend.” Leaning across the table, dark eyes flashing, he gestures at me. “But something is happening to August, and the Syndicate is one of few organizations equipped to figure out what—and one of even fewer capable of offering real protection if vampire cultists target him!”

“As far as I can tell,” Daphne says, drawing me back from the table, “the only vampire coming after Auggie is you. Don’t follow us outside, or you’ll regret it.”

We’re halfway across the food court, my feet moving on autopilot as Daphne hustles me toward the nearest exit, when Jude calls out behind us, “You’ll need me again, August. And I’ll be waiting.”

9

Fresh snow fell while we were in the mall, and now the Colgate Center’s west parking lot is a winter wonderland, sparkling under the amber glow of sodium light. I’m shivering beneath my coat, my face burning hot, and I keep coughing on the frozen air as I follow Daphne to her car. I hate how dark it is beyond the penumbra of the lampposts. I hate that I’m terrified of every shadow too dark to see through, and with good reason.

Neither of us has said a word since we left the food court, and the silence swells in my throat until I can’t take it anymore. “Do you really think he was just trying to trick me?”