“You aren’t dead,” I whispered, frightened because I wasn’t sure. She couldn’t be in a church if she was dead, yes? Unless she was still in transition. The space of time when the chemistry shifted over had no hard and fast rules. What the hell was I doing?

“I think he killed me,” she said again, her voice starting to slur as she fell asleep. “I think I killed myself.” Her voice grew childlike. Her eyelids fluttered. “Am I dead, Rachel? Will you watch over me? Make sure the sun doesn’t burn me while I sleep? Will you keep me safe?”

“Shhhh,” I whispered, scared. “Go to sleep, Ivy.”

“I don’t want to be dead,” she mumbled. “I made a mistake. I don’t want to be Piscary’s scion. I want to stay here with you. Can I stay here with you? Will you watch over me?”

“Hush,” I murmured, running a hand over her hair. “Go to sleep.”

“You smell good … like oranges,” she whispered, setting my pulse pounding, but at least I didn’t smell like her. I kept my hand moving until her breathing slowed and grew deep. I wondered if, when she fell asleep, it would stop. I wasn’t sure Ivy was alive anymore.

My gaze went to the stained-glass window, the hint of dawn leaking around the edges. The sun would be up soon, and I didn’t know anything about vampires crossing over except they had to be six feet under or in a light-tight room. That, and that they woke hungry the next sunset. Oh God. What if Ivy was dead?

I looked at the jewelry box on her mahogany dresser that held her “in case of death” bracelet that she refused to wear. Ivy had good insurance. If I called the number engraved on the silver band, an ambulance would be there in a guaranteed five minutes, whisking her away to a nice dark hole in the ground to emerge when darkness fell as a beautiful reborn undead.

My stomach churned and I rose to go to my room for my tiny cross. If she was dead, there would be some reaction, even if she was in transition. Passing out in a church is one thing; having a consecrated cross touch your skin is another.

Nauseated, I returned. Charms jingling, I held my breath and dangled my bracelet over Ivy. There was no response. I brought the cross close to her neck behind her ear, breathing easier when again there was no reaction. Silently asking for her forgiveness if I was wrong, I touched the cross to her skin. She didn’t move, her pulse at her neck staying slow and sedate. Her skin, when I pulled the cross away, was white and unblemished.

I straightened, saying a silent prayer. I didn’t think she was dead.

Slowly I crept from Ivy’s room, shutting the door behind me. Piscary had raped Ivy for one reason. He knew I had figured it out. Ivy said he wanted to talk to me. If I stayed in my church, he would go for my mother next, then Nick, and then probably track down my brother.