He trailed me across the lot like a shadow, watery blue gaze darting about. Stick’s real name was Stephen, but no one called him that anymore. He was taller than me by several inches, but my five-foot nothing didn’t make this feat all that impressive. Stick was built like a scarecrow, with straw-colored hair and timid eyes. He managed to survive on the streets, but just barely. “They’re not the only ones talking about it,” he insisted. “Cooper said he heard her scream a few blocks away. What does that tell you?”

“If it’s true? That she was stupid enough to go wandering around the city at night and probably got herself eaten.”

“Allie!”

“What?” We ducked through the broken door frame into the dank halls of the school. Rusty metal lockers were scattered along one wall, a few still standing, most dented and broken. I headed toward an upright one and yanked the door open with a squeak. “The vamps don’t stay in their precious towers all the time. Sometimes they go hunting for live bodies. Everyone knows that.” I grabbed the brush that I kept here to go with the mirror that was stuck to the back, the only useable one in the building. My reflection stared at me, a dirty-faced girl with straight black hair and “squinty eyes,” as Rat put it. At least I didn’t have teeth like a rodent.

I ran the brush through my hair, wincing at the snags. Stick was still watching me, disapproving and horrified, and I rolled my eyes. “Don’t give me that look, Stephen,” I said, frowning. “If you’re out past sundown and get tagged by a bloodsucker, that’s your fault for not staying put or not paying attention.” I replaced the brush and shut the locker with a bang. “Gracie thought that just because she’s Registered and her brother guards the Wall, she was safe from vampires. They always come for you when you think you’re safe.”

“Marc is pretty torn up about it,” Stick said almost sullenly. “Gracie was his only family since their parents died.”

“Not our problem.” I felt bad for saying it, but it was true. In the Fringe, you looked out for yourself and your immediate family, no one else. My concern didn’t extend beyond myself, Stick and the rest of our small gang. This was my family, screwed up as it was. I couldn’t worry about the trials of everyone in the Fringe. I had plenty of my own, thanks.

“Maybe…” Stick began, and hesitated. “Maybe she’s…happier now,” he continued. “Maybe being Taken into the Inner City is a good thing. The vampires will take better care of her, don’t you think?”

I resisted the urge to snort. Stick, they’re vampires, I wanted to say. Monsters. They only see us as two things: slaves and food. Nothing good comes from a bloodsucker, you know that.