“Carrie, are you all right?”

I looked up at Nathan. “I want to leave.”

He cocked his head, uncertain. “You mean that?”

Leaving such sure things as shelter and regular meals should have struck me with fear, but it didn’t. When my parents died, I’d survived on my own. The only difference was this time I wanted to be an orphan.

“Yeah,” I answered finally. “You’d run like hell, too, if you saw the window treatments in there.”

Still holding my hand, Nathan reached through the gate and pulled me into an awkward and slightly painful hug. When he stepped back, a slight flush colored his face.

So, vampires blush.

“This is the plan,” he said, clearing his throat. “Lie low when we get here, and whatever you do, don’t fight anyone. Stick close to Ziggy. They’re not going to hurt him. And for God’s sake, stay away from Cyrus. He’s a main target.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid.” After the vision I’d seen, I knew he had a score to settle. It was a good thing he didn’t know what Cyrus had done to Ziggy.

“I think it’s too late for that.” The intense way Nathan’s gaze roamed over my face lent an uncomfortable meaning to that statement. But in the next moment, the intensity was gone. Nathan dug in his pocket and produced a tiny bottle. “Take this.”

Without thinking, I stuck it in my bra for safekeeping. “What is it?”

“Holy water.”

I fumbled to remove the vial. “Jesus Christ, you could have warned me!”

He laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were going to stuff it down your shirt.”

“What do I do with it?” I asked as I held it in my hands.

“Be careful with it. It’ll cause a nasty burn. But use it to defend yourself if you have to.”

Hoping to ease his mind, I shook my head. “I’m not going to need it. He hasn’t paid any attention to me for a while.” Realizing I sounded wistful, I quickly added, “Not that I care, or anything.”

“You do care,” Nathan said softly. “That’s why he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Nathan—” I began, but he cut me off.

“I’ve got to go. Keep in mind what I said, and go over the plans again. I’ll see you Saturday.” He turned, took a few steps, and stopped. He didn’t look at me. “Thanks for saving my life.”

I knew him well enough to realize that when Nathan got choked up, his accent grew thicker. It was almost impossible to understand his next words.

“And maybe after we get you and Ziggy out, you’ll tell me how you liked the drawing.”

When I returned to my room, I pulled the sketch from its hiding place. After the party, I’d have to tell him it didn’t look anything like me. Because the woman on the page was a completely different person. Things used to happened to her.

This person was about to make things happen.

Making things happen proved to be more difficult than I expected. Cyrus was increasingly moody, constantly fretting over the impending fete and his seemingly permanent houseguests. A huge part of my plan to help Ziggy hinged on my ability to manipulate Cyrus, but it was hard to manipulate someone when they wouldn’t talk to you. Saturday loomed like impending death. I grew desperate, and not just because my plan might fall through.