I opened the vial and poured the contents into his half-open mouth. I hope it tastes terrible, I thought with a petulant frown. Then I rocked back on my heels and waited. Why had I done this? When I’d set out to help him, I’d felt I’d been doing it for a friend. And when I found I barely knew him after all, I still plowed on ahead.

I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that Cyrus might have been right. Nathan’s—or Nolen’s—predicament could have been handled by the Movement, but my first instinct had been to run to my sire.

I knelt over Nathan and felt for a pulse. Nothing. No breath. No reflexes.

Defeated, I lay down next to him, out of necessity more than familiarity. My body ached with fatigue. My emotions were a mess. The one person I’d thought I was safe with, well, not safe exactly, but safer, wasn’t who I’d believed him to be. That he was dead was icing on the worst cake in history. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I tried to cry without Ziggy hearing me.

Then, like a miracle, Nathan groaned and mumbled something that sounded like “get off” as he swatted at me. He gagged and choked, sputtering a little of the antidote over the front of his shirt. But he’d swallowed enough. He was alive.

I sat up in shock. “I thought you were dead!”

“I wish I were,” he said when he could finally speak. He rose on his elbows and clutched his head. “What happened?”

“We were…” I paused. “Um, what’s the last thing you remember?”

His answering grin made my face grow hot.

“Well, you just suddenly sort of passed out.”

He rubbed his temples. “Why would I go and do something stupid like that?”

“You didn’t. Dahlia did.”

He flopped back onto the goldenrod shag carpeting and closed his eyes. “We’re in the van?”

“Yeah, we had to get you out of the building. It was kind of…” I trailed off as I tried to tell him his livelihood was gone.

“On fucking fire!” Ziggy supplied from the front seat. “Oh, man, am I glad you’re awake.”

An angry car horn pulled his attention back to the road as the van swerved violently. I sunk my fingers into the dirty carpet. It was the only thing to hold on to.

“Ziggy! Eyes on the road!” Nathan commanded, though his voice was still a little weak. He turned back to me. “The building is gone?”

I shifted uneasily. “Maybe not. The fire trucks were showing up just as we left.”

“Great. Just great.” He covered his face with his hands, and I saw the hard muscles of his stomach shake beneath his T-shirt. I really hoped he wasn’t crying. But in the next instant, delirious laughter poured out of him.

“What’s so funny?” He was taking this far too well.

“Nothing, nothing.” He rubbed his hands down his cheeks, stretching the stubble-dusted skin. “You know, up until about a month ago, things were completely normal in my life. All it takes is one fax from the Movement, and I’m knee-deep in chaos again.” Nathan sighed. “So, Dahlia attacked me. She’s never done that before.”