“We had read about a coffin being discovered in a construction site, so we came to check it out. That is where you were found, right?”
“Right.”
Nate’s gaze seems to be registering even the slightest change in dilation of William’s pupils. He is like a vampire lie detector—and he has William cornered. By taking the tiny morsel of information William fed him and turning it into a bigger lie, Nate has ensured that William cannot challenge the explanation without giving himself away.
William turns toward the window, drinking in the rolling hills, sprawling farmlands, and leafless branches of rural Massachusetts. The hypnotic view makes his mind drift, and even though he has been trying hard not to think ofher,all it took was one mention of her name to shatter his progress.
After Lorena accused him of killing Zach, he was too enraged to think or be rational. He had always known on a logical level that the two of them could never be friends, but it was not until that moment that his heart finally understood.
He took off on foot, not sure where he was headed, but it felt good to run. He had made it a good twenty miles when it happened: His skin grew heated, as if warm blood were rushing through his dead veins.
It was the closest his cold body had come to feeling alive, and he knew at once what it meant.
His Familiar was in mortal danger.
His Hamlet-like questioning about Lorena—to kill or not to kill her—had haunted him for months. Yet the instant her fate was decided by another, he did not hesitate to come to her rescue. It felt as if there was no choice to be made. His instincts simply took over.
That is how he knows leaving Huntington was the right thing to do.
WILLIAM FOLLOWSNate and Cisco down a wide avenue, gusts of wind blasting him in the face. He finds Boston’s brick buildings and gold-crowned trees more comforting than the glass and steel of New York.
A scent intrudes on his thoughts. An ancient musk that tells him there is an unknown vampire in the vicinity.
“Who knows what happened on December sixteen, 1773?” asks a tour guide dressed in impeccable colonial attire. So impeccable, in fact, that the fabric gives off its own aging musk, too subtle for human detection.
“Boston Tea Party!” someone calls out from the group of a few dozen humans gathered around him to listen.
“Right you are,” says the tour guide, flashing a sharp-toothed smile. “But did you know that its exact location is the subject of great debate?”
A few people say no, and others shake their heads.
William murmurs to Nate in a volume audible only to vampires, “Who is he?”
“Henry. He owns a tour business in Boston, and he’s the forger closest to us.”
“Forger?”
“Every few decades, each of us has to move to a new area and change our look and identity. Thanks to the advanced technology of this millennium, all documentation has to stand up to scrutiny. Lucky for you, Henry is an expert.”
“Listen up!” Henry’s volume does not rise, but the fact that he looks at William and Nate makes it clear he is addressing them. “There’s a historical marker commemorating the Tea Party on the corner of Congress and Purchase Streets. Now go explore, maybe treat yourself to a bowl of authentic New England clam chowder, which we all know is better than the Manhattan version.” A few people laugh, and since Henry looks at Nate and Cisco, William gets the sense it was a pointed comment.
The tourists disperse, their phones raised to capture every view, while others look down to consult paper maps. Henry strides past the vampires at a brisk pace.
He does not say a word, but Nate tells William, “Come on.”
The three of them trail Henry to a street lined with brick buildings. Henry’s Historical Tours is a tiny storefront that looks like it was squeezed between larger ones. Inside, it does not seem like much, just a desk and a few chairs with posters boasting views from all over the world.
As soon as they are alone, Henry says, “So this is number fifty-four!”
He shakes William’s hand, examining him like he is a painting being evaluated for purchase.
“You’re a handsome one, aren’t you?” says Henry, cracking his sharp smile. “The humans are going to love you.”
“They already do,” says Nate, and William feels his entire body tense like a fist at the reference to Lorena.
“That so?” asks Henry, who is still running his eyes all over William. “I’msure these guys already told you that it’s been decades since someone new has awoken. Finding you gives us hope.”
“Hope for what?” asks William.
