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Belle chuckled. “You seem to forget you’re one of said bluebloods.”

“Only by birth, and that doesn’t count.”

Her amusement grew. “Anyway, there was a whole chapter on how vampires became vampires.”

“In a book about vampires? Color me surprised.”

“If I had a peanut, I’d throw it at you right now.”

I grinned and motioned her to go on.

“Basically, it comes down to the fact that anyone wanting to become a vampire has to first inject the blood of a vampire into their system once a week over a course of five weeks—”

“Meaning there should have been some evidence of needle marks on Karen’s body,” I cut in, “and I can’t remember seeing any.”

“Which is not surprising given you weren’t looking for something like that at the time, and you can’t exactly examine the body now.”

“True, but the coroner should have picked it up and, given the rangers aren’t taking any extra precautions with her body, she apparently didn’t.”

“Yes, but there’s something in the vampire’s blood that makes the injection site heal quickly, so there probably wouldn’t have been any evidence on Karen’s arm by the time she was killed,” Belle said. “The fast healing is apparently the reason why the bastards are so hard to kill.”

“So did it say what does kill them?”

“Yes, in another chapter, but let me finish.” She hesitated, but when I didn’t say anything, added, “The only telltale sign that someone has shared the blood of a vampire is lips extraordinarily flushed with blood. She called it being blood kissed.”

I just about choked on my wine. “That’s what I saw in the dream.” And what I’d seen in the clearing, when I’d found Karen’s body.

Belle nodded. “It would appear that our dear teenager might be well on the path to becoming one of the undead.”

“Shit, we have to warn the rangers—”

“I contacted them the minute I read that particular paragraph. They rather politely thanked me and said they would look into it.”

“Shit,” I repeated. “How long does the transformation take once death has happened?”

“Anywhere between twenty-four and seventy-two hours.”

“If the clock I saw is any indication, it’ll happen tonight.”

“Yes, but we’re simply not equipped to handle vampires, Lizzie. The rangers still have your knife, and we can’t risk our athames.”

“What about wooden stakes? Do they work?”

“Yes,” she said again, “but even a newly spawned vampire will be far stronger and far quicker than either of us. It’d be like facing a werewolf with a tiny silver sewing needle.”

Which was not something anyone with any sort of sense would ever contemplate. I drank some wine as I considered our options. “What about placing some sort of containment spell around the morgue?”

“It could work, except for one major problem,” she said. “We’d have to account for the presence of everyone who works there within the structure of the spell.”

“Presuming they’re actually working at night. They might not.”

“There’d at least be security guards.”

“So we give a newly hatched vampire free rein to escape?” Frustration gave my voice an edge.

“No, we hope to hell the rangers take us seriously and place extra guards around the morgue tonight.”

“That might not help if the older vamp comes to collect his protégé.”

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