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I slipped a thumb under the seal, pulled out the folded paper, and read.
Elisa:
I was so glad you decided to stay in Chicago instead of returning to Paris; let the European vampires deal with their own problems. You are beautiful and strong and an example of what vampires should be. I know we’ll meet in the future and have so much to talk about.
Until then, I am,
—A friend
That was it. Just those words written in tidy letters in the middle of a sheet of white paper.
It wasn’t the first weird note I’d received and wouldn’t be the last. Humans wrote me because they wanted to become vampires—or date one. Vampires wrote me because they wanted connections to my parents. Or, apparently, they came to my door and demanded my obedience.
We’d see who’d win.
THREE
Sleep. Blood. Yoga. I needed all three before my date with destiny.
I’d accomplished the first, and could thank the sun and resulting unconsciousness for that. Yoga I would manage on a mat I’d squeezed into my bedroom, as it was the only way I’d found to keep Eleanor of Aquitaine from intentionally trying to knock me over.
I’d done yoga for years, not just because I liked the results, but because the practice was the healthiest coping mechanism I’d managed to find for the monster. I hadn’t planned on sharing my body, but I’d accepted the necessity of accepting it.
I’d started katana training again, something I hadn’t done since my Paris graduation, partly to stay in shape for my Ombudsman work, and partly because the monster needed the outlet. But katana training didn’t soothe it, and tequila, while delicious in small doses, wasn’t nearly as effective at slowing my mind, or cooling its temper. Yoga had done wonders. And as long as the monster had an outlet for its energy and rather impressive rage, it let me stay in control.
It didn’t look through me with crimson eyes.
That was the other reason I kept the monster hidden. Because it wouldn’t be a nightmare just for my mother, but for everyone else, as well. A demon’s red eyes. A leviathan’s power.
I defied explanation. I wasother.
“All right,” I said quietly, closing my eyes as I settled on the mat. “Your turn.”
It shifted within me, the movement still vaguely unsettling. It didn’t care as much for yoga as I did, but viewed it, I think, the way I viewed sword training—as a necessity for our survival. In the quiet of dusk, we worked through a dozen poses, each more challenging than the last. And with each movement, each stretch, each slow and steady and deep breath, I could feel its tension ease, like tight restraints loosened.
With each stretch, I became more aware of its consciousness. And because of that, a little less aware of my own, as if its thoughts replaced mine. This was tricky territory, as I had no idea if I might accidentally let it go too far and permanently give up control. I didn’t want that. This was still my body; I’d been here first. But I was getting to know it as a creature with its own awareness and emotions. Which felt very strange to say, and even stranger to feel. And it was a creature ofpower. Of strength and speed that would hurt or help me, depending on its mood.
And right now, its mood was feisty.
Yoga had apparently not been enough, probably because my own adrenaline was up in anticipation of our midnight rendezvous. It wanted more action. But this wasn’t the time or place to show the AAM how unusual we were, how I carried some sort of second spirit along with my own. Whatever punishment they’d designed for my “crimes” would pale next to those sanctions. Letting it loose in front of the AAM could get both of us killed.
It may have agreed, but that didn’t ease its gnawing hunger. Not for food, but for fight.
“A compromise,” I murmured, aware I was murmuring to myself while alone in my room. “I’ll let you train with the dagger, and you can move all you want here. But tonight is just for me. I like staying alive, and you’ll frighten them.”
It seemed excited by that, and I couldn’t fault the sentiment. But still.
“Dagger,” I said. “Or nothing.”
It relented, was angry for a moment, but by the time I’d taken my dagger from its sheath and opened the bedroom door, the anger had dissolved into excitement. The loft was still quiet, Lulu’s bedroom door still closed. So I padded into the main room, the only light the glow of streetlights outside, filtered into a smear of rainbow through the filter-covered windows. It was a big space, with plenty of room to move.
I glanced back at the hallway, waiting in silence for a moment to ensure I was alone, and felt the stab of guilt—not the first—that I was hiding this from Lulu. But she already put up with me, a vampire, in her Sup-free space, and was trying to avoid the worst of the supernatural drama. I still wasn’t sure what the monster was, or why it existed, and dragging her into that mystery seemed unfair. Not that denial was a great foundation for a friendship. But it was all I could manage right now.
I stepped into the middle of the space, pulled my hair into a knot, and closed my eyes.
“All right,” I whispered. “Go.”
It didn’t hesitate. The monster stretched, seemed to fill my limbs with its own shadows, and began to play. It flipped the dagger in the air, caught it so the point faced downward, and struck out in a neat curve around my body. Then into a crouch, one leg extended, before bouncing back to its feet again.
