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  “Hey, Aidan. How are you?”

  He turned quickly and I was disappointed to see surprise and unease wash over his handsome face.

  “Hi,” he said, obviously trying to get all of the stuff he needed out of his locker in an attempt to escape me as soon as possible.

  “I was kinda hoping we could go somewhere and talk.” Sure, I was making the first move but I had to. Aidan was probably still too spooked by my attack to ask me out again.

  “Uh, I don’t think I can,” he replied, looking around desperately for someone to run interference.

  “Oh, okay. I just thought since we were supposed to go out before I was attacked that we could try to get together now.” Did I mention I spent no time playing coy when I was tired and cranky?

  “Yeah, I don’t think so. Listen, Colby, do you know I spent hours with the police because everyone said I was taking you home on Friday? They thought I killed you or something and if wasn’t for Allison confirming I was with her, they would have put me in jail!”

  I winced at his tone. He was pretty mad. I guess I couldn’t blame him. I had told anyone who would listen that he was taking me home. It hadn’t occurred to me that the police would think of him as a prime suspect.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Aidan! I had no idea. I just thought after we spoke about hooking up after the game Friday, that you would, you know, drive me home.”

  “Yeah, well, I gotta go.” And Aidan Reynolds, star football player and my imaginary Homecoming date, pushed past me down the hall. In front of everybody, I might add.

  Diva Raine, who so obviously had been listening to our private conversation, decided to give her two cents’ worth.

  “Oh, too bad, Cheesy. Looks like you’re not all that lucky lately.”

  “Step off, Rebecca. I’m warning you.” I was in no mood for her dramatic cattiness.

  “Really? You’re warning me? Or you’ll what? Tell everyone you were with me and then fake another attack?” Her two lemmings snickered.

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t fake any attack.”

  “Yeah, that’s not what I heard. Everyone’s talking about it. Your pitiful attempt to get Aidan to notice you by claiming you fell down the hill after the Eastside Attacker startled you.” She shook her head at me. “Please, Cheesy, no one’s buying your little helpless act. Next time try filing a police report to make it look more realistic.”

  She swept down the hall, leaving me with my mouth hanging open. Did everyone think I faked my attack? Is that what Aidan thought? Who would say such a thing about me?

  Then Allison passed by and the smirk on her face told me everything I needed to know. Her father was a police officer. Sure, I couldn’t prove she was the one who started the rumor, but I would lay even money and my Tommy Hilfiger denim jacket that she was responsible for leaking information about my not-yet-filed police report. I was so angry, I didn’t know what to do. But if Allison hoped she could bring me to tears, she was sadly mistaken. I tended to get mad where others would cry. Like those people who laughed during funerals, my emotions were hard-wired weird.

  Taking a deep breath, I turned around and started walking down the hall. The whispering was all over: the debates over my faking an attack, what people thought of me in general and whether I would land Homecoming Queen now. Keeping my head up, I pretended I didn’t hear a thing. It was time for cheerleading practice and I wasn’t about to give these people the satisfaction of seeing me break down. No matter how badly I wanted to scream and kick something.

  I went straight to the girls’ locker room and changed. I was just about to join the rest of my squad when Mrs. Frost intercepted me.

  “Colby, dear, how are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay, Mrs. Frost. Just getting ready to head to practice.”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

  Slowing down, I zipped up my backpack and shut my locker.

  “Dear, we didn’t really know when to expect you back, so the squad changed the routine accordingly and … well … we took you out.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m guess I’m saying you won’t be able to perform with the squad at the assembly or at the game,” she said.

  “But I’m the cheer squad captain!” I was stunned.

  “Well, yes, but Allison stepped up when you were attacked. She feels that it would not be fair for the squad to have to learn new positions with so little time left before the performance, and I tend to agree. You can still cheer at the game, of course.”

  “So you’re saying I’m no longer captain?”

  “Of course not!” she protested. “You can resume your duties after the Homecoming game. We really didn’t expect you back so soon, dear.”

  “And who told you that?”

  “Why, Allison did. She was more surprised than any of us when you came back to school. She thinks you may have returned too soon. She’s very worried about you.”

  Yeah, I just bet she is.

  Mrs. Frost left me alone and I reviewed my first day back at school. Aidan hated me, I was demoted on the cheer squad and would not be able to perform the halftime routine and everyone thought I faked my attack. Oh yeah, and I was still Undead without a license. Could today get any worse?

  I skipped practice. I was so mad at Allison I worried I would do something to give myself away, like suck her dry. The thought made me smile. I went home instead, hoping to get a nap in before I tackled my homework and prepped for my interview.

  I walked home (no longer concerned about being attacked) and crawled into bed. Several hours later I awoke to the sound of clanging in the kitchen. I investigated the noise to find Great-Aunt Chloe trying to find the muffin tins.

  “Where in the world does your mother keep those darn things? I swear this kitchen has no rhyme or reason to it,” she grumbled.

  I bent down and pulled them out of the drawer under the double oven. I handed them to her with raised eyebrows.

  “Well, heavens, that’s a stupid place for a drawer.”

  Moving toward the kitchen table, I let Aunt Chloe continue her grumbling when I saw the paper. One headline caught my attention:LOCAL GIRL DIES IN FREAK ACCIDENT

  ONE WEEK AFTER SURVIVING ATTACK

  I sat down and read the article, hardly believing what was in black and white in front of me. Jill Schneider, the local teen who’d escaped the clutches of the Eastside Attacker just two weeks ago, fell out of a tree house and impaled herself on a branch.

  This was what Chuck meant last night. Impaling yourself on a tree branch certainly fell under the category of “freak accident” but I wasn’t buying it for a minute. Had Thomas done this? Could the guy who showed me how to feed and comforted me so sweetly kill Jill Schneider because she was a half-blood? Had he shown her all the vampire hot spots, told her cute anecdotal stories about his youth and kissed her under the full moon, all the while plotting to kill her?

  Ten

  I raced to the kitchen computer and looked up the Schneiders on 411.com. There were many listed but only one family on the Plateau. I got the address and plugged it into Mapquest. They lived just at the bottom of the hill. Then I grabbed the paper and ran over to Piper’s house, ignoring my aunt’s queries.

  If Piper was surprised to see me, she didn’t show it. She looked at me like she always did, sort of a blank look of recognition and tepid friendliness. Piper wasn’t known for her spontaneous displays of emotion.

  “Hey,” she said and stepped back from the door to let me in.

  “Hey.” I gave her the newspaper and stepped into the house. My mother accuses teenagers of killing the English language because we use so few words, but what Mom didn’t get was the volume of communication we put into each word. For instance, what Piper was really saying was, “It’s good to see you up and around. You’re looking pretty normal and are welcome to come in my house because even though I know you’re a vampire, I am not afraid of you and to prove it you may enter.”

  And
my response meant, “I’m glad you aren’t afraid of me and that you care if I am okay. I’m here because I need your help and you letting me in shows you are up to helping me.” So now you know the truth about monosyllabic teenage communication.

  I followed her past the living room where her parents were enjoying the evening news. Neither looked up when I entered so I didn’t offer a greeting. Once we were alone in the kitchen Piper asked, “What’s this?”

  “Did you read about Jill Schneider? The other girl who was attacked?”

  Piper looked down at the paper and blew out a sigh. Then she looked me in the eye and nodded.

  “Coincidence?” I asked.

  Piper snorted in response.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  I looked at the plate of cookies sitting on her kitchen island with longing. Chocolate chip and walnuts.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked me.

  I picked up one of the cookies and smelled it appreciatively. “I was thinking about stopping by her house to offer my condolences to her parents. Try to get a feel for the situation.”

  Piper took the cookie from me with a stern look. “Don’t even think about it. If you hurl on the hardwood, Mom will have a fit. Come on.” She started to put the cookie back but changed her mind and took a bite. She had a way of kicking a person when she was down. Then she grabbed a set of keys hanging by the door that led to the garage.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  She looked at me with the half-eaten cookie clutched between her teeth and rolled her eyes. Okay, she was in all the way. That was all I needed to know.

  After she finished the cookie she called out to the living room, “Mom, I’m going to the mall with Colby. Be back in awhile.”

  “With who?” her mother called back.

  “Colby. You know, from next door? She wants my advice on her homecoming dress.” I looked at Piper in horror and she winked at me.

  “Oh, all right dear. Have fun,” her mother replied.

  “What? No questions about my attack or anything?” I asked, surprised her mom didn’t give me the third degree.

  “Cold medicine. Mom’s fighting a cold and has a huge presentation tomorrow. The NyQuil wipes her out. Dad was probably sleeping,” Piper explained.

  We entered the garage and hopped into a black Honda Accord. We pulled out of the driveway and she said, “We don’t know where we’re going.”

  “Actually, I do. I looked up directions to their house on Mapquest after I read the article.”

  We took several winding turns but, as the crow flies, Jill didn’t live that far from us. She went to Newport, but there were two high schools on the Plateau and another two in the area.

  We pulled into a “nice” cul-de-sac, where all the “nice” houses formed a perfectly “nice” suburban community. A lot of teenagers on the Eastside were from upper middle-class families, thanks to the booming computer industry. Each house was decorated for Halloween with pumpkins, hay and gourds. All the houses save one—the Schneider house.

  We sat in the car, neither of us anxious to bombard a mourning family with probing questions about Tribunals and vampire investigators.

  “I kind of thought this would be easier,” I said to Piper, still unwilling to unbuckle my seat belt.

  “Yeah,” she agreed, but at least she opened her door. I could hardly remain in the car, cowardly cringing, while Piper courageously carried out our plan so I rushed to join her.

  “Let me do the talking,” I said once I caught up.

  We knocked at the door and a very motherly looking lady opened it. She was older than we expected. I thought she might be Jill’s grandma.

  “Mrs. Schneider?” I asked uncertainly.

  The woman nodded to us. She was wearing an apron and her short gray hair was perfectly curled in tight waves.

  “We knew Jill from swim team. We always competed against each other and liked her a lot. We just wanted to stop by and let you know how sorry we are about what happened,” I said.

  Mrs. Schneider nodded again and stood aside, ushering us in, as her eyes misted over.

  I was immediately struck by how stark the home was. There were no pictures of Jill anywhere. The paper said Jill was an athlete involved in track and swimming, and was also on the dance team. There are twenty-three pictures of me in various stages of my school career in my living room alone. Where were the pictures of Jill?

  We perched ourselves in the formal living room on a suitably uncomfortable couch while Mrs. Schneider sat opposite of us in a very rigid wingback chair.

  “So you girls knew Jill?” she asked politely. Both Piper and I noticed the lack of refreshments offered and took it as a sign to get to the point as quickly as we dared.

  “Yes, we did. We were all shocked when she was attacked but then the accident… .” I trailed off, hoping she would step in and provide some more details.

  “Yes, we were quite devastated.”

  It was the appropriate response but the sheer lack of feeling behind the statement made my skin crawl. Was Mrs. Schneider medicated to keep her calm or was it something else? Something was not right in the Schneider household.

  Piper surprised me by stepping in. “We understand this must be a very difficult time for you, ma’am, and the last thing we want to do is cause you more pain.”

  Mrs. Schneider studied Piper for a moment and I couldn’t help but wonder if Jill’s regular friends had piercings. She finally replied, “There are all sorts of pain. Death seems like a release sometimes.”

  Piper and I looked at each other with raised brows and then back at Mrs. Schneider. She was looking over Piper’s ear at something on the sofa table behind us.

  Curious, I stood up to pace the room, but I was really trying to angle toward the table. There was some sort of paperwork scattered about. Piper asked how Mrs. Schneider was holding up as I maneuvered my way closer. I couldn’t read anything but I recognized the crest of the Tribunal on the stationery immediately.

  Mrs. Schneider trailed off in mid-conversation, staring into space. Piper looked over her shoulder at me and mouthed, “Weird.” I walked back to the vacant-looking woman and asked, “Did Jill say anything about the night she was attacked, anything other than what she told the police?”

  I might as well have slapped Mrs. Schneider for the reaction my comment caused. The once coolly detached woman started blathering incoherently, clutching her hands to her chest in fear.

  “They promised they would leave us alone. They promised! Why are you here? Who are you? They said we would be safe!”

  Piper jumped to her feet and I moved around the couch, reaching toward Mrs. Schneider to reassure her we meant no harm, but she slapped at my hands and accidentally knocked my sunglasses askew. When she looked in my eyes she shrieked and dove behind her chair.

  “Leave us alone, we did our part! Jill is gone, isn’t that enough? We haven’t told anyone. She was a good girl, she never hurt anyone. We never hurt anyone. Just leave us alone!”

  Footsteps pounded on the floor above us as if someone was rushing to Mrs. Schneider’s aid. Piper and I did the only thing we could do in the face of such hysteria and a possible tussle. We ran like hell to the car and sped away.

  Once we were a couple blocks from poor Mrs. Schneider and my heart had stopped leaping out of my throat I said, “I’m guessing Jill didn’t die in a freak accident.”

  “Ya think?” Piper retorted sarcastically.

  “Did you see that poor woman?” I continued, ignoring her comment. “I’ve never seen anyone lose it like that. I mean, she was scared. And they didn’t have any pictures of Jill anywhere. It was like she never existed.”

  I shivered at the thought of my parents wiping away all visible signs of my existence if the Tribunal decided not to give me a license. I didn’t like the way my thoughts were going. Piper said what I couldn’t bring myself to.

  “Colby, do you think you have a chance with the Tribunal?”r />
  I stared straight ahead, ignoring the orange lights and decorative witches “crashed” into every other door on the block. I raked my fingers through my hair and whispered, “I’m so screwed.”

  For once Piper didn’t offer a sarcastic quip. She just nodded sagely in agreement.

  Eleven

  Waiting at the Krispy Kreme for Thomas seemed to take a lifetime. When he finally sat down with tea in hand, I wasted no time with pleasantries.

  “Tell me about Jill Schneider, Thomas.”

  His eyes widened a moment and he paused before taking a sip of his tea. “There is nothing to tell,” he replied.

  “Eent. Wrong answer. Try again.”

  “It is none of your concern, Colby.”

  “Eent. Wrong again. Boy, you really suck at this. It’s very much my business when I find out there was another vampire like me who was eliminated. You should have told me. I have a right to know.”

  “It is not my job to inform you about every turned mongrel out there. And you have no rights. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Not your job to inform me?” I asked incredulously. Man, this guy was something else! “It was you, wasn’t it? You eliminated Jill.”

  “I am an Investigator for the Tribunal. I am not at liberty to discuss other cases.”

  “But she was like me!” I cried out.

  “No! She was not like you!” He slammed his hand down on the table, causing everyone in the booths around us to stare. He lowered his voice and continued.

  “She was never like you. She was indecisive, weak and incapable of sound decisions.”

  “She was only fifteen!” I said in her defense. What an insensitive jerk.

  “Yes, she was fifteen. Another strike against her. She did not possess your maturity and strength. Even with those attributes, I’m still fearful what the Tribunal will decide for you.”