“Will he come back?” she asked. “Or was that just … random?”

“I don’t know.” And he didn’t like not knowing. “I’m going to hang around for a few days and make sure he’s cleared off. So don’t worry too much. But no more riding alone in the woods at dusk, okay?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not exactly in a rush to repeat the experience.” Her eyes met his, only for a moment, almost shyly. He didn’t understand why; after all, they’d known each other for almost three years. Granted, they’d never shared more than a few words of conversation, and he’d borrowed her Twentieth-Century History notes once to get some modern perspective, but they weren’t strangers. And she’d always struck him as outgoing, forthright … even bold.

Balthazar finally got it when she said, “All right, I know the answer to this question, but still, I have to ask. You’re—you’re a vampire. Right?”

“Right.” He studied her face carefully in search of her fear or revulsion, but she didn’t turn away. “Does that bother you?”

“Not as much as it probably should.” She laughed at herself. “I mean, I already knew. Sort of. But I guess I needed to hear it from you.”

Perhaps Skye distrusted him now; he wouldn’t blame her if she did. “I don’t feed from humans. You’re safe with me.”

“I know that. If I hadn’t known it before today—I would now.”

“Anything you need to know about any of this, you can ask me. I might not know the answer, but if I do, I’ll tell you. So you don’t have to stay in the dark any longer.”

“Okay. Good to know.” As she ran one hand through her hair, Balthazar could see that she still trembled slightly. Despite the brave front she was putting up, Lorenzo’s attack had shaken her.

Placing one broad hand on her shoulder, Balthazar said, “Listen. Go inside and warm up. Get some sleep if you can. I’ll be outside all night, and we’ll talk it over tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” She grimaced. “It’s the first day of school—I’d forgotten all about it. I mean, I was dreading it up until now. But the whole vampire-attack thing kind of put it all in perspective.”

“See, it won’t be that bad. And I mean it—you don’t have to be afraid tonight. He won’t bother you again.”

“Do you want to come in? My parents won’t get home for hours yet, so they won’t know or care. And it’s cold out here.”

“I can watch the house better from out here. Don’t worry. Vampires don’t feel the cold as badly as humans do.”

Skye looked up at him, and her face revealed more of her vulnerability, and her gratitude, than words could. For a moment, he felt a surge of protectiveness—and something else besides—

No humans, he thought. It was an old rule of his.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” she said. “I ought to have told you before.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Balthazar meant it as a sort of joke, and yet it was a good way to think of himself. Better than most of the other reasons he had to exist, anyway.

He remained outside, watching the warm glow of the window that must have been her bedroom, for another hour. No sign of the parents—but, more to the point, there was no sign of Lorenzo, either.

They’ve hunted this area before, Balthazar told himself, arms wrapped around himself, his black cloth coat poor protection against the deep chill of upstate New York in January. Yeah, it was at least a century ago, but still—this is ground Lorenzo knows. So he could just as easily have come here alone. Skye might simply have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

That was the explanation Balthazar liked best: It was the one that meant Skye was already safe. Lorenzo had been thwarted, and he knew Balthazar was around to interfere with his hunting plans. He’d move on somewhere else. She wouldn’t be in danger again.

But it might not be that easy.

He looked up toward Skye’s window, and for one moment he glimpsed her silhouette, graceful and quick. Even the fall of her thick hair over her shoulder was clear, and surprisingly tantalizing. Just as Balthazar began to feel guilty—as if this were spying rather than watching—she snapped off the lights.

Immediately he went on higher alert; if Lorenzo returned, this was when he would strike—when he thought he had her off guard. Balthazar circled the house, a large, modern structure apparently on the outskirts of town, and listened carefully, not only with his ears but with all his senses, including the ones that told a vampire when another was near. Nothing.

Finally, he decided he could risk getting himself something to eat. Though he would never have said this aloud to Skye—nor to almost anyone else, even other vampires—being near her while she was bleeding had sharpened his appetite.

How he hated that. Looking at a beautiful young girl, liking her, wanting to help her, and yet being unable to forget that one part of him saw her as prey.

Balthazar moved into the woods just off her home’s property, sniffing the wintry air. Pine, dirt, any number of birds (mostly owls and sparrows, too hard to catch and not much to enjoy), the horse’s sweat from earlier, a hint of Skye’s delicate perfume, but something muskier, gamier—there. Deer. Close by, too.

Hunger whetted, he walked into the forest—then began to run, moving as silently as possible so as not to startle his prey. Already he could imagine the thick blood filling his mouth, heating his core, giving him again the shadow of life he wanted so badly—