“I’ll be okay when I’m warm,” Skye said. “But … thanks, guys.”

Britnee raised her hand. “Mr. More? The way you were fighting those guys back there? You were, like, super fast and stuff? So I was thinking in the car—well—are you a ninja?”

It took Balthazar a moment to answer. “No. I can’t explain all of this, guys. I wish I could, but—it’s better if you don’t know. Let’s just get Skye home so we can get her warm.”

Skye leaned heavily on his shoulder as they made their way toward the car. She murmured, “You didn’t tell me there were ways for vampires to repel ghosts.”

“Redgrave found out about that? How did he—Charity. Of course.” Balthazar grimaced. “I should have realized as soon as she rejoined them that they’d catch on.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. Once he was ready to get me, he was going to get me one way or another.” Skye realized that Redgrave was still too close. “What are we going to do now?”

“Get you to safety and worry about the rest later.” There was so much unsaid there: What was safety for her now? Did “the rest” mean that Balthazar still held on to his illogical belief that she could go on to a normal life after this—a “normal life” meaning one without him? All that ran through Skye’s mind as Balthazar continued, “But first we have to make sure you’re not freezing to death.”

Shivering, she said, “Sounds good to me.”

But as they got within ten feet of the car, more headlights appeared, and Skye’s stomach dropped as she realized it was the black van. Redgrave and his tribe had found them.

“It’s those guys,” Craig said, putting a protective arm in front of Britnee. “How are they up after you beat them down like that?”

“Because I didn’t finish the job,” Balthazar said grimly. “Stand back, all of you.”

Redgrave appeared at the head of them—six vampires, all men. The finely drawn, debonair features of Redgrave’s face had been battered almost past recognition; his lips were split, his eyes swollen, his golden skin already purpling with bruises. Nor did he wear his usual smug smile—only a snarl. He finally appeared as monstrous as he truly was within. “Fool,” he said to Balthazar. “You gave up your chance to kill me in order to save her—all so I can take her away from you again.”

Balthazar let go of her, and she had to struggle to stand on her own. “I’ve got more than one chance to kill you.”

“But you’re not armed now, are you? And we are, this time.”

Skye realized it was true. Balthazar glanced toward the car, where vampires were waiting. As good a fighter as Balthazar was, he didn’t stand a chance against this many vampires when he was unarmed and they all carried stakes. Redgrave was battered, probably still not at his full strength, but the ones Balthazar had spent less time beating down already appeared completely undamaged again. Skye was in no condition to fight, and even if she were, she couldn’t have been much help against these odds. Craig and Britnee had no idea what they were dealing with.

There was only way to avoid becoming Redgrave’s servant forever.

“Change me,” she whispered.

Her eyes and Balthazar’s met for one tortured moment. Skye hated to ask him to kill her—hated the thought of becoming a vampire—but if this was her only way to escape, then she would take it.

Balthazar’s expression told her that, even loathing the idea as he did, he would have changed her if he could—but he shook his head. No time, she realized. No chance.

Just when she thought the situation could get no worse, another figure stepped closer: Charity. She was almost as white as the snow that surrounded them, her dress, skin, and hair all the color of frost. Only her lips were dark, still stained with Skye’s blood. In her hand was the largest, most lethally curved knife Skye had ever seen.

“Charity,” Balthazar said, and his voice sounded broken. “Don’t watch this.”

“You think she wouldn’t want to watch your final destruction?” Redgrave’s exhilaration creased his battered face into a smile. “I think Charity’s been waiting for this a long time.”

“I remember now,” Charity said. “Yes. A very long time.”

Then she swung the blade savagely upward. In one lightning-swift move, she sliced straight through Redgrave’s neck.

Britnee screamed, and Craig jumped. Skye clutched Balthazar’s arm, but all he could do was stare as Redgrave’s head and body both tumbled toward the snow—then dissipated into so much ash.

As the clouds of what had been Redgrave settled around her feet, Charity brought up her blade and screamed at the other vampires, “Nobody kills my brother but me!”

They scattered. Whether it was from the fall of their leader or the sheer homicidal insanity in Charity’s eyes, the vampires had lost their nerve. Within a few moments, their small party stood alone except for Charity. Her eyes were locked with her brother’s; her blade was still at the ready.

She repeated, in a whisper, “I remember now.”

Balthazar said, “Are you going to kill me next?”

Charity let the blade drop to her side. Like a petulant, bored child, she said, “I don’t feel like it tonight.”

The glance that brother and sister shared was confused and even angry, but loving, too. “Um, I was wondering, what in the hell is going on?” Britnee asked.