Three vampires strode quietly through the night, their steps long and sure, their eyes and ears alert. Small furry animals left their snacks of clover and grass when they caught the scent of predators, the faint aroma of snake venom. The vampires weren’t hunting, weren’t on the prowl, they were just walking, the three of them, in long, easy steps. Strolling, one might say. They were friends, of a sort, shadows who whispered to each other as they slid between the trees outside the compound.

Tern Zizias was nineteen, tall and well-proportioned. He had a crop of light brown hair above his brown, gold-rimmed eyes, and a sensitive mouth that was always betraying him. Rather unconscious of himself, he drifted on the edges of a group when he walked, and only occasionally put his two cents into a conversation. Most people, well, everyone, agreed that he was a little too quiet. It made other vampires nervous, but Tern thought that was their problem. He’d lived in Cross Bien with a herd of ancestral relatives since his parents had decided that his sluggish vampire habits could be attributed to lack of family input. That had been nine years ago, and after brutally disappointing his mom and dad, he’d chosen to give up local feedings and sign on for the Circle Daybreak buffet, which consisted mostly of tranquilized goats.

His best friend, Ash Redfern, was walking besides him. With his lanky, arrogant attitude, the motion became more like strutting. He’d been Tern’s best friend since they’d first shared a litter of puppies back in the second grade, and Tern had long ago grown used to Ash’s wild, carefree attitude. Of course, things had changed a lot for him over the last year and a half, and he wasn’t quite the blood-thirsty mongrel he’d been. Tern was relieved, to be honest. Having been an unenlightened vampire for sixteen years, he’d done his share of wildness, but some of the things he’d seen Ash do had made even his blood run cold.

John Quinn wasn’t much better. Actually, he was worse. Sufficiently so. Shorter than the other two, surrounded by a shroud of coldness that only his equally chilly girlfriend could break through, he’d had three hundred years to hone his killing talents. He knew all sorts of odd things, how long it really took to strangle a person, where Hunter Redfern bought his cologne, how to cast silver bullets in a chocolate mold.

Tern wasn’t as comfortable with Quinn as he was with Ash. They’d met through Circle Daybreak a few months back, and Quinn had struck him as the kind of guy Ash might have been in three hundred years if he hadn’t met Mary-Lynnette. Quinn had decided Tern was, to use one of Hunter Redfern’s favorite sayings, "One of those vampires without enough borrowed blood in his veins."

Tern had never killed anyone.

The constant teasing and prodding had stopped with the arrival of the new Ash, and murder as a rite of passage wasn’t required in Circle Daybreak. Tern wasn’t sure what had always stopped him from taking that last gulp, digging his fangs in a half inch too deeply and severing something vital. Something about it had felt wrong, made him nervous and sick to his stomach, and while his parents had been sorely disappointed, Tern had stuck to his instincts. They almost always lead him in the right direction.

The three of them were supposed to be patrolling the grounds around the compound where the Wild Powers stayed. So far, no one had discovered where the three of them were hiding, but patrols went out constantly to make sure no creature came close enough to spot them.

"How are your sisters?" Quinn asked, hands stuck deep in his pockets. Ash brightened at the mention.

"I talked to her last week, and she says she’s fine. Too many clouds, not enough stars, but school’s good."

"I think he was asking about your sisters," Tern told him with a chuckle. "As in, the ones you share parents with."

Ash waved a careless hand. "Forget them, they’re doing whatever it is they went out there to do. I just hope they don’t make Mary do it with them."

"What does that mean?" Quinn asked.

"Okay," Ash began. "Let’s say they’re all out on a picnic."

"A picnic? Who goes on picnics anymore?"

"Alright, they’re at a party, out in the woods, and Mary-Lynnette trips and lands on a wine bottle, which breaks and cuts her. So either Kestrel loses her cool, springs fangs and decides to help herself, or else Mary bleeds so much that she has to be turned into a vampire or die."

"But she doesn’t want to be a vampire," Quinn retorted.

"Yeah, but I think she’d give in if it were a choice between death and eternal life. And if anybody’s going to turn her into a vampire, it’s going to be me."

"Do you know how hard it is to break open a wine bottle? Oh, that’s right, you can’t drink." Quinn flashed a coldly smug smile.

"At least my girlfriend is warm-blooded," Ash replied, and Quinn sent him a warning look.

Tern decided to step in before things got out of control. "Come on you two, this is stupid. What are we talking about? We aren’t talking about anything, you’re just musing and insulting each other. Let’s talk about something real."

"How about your inability to get more than superficially involved with anything?" Ash suggested.

"Or your lethargy toward vampirism," Quinn added.

"Or we could list all your weird habits, like talking to your food-" Ash was saying, when Tern cut him off.

"Alright, I’m quiet. If you two want to discuss what would happen if your sisters suddenly decided to piss you off and turn your soulmate into a vampire without permission, go ahead. I’ll just stand here and say nothing."

"You always say nothing," Ash told him. "Why can’t you get excited about something?"

"I’m excited that Hunter Redfern is dead. We could talk about that."

"Well," Quinn said, with exaggerated formality, "I personally am very pleased that he’s finally gone, seeing as how he made my once pleasant existence a living hell."

"And I’m personally very pleased that he’s finally gone because he’d like to stake my sisters. And Mary, of course."

"Of course." Tern glanced up into the sky, feeling tired. Ash was right, he wasn’t the most enthusiastic person in the world. He’d never really had anything to care about until he met Circle Daybreak, and patrolling the grounds wasn’t exactly an activity he could throw his energy into. He just needed something . . .he couldn’t put his finger on what, but it was out there. Out-

There. His eyes focused on a figure weaving between the trees.

"Who’s that?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. All three of them froze simultaneously, their vampire instincts taking over. Tern moved his head just slightly in the direction of the distant figure.

"Where?" Ash asked, all signs of joking gone from his voice.

"Pressed up against a tree. I think it sees us."

"There’s another one," Quinn hissed. "About twenty feet from the first. A guy, I think."

"I still don’t see it," Ash said, and Quinn grabbed the back of his head and twisted it in the right direction.

"There," he snapped.

"Oh," Ash said, shaking off his hand. Tern didn’t blame him; he wouldn’t have wanted one of Quinn’s cold hands touching his skin.

"Should we approach them?" Tern asked. "There could be more."

"I’ll stay here and watch," Quinn suggested. "You two go back and get help."

Ash was about to argue when suddenly the first figure leapt out from behind the tree, soaring a full fifteen feet before it came down on top of the guy. "Woah," Tern breathed. "I thought you said Rashel wasn’t coming down this weekend."

"That’s not Rashel," Quinn replied.

"Then who is it?"

They started moving slowly forward, as the first figure, small and lithe but amazingly strong, crushed the guy to the ground. A she, Tern decided, and probably a vampire. A very old vampire, judging from her incredible strength.

There was a commotion, and then the vampire was standing up, brushing herself off and looking around. Tern, Ash, and Quinn again froze, but she didn’t appear to notice them. A white dot marked something in her hand that she was studying, and then she turned and began walking away.

The three of them walked quickly toward her, careful not to attract any attention. When he was close enough to see, Tern realized that the second figure had been a man, a very large man, and that he was now dead.

"Werewolf," Quinn said, sniffing slightly. "Definitely werewolf."

"Where’s the silver?" Tern asked, kneeling down. "His face is blue-Oh, wait, I see. No, hold on. Hmm, interesting."

"Would you get to the point already?" Ash said.

"His throat’s been crushed."

"That shouldn’t have killed him," Quinn told him.

"There’s no blood, and it doesn’t look like she cut him anywhere. I think she crushed his spinal cord with her bare hands."

"That’s impossible."

Tern looked up at the cold, impassive face. "I know."

Quinn glanced at Ash and nodded. "After her."

They took after the girl at a dead run.

Juniper Aralias burst through the door of her ramshackle hut after running three miles straight, barely out of breath. There was a fine sweat on her forehead but she felt good. Her skin was warm and her blood pumping evenly. She’d noticed shortly after killing the werewolf that she was being followed by three vampires, and decided to give them a run for their money. She hadn’t let them lose her, of course, that would have ruined the point, but they were all working hard to keep up.

She turned on the overhead light, although she didn’t need it to see clearly in the darkness. She just wanted them to know where she was, where they could find her. She’d already killed once tonight, but she wouldn’t mind doing it again.

Oh, sometimes she worried about her motives.

The hut was tiny, three rooms without doors. The walls were just planks nailed together, and the floor was nothing more than a shag carpet above the dirt. She did have electricity and running water, but she didn’t drink from the tap and showered at work. The kitchen cupboards were almost bare, nothing but a few silver, steel, and wooden knives and a package of Chips Ahoy. Juniper’s bedroom consisted of a mattress on crates and a sleeping bag, and her journal rested on the kitchen card table, just a spiral bound notebook. She kept her clothes, a couple pairs of jeans and some flannel shirts, in a crumbling dresser Larabee had found at a yard sale. There had been a few attempts at fixing the place up, the walls were freshly painted dark blue, and a framed drawing, also yard sale vintage, had been hung behind the table. Despite its lack of glamour, Juniper thought of it as home, and a safe place.

She was luring the vampires into her lair.

She screwed a bulb into the socket in the ceiling of the bedroom, illumination bursting around her. The bathroom didn’t have a lamp, but she lit a dirty tea light and set it behind the window.

Then she sat down at the table to wait.

She removed the note she’d taken off the werewolf and unfolded it, smoothing the page flat against the table top. Computer printed, on a dot matrix, and the ink faded in and out. Juniper’s hands began to shake as she read it.

"Galvin,

Vole

Juniper dropped the note and folded her hands. Anhinga. Anhinga. Anhinga. Why did the name reverberate so loudly inside her head, when she knew she’d never heard it before? Why was she so sure she knew Anhinga when she couldn’t even remember her own name?

Larabee had given her the name Juniper, and led her to the shack. That was Juniper’s earliest memory, of six months previous and stumbling through the forest, covered in blood that wasn’t hers. Larabee had appeared out of nowhere, carrying her herb gathering basket and athame like the fairy godmother she’d become. "Don’t worry, child, I’m gonna take care of you. Don’t fret none, Larabee’s here."

And so what if they’d never figured out who she was, or whether she was a vampire or a werewolf or a fairy. "Somethin’ I’ve never seen before, love," was Larabee’s final pronunciation.

But who was Anhinga, and why did Juniper feel so strongly that her amnesia was connected to the strange name? Anhinga, a bird. Lamia name. Probably she was a vampire then. Maybe she lived in that compound.

Juniper folded the note and tucked it into her journal. The mist that filled her brain whenever she tried to remember back before the last six months had rolled in, making it hard to think. She rarely bothered going back, knowing it was no use. The memories were either too painful or too horrible to be recalled.

Don’t go back, she told herself. This is my home, and this is where I live. This is who I am, no matter who I used to be.

The vampires weren’t coming. If they were going to show up, they would have done it by now. They’d decided to wait, or to come back. Juniper went to her bedroom and put on a loose shirt and sweats, then eased into her sleeping bag. If the vampires decided to come say hello, she would wake up the minute they set foot inside the house. Besides, the frightening feelings the name Anhinga dredged up had washed away Juniper’s apatite for killing. At least, until tomorrow.

"Let’s rush her," Ash suggested, crouching in the bushes.

Quinn’s lip curled. "Don’t be stupid. We don’t even know what we’re up against."

"She’s a vampire, got to be," Ash told him.

"What about the werewolf? There was no silver. If she killed him without silver, then-"

"Wait," Tern said, speaking for the first time since they’d started the chase. The dilapidated clubhouse was thirty yards away, with several bright lights burning from inside. "Wasn’t there a rumor that Anhinga could kill any creature as she would a human?"

"The Gift of Death," Quinn recognize. "But it was just a legend, and besides that, Anhinga’s dead."

"Maybe not. Maybe she’s hiding out here."

"I went to the memorial, Tern, she was in pieces with an oak branch through her middle, and they had to glue her legs back on. And if she were alive, why would she be hiding out in a dirt hole like that?"

Tern sat down, growing tired. He hadn’t fed tonight, and he still had to run back to the compound. Knowing Ash, it would be a race.

"Why don’t we set it on fire?" Ash suggested. "She’d have to come out then."

A chord in Tern’s chest was plucked hard and he felt sick suddenly. "We can’t do that," he told his friend.

"Why not?" Quinn asked. "She’ll run outside, we can grab her unaware. She can’t be any match for the three of us combined."

"Because..." Tern couldn’t explain why he had begun shaking, even to himself. He’d followed the vampire through the forest for miles, eyes always trained on her fleeting form, and he felt he knew her. Something inside him knew her.

"Because for all we know she’s working for the Council and we could get information out of her," he said finally. "And we told Lord Thierry we’d try not to kill anyone unless it was necessary. We should go back, call him, see what he says, and have somebody else take a look at the werewolf. Besides, we left the compound unguarded."

"Good point," Quinn said. "Alright, let’s go. I’m sure we can find our way back here."

They stood up, and Ash started talking about how fast he could run. Tern glanced back over his shoulder at the hut and saw the silhouette of the girl vampire moving inside, walking past the window. His heart gave an unexpected thud, and he was dizzy for a moment. He prayed Thierry didn’t tell them to kill her.

The run back to the compound was even faster than the chase to the hut had been, and Tern arrived throughly out of breath. Jez Redfern let them in, something she had been told over and over not to do.

"I thought we agreed you wouldn’t leave the inner corridor," Quinn snapped. "What the hell are you doing answering the door? Anyone could be out there, just waiting with a big wooden stake."

Jez shrugged, throwing a lock of fire-red hair over her shoulder. "What’s the point of being a Wild Power if I don’t ever get to blow anyone away?"

Quinn’s eyes turned as dark as death. "I believe it has something to do with saving the world," he told her coldly, and stalked away.

"Touchy," Jez muttered as she bolted the door shut.

The outer corridor of the compound was a gray, slate maze, created to intimidate anyone who might have thoughts of getting to the Wild Powers. It was viciously booby-trapped, complex, and very dark. It took most of Tern’s attention just to get through it without being staked.

Quinn was still chewing Jez out when they reached the inner corridor door and went through the pass code series. They were all carefully identified and searched for weapons, and then allowed inside. Expect Jez, of course, because everyone knew who she was.

The inner corridor was much more pleasant. A large, octagonal room with several conference table set between maps of the world and graphs. Tern was never sure exactly what people did in the inner corridor, except that when Lord Thierry showed up, there was always a nice dinner. Behind the inner corridor were the quiet rooms, the suites where the three Wild Powers stayed, and the empty suite for the fourth. They were roomy and comfortable, but Tern could see why Jez would get restless, always being locked up in there.

Mona Mastry, the compound guardian, was sitting at the table talking to Delos, a Wild Power who was so used to being locked up that he didn’t even complain about the compound. "Jez!" Mona cried. "Where have you been? We were about ready to sound the alarm!"

Jez shrugged nonchalantly. "I went for a walk," she said, and Mona’s green eyes darkened. She was somewhere around one hundred, a made vampire, and she still looked fifteen years old.

Quinn apparently decided that he had scolded Jez sufficiently and said, "Don’t bother, Mona, I need to talk to you about something."

They sent a guard to retrieve the fallen werewolf, which was beginning to grow stiff. The body was stretched out on one of the conference table, which Iliana Harman pointed out was definitely "icky," unsanitary. Tern borrowed a metal detector from the security team and ran it over the body, but found no trace of silver.

"‘Galvin Sweetwater,’" Jez read, removing a driver’s licence from the body’s wallet. "Thirty-five, lives in Cross Bien, is decidedly skanky. Are you sure he’s a werewolf? He looks more like a homeless to me."

"He’s a werewolf," Quinn said, still sending her cold looks. "Or else I’m an eighteen-year-old human."

Jez rolled her eyes at him and wandered away.

"Well," Mona said to Tern as he shut off the metal detector. "I’ve never seen anything like this. There are no marks and werewolves can’t have heart attacks."

"What about Anhinga?" Tern asked, and she shrugged.

"The Gift of Death? Legend, folklore. Anhinga’s dead anyway. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check out this vampire. You can find your way back to her house, right?"

"Of course. It’s only a couple miles from here."

"Then why don’t you get a few hours of sleep and be ready to trail her tomorrow."

"Field trip," Ash said brightly. "Mary-Lynnette will give me bonus points for this."

Tern rubbed his temples but was inwardly burning at the chance to see the girl again, this time up close. This time he was going to figure out why he felt like he was completely in love with her.

Juniper was in the back room of Larabee’s shop, Astral Critique and Gifts, when the vampires came in. The shop was a small building, nondescript, on a quiet street. The front was painted mint-pink with white trim, and the reading room was bright and airy. Larabee lived upstairs, and had offered to give Juniper a room more than once, but she preferred the privacy and seclusion of her shack.

She was stacking the candles Larabee had cast the night before, each brightly colored and scented. A few would reveal crystals as they burned, and one was inside a sand shell. Larabee was standing in the middle room, were the merchandise was, hanging medicine wheels from the ceiling. She was sixty eight, dumpy, with a Medusa-like shower of gray hair crawling over her head. Her clothes were touristy and soft, in bright colors that the gray shawl she always wore around her shoulders couldn’t hide.

"Did you have those nightmares again last night, love?" she called, as Juniper closed the cabinet and climbed down from her stool.

"No, not so bad last night. I had a dream I was in the forest, laughing. I think I was drunk, too, but I’m not sure about that. I can’t remember what being drunk feels like."

"Probably better that way," Larabee said. Her late husband had been an alcoholic.

"Probably," Juniper agreed. She didn’t tell Larabee about the werewolf, or the compound, not because she didn’t trust her mentor, but because she didn’t see the point.

"Who’s Anhinga?" she asked instead.

Larabee straightened a stack of books. "Anhinga? She was a vampire princess or something, connected with those damn Redferns. She had some kind of power or something, before she got killed by Vole Green. Had a fight with Hunter and killed her as revenge or something. Of course, they never proved it was him who did it. The whole thing was very nasty."

"Have you ever heard of the Uncontrollable Electricity?"

"The what?" Larabee turned to her when the bells in the front room chimed, signaling that someone had come inside. She bustled out of the middle room, eager to greet the customers.

Juniper worked steadily for a few minutes, then reached for another candle and stopped abruptly as the world twisted, swirling like oil paint on water. Her balance slipped out from under her and she grabbed the counter for support, her hair standing on edge.

Oh, what is this? she wondered. Pain without wound, hunger without taste. She turned carefully and peered around the purple velvet curtain that separated the two rooms.

Who the hell is that?

He was taller than Juniper, well-proportioned but tense. His hair was a light brown, and the corners of his mouth were turned down in a way that made her think he was nervous. He stood lightly, a few feet away from the other two, but his detached appearance stemmed from more than that. He was barely aware of his friends, or of Larabee. He was looking for something.

He’s looking for me, Juniper thought. Her hands knotted together, and she closed the curtain before he had time to notice her.

Her heart was pounding, and she thought she might faint. She’d never fainted before, as far as she knew. Now probably wasn’t a good time to start. Instead, she closed her eyes and concentrated on listening to what was going on in the front room.

Larabee was giving a reading, and Juniper recalled seeing one of the guy’s friend’s sitting at the table with her. "Now, tell me about this girl you’re working so hard to empress."

"How did you know that?" the friend asked. Juniper peeked around the curtain again, avoiding the stranger to whom she reacted so strangely. The one having the reading done was about her age, feline and arrogant. The other was smaller, tightly built with flat muscles and a hard, impassive face.

Larabee laughed her high, gritty laugh. "Honeybunch, I know all sortsa things. Now, this girl is real close with your family, isn’t she?"

"She lives right near my sisters."

"Right. You have two sisters and a brother?"

"Three sisters and no brother."

Larabee laughed again. "You just don’t have the brother yet, boyo. In the meantime, why aren’t you out with your sisters and this girl?"

"Mary-Lynnette," the boy said.

Juniper began getting impatient. She didn’t want to hear this guy’s whole life history.

"I sort of promised her that I would make up for all the bad things I’ve done, so I’m working on that."

The soft slap of cards being turned over.

"What’s keeping you from it?"

"Well, I’m working on it, but I need like a checklist or something, so I’ll know when I’m done and what exactly I need to be doing. It’s sort of confusing."

Just get on with it, Juniper thought, grinding her knuckles into the wall.

"That ring you’re wearing. . .," Larabee said, a little more slowly. "It’s a black iris, isn’t it?"

A pause. "Yes."

"Do you happen to work down at that big building in the forest? The one with all those werewolves prowling around outside?" She laughed again. "I’m Larabee Quest. My mother’s family was related to the Harman’s, I’m not precisely sure how far back."

"Pleasure to meet you. I’m Ash Redfern."

Juniper brushed the curtain back and stepped into the front room. All four faces turned toward her. Larabee tilted her head. "Juniper, honey, come on in. This is Ash Redfern-"

"Right, I heard. Member of those damn Redferns, right?"

Ash glanced back at the short one. Juniper made the mistake of meeting the tall one’s eyes and quickly looked away, but not before she’d had time to see that they were a deep brown, like polished mahogany, with edges of burnished copper. Beautiful, vampire.

"You followed me home, last night."

The short one said, "You killed a werewolf."

Larabee stood up. "I better lock the door."

"Yeah, I killed him." Juniper shrugged. "He wasn’t working for you."

"How do you know?"

"I watch your place a lot, late at night. Even if he was new, you never would have sent him out alone. You never send people out alone."

"So you just killed him?" Ash asked.

"Sure. He was a jerk, I could smell it."

Ash said to the short one, "Don’t scowl like that, Quinn, you’ve killed people for less than BO."

Quinn focused his eyes, hard as onyx, on Juniper. "Do other people know about the compound?"

"Just me and Larabee. And all those people staying inside it, obviously."

Larabee scurried back to her chair. "Oh, Juniper, what have you gotten yourself into?"

Quinn ignored her. "How did you kill that werewolf?"

"I either choked it to death or else I guess I broke something in its neck."

"You don’t know?"

She folded her arms and leaned back against the doorway. "I was in a hurry."

"Do you wear a lot of silver rings?"

"I don’t own any jewelry."

"You know that werewolves can’t be killed without silver?"

"So I heard."

"Then how did you kill it, Juniper? If I can call you Juniper."

"I don’t know what else you’d call me."

"How did you kill it?"

"With my hands, obviously."

"Where did you learn to kill werewolves without silver?"

"Just came to me, like a bad customer."

"You’re asking for it, human."

Ash stood up smoothly. "Cool down, Quinn, she’s just a kid."

"She’s a vampire who’s already done the impossible once."

Juniper glanced at the third guy, the one who still hadn’t been named. He was strained, his jaw tightened, and she wanted to throw her arms around him and say not to worry, that she could take care of herself.

What are you thinking? You don’t even know this guy.

"I could do the impossible twice," she told Quinn. "I could kill you with my bare hands."

"Juniper, please," Larabee said, her flabby cheeks bouncing.

Juniper didn’t look away from Quinn’s gaze. She didn’t shrink, the way she knew he wanted her to. She didn’t flinch when he sent shards of psychic ice flying at her.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"I’ve heard of you. John Quinn, right? From Boston."

Something subtly changed in the sub-text of this face. "Where did you hear this?"

Juniper laughed, rolling off the wall. She strode over to the table, taking her time. She wanted to play with him the way he must have played with a thousand other humans. She wanted to scare him.

The unnamed guy caught her eye again. He knew what she was doing and shook his head. He didn’t want her to do it. Juniper stopped, one hand resting on the table cloth. She finally had the chance to ask him what he’d been wondering for the last half hour.

"Who are you?"

The guy opened his mouth but Larabee spoke up.

"He’s your soulmate, Juniper."

Juniper stared at her mentor, her godmother. Her mind did not accept the word, or the complex meaning it carried, but her heart did. Hell, her heart had accepted the minute the guy walked through the door. It was all summed up, just like that.

She glanced at him, and knew he knew.

My name is Tern, he told her, quite simply.

Juniper had a very strong thought. This is my home, and this is where I live. Don’t you dare try to take that away from me.

The guy was a total threat. For all she knew, whoever she had been before she forget everything had another soulmate, who was desperately looking for her.

Oh, don’t be ridiculous.

This guy is the one.

"I noticed it when he walked in."

"Please, Larabee," Juniper said, forcing her eyes to roll. "I know you don’t want me to kill people in the shop, but you don’t have to make up crap like that. Quinn and I can go out in the backyard."

But Quinn and Ash were looking at each other and communicating silently, and Juniper got the strange feeling she was outnumbered. Stupid, of course. She could take all four of them, easily, and she wouldn’t need a wooden stake to kill them.

"I want you to see someone," Quinn told her, but he no longer looked ferocious. "He lives in Las Vegas, and he’s the Lord of the Night World."

"You’re hoping he’ll be able to kill me?" Juniper asked. "He won’t. I’ll kill him."

"He’s as old as time," Quinn warned.

"I’ll still kill him."

"You can try."

"Fine, where’s your car?"

She was truly unafraid, and that surprised her. She’d always assumed that one day someone would come along who was stronger than she was, quicker than she was. And after six months of sitting on her butt waiting, she was ready to go out and find it.

"Honey, maybe we should talk about this a little longer," Larabee suggested kind of desperately.

"Why? I can handle it. I haven’t met anything yet I couldn’t kill."

"But it’s only been-" Larabee began, but Juniper looked at her quickly, and she stopped. She had always been respectful of Juniper’s privacy.

"Who is it you want to take her to?" she asked instead.

"Lord Thierry. He’s the head of Circle Daybreak. Juniper would be safe there, and maybe we could figure out where she got this talent for killing."

"Let’s do it," Juniper told him.

Quinn turned to Ash. "Go call Thierry from the car phone, tell him we’re heading for the airport in an hour or two and we need a flight. Call Mona. Oh, and call Rashel and tell her I might not be in town on Wednesday as planned."

"And if I get a chance," Ash muttered to himself as he headed for the door, "I’ll call around and find out who made you God."

"How do you feel about this, Ms. Quest?" Tern asked, and Juniper heard his voice for the first time. It was smooth and thoughtful, but she got the feeling he wasn’t used to using it.

"Just Larabee, please, honey." She looked at Juniper and her brow creased. "Darlin’, since the day I met you, I knew you were something else. We both did. And I’m hopin’, and I’m prayin’ that this won’t be the last time I see you, but just in case it is, I love you, sweetness."

"Oh, Bee, don’t be so silly," Juniper said, but she was touched. She pulled the old woman close and hugged her. "Of course I’m coming back. After all, who else will reach the high shelves for you?"

Larabee wiped the tears out of her eyes and sat back. She regarded Juniper critically, and then turned to Tern and said, "I think she needs a dress."

Larabee pulled Tern aside before they left. "Now listen for just a ‘sec here, hon. I know you and Juniper are meant to be together, and I think you know it, and maybe even a little part of her knows it. But she’s not so good at letting people love her, so if she starts pushing you away, just keep pushing back until she breaks. You promise?"

She hadn’t needed to say that. He’d known all morning, since the minute he saw Juniper emerge from her shack just before dawn, that they were inescapably bound to each other. The feeling had only grown stronger with the passing of time, and when he’d seen her walk out from behind that curtain, tendrils of silken brown hair falling over her slim shoulders, he’d seriously considered passing out. Her eyes were a clear sky blue, a startling contrast to her dark, velvet hair, and her gaze held a certain power. She could either love him, or hate him, but she wasn’t capable of feeling much in the middle. An extremist; he liked that.

"I promise," Tern told Larabee, and she patted his hand before he walked out to the car.

Juniper sat in the front passenger seat, beside Quinn but still far away. Her face was hard and defiant, and she didn’t look at Tern as he passed.

They dropped her off at her house and then headed for the compound to throw some clothes together before picking Juniper up again. Their flight left less than ten minutes after they arrived, and in the rush to check luggage and board, Tern didn’t have a chance to speak with her.

"That was close," Ash breathed, leaning back in his seat and stretching his long legs. "What’s wrong, Quinn? You’re all pale."

"Nothing," Quinn said shortly. He was on one side of the isle, Tern was on the other. Juniper was sitting on Tern’s right, staring mutely out the window.

"You shouldn’t grind your fangs, you know, it makes biting a lot harder."

"I’m not grinding my fangs. I’m just thinking hard."

"Must be a new experience for you, huh?"

"Bite me."

"Don’t tempt me."

The plane jolted forward onto the runway and Quinn locked his eyes shut, leaning forward slightly as if sick to his stomach.

Ash’s face spread into a slow smile. "Are you afraid of flying, Quinn?" he asked wickedly.

"Of course not."

"Then why are you bending the arm rest?"

"Shut up."

"Oh my god, you are. Oh, that’s. . ." His giggles built into an unstoppable torrent of laughter. "That’s so rich, Quinn, I’m going to throw up."

Quinn clamped his eyes shut and said through gritted teeth, "I’ll be fine once we’re in the air."

"Juniper," Tern said softly, tuning his friends out. Her face turned to his, eyes a brilliant blue in the dim cabin light, waiting. "I don’t think we actually got introduced earlier, I’m Tern Zizias."

He held out his hand and she stared at it. "I’m Juniper Aralias," she said finally, and lay her palm against his.

Crash.

The electricity was immediate and paralyzing. Neither of them moved. Larabee could have kept her mouth shut and Tern would have know then that this was the person he wanted to spend the rest of eternity with. It was like his hand had lost all form and melded into hers. The room turned a hazy pink and he closed his eyes for a moment.

It’s going to be alright, Juniper, he told her. I don’t know what this means or what to do about it, but you’re everything I’ve been looking for.

How it was possible to have known her for such a short time and feel so close to her was a mystery. "I know you," he managed to whisper. "I’ve always known you."

Juniper glanced down at their joined hands and the tip of her thumb traced his knuckle. "You just met me," she said, but the chill around her was fading. "How can you possibly know me? I don’t even know me."

Her brows drew together for a moment. "What does that mean?" Tern asked, concerned.

"Nothing, never mind."

She carefully detached her hand and pull away. With the connection broken, Tern suddenly felt more afraid of losing her than before. He remembered Larabee’s words and decided to do a little pushing.

He took a deep breath.

"People are always telling me how I don’t get emotionally involved with the stuff I do. Not too interested in much of anything. I like working for Circle Daybreak but I’m not a zealot. I liked school but I’m not a scholar. I’m a vampire, but I don’t think hunting is the best thing in the world. Lethargic, Quinn says. I guess that’s a word for it, whatever. But the minute I saw you I knew everything was going to change, that. . .that you would bring something new to my life that would make me want to live it. You’re the first person who’s ever inspired me."

She stared at her hands now. Tern reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and felt the static leap from his finger to her face. She jumped, met his gaze, let her eyes fill with emotion, opened her mouth, and said-

"I’m going to kill you!" Quinn snarled, and Juniper leapt out of her seat.

Ash’s face was torn between laughter and terror, his back pressed up against the window. Quinn, who was wearing a light gray shirt, was covered in coffee.

"I really didn’t mean to," Ash began saying, when a chunk of wood torn from the arm rest was crammed against his throat and his voice was cut off.

"I should feel bad about this," Quinn said, as Ash started squirming. "But I don’t."

"Quinn, stop it!" Tern shouted, throwing himself into the isle and grabbing for his arm. "You’re going to kill him."

"I know," Quinn replied evenly, his face dead set.

"Stop!" Tern wasn’t particularly into violence but Quinn showed no signs of allowing Ash to breath any time soon, and yelling wasn’t going to do any good.

If Rashel were here, he thought as he slammed a fist into Quinn’s stomach, she could stop him. Mona could stop him. Thierry could stop him. Why couldn’t he have waited until we got to Las Vegas to kill Ash?

Quinn abruptly kicked Tern’s legs out from under him, and he heard his left kneecap shatter. "Dammit," he breathed, flame red pain engulfing him. He fell onto the floor between the rows and closed his eyes, wondering whether it was a mortal sin of some sort to let Ash be killed just because he couldn’t stand.

He wasn’t aware of Juniper until he heard Ash gasping for air, and a muffled grunt as Quinn hit the wall. Passengers all around squealed, one screamed, and Tern opened his eyes just in time to see Juniper grab a glass pitcher off a drink cart and smash it over Quinn’s head.

"Stop!" Tern shouted, rolling onto his side. Having Juniper kill Quinn would help them even less than letting Quinn kill Ash.

Juniper had him in a choke hold, but when he went limp her in arms she released him. Actually, Tern wasn’t even sure she noticed that Quinn had passed out as she stepped over him and knelt.

"Oh god, are you okay? Look at your leg, I think it’s broken. Can you sit up?"

Her hands were touching his, sending electric sparks that clashed against the pain radiating from his knee like cool water. "It will heal," he whispered, low enough that the other passengers wouldn’t hear. It would heal, but not quickly. He hadn’t fed in two days. "Ash, are you okay?"

Ash, whose face was flushed, nodded. One hand was lightly touching his throat as he coughed.

The stewardesses arrived, hysterical, the passengers were hysterical, when the blood drained from Ash’s face he was as white as marble. Juniper picked Quinn up as if he were made of feathers, and settled him in her seat. "You aren’t going to pick me up, are you?" Tern asked as she approached him.

"I thought so," she said, and slid her arms around him. He hadn’t been carried since he was three years old, but her grip was solid and sure, and she was careful not to bump his injured knee. "Just sit here," she told him, "and make sure Ash is okay. I’m going to go guard Quinn."

There was another hour at least before the plane would land, during which time Juniper managed to convince the stewardess that they didn’t need to be locked up in the luggage hanger. Ash managed to force a bottle of water down his scratchy throat.

"Are you sure you’re okay?"

"Yeah, I fed before we left."

"I can’t believe he did that."

"I think he would have stopped. I mean, he was smiling a little, in his eyes."

"I didn’t see it."

"Is your knee okay?"

"Not yet."

"The girl was impressive. Did I miss something, or did she knock him out with a glass?"

"I guess she used the same power as she did on the werewolf. Yeah, she’s strong." He put his head down and concentrated on his knee until the pain receded somewhat. "Can I ask you something?" he said as he straightened.

Ash nodded seriously. "You’re wondering about what the old lady said, huh?"

"Yeah." Tern rubbed his temples. Life had gotten a lot more interesting in the last twenty-four hours. "What was it like when you met Mary-Lynnette?"

Ash’s lazy expression got even dreamier. "It was like. . .Well, it wasn’t that great when I first met her, because I was trying to find my sisters and then she kept kicking me, but once we got all that out of the way, it was great. I mean, there was a bunch of other stuff, too, but after that-No, after that she told me I wasn’t good enough for her. Hell, I’m probably not the one to ask, Tern."

"But. . .How did you know?"

Ash drummed his fingers against one knee. "I knew because it felt right. There was a spark no one else could create. Not just an attraction spark, but something bigger. Like I’d stuck my finger in a socket while it was wet. Of course, I had to get over that she was human, that kind of sent me on a trip, and she had to get over that I was a vampire, which sent her on a trip. But once I got her to kiss me, she agreed that we were probably going to be together forever."

"And that was that?"

"Well, no. We got attacked by a vampire right afterward. But we’re well on our way to living happily ever after." He finished his water and tucked the bottle under his seat. "It felt like every magic I’d ever hoped was true suddenly was."

Tern remembered what he’d told Juniper earlier. "Then I’m screwed."

"Ah no, my good friend. The screwing part will come later. At the moment you get to enjoy the uncontrollable attraction part."

He couldn’t help laughing. "You’re so crude, Ash. Maybe if you wash your mouth Mary will let you take her out."

They barely managed to avoid being detained by security, which was quite a job considering that Quinn was still unconscious and had to be carried off the plane. They borrowed the wheelchair that got him to Thierry’s limo, which was waiting out front, and Quinn didn’t wake up until they were almost to the mansion.

"What happened?" he asked, opening his eyes. Juniper was wiping the blood off his face with a damp napkin.

"You tried to kill me," Ash said.

"You poured a cup of coffee on me."

"You broke my leg," Tern put in.

"I knocked you out," Juniper added. "The cut’s healed, but there’s a lot of dried blood in your hair."

"I broke your leg?" he asked Tern.

"Oh, sorry."

He didn’t sound at all sorry, but Tern let it pass. The last thing they needed was another attempted murder.

"We’re here," Nilsson announced through the speaker.

The house was as beautiful as Tern remembered from the last time he’d been there. Geometric architecture soared into the sky, surrounded on all sides by a courtyard filled with flowers and fountains. A wrought iron gate opened for the white limo, and they parked on the circular driveway in front of the house. A gust of dry desert air, warm despite the season, blew through Tern’s hair as he limped to the front door. This was as close to paradise as he had ever seen.

"Lord Thierry!" Nilsson called as they entered the main hall, a jeweled room with spiraling staircases on either wall. Brocade sofas and elegant art bedecked the walls above the marble floor. "Your guests have arrived."

"Hold on," Thierry called back, from a room off to the left. There was the sound of a window opening and his distant voice, "Hannah, honey, they’re here!"

The window closed and the flow of cool air was restored. Thierry was pushing the white-blond hair off his forehead as he walked into the hall, dressed to kill as always. "Ash, Quinn, it’s good to see you." His fathomless eyes grew wide. "What happened to your knee, Tern? Why is there blood in your hair, Quinn?" No one answered, and he glanced around. "Was the trip alright?"

"Quinn tried to kill me," Ash said hotly.

Quinn threw up his hands. "You know I wouldn’t have done it. I was just going to choke you until you passed out-"

"You had no intention of stopping," Ash snapped. "And it was a total accident that I dumped that coffee on you."

Tern looked at Juniper and they both started laughing. "It wasn’t the best flight," he told Thierry. Ash and Quinn continued to argue. "I’d like you to meet Juniper Aralias."

Thierry shook her hand, smiling cordially. "Aralias. You’re lamia then?"

"No," she said, a little distantly. "The name is, I’m not."

"Hmm." Thierry took it in stride, turning toward Nilsson. "Could you bring in something to drink? Preferences, anyone?"

"I could use a shot of blood," Tern told him. He wasn’t usually so straightforward, but his leg was killing him and he got the feeling he wouldn’t be able to hunt on his own. If he could even find anything to hunt down in the desert.

"Yes, a round of blood," Thierry agreed.

"And maybe soda for the humans," Hannah suggested as she passed through the doorway. "Oh, was the car jacked? What’s that on your shirt?"

"Quinn tried to kill me," Ash said again.

"Quinn!" Hannah scolded lightly, brushing a lock of wheat-colored hair off her face.

"Thierry," Quinn said, "you’re on my side, aren’t you? You know I promised Rashel I would try to avoid killing other Daybreakers." As he turned away, he added under his breath, "Of course, try is the imperative word."

Thierry sighed as he led them toward a screened-in porch. "If only that were the least of our problems."

Juniper, quiet again, settled in a chair in the corner of the room. Tern sat on a couch with a good view of her. He was still having trouble believing he had met his soulmate. It wasn’t that common, although the occurrences were much higher within Circle Daybreak.

A maid came in and handed out drinks, blood for the guys and iced tea for the girls. Hannah was looking lovely and relaxed, wearing a loose white dress and sandals. The port-wine birthmark on her cheek, having faded slightly as her tan darkened, seemed to heighten her beauty rather than take away from it, marking the slender curve of her chin.

Juniper was dressed in jeans and a gray tee-shirt, battered hiking boots on her feet. Her hair was a messy tumble around her pale face, and she looked edgy. Tern had a sudden mental flash of what it would be like to give her a back rub.

"So where are you from?" Thierry asked, leaning back in his chair. He’d lost so much of his tenseness since meeting Hannah, sometimes it amazed Tern that he didn’t turn into a Jell-O mold.

Juniper took a long time answering. "Honestly?" she said.

Thierry looked startled. "Well, that would be preferable, yes."

She glanced down at her drink, as if scrying for answers. "I don’t know. I have no idea where I’m from."

"Oh." They were all quiet for a moment, and then Hannah said, "Ash told us you were from Cross Bien."

"I suppose it’s possible." Juniper looked down again and then sighed deeply. "I should save you the trouble of trying to politely phrase, ‘What the hell does that mean?’ and just explain this, huh?"

The tension was nicely broken, and Hannah and Ash both laughed. Tern took a large gulp of the blood and felt his knee begin mending itself. He hated refrigerated blood because it always tasted slightly stale, but at least Thierry had taken the time to heat it up.

"I can’t. . ." Juniper stopped. "This is hard for me. I’ve never told anyone this before."

"You can trust us," Hannah assured her.

"Except for Quinn," Ash added.

"Hush," Thierry told him.

Juniper ignored them. "I have no memory of anything earlier than six months ago. I woke up in the middle of the night, in the forest, covered in blood. I was stumbling around, trying to figure out where I was and who I was when a witch named Larabee Quest found me. It was a full moon, and she was out collecting herbs. She took me home, washed me off, and she’s been looking after me ever since."

So that’s what she meant when she said she didn’t know who she was, Tern reflected.

"And you have no memory of anything before this?" Hannah asked, and he could tell that she was trying to keep horror from creeping into her voice.

"Nothing. Just mist. I have nightmares, sometimes, about the forest. I dream of it almost every night, and that’s how I found out about the Night World. Of course Larabee told me, because she thought I was a vampire. That’s why she named me Juniper Aralias, she thought it was a good lamia name."

"It is," Thierry told her. "I fell for it."

"Well, until she tried to get me to drink blood, so did I. I don’t eat much of anything. Cookies, sometimes, if I’ve had a hard night. I try to stay away from dairy products and meat. No particular reason, I just don’t like the way they taste. But I don’t drink blood, I don’t crave it, and sunlight has no affect on me."

Tern noticed that she had not touched her tea, which had been carefully placed on a coffee table.

"I checked shapeshifter but I don’t have any of those symptoms, nor witch. Frankly, I don’t know what I am or how I came to be this way."

"But you were able to kill a werewolf," Thierry said. "Surely that indicates some Night World connection, since you were able to identify it and knew to kill it with silver."

"Which brings us to our original point," Quinn interrupted. "She didn’t kill the werewolf with silver."

"She didn’t?"

"No. She broke its neck, with her bare hands."

"How is that possible?" Hannah asked, alarmed.

Juniper shrugged. "Don’t look at me. I don’t even know my real name. It’s just something I can do. Werewolves, vampires, witches, it doesn’t matter. They sort of loose their powers when I go after them. Like today, when I smashed that glass pitcher over Quinn’s head. It shouldn’t have broken the skin, but it did. Ordinarily benign things turn deadly in my hands."

"You have the Gift of Death," Thierry recognized.

"That was Tern’s theory," Quinn told him. "But Anhinga was the only one who’s ever had it in the history of the world, right? There was the prophesy. And she’s dead."

Thierry nodded. "Died six months ago. In a forest north of Cross Bien."

"Juniper isn’t Anhinga," Quinn told him. "I saw Anhinga’s body. She was in pieces."

"No, I don’t think Juniper is Anhinga. I met her on numerous occasions, and she looked nothing like Juniper. But I do find it odd that Juniper woke up in the same forest where Anhinga was killed, at approximately the same time as the murder, covered in a blood, with no memories and Anhinga’s abilities. It seems like a huge coincidence."

"I agree," Hannah said. "We need to know what happened to you in the forest, Juniper."

She folded her hands in her lap. "Well, I can’t really help you. I don’t remember and I don’t really want to."

"Why not?" Ash asked, perplexed.

A smile unexpectedly touched the corners of Juniper’s mouth. "Because this is my home, and this is where I live," she said, the words sliding out like a mantra. She shrugged. "I live alone, in a hut in the middle of the forest. I have no friends except Larabee, I work seven days a week, and I’m very happy. I don’t need to know who I used to be to know that I like where I am. Oh, but maybe this will help you." She dug two fingers into her pocket and produced a folded square of paper. "I took it off the werewolf I killed."

Thierry read it, his expression darkening, and handed it to Quinn. "They know where we’re keeping the Wild Powers," he told them. Tern felt the color drain from his face.

"How?" Ash asked.

"I’m not sure. But here’s my theory on what’s happening. Vole killed Anhinga, and Hunter knew it. But he didn’t have enough proof to order an execution, so he banished Vole instead. Now that Hunter is gone, Vole thinks he might have a chance to win back the Council’s approval, since there was never any real proof that he killed her. He figures that if he brings them a Wild Power, forgiveness will be assured."

"And it will be," Quinn said. "They know we have three Wild Powers, even if they get the last one, they’re outnumbered."

"The prophecy says that unless we have all four, they win," Thierry reminded him.

"Wait," Ash broke in. "They don’t actually know that we have the Wild Powers at the compound, do they?"

"They know they sent a man down there and he didn’t come back," Juniper said quietly. "That alone should tell them that something’s going on."

"Which is why we need to uncover your memories. You could know things vital to seeing all this through."

"I’ve had good results with hypnotism," Hannah mentioned.

Juniper shook her head. "Why should I help you?"

Thierry was disturbed, and spent the next hour explaining to her about Circle Daybreak and the end of the world. She listened patiently without interrupting, but when he was done said, "I understand where you’re coming from, but this doesn’t have anything to do with me. I like my life, and I don’t want it disturbed. I’m sorry."

"Do you realize how incredibly selfish you’re being?" Quinn asked, his tone bitterly cold.

Juniper met his eyes straight on and replied, "You think that just because you have a good cause, that means you can make anybody do what you want? You don’t have any right, no right at all to make me do this. You don’t know what you’re asking for." She broke off, looking away, and Tern realized she was shaking. She rose decisively, and nodded slightly to Hannah. "Thanks for a lovely afternoon, but I need to be on my way now."

As she started toward the door, Thierry jumped up after her. "Please wait-" he began, and his hand closed around her wrist.

Big mistake.

Juniper reacted without thinking. Her right leg shot out backwards, her foot tucking behind his knee in a split instant, and she pulled, then twisted. Thierry went crashing backwards, she landed neatly on top of him and managed to pin both his wrists on her way down.

Everyone else was on their feet. Quinn was ready to pounce, Hannah’s hands were clapped over her cheeks, and Ash appeared to be holding back laughter. Tern just stared, and she wished she didn’t feel so strongly that she was disappointing him.

"You shouldn’t have done that," she told Thierry, climbing slowly off him.

"You shouldn’t have been able to stop me," he replied, cautiously.

It was too much. Between being ambushed at work, the incident on the plane, falling head-over-heels in love with a stranger, and now being guilt-tripped and attacked by this guy because she wouldn’t face her worst fear, she was about ready to scream.

Instead, she threw open the porch door and escaped into the courtyard. The sun was in the first phase of setting, stretching the shadows just enough that they seemed ominous. Weaving between the fountains and the flower beds, her boots making inelegant thudding sounds on the flagstone, Juniper found herself standing beside a wide, shapely pool filled with crystal clear water. She was tired, for the first time in memory, and her head was pounding. Stupid world, stupid Night World. She shouldn’t have been poking around the compound to begin with. Obviously it was patrolled and Circle Daybreak took care of things. As much as she loved working for Larabee, life was kind of dull.

Plunking down by the pool, she wished she’d tied her hair up that morning. It was warm out, maybe it was always this warm in the desert, even in January, but she was used to the chilled night winds of Cross Bien. As she slid into the shade of a palm tree, she remembered a bit of ribbon she’d stuck in her pocket that morning when it proved too short to go around a stout candle. It was a tight wrap, but she managed to tie her hair back with it.

She wondered how she was supposed to get home. She didn’t have a driver’s licence, and thought she could operate a motor vehicle but wasn’t willing to stake her life on it. Besides that, she didn’t have a car anyway and Cross Bien was a couple hundred miles south.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?" Tern asked from a few feet away. Juniper managed not to jump but knew her eyes were wide.

"Alright," she said. He settled beside her, carefully placed out of direct light. The reflections from the pool surface lit up the copper rings in his brown eyes, but he didn’t turn them on her.

"Sorry about running out like that," she said. "I’m not used to confrontation."

He just nodded. "You don’t have to be afraid of Thierry, he wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to."

"Why should I be afraid of him?" she agreed. "Quinn was wrong, I could have killed him."

Tern’s sensitive mouth tightened. "Do you ever get close enough to people that you can be afraid of their minds and not their strength?"

She stopped herself from wincing, despite the sting. "For all practical purposes I’m only six months old, and except for Larabee I don’t have a friend in the world. Lay off."

He glanced at her. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I’m not used to talking this much."

"I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah. The way you stand, the way you walk a few feet away from everyone else, it’s easy to tell that you’re a loner."

"Glad you noticed. Can I say what I’ve noticed about you?"

She turned her head to watch him, feeling the hot wind blow against her uncovered neck. "Sure, why not?"

"Okay." He picked a flower from and nearby bed and twirled it between his fingers. "I know that you’re strong, and not just physically. You have that super-hero mentality, the kind that can move mountains. Literally. Your hair is brown, your eyes are blue, and you dress badly and don’t give a damn. All you’re worried about is surviving, killing whatever tries to kill you next, pushing away anything that might threaten who you are. See, I don’t think you’re really as cold about Circle Daybreak as you’re pretending to be. I think you care a lot about which side wins, and that’s why you were wandering around the compound the other night. Just checking things out, making sure we didn’t need any back up. But you can’t give up your mist, as you called it earlier, because you’re afraid you’ll find somebody else who isn’t as strong as you are, and they’ll hold you back." His fingers reached up to tuck the flower behind her ear, sending small lightening bolts down the side of her face. "But I know you, Juniper. Already. Don’t let being afraid stop you. You’ve been strong enough to survive everything else, surely a few memories of a person you aren’t even are any more can’t get you."

He leaned closer and said in a softer voice, "And no matter who you used to be, I’m still going to love you."

Juniper closed her eyes against the tears which had suddenly formed. Oh, god, how had he known? What mysterious cosmic force had given him the ability to know her heart?

She put her arms around his neck and he drew her close. The stifling wind blew around them like a big ace bandage, binding them together, and Juniper lost all sense of where she was. They were floating, in a warm, dark place full of quiet. He did know her, and suddenly she knew him as well. Delicious scents of him wafted toward her, the iced tea and cake of family gatherings, the sharp salt of the sea where he spent his summers, the forlorn staleness of the air in the compound. He was quiet and thoughtful, and he liked the sound of voices but not his own.

You have a beautiful voice, Juniper told him. You just don’t use it often enough.

He did a mental spin, startled that she had seen into his thoughts. She realized with a jolt that he had been browsing through hers as well.

Then you didn’t fail your parents when you joined Circle Daybreak.

Perhaps this was the role of soulmates, to reassure one another that they were alright. To calm the inner fears that could be shown to no one else, to build a sacred sanctuary of contentment. Juniper lay her forehead against Tern’s neck, soaking him up.

I would walk around the whole earth for you, he said, and she laughed. No, I really would. I know it sounds crazy, but if you wanted me to, I would do it. Just to see how happy it made you.

And because you need it, I’m willing to go through the mist and find out what happened.

The fog rolled in, around them, over them, under them. Juniper felt her fear of it rise and she pinched her eyes shut, willing herself to go on.

Juniper, no, Tern said, finally feeling her emotions first hand. I can’t make you do this. I just can’t. It’s too much to ask.

She held him tighter and didn’t fight the fog as it closed around her.

It was only too much to ask when you weren’t with me.

A pinpoint of light appeared in the distance, burning like the sun of a distant galaxy, and Juniper turned her face to it. Focus, she told Tern. That’s where the memories are.

He looked up, they both did. The light began to grow.

Greta Faelene was utterly lost. "I don’t believe this," she said to herself, glancing around the forest. The trees were shrouded in hoop-skirts of darkness, between them splashes of light where the moon shone through. Cicadas hummed mournfully all around, and the only other sound was Greta’s boots crunching on the fallen pine needles.

She glanced at her watch but the face was smashed in from where she’d tripped and gone sprawling against a tree. Where is Beth? she wondered in exasperation. She’d come out tonight on a double date and then been abandoned, cold and mildly drunk, to wander the forest until she A. Found her car, or B. Froze to death.

Or C. Heard screams and followed them.

They were coming from her left, where the earth began slanting downward in preparation for a ravine. Greta moved carefully, trying to lighten her steps and crunch as little as possible. The screaming was female, but it sounded too high to be Beth, and too terrified to be the result of a campfire story. There were male voices, too, and there were too many of them to be Sam and Ripley.

Just other kids from school, Greta assured herself, as she reached the top of the ravine. The sight below did not reassure her.

There was a campfire, glowing against the tree trunks and dancing wildly. A circle of four or five guys were beside it, and in the center cowered a girl. She didn’t look much older than Greta, around seventeen, but in her face was an iron strength too old for her. She wasn’t screaming from fear but because she was trying to attract attention. She hadn’t lost her head, which was coincidentally, very beautiful. She had a cap of thick brown hair and her body was obviously in excellent shape. She carried an over-all feeling of refined power.

"You think you can make fools of us like that?" one of the guys demanded. "You think you can make me look like a fool in front of Hunter Redfern? No way, you’re gonna pay, bitch."

"You’ll regret it if you hurt me," the girl swore, as one of the guys ducked into the trees. A moment later, a wolf appeared. Greta felt herself freeze up with fear, but no one at the circle was bothered.

What’s wrong with you? she thought frantically. There’s a wolf right there!

"Shut up, Anhinga," another guy said, and the wolf barked a few times. Still, no one bothered to notice it.

"I am a princess-" she began, but the guy shook his head.

"You’re dinner."

Another wolf had appeared, Greta saw, and was snarling at Anhinga. It was large, black, and bristling furiously.

There were only two guys left at the circle. "We ready to get this show on the road?" asked the one who had spoken first. The wolves howled an affirmative.

"Wait a second," said the second guy. "Vole? Wait."

Vole was already grabbing Anhinga by the back of her collar and pulling her off the ground. Her wrists had been clamped with what appeared to be wooden stocks.

"What?" Vole asked, annoyed.

"Could I maybe slurp a few pints before you guys rip her to shreds?"

Anhinga tried to hit him in the face with her stocks, but Vole kicked her to the ground. He muttered a few swears and something that sounded like, "Baby vampires." Meanwhile, the wolves--Greta had decided that they must be pet dogs--prowled restlessly in a wide circle.

The second guy leaned down on the ground where Anhinga lay and reached for her head. This time her aim was true, and she slammed the stocks into his scull as he leaned to bite (?) her. The guy went sprawling onto his back, and Vole and the wolves began to laugh, in guffaws and yips, respectively.

"You can’t do this do me," Anhinga said, her face grim. "You don’t have any right. I have strength you can’t imagine."

"Apparently not in your nose," Vole replied, which led to more fits of laughter. "You drank down that hare blood like it was a fine wine, didn’t even bother to wipe your mouth. Never even smelled it coming."

Greta’s knees dropped out from under her and she slid onto a bed of needles. The wolves appeared not to have heard. Her breath came in short spurts, like cold fire down her throat.

These people weren’t human, she realized.

"No," Anhinga was agreeing. "Not in my nose. But in my head I do. Knowledge is power, you know."

"Not power enough to free you," Vole replied lightly, untroubled. He turned away and dragged a cooler out from under the bushes. "Want a beer?"

"Not really."

"Suit yourself."

"Are you listening to me, Vole?"

"Not if I can help it."

Anhinga spoke on, her voice strong and confident. "The vampires are related to the witches, if you look back far enough. Sure, most of the mixed traits have died out now, you don’t see a lot of witches who drink blood occasionally, or vampires who can cast spells. But if you look, there are still traces. You’ve heard about me, right Vole? You know about these witch powers I have. Gift of Death, they call it. Hunter’s been waiting a long time for me to show up, he isn’t going to like it when he finds out that you killed me. He wants this gift of mine, to help him when the Old Powers have risen, but he doesn’t know everything. The Gift of Death isn’t my only Gift."

Vole, who had just finished chugging a beer, belched loudly. I didn’t know vampires drank other stuff, Greta thought, trying to chase away the panic that was threatening to paralyze her.

"What the hell are you muttering about, girl?"

He was starting to look worried, and Anhinga was starting to look smug. Greta felt the tree trunk under her hand shake slightly, and pulled away. The shaking continued though, spreading through the roots of the tree and into the ground.

Anhinga was leaning back on her elbows, shackled wrists against her stomach. If she hadn’t been surrounded by werewolves and covered in mud, she could have been a teenager at the beach. "I don’t know if it has a name, or maybe it’s just another part of this Gift of Death thing. I haven’t quite worked that part out yet. But I’ll tell you one thing, Vole, it blows even me away."

The trees were all shaking down, and the ground was rumbling like an earthquake was about to hit. Moonlight splattered erratically over the gray-green forest floor, and animals in deep earth burrows began erupting at the surface. Greta climbed to her feet, ready to run, but immediately lost her balance and fell again.

"Uh, Vole?" asked the little vampire. The werewolves were making whimpering noises.

"Stop that!" Vole shouted, trying to save face. He kicked Anhinga in the stomach, and she doubled up but the shaking only grew worse. "I said stop!"

Greta knew this was her only chance to intervene. On her hands and knees, she began crawling down the side of the ravine, keeping low to the ground in order to avoid being thrown. A tree crashed a few feet away, its roots shaken loose.

"Vole!" cried the little vampire. "I’m getting out of here." He turned to the werewolves. "Are you coming?"

The black werewolf stayed with Vole, jumping up and down as the earth shook. "Stop!" Vole shouted again, and picked up the cooler. Greta pinched her eyes shut, unable to watch him bring it crashing down on Anhinga’s head. Another tree fell, then another, and soon whole sections of the ravine were collapsing and sliding down. A clump of dirt abruptly landed on the fire, smothering all the flames.

Greta froze, and Anhinga screamed. This time she wasn’t trying to get attention.

The hill she was sitting on suddenly moved, sliding like a runaway bobsled, and Greta found herself tumbling down into the ravine. She hit branches, felt sharp twigs and brambles slice open her cheeks. One ankle caught between roots and stopped her for a moment, then the downward motion wrenched it free and sent her rolling again.

There was a noise so loud it seemed as though the world had ended, and utter blackness all around. Greta lay still, covered in dirt and weight, just waiting for something to explain what was going on.

There was the rustle of footsteps far away. "Galvin?" roared a voice. "Chibo? Rich? Galvin?" Greta gradually recognized it as Vole’s.

"Over here, boss," came a reply, and the footsteps moved toward it. Greta opened her eyes and saw the branches of a tree that had landed almost on top of her, spreading thick black fingers against the midnight blue sky.

"Can you walk?" Vole asked, and began helping the werewolf up. "Which direction?"

"Vole!" cried the little vampire from the distance. "This way!"

"Chibo, you little jerk, what were you running out like that for?"

Greta lay still and listened to the retreating creatures. Her ankle, the one that had gotten caught between boughs, was throbbing dully, but she didn’t think it was broken. Every other square inch of her body was aching, and numberless scratches burned in the night air.

When she was sure they were long gone, she wiggled hesitantly out from under the branches. Another few feet and the tree would have turned her into applesauce.

The forest was deserted, the ravine a trough full of salad. Trees and bushes lay scattered at every angle, covered in dirt and dry leaves. "Anhinga?" Greta whispered, bracing her boots against a trunk. "Anhinga? It’s okay, they’re gone."

"Here," came the dim reply. Greta scurried over the debris, tripping and scraping her elbow once, falling through a net of twigs another time, but finally saw a dim arm sticking out from under the rubble.

"Are you okay?" she asked, staring down into the most beautiful face she’d ever seen, even though it was filthy and ashen.

Anhinga chuckled. "I doubt that."

"Should I go get help or try to move the tree on top of you?"

"Neither. I saw you watching from the bushes."

"I think I can use that rock to lever it off."

"No, listen. You can’t get me out. You can’t move that trunk, it’s impossible, and I’d bleed to death before help could get here."

Greta looked in despair at the mess that had been made of Anhinga’s perfect body. She couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t look as if there was enough room between trunks for both her legs to fit. . .

"What can I do?" she asked miserably, tears filling her eyes. She had never seen anyone die.

"Break off that branch." Anhinga tilted her head toward it and winced. "My arm is stuck underneath." When it was free, she said, "I know this is scary. You’re probably still reeling from finding out about the Night World. But don’t panic, some of us aren’t like Vole. Do you believe me?"

Greta looked into Anhinga’s face, at the clean, honest lines that lay beneath so much dirt and blood, and touched her bruised hand. Anhinga was not like Vole, Greta sensed. She knew it in her heart. "I believe you," she said.

"Good. I have an ability, called the Gift of Death. I’m the only one who has ever had it, but I don’t think this part of the story was in the prophesy. At least, I never read it. But the. . ." She paused, pained. "What’s your name?"

"Greta. Greta Faelene."

"Alright. Things are going to happen, Greta, soon. There are going to be wars between the Night World and the humans. I was going to be the prize Night World weapon, but apparently that plan’s shot. I know you’re only human, but I think I can give you this gift I have. It will let you kill any creature, no matter how strong, as easily as you would a human. It will give you incredible strength. I could have easily snapped those stocks if Vole hadn’t spiked my dinner. Do you understand?"

Greta nodded. "And the ability to cause landslides?"

Anhinga laughed a dry, hoarse laugh. "No, that one’s mine alone. I just thought I might be able to scare Vole into letting me go with it. Got a little out of control. But you’ll have the Gift of Death, and you’ll be able to use it for your own purposes. I supposed you won’t be on the Night World side, that’s okay. I don’t mind too much."

"But why are you giving me this ability if I’m not on your team?"

She smiled dreamily. "Because I know you’re the sort of girl who’ll take revenge on Vole for me. We’re two of a kind, Greta."

I wish, Greta thought honestly. She could never be as impossibly strong as Anhinga.

"So what do you say? Vole’s hideout is in Cross Bien, on the corner of Katie Avenue and Lourdes Circle. You promise to kill him for me, and I’ll give you the Gift of Death. Deal?"

Greta rubbed her forehead. "This is all going kind of fast."

"Yeah, I know. I was expecting to live at least a couple of hundred more years."

For the first time, she saw a kind of sadness flash over Anhinga’s face. "Of course I’ll do it," she said, knowing she couldn’t deny someone so noble her dying wish. Even if she was a vampire, she seemed like an awfully nice kid. "What should I do?"

Anhinga gave a sigh of relief and then bit her wrist open. "Drink."

Greta glanced at the welling blood and then back to Anhinga’s face. "Drink your blood?"

"How did you think we were going to do it? Hurry, I’m not sure how much of this stuff I have left."

"How will I know when to stop?"

Anhinga closed her eyes, and suddenly Greta felt alone and scared. "Just keep going until there’s nothing left to drink. And don’t forget Vole. That bastard’s going to pay."

Hesitantly, Greta pressed her lips to the large gash. The blood was thick and strong, and it tasted like the ocean on fire. The heat poured down her throat and into her belly, running down her cheeks and onto her shirt.

She barely heard Anhinga’s dying words. "I don’t know what kind of effect this will have, I don’t even know if it will work. Take care of yourself, okay? Kill Vole, and then maybe go find Circle Daybreak or something. You seem like that kind of kid. . ."

And then, when the last drop was gone from Anhinga’s veins, Greta realized a heavy fog was rolling in.

Tern was asleep under a potted tree by the pool, Juniper resting against him. Her hand was closed over his, and they both looked so peaceful it made Ash’s heart ache for Mary-Lynnette. He knew that kind of contentment.

"So she didn’t kill him," Quinn said dryly from a few feet away.

"Guess not." Ash expected him to make a smart comment, like, "Our loss," but he said nothing. Apparently even Quinn had respect for newly found soulmates.

"Should we wake them up?" Ash asked, watching the way they breathed in unison.

"They’ll wake up on their own. It’s been almost two hours." Quinn started walking toward the gate. "Turn on the pool lights when you get back inside."

"Where are you going?" Ash called.

"Hunting."

"Can I come?"

Quinn shot a look over his shoulder. "Not unless you want to be the prey."

It took several minutes for Tern to figure out where he was. Juniper was pressed into his arms, smelling faintly of Larabee’s incense and the desert wind. He stared at her for a long time, seeing her in a new light, as a whole person. Whatever the returned memories had done to her, he didn’t think it had been bad.

Wait, what memories?

He realized suddenly that it hadn’t just been a dream he’d had, but an almost theater-like performance of the night Anhinga died and Juniper was born. It all came clear to him in an instant what had happened, in a flash of understanding.

Vole’s hideout is in Cross Bien, on the corner of Katie Avenue and Lourdes Circle.

"Juniper." He shook her very gently, and she opened her eyes, blue, like Anhinga’s. He wasn’t sure what color Greta’s eyes had been.

"Hi." She curled her head against his shoulder. "Have we been asleep long? I had this dream. . ."

Tern didn’t have to say anything; she knew. "Oh my," she said. "It wasn’t a dream, was it?"

"I don’t think so."

"We have to go back to Cross Bien. Right away."

"Yeah."

But neither one of them moved. Their cocoon had not been broken, it still bound them like a second skin. Slowly, Juniper turned her face upward and pressed her lips against his. He kissed her, pulling her into his lap.

"I love you," he said when they parted, and she smiled the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

"Come on. I’ve got a personal vendetta to fulfill."

They found Thierry in an upstairs study, sitting in a chair on the balcony and writing tightly on a legal pad. Ash was sitting on the railing, kicking his feet and looking out over courtyard. He flashed Tern a smile that said he’d watched the kiss.

"Oh, you’re awake," Thierry said. "Good. Listen, Juniper, about earlier, I really shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I have no intention of forcing you to do anything you don’t want to-"

"I did it," she interrupted. "Vole’s hideout is in Cross Bien."

Thierry looked startled. "You remembered?"

"Tern helped me. Anyway, if you can put us on a plane, I’d like to go kill him tonight."

Ash started laughing, and Thierry glanced at him in annoyance. "Are you sure?"

Juniper sat down sideways on a chaise longue and Tern settled beside her. She was still holding his hand. "I promised Anhinga before she died that I would nail him for her. I’m already six months late, and if I hadn’t forgotten everything then Hunter could have executed Vole right after it happened, and he never would have found the Wild Powers in the first place."

"If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly happened between you and Anhinga?"

Juniper gazed into the sky, which was now sunless and full of stars. "I was hanging out in the forest with some friends and we got separated. I walked in on Vole getting ready to kill Anhinga, and then she used some kind of magic to cause an avalanche."

"She wasn’t a witch."

"She was, in a way. Knowledge is power, and she had it. Anyway, after I pulled myself out of the rubble, I found her. She was dying, but she said she would give me the Gift of Death if I promised to go after Vole. I drank her blood, she died, and I forgot who I was."

"But you aren’t a vampire," Ash pointed out.

"She didn’t drink my blood when I drank hers. I think that must be why I didn’t become a vampire."

Thierry nodded. "I see. And when you forgot who you were, you also forgot Anhinga, the Night World, all of yourself."

"Right."

"And you’re really willing to go after Vole?"

"I promised her. Besides, if I’m going to work for Circle Daybreak then I better protect the Wild Powers, right?"

Thierry’s endless eyes were smiling. "I suppose so. You can leave as soon as Quinn gets back, in my jet. Is there anything else you need?"

Tern really could have used an hour to hunt, but at that moment Ash said, "Hey, here’s Quinn now. Quinn, hey, up here!" He waved. "Think I should spit on him?" he asked Tern jokingly.

"Not if you want to live."

"You’re sure about this?" Thierry was asking Juniper, as Ash called down to Quinn, "What are you-"

"I’m sure," Juniper said. Quinn’s cold hand appeared over the side of the railing and then vanished, taking Ash with it.

"Then thank you," Thierry said.

Below, in the courtyard, Ash’s scream was accompanied by a splash. Tern slipped his arm around Juniper’s waist as she told Thierry, "When this is all over, and Vole’s dead, I’ll give you a call, okay? I was supposed to be the Night World’s main weapon against you, but that plan got tossed. By Vole, ironically."

"For crying out loud," Hannah muttered as she walked in. She gestured to the courtyard. "Don’t those two ever give it a rest?"

"Good news," Thierry told her. "Juniper has recovered all her memories and is going after Vole tonight."

Hannah’s eyes lit up, and she clasped Juniper’s hand. "Oh, thank you so much, you just. . ."

The girls went downstairs a few minutes later. Hannah wanted to find Ash some dry clothes, and Juniper said she would help, although Tern knew she just wanted a chance to apologize for earlier.

Thierry capped his pen and lay it aside. "You look troubled, Tern. Your mouth is stretched flat."

Tern forced a smile. "I don’t want her to come along. It’s stupid, but I don’t want to put her in that kind of danger."

"I know the feeling. But women aren’t what they used to be, especially ones with psychic powers. She’s smart, she’s quick, and she hates Vole. And she’s stronger than Mr. T. It would be absurd to leave her behind."

"I know."

"You just want to protect her."

"You’d do the same thing for Hannah."

"Of course I would. I nearly killed myself when I realized Maya had her. But like I said, women are strong these days, Juniper especially."

"You’re right. Tell me, will this idea I have about building her a bulletproof glass castle surrounded by guard dogs ever go away?"

Thierry smiled, then laughed softly. "Look around you, Tern."

Then they both laughed.

Juniper ended up in a dress after all. Greta’s memories were hers now, but they didn’t feel like a part of her, more like just a reference sheet. She could recall Greta wearing skirts, but the knowledge of how to go up stairs without tripping on the hem had not returned. The dress was a loan from Hannah, although they both knew when they picked out the ugliest garment Hannah owned that it wouldn’t be coming back. At least, not white.

It was just after dawn, and the infant sun was burning away the shadows in the alleyway outside Vole’s hideout. Trash and junked furniture filled the narrow street, and she could just see the twinkle of Quinn’s snow white hair behind a refrigerator with the door missing. She turned confidently, straightened her dress, and made sure the small wooden knives Hannah had given her before she left were securely out of sight.

They’d flown through the night and gone back to the compound, where they argued over whether to attack during darkness, when the guys would be strongest, or after dawn, when Vole would be less powerful. Since Juniper was their strongest weapon and the sun had no affect on her, they opted for dawn. She’d caught two hours sleep on a couch in the inner chamber, waking up often but always in Tern’s arms. She felt oddly rested, and confident. So what if Anhinga had been planning to help wipe out the entire human race; she hadn’t been that into it and was pretty nice to Greta.

Juniper tossed back her hair, hoping that the tiny ringlets she’d curled it into and the white dress helped her appear innocent and harmless, and rapped on the door with her knuckles. There was a long wait before a male voice called out, "Who’s there?"

The door cracked open, the chain still on, and a bedraggled looking shapeshifter peered out. "My name’s Juniper Aralias," Juniper told him. "I’m here to see Vole."

"What do you want?" the ‘shifter asked suspiciously.

"I need to talk to him about something," she replied.

"What?"

Even as he spoke, her leg lashed out against the door, splintering the wood and snapping the chain. The ‘shifter flew backwards and Juniper dove inside, hearing the vampires emerge from their hiding places and follow.

The place was a mess, Juniper noticed as she picked up an ashtray and used it to break the ‘shifter’s scull open like a rotten egg. Behind her, Ash was struggling with a vampire, who Tern staked with a chair leg. In a matter of seconds, they were inside.

Quinn closed the door and glanced at the ‘shifter. "Interesting," he said, gesturing to the ashtray embedded in his head. Juniper nodded and glanced around. There were three doors; one a closet, one that led outside, and the one that would take them to Vole.

Juniper went in first, and found herself alone in a surprisingly huge kitchen. "I think this place used to be a bakery," Tern told her, his eyes traveling over the rows of pots that hung from the ceiling. From the back came the quiet rustling of livestock, which Vole and his entourage apparently fed on.

"Where’s the door?" Juniper asked, pulling two knives from the case strapped to her inner arm. She and Hannah had been right about the dress; it was already splattered with blood.

"Over here," Tern answered from the far end of the kitchen, and then an entire wall of dishes went over.

Juniper felt the pain before she saw Tern struggling with the creature. A sharp ripping in her stomach, deep and spreading. She suddenly remembered that Tern hadn’t fed in three days and was weak to begin with, and cursed herself for not telling him to go out and hunt before they came.

Quinn was already moving, an iron-cast frying pan in his hand. The creature, they never did decide for sure what it had been, was human-shaped but covered in thick purple slime. It’s eyes were intelligent, but it hissed with its man-tongue instead of speaking.

And it had just thrust a broom-stick handle into Tern’s stomach.

There were very few things in the world Juniper couldn’t fight. Her shock at that moment was one of them.

I can’t loose you, she told him, watching Quinn bring the pan down on the creature’s head. It hissed, stretching its mouth to an almost 180 degree angle. Ash intervened, burying a meat cleaver in its greasy flank, and Quinn grabbed its legs to haul it away from Tern.

"Oh god," Ash said, seeing the broomstick handle.

Tern was surrounded by a small pool of blood, which was welling quickly over his torso. Despite the pain, which Juniper could feel almost as if it were her own, he managed to joke, "Gosh, can’t you two ever work together unless you’re killing something?"

Then he fell back and passed out on the floor.

Quinn helped Juniper up and told her to get a grip. "What should we do?" Ash asked, the color draining from his cheeks.

"You stay here and guard him. Try to get that broom out of his stomach, and give him something to eat. Juniper, we’ve got to find Vole."

"I can’t go," she told him numbly. "I can’t leave Tern here to die."

Quinn put his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look away from Tern’s lifeless form. "He won’t die. Ash will take care of him. Right now, we have to kill Vole before he exposes the Wild Powers."

The Wild Powers, the Uncontrollable Electricity. Of course, Juniper thought. Vital to everything. But her feet wouldn’t budge, and she found her eyes traveling back over Quinn’s shoulder to the pool of blood on the floor.

"Juniper," Quinn whispered. "Please, I can’t do this alone."

She came to then, realizing how serious the situation was if Quinn was admitting a weakness, and in front of Ash, no less.

"Alright," she said, forcing herself to turn away. "Take care of him, Ash."

"Like he was my own soulmate," Ash promised.

The kitchen led to a dark stairwell. Juniper went up it slowly, Quinn behind her. She had dropped her knives when she saw Tern, now she drew two more. At the top of the steps was a wooden door, the handle of which she carefully turned and pushed open without creaking.

The second floor was a studio apartment, as dark as night because the windows had been covered with thick cloth. Juniper glanced around and saw that the floor was littered with trash, pizza boxes and filthy blankets, and here and there came the fetid stench of a rotting animal.

"I didn’t know you guys ate pizza," she whispered to Quinn, grabbing his hand.

"Shapeshifters," he replied, a little indignantly.

Since the floor was deserted, they followed another set of stairs to the third floor, the top level. Juniper hit a snoozing vampire as she opened the door, and staked it before it had time to cause a stir.

"Who’s there?" asked a voice, and it struck a cord deep in her mind. Juniper tossed her hair back and pulled out another wooden knife.

"Who’s there?" Vole demanded again, and touched the light switch.

They were in a throne room, and the throne was a Lazy-E-Boy recliner propped up on top of two dressers. At least a dozen napping vampires were scattered around the room, slumped on couch cushions or each other. Apparently the werewolves had decided to go out and party while the boss was resting.

"Who are you?"

Vole was better looking than she remembered. Black hair and piercing green eyes, strong arms that showed under the cut-off tee-shirt.

"My name’s Juniper Aralias," Juniper said simply. "This is Quinn. We’re here to kill you."

The vampires on the floor were beginning to stir, and Quinn started fighting with one. Juniper leaned over and staked another while it was still asleep; better to get them out of the way before they made trouble.

"You’re here to kill me?" Vole asked with a laugh.

"Sure am."

He sat up in his chair, folding the leg rest in. "You’re a human," he said, amused. "You don’t really think you can kill a master vampire like myself, do you?"

Juniper glanced at Quinn, who was holding his own, and then leapt in one bound onto one of the dressers that held up the throne. Vole started, pulling away from her.

"To begin with," she said. "You’re no master vampire. And I don’t think I can kill you, I know it."

Vole had regained himself and grabbed for her. Juniper ducked quickly, giving his chair a good kick in the process. It flew off its pedestals and crashed to the floor, breaking a few boards as it landed, and then Vole was on her, his arms around her neck, trying to sink his fangs into her throat. Juniper laughed and slapped him hard enough to dislocate his jaw.

"Get real," she said, watching him fly across the room. "If we’re going to fight, then let’s fight, but don’t waste my time. I’ve got other people to slay today."

Vole’s green eyes were wide. "Who are you?" he asked again, this time in awe.

Juniper paused, thinking. "I guess I’m Anhinga’s last gift to you, jerk."

The door opened and suddenly Ash was helping Quinn pin a vampire to the ground. "Why aren’t you with Tern?" Juniper asked, automatically thinking the worst.

He pulled up a piece of floorboard and staked the vamp with it. "Don’t worry," he told her. "He’s okay. I got the broom out and gave him a bunny to eat."

A bunny? Juniper thought, and then Vole hit her with a strength she hadn’t thought he possessed. Unprepared, she stumbled back into the dresser as Vole hit her again.

"A bunny, huh?" Vole asked. Juniper was so surprised to feel her kidneys that she momentarily lost her focus, giving him a chance to hit her again. "That ought to make for a nice surprise."

You drank down that hare blood like it was a fine wine, didn’t even bother to wipe your mouth. Never even smelled it coming.

Her stomach dropped to the floor, from Vole’s latest punch or her sudden revelation she didn’t know. She felt the poison in Tern’s veins like it was running through her own, and wondered, If there was enough drug in one bunny to disable Anhinga, what will it do to Tern?

"I will kill you," she swore, throwing a left into Vole’s green eyes. "And if he dies, I’ll resurrect you just so I can kill you again."

Vole laughed, and she was done playing with him. In one swift move, she sidestepped his flying punch and buried her knife in his side, pushing it until she felt his heart tear open. She took her second knife and made a more direct hit this time, and Vole fell to the floor as if he were boneless. Blood gushed from his chest, even more so when Juniper crushed his breastbone, ground the heel of her hiking boot into his heart.

She thought of Anhinga and wiped a tear from her eye.

"Where are you going?" Ash cried, but she was already halfway down the stairs. She could feel Tern dying all around her, and she knew it was her fault. She never should have left him, never should have brought him into such a dangerous situation. She and Quinn could have done it alone, leaving the less experienced fighters back at the compound.

He was scarcely breathing, and although the broomstick was gone, Juniper could see the floor tiles through the hole in his stomach. "Oh, Tern," she whispered, falling down beside him. "I’m so sorry."

He opened his eyes, rich brown with burnished copper rings, and his mouth smiled just at the sight of her. "Not your fault," he whispered. "In the bunny."

"I know." Her hands touched his, skimming over the bloody fabric of his shirt. "I guess Vole keeps them around."

"Kept."

"What?" She looked up, unable to believe he was worrying about something like proper tenses when he was dying.

"I love you," she said, tears rolling down her cheek. He smiled sadly and stared up at the ceiling.

"Tell my parents I’m sorry, okay? And take care of Ash."

He passed out again.

She couldn’t let this happen. Her mind was screaming in a torrential storm of flashing colors and explosions. Time passed so slowly, but she still didn’t do anything. What could she do? What would Anhinga have done. . . ?

Juniper didn’t give herself time to think. She bit into her wrist until the pain flared through the skin, and in her mind she heard the skin finally rip like rubber snapping. "Here," she said, even though he couldn’t hear her. She pressed her wrist against his mouth and let the blood drip inside. Then she lay down beside him to wait.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked as he rushed into the kitchen a few minutes later.

Juniper forced her eyes open and saw him through a haze of tears. Tern wasn’t getting any better, she could feel it. She didn’t have enough power in her blood to counteract the poison. Anhinga had, because she was a vampire, but Juniper was just a human with a Gift. At this point, her blood would help Tern about as much as another bunny would.

"The rabbit was poisoned. I think he’s dying."

Quinn sat down beside them, his eyes distant and cold. "Let me," he said after a moment.

Juniper didn’t think, she just pulled away and pressed her back against a cupboard, watching as Quinn’s blood, an entirely different substance, fell into Tern’s mouth.

"I don’t have the power," she told him. "Anhinga was able to transfer power through the blood, but I’m not. I guess it’s one of those things that made her special."

She was resigned, numb, thoughtless. Quinn knew what he was doing; no blood spilled onto Tern’s cheeks.

"If he lives," he said, "he might stop aging. I don’t know. I’ve never done this before."

He met Juniper’s eyes. "Thanks," she said, and started crying again.

"As much as I hate to admit it, occasionally we all need help from," he told her.

She didn’t see it when the hole in Tern’s chest began to close.

"Juniper," Quinn said. "Juniper, look, it’s working."

"What’s working?" Ash asked as he walked in. "Hey, I finally staked that big one. Man, he was–Is Tern okay?"

Juniper opened her eyes hesitantly, almost afraid Quinn was joking. He’d taken his wrist away, and was carefully pressing the wound shut, and Tern. . .Tern was beginning to glow. Not outwardly, in any way Ash could see, but at the other end of the chord that tied him to Juniper, she could feel it.

"You gave him a poisoned bunny," Quinn snapped at Ash.

"I did not! Why would I do that?"

Juniper got to her knees and eased down beside Tern. Yes, the hole was closing up, the color was coming back into his cheeks. His lips were turned down in a grimace, but moving slightly, as if he were trying to speak.

"Because you’re so stupid you never thought to check the label on the cage."

"Yeah, I did. It said, ‘Sleeping Beauty Bunnies,’ which I figured meant. . .Oh, crap."

"I’m not dead?"

"No, Quinn saved you."

"Yeah," Quinn said to Ash. "Oh crap it is, you idiot."

"How was I to know? I mean, nobody else keeps Fluffy shot up with cyanide or whatever."

"Lean closer," Tern whispered, and Juniper hunched down. "I can taste your blood," he said, his breath brushing her ear. "It wouldn’t have worked with just Quinn. It had to be both of you."

"No." She started to explain to him about the power of vampire blood, but he stopped her.

"It had to be both of you," he said again. "Him to heal the hole, you to make me want to wake up."

The tears had started falling again. "I love you," she said, kissing him.

"I love you, too."

There was a party at the compound that night. Iliana was quite oblivious to the danger she’d been in, and Jez was disappointed that she hadn’t gotten to help, but Delos politely thanked them each. Juniper sat on the same couch where she’d spent the night, Tern’s head in her lap as she helped him sip from a glass of blood, tested and purified.

"Promise me you’ll hunt more often?" she said. "If you hadn’t been so. . ."

"Lethargic," Quinn supplied, pausing in his description of the weekend to Mona.

"Thanks. If you’d drunk more, you would have been in better shape."

"Nah, he still would have gotten me. He came out of nowhere." He was smiling the smile that said he was teasing her.

"It’s getting late, you should go to bed."

"I’d rather sleep here on the couch with you. Or go with you to your cabin, although the walk might take me all night. Do you mind staying here?"

She ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "It doesn’t matter, I don’t care."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I know you like the security there."

"I’m sure." She put a hand over his heart, feeling the pulse strong and steady. "After all, this is my home now, and this is where I live."

He smiled at her.

Jory San-Corinth