Hearing Eve say she was marrying him…It tore everything apart. I hated him, and I couldn’t hate him. I loved her, and I couldn’t not hate her, too, because she’d made that choice. None of it made any sense anymore. I hated the people I was supposed to love. Not Claire—that was pure; it was perfect. I couldn’t hate her.

Not until I thought about Myrnin. Not until I remembered what Jester had said… She’s marked. I can smell the bite on her. Not her fault, but I hated that Myrnin had that claim on her. That I couldn’t make it go away, no matter how much I tried.

Vassily had promised me money, and he’d delivered. He’d also promised me and Claire a way out.

And I had to take it soon, because there wasn’t going to be anything left to save.

Claire was in the kitchen, talking to Michael and Eve, and a sensation swept over me…paranoia, probably. I just knew that she was trying to make it all okay, that we would all have to sit together and pretend, just pretend that the cracks weren’t big enough to fall through.

And I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.

I got up and left, closing the door quietly behind me.

Out in the dark, no Protection, no vampires who would snap their fingers and make sure I could walk around in safety—not that it worked that way, no matter what they promised. I had gotten a letter in today’s mail; I was overdrawn at the blood bank again, and if I didn’t show up to pay my taxes soon, the Bloodmobile would come calling. They weren’t gentle when that happened. They came in, grabbed you, strapped you down, and stuck a needle in your vein, whether you liked it or not.

Sometimes they forgot to take it out when you filled up your pint. Or two. Or three.

Sometimes people just didn’t come out again.

No way I was going to do that anymore. I wasn’t part of this. I was going to get out and take Claire with me.

I walked to the gym. If there were vampires out there in the dark, stalking me, they’d be sorry, and they must have sensed it, because I made it there without anybody touching me. I was sweating, even in the cold wind; there was steam coming off my skin. I felt shaky, though. Empty again. Not hungry, but thirsty.

When I got inside the gym and behind the private door, the first thing I did was pop open a sports bottle from the common fridge and down the protein drink. Then another one. Then another. By the third one I was feeling steady again. In control. Focused.

Strong.

“Hey, man,” said Greg, another human who was training. He was a juicer, bulked up with fake muscles, but he was cool, anyway. ’Roid rage was an advantage in the ring. We high-fived as I passed him, and then I went to sit on the bench with five others waiting for a chance at the ring. Shiemaa was the only girl—buzz cut, tougher than her weight in iron. She gave me a fist bump, and so did the others. All crazy together.

“I heard Stinky Doug got his ass killed,” Shiemaa said over my head, talking to Keith, another juicer with arms as big around as Shiemaa’s whole head. “Somebody said it was because he talked. True?”

“Guess so,” Keith said. “Crazy little bastard. He wasn’t going to last—didn’t have the fire, anyway—but he could take a punch. I’ll give him that.”

“Yeah, you gave him plenty of those,” Shiemaa said. She and Keith tapped fists in front of me. “Not like I miss him, but what did he say?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Doug,” I repeated. Some of the fog cleared for me, even though I kept clenching my fists, burning off excess energy. “College guy? Got his throat cut?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Stinky Doug. ’Cause, man, he had some hygiene issues.”

“Which is a lot, coming from you,” Shiemaa said. Keith threw a punch at her, behind my back. She blocked it without any effort. “Why? Did you know him?”

“My girl found the body,” I said. “She knew him. I didn’t know he was in this.”

“Yeah, he was one of the first they asked in,” Shiemaa said. “Probably because he was crazy and a loner and cracked out half the time. Wasn’t even a Morganville kid. Guess they cut their losses.”

Funny, but the idea that Vassily and Glory would kill one of us to protect their little messed-up fight club…that didn’t surprise me. Didn’t alarm me, either. Stinky Doug had brought it on himself.

Shiemaa tapped me on the back of the head, not gently. “Yo, pretty boy, you want to go a few?” The ring was empty now. The vamps were disappearing now, heading out to do whatever it was they did during the midnight hours.

“Nah,” I said. I didn’t feel like hitting anybody right now, not even Shiemaa, who could take it. “I’m going out to hit some bags.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, and tapped Keith. “Let’s go, big guy.”

I went outside, into the public area. Didn’t matter at this time of the night, because there were few people who ventured in, and when the vamps cleared out—which they did nightly to go hit the blood bank or date or do whatever it was—we had the place mostly to ourselves. I waded into the heavy bag.

And pretty soon, the rest of them came out to join me.

Like a pack.

I hit the bag and felt better, because finally, I knew what I was doing.

I was leading the pack.

And that was okay.

He wasn’t answering his cell, but it was a damn good bet that he had gone where he said he was going—to the gym.

In the end, they all went to find him, because Michael wasn’t letting Claire go alone, and Eve wasn’t letting Michael go without her. They took Eve’s big, black hearse, which had a big enough front bench seat to hold three across. Claire ended up in the middle.

“Hey,” she said as Eve navigated the giant Deathmobile down the dark streets of Morganville. “So…what is this about getting married? Did I even actually hear that? Because I’m pretty sure I would have been told about that by my best friend.” She accompanied it with an elbow into Eve’s side. Eve made a choked sound that wasn’t quite a cry.

Claire was trying to keep it light, because she was feeling anxious now, not just about Shane, but about the two of them. It was tough being a vampire/human couple; there had been plenty of problems already. It would only get harder, and Eve—Eve was strong, but she was also fragile.

Michael was looking out the window at the passing houses, and he didn’t turn his head. “It was kind of an impulse thing,” he said. “Eve wanted to wait and have a big announcement and an engagement party. I just didn’t expect her to blurt it out like that.”

“Well, I had to stop Terminator Shane from punching your face off,” Eve said. “I like your face. And it worked, didn’t it?”

“Back on topic,” Claire interrupted. “When exactly did this happen?”

“He asked me at the party. You know, Gloriana’s big party.” That had been one of those weird vampire welcome-to-town shindigs where they’d been basically the only people with pulses invited. Claire hadn’t felt comfortable. She and Shane had ducked out as soon as they could, although later she wished she hadn’t, because she’d heard that crazy things had happened, and the spectacle of Eve dancing with Oliver must have been, according to all the gossip, pretty compelling. Because Oliver apparently could dance.

That still seemed bizarre.

She hadn’t known what happened after, because Eve hadn’t said. Claire had assumed nothing had happened of any real notice. Obviously, she’d been way, way wrong.

“So where’s the ring?” Claire asked. She was staring at Eve’s left hand. Nothing shiny on the third finger.

“I didn’t want to wear it until we told people,” Eve said. “I guess I can now. Right?”