I swallowed. My throat was burning, a cartload of dry ice. I was cold, even though I was sweating and the fire was putting out a roaring wall of dry heat. The bloodhunger folded back down, leaving just a rasping at the very back of my palate. “What. The hell.”

“You shouldn’t have done that, Hiro.” Kir, shaking his head. His aspect was gone now, and he looked oddly sad.

“Little red lapdog.” The Japanese djamphir’s words could have carried more contempt, I suppose, if they’d rented out a U-Haul. Maybe.

“She is the head of the Order,” Kir retorted stiffly.

“Gentlemen.” Bruce raised his hands. “Let’s be civilized. We all know Milady Anna is . . . difficult, and—”

“She drove Elizabeth out, just as—” Hiro began, but Bruce shushed him. Actually shushed and looked at me.

I didn’t even care. I picked up my bag with shaking hands. When I looked up, all three of them were staring at me.

“I know she doesn’t like me.” I tried to sound steady. “I can’t even figure out why.”

I was trying to express something about antimatter girls, but I gave it up as hopeless. No matter how adult they were, they were boys. They just wouldn’t get it. Why would I explain anyway?

If Anna had a thing for Christophe, and he was hanging around me . . . yeah, I could see where that could make some problems.

Hiro looked about to say something, but I’d had enough. I took two sliding steps to the side. Bruce didn’t twitch, but I got the idea he wanted to.

“I’m going to class,” I said in a small voice and fled. I ran back up to my room, locked the door, and didn’t open it until Leon, Benjamin, and Graves all showed up to pound on it. And I didn’t say a word when they asked me what the hell had happened.

I know the rules. You don’t squeal, not ever. You take care of things on your own.

And besides, I figured it out while I was hunching in the bathroom, hyperventilating and rocking back and forth. I didn’t even want to think about Anna and Christophe, or whatever. He didn’t like her, she hated him, and maybe they had once dated and she didn’t like him hanging around other girls. Who cared? There were bigger problems.

Anna was the head of the Order, and at least one person on the council—Kir—was on her side completely.

Which brought me to the scariest question of all.

Which one—or possibly more—of the djamphir guarding me was one of Anna’s creatures?

The session with Ash was mercifully short that night. He had quieted down long before dawn. I hadn’t wanted to leave him, but Graves rolled his eyes and told me he needed some sleep. And I was so worn-out and jumpy I just gave in.

I turned over, punched my pillow again. Sighed.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” Graves’s voice, not quite a whisper but not normal volume either. I guess he thought that if he said it that quietly, I had the option of ignoring.

I considered telling him about Anna, but if I did Christophe would come up. That was no good. It was such a tangle I didn’t even have it right inside my head yet, and until I did I couldn’t hope to explain it to him in a way that wouldn’t end up with him thinking something I didn’t want him to think. About Christophe, and more importantly, about me.

I decided to test the waters a little bit, so to speak. “Council meeting didn’t go well.” That was a massive understatement, as well as kind of a lie. There was no meeting.

Just Anna. And Kir. Very chummy, those two. Little red lapdog, Hiro had said.

“You don’t like those anyway.” Sound of shifting material as he moved.

I scooted to the very edge of the bed. Kept my eyes closed, though, and rested my fingertips on the edge of the mattress. “This one was even worse than usual.”

As usual, he didn’t need any help getting the message. “That girl, huh. The other svetocha.”

I did not jerk as if stung, but it was a close thing. “She doesn’t like me.”

“Course not. Girl like that.” Graves made a dismissive noise, almost a raspberry. “Bet she’s been queen bee here a long time. All these boys for her to play with, set ’em against each other. I know the type.”

Do you know my type, too? I almost asked him, decided it would sound like I was digging for a compliment or something. “She really seems to hate me, though.” Something surfaced briefly—a memory, or a dream.

Don’t let the nosferatu bite.

I pushed it away. A shiver raced down my spine.

“Well, duh. You’re cuter than she is.” He said it like he might say, Grass is green or, Gravity works.

Something warm opened up inside my chest. It was a nice feeling. I snorted. “I can’t even get my hair to lie down.”

“Whatever. Anyway, what happened?”

I tried to get it into some kind of reasonable shape inside my head. Silence stretched between us.

“Jesus,” he said finally. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

Dammit, give me a second to think. “I’m trying to figure out how to say it.”

More silence. I fidgeted. So did he.

“Dru.” Very soft, just a breath of sound. “My mom did that, you know. She’d clam up. Every . . .” A deep gulp of air, like he was swimming and had just reached the top. “Every time one of them hit her. Her boyfriends. She would try to act like nothing was happening. But I could see the bruises. I’m not stupid.”

It was the most personal thing he’d ever said to me. I got the idea he didn’t like talking about how he ended up squatting in a back office at the mall. And, you know, I had my own personal stash of stuff I never wanted to share. Most of it involved Dad and the various jobs we’d done all across the States. Some were from schools a long time ago, when I hadn’t been so practiced at sliding by unnoticed.

I pushed my hand off the edge of the bed. It hung in space as I stretched, my fingers touching emptiness.

“She hates me. Because Christophe bit me.” I almost whispered the words into the pillow, kept my arm out straight. My cheeks burned. If he could see me, he could probably tell something from the way I was blushing. The fang marks in my left wrist tingled faintly, but the sensation receded.

When his fingers laced through mine, it was both a shock and a relief. Warm skin, a gentle touch. He absorbed this, and then he said the last thing I’d expect.

“Girl like that won’t believe you don’t like him.” He coughed slightly. Guess he was wishing for another cigarette right about now. “Jesus.”

“I don’t like it here.” I sounded way young. And scared. “I’ve got some money. We can get supplies.”

He thought about it.“At least you’re not being attacked by vampires anymore. That’s something.”

“You told me it was us against the world.” You were holding my hand then, too. “I figure we can get out of here. Run and keep running. I can teach you how to—”

“They know things you don’t. And Shanks and Dibs watch out for you when I can’t.”

He had a point. Still . . . I considered tugging my hand back out of his. “Have you changed your mind?”

I didn’t mean to sound like a toddler with a toy taken away. I really didn’t. He sighed, heavily.

“No. If you’re serious about getting the hell out of here, Dru, I’m going with. But . . . it really does seem safer here. That girl’s just a petty bitch. Why let her run you out?”

Someone here wanted me dead. That’s why we were stuck at the other Schola. That’s why the other Schola burned down. The words stuck in my throat. I’d been counting on him wanting to come with me. “You didn’t see her.” I couldn’t put it any clearer than that. “She really meant it.”

His fingers slipped away from mine. I tried not to feel bereft. He moved around, and the next thing I knew, he was pushing me over so he could lie down on the bed. He stretched out, moved around and got comfortable, his hands laced behind his head. His eyes glimmered, little green gleams. I breathed him in—salt and male, the tang of loup-garou like silver in the moonlight.