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torturing their prey. Soon, I began to realize that these men were not monsters. No, they
were better than ordinary people. They d thrown off the chains of society, shed their own
fear and weakness to become beings of incredible power. His eyes glowed with
excitement. I admired them. I wanted to be like them. And now&
She lunged and bit him, hard, on the cheek. He jerked backwards and pressed a hand
to his face. His palm came away glistening with blood. He stared at it a moment, eyes
huge. Then he backhanded her, and her head snapped to one side. Do that again, my
sweet, and I ll pull those teeth, he said through clenched jaws.
She glared at him, breathing hard. The hot, salty taste of his blood filled her mouth.
He loomed over her, his dripping knife in one hand. He raised the knife to his lips,
poked his tongue out and licked the blood from the edge. A soft sigh escaped his lips. So
sweet. He crouched and stroked her cheek with the flat of the blade. You taste of
cherries. His voice was low, breathy, as if he were whispering to a lover. His tongue
curled out to trace the rim of her ear.
She jerked her head away. He gripped her chin and leaned closer. His breath hit her
in the face, hot and sour. How does it feel to be completely helpless? To know that I
could snuff out your life at any moment of my choosing?
Why are you asking me? I thought you could read my mind.
I want to hear you say it. He squeezed her face, fingers pressing into her cheeks
with bruising force. Say it.
She spat. A thick glob of saliva landed on his cheek and oozed down. He wiped it
away with a finger. How are your knees? he asked. His calm, pleasant tone belied the
manic look in his eyes.
Fine, thanks.
Really? He touched one with a single finger and pressed. She gulped down a
scream. Blaine lifted the finger, and she went limp, panting. Who are you trying to
impress? No one is watching you, grading you on your bravery. Scream.
She said nothing.
The knife s tip circled her left nipple. Your kind has such amazing regenerative
powers. If I cut something off, do you think it will grow back?
I don t know, she said, her voice hoarse with pain. Never tried it.
He gripped her chin between a thumb and forefinger, lifting her face. When I m
speaking to you, my dear, I want you to meet my eyes. A bead of sweat rolled into her
eye, and she blinked it away. It occurred to her that he sounded like Victor, and she
laughed; a shrill sound, teetering on the brink of hysteria.
His eyes narrowed. He gripped a handful of her hair and jerked her head up. I
wonder. What is a vampire afraid of?
Cold, mental fingers picked at the edges of her mind, and she flinched. Jagged shards
of pain slid through her brain as he peeled away the outer layers, leaving her raw and
exposed. She tried to tighten her shields, but he ripped them away like paper.
She shut her eyes tight, as if that would somehow protect her. Her breath came fast
and hard. She could feel Blaine digging into her mind, his tendrils winding deeper, like
roots pushing through soil. A tiny mewl escaped her throat. A thousand hot needles
pierced her brain, and she twisted, yanking her chains. No! No! Tears slid down her
face, and a hoarse, choked sob burst from her throat.
He laughed. Now we re getting somewhere.
Fragments of memory spun through her head like bits of debris in a whirlwind. She
felt herself thrust backwards, hurtling through the years, toward a tiny point of light.
* * * *
Ashley is ten.
She walks down a hall, her school books clutched to her chest. As she passes, the
other children shrink away from her and whisper to each other. Their features seem to
twist and distort until they aren t children at all, but demons, their faces scrunched and
piggish, their malevolent eyes watching her with cold suspicion. Their glares and
whispers burn her like drops of acid.
Someone sticks out a leg. She trips and sprawls across the floor, skinning her elbow.
Her books scatter, and laughter erupts around her. Trembling, she reaches out to pick up
her English book, and someone steps on her hand. She looks up to see a brawny, freckled
boy grinning down at her. His heel grinds down on the bones of her hand until she
squirms with pain, and his wide mouth frames the word freak.
A wash of red fills her vision. Anger boils up inside her, scalding hot, and bubbles
over. Then there is a blank, a moment of nothingness.
She looks down and sees the freckled boy on the floor, squealing, hands pressed to
his bloody throat. Everyone is looking at Ashley, faces filled with shock and horror.
Hushed voices fill her ears with a single word, echoing and resounding over and over in
her head.
Monster.
The hallway blurs and melts into blackness. She hurtles forward through a tunnel of
memories, then jerks to a halt& and suddenly she is sitting in a cold, sterile-smelling
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