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“You afraid they’ll complain, if they’re awake?” I yelled. “Let me go, get off me! Get off, get off, get off!” Finally, I’d unpinned my arms. In a moment, they’d recovered enough from the electric jolt to function. I formed two cups with my hands. As I screamed at him, I clapped my hands over his ears.

He roared, and reared back, his own hands going to his head. He was so full of rage it escaped him and washed over me; it felt like bathing in fury. I knew then that he would kill me if he could, no matter what reprisals he faced. I tried to roll to one side, but he had me pinned with his legs. I watched as his right hand formed a fist, which seemed as big as a boulder to me. And with a sense of doom, I watched the arc of that fist as it descended to my face, knowing this one would knock me out and it would be all over. . . .

And it didn’t happen.

Up in the air Gabe went, pants open and dick hanging out, his fist landing on air, his shoes kicking at my legs.

A short man was holding Gabe up in the air; not a man, I realized at second glance, a teenager. An ancient teenager.

He was blond and shirtless, and his arms and chest were covered with blue tattoos. Gabe was yelling and flailing, but the boy stood calmly, his face expressionless, until Gabe ran down. By the time Gabe was silent, the boy had transferred his grip to a kind of bear hug encircling Gabe’s waist, and Gabe was hanging forward.

The boy looked down at me dispassionately. My blouse had been torn open, and my bra was ripped down the middle.

“Are you badly hurt?” the boy asked, almost reluctantly.

I had a savior, but not an enthusiastic one.

I stood up, which was more of a feat than it sounds. It took me quite a while. I was trembling violently from the emotional shock. When I was upright, I was on an eye level with the boy. In human years, he would’ve been about sixteen when he’d been made vampire. There was no telling how many years ago that had been. He must be older than Stan, older than Isabel. His English was clear, but heavily accented. I had no idea what kind of accent it was. Maybe his original language was not even spoken anymore. What a lonely feeling that would be.

“I’ll mend,” I said. “Thank you.” I tried to rebutton my blouse—there were a few remaining buttons—but my hands were shaking too badly. He wasn’t interested in seeing my skin, anyway. It didn’t do a thing for him. His eyes were quite dispassionate.

“Godfrey,” Gabe said. His voice was thready. “Godfrey, she was trying to escape.”

Godfrey shook him, and Gabe shut up.

So, Godfrey was the vampire I’d seen through Bethany’s eyes—the only eyes that could remember seeing him at the Bat’s Wing that evening. The eyes that were no longer seeing anything.

“What do you intend to do?” I asked him, keeping my voice quiet and even.

Godfrey’s pale blue eyes flickered. He didn’t know.

He’d gotten the tattoos while he was alive, and they were very strange, symbols whose meaning had been lost centuries ago, I was willing to bet. Probably some scholar would give his eyeteeth to have a look at those tattoos. Lucky me, I was getting to see them for nothing.

“Please let me out,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster. “They’ll kill me.”

“But you consort with vampires,” he said.

My eyes darted from one side to another, as I tried to figure this one out.

“Ah,” I said hesitantly. “You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

“Tomorrow I atone for my sin publicly,” Godfrey said. “Tomorrow I greet the dawn. For the first time in a thousand years, I will see the sun. Then I will see the face of God.”

Okay. “You chose,” I said.

“Yes.”

“But I didn’t. I don’t want to die.” I spared a glance for Gabe’s face, which was quite blue. In his agitation, Godfrey was squeezing Gabe much tighter than he ought to. I wondered if I should say something.

“You do consort with vampires,” Godfrey accused, and I switched my gaze back to his face. I knew I’d better not let my concentration wander again.

“I’m in love,” I said.

“With a vampire.”

“Yes. Bill Compton.”

“All vampires are damned, and should