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The guy signals the one pouring the drinks to get two
more.
“Some of the premium stuff,” he says, handing each
of us a cup. “It might sit better with you. After all, you’re
probably used to fine downtown drinks. Not that other
garbage.”
We take them. Tegan, as if she has something to prove,
swallows it in one gulp. “Awesome stuff. I could use
another.”
“Sure thing,” he says, before stopping and staring at
me, my drink still in hand, untouched. “Hey, you look
familiar.”
My heart jumps, slams against my ribs. I’m going to be
in big trouble if he recognizes me. My face has been plas-
tered all over the news and newspapers lately. Luckily, it’s
an official delegate photo—partial profile, hair up, makeup
designed to make me look older, a blouse with a high collar
covering my tattoos, and a dark jacket. “Just one of those
faces, I guess.”
I think Tegan picks up on my nervousness, because she
starts pushing me toward the door. “Maybe we’ll see you
on the dance floor,” she says to Shaggy Guy.
She grabs my arm and drags me out of the kitchen
before I even have a chance to drink the premium stuff,
and I toss my still-full cup into an open trash can. Dancing
is hard enough for me, but drinking while rocking to the
beat—forget it.
“Don’t worry. No one is going to figure out who you
are,” she whispers near my ear.
16 J. A. London
a little older than I am. His long black hair hangs to just
below his strong jaw and falls in a way that makes his blue
eyes stand out from the shadows.
Suddenly he shakes his head as though he, too, had
been caught up in something he didn’t understand. He
releases his hold on me and steps back. “Come on,” he says,
his voice calm, serious. “I’ll get your friend. You follow me.
Others will be on their way.”
He edges past me, our bodies brushing, creating an
awareness that baffles me. I register the firmness of his
muscles, his power. He maneuvers Tegan out from beneath
the seat and lifts her into his arms as though she were a
small child. He turns around and steps out of the trolley.
I’m still in shock. I give myself a mental and physical shake.
I have to follow Tegan. I hop off the trolley.
“Who are you?” I demand to know.
“Later. This way,” he says, taking us out of the narrow
passage and onto the main street.
I hear things: the thumping of vampires above us,
moving from building to building. Their shadows dance in
front of us, monstrous in size, so close to the lights that
hang down.
“How many are there?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says. “But I can’t take them all.”
The fight I just endured takes its final toll and I stumble.
I fall to one knee, curse, push myself up. The stranger shifts
Tegan, draping her over his shoulder. Then he grabs my
hand and we begin running.
We rush down a dark alleyway that I’m convinced
28 J. A. London
hand toward me and I take it. It’s warm and strong, and he
pulls me out with no effort. I can see Tegan hunched over;
can hear her gagging as she upchucks. Lovely.
“She’ll be okay,” Victor says.
“Yeah, I think so. Probably should have made her throw
up earlier. I’ve never dealt with something like this before.”
“I’ll wait here until you get inside.”
“Thanks.” I feel like I should say more. Hug him even,
for saving us.
Tegan waddles back over to us. “God, that was awful.”
She squints at Victor and asks again, “Who are you?”
“Victor.”
“He’s a friend,” I say.
“Sounds like a story I need to hear.”
“Not really. Come on. It’s not safe out here.” I wrap my
arm around her waist. “Thanks again, Victor. I owe you.”
“We owe you,” Tegan says, shifting into flirt mode. She’s
definitely feeling better.
Slightly irritated, I drag her away. I just spent the last
few hours taking care of her after she got too friendly with
the wrong people. And she’s acting like nothing happened.
Inside the lobby, the guard raises his eyebrows at us. I
give him a sickly smile and we head to the elevator. We get
off on the twelfth floor; the apartment I now share with
Rachel is at the far end of the hall.
Once we’re through the door, I’m surprised to find that
Rachel isn’t here. Surprised and relieved. She probably left
me a message on my cell phone. I don’t want to think about
how I’m going to explain losing it. Cell phones are so rare
Darkness B efore Dawn39