the same thought all the way home.

We don’t have to kill.

After tipping the driver, I jumped out of the cab and was about to run toward Maggie’s house when I noticed the small door on the mailbox was half ajar. We hadn’t paid any bills since moving in, and even though I was desperate to get inside and talk to Philip about tonight’s revelation, I also didn’t want the water or power shut off, so I jogged over to get the mail.

But inside, I found an ivory envelope . . . and to my shock, it was addressed to me, here, at Maggie’s. I studied it for a few seconds. The blue script was lovely, nothing like Julian’s blocky handwriting. Seeing no return address, I ripped the envelope open and pulled out a small note on matching ivory paper. It read:

You are not alone. There are others like you. Respond to the Elizabeth Bathory Underground. P.O. Box 27750, San Francisco, CA 94973.

I just stood there, frozen, for a long time. What did it mean? The Elizabeth Bathory Underground? Was it some sort of trick? Was Julian trying to lure me off alone somehow?

No, Julian was a blunt instrument. This wasn’t his style. I shook my head and closed my eyes briefly.

You are not alone.

After all my questions, all of my burning need to learn more about my own kind, I didn’t even want to look at this note. In this moment, it was an unwanted intrusion.

And it was too much, too much to deal with right now.

Deliberately, I put the note back inside the envelope and folded it into thirds. Then I slipped it into the pocket of my dress. I wasn’t going to show this to either Philip or Wade tonight—maybe tomorrow.

Tonight, we had other things to discuss.

I went up the steps to Maggie’s front door and walked in to find Wade and Philip sitting on the living room floor by the fire facing each other in telepathic connection.

Lost in my own private dilemma these past few nights, I may have been blind to their growing relationship. Originally, simple tolerance would have pleased me. But thinking about it, they had both been starved for companionship, for long talks with friends who actually listened. Attaching themselves to me had probably been easier for them at first. But my distance lately might have driven them closer to each other, both surprised to find a willing ear or mind.

I was well aware that before anything else, the three of us had to make some decisions about the future. We could not put it off any longer.

I walked over and sat on the carpet beside them. Warmth from the fire soaked into my skin. I reached out and touched Wade’s hand with the tips of my fingers.

“Wade?”

He instantly dropped mental communication and looked at me. This too was becoming easier for them, to slip in and out of psychic contact without losing themselves in the memories.

“Yes?” he asked.

Philip turned his head and frowned when he saw my white dress. “Have you been hunting without me?”

Wade’s narrow expression grew expectant, even impatient, as if he preferred to go on practicing mental interaction with Philip . . . or maybe he just didn’t want to talk yet.

“What is it?” he asked.

They both sat there, looking at me, but now that I had their attention, my courage began to fail. Open confrontation was not one of my strengths.

But I couldn’t walk away.

“What . . . what do you plan to do now?”

He blinked and shook his head in puzzlement, but his brown eyes were anxious, even frightened.

“I mean tomorrow,” I rushed on, “and the tomorrow after that? Do you just go on like this . . . your job lost, your degree wasted, sitting around in this house we haven’t actually moved into?”

Philip flinched. He looked away, into the flames.

“Eleisha, don’t,” he said.

I ignored him, and kept talking to Wade. “You buried your best friend, and you didn’t even report him missing. Or have you forgotten?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten,” he whispered.

“Maybe you want to become one of us? Forget the past and get lost in a safe little world feeding off the living? Is that what you want?” I held out my thin, white arm. “Like this forever?”

He turned away. “No, not that, but—”

“I don’t want him to go away,” Philip broke in. “Leisha, don’t make him go away.”

“Should he stay here in some shadowed half-life with us?”

He flattened his hands on the floor, and his