Blood Ties Bundle: Blood Ties Book One: The Turning / Blood Ties Book Two: Possession / Blood Ties Book Three: Ashes to Ashes / Blood Ties Book Four: All Souls' Night

“There.” She pointed to a squat stone building that had been gutted by fire some time ago. A cement barrier separated the area from the expressway. I heard the cars racing past.

“The cops never come here,” she explained. “And if they did, they wouldn’t come back.”

The interior was large and open, as though the space had once been a warehouse or factory. In the very center, the ceiling had caved in. Someone had been industrious enough to cover it with plastic tarps. It was dark and cold. Ominous shapes huddled in every corner.

I heard heartbeats, coughing and quiet moans. The smell of fear in the room was as thick as the unmistakable odor of hopelessness.

“What is this place?” I whispered.

Dahlia shrugged off her coat and spread it on the ground. “A donor house.”

I must have appeared not to understand her, because she rolled her eyes and sighed as though I were incurably stupid.

“A place for vampires to go and get a quick bite,” she said. “A quick bite, get it?”

I nodded dumbly. “I get it…but who are these people?”

“The donors?” She plopped down cross-legged. “Who knows? Maybe they’re homeless and just need some shelter. Maybe they’re freaks that get off on the thrill of it. Or maybe they’re like me.”

“Like you?” I asked.

A skinny girl with a dirt-smudged face and greasy brown hair pushed past me. One of her bony shoulders slipped from her threadbare jacket as she shoved me aside.

“I need the money,” Dahlia said as she motioned for me to sit down. “The point is, these people are desperate enough to give you what you want. Those Goth freaks at the club don’t know shit. You’re better off trolling under bridges for homeless people than going back to that hole.”

I wanted to leave. The place reeked of sweat and smoke and despair. But I needed blood, so I knelt beside her on the crumbling cement. My heart beat faster and I shuddered in anticipation of sinking my teeth into supple pale flesh.

“Fifty dollars, cash.” She produced a wooden stake from the pocket of her coat. “And you stop when I say, understood?”

The stake quenched the animal fury building inside me. I didn’t know specifically what would happen if that thing touched me, but my imagination was fueled by the memory of the gaping wounds in Cyrus’s chest.

My numb fingers fumbled for my purse, and as I tugged on the zipper, the contents spilled onto the floor with a clatter. A compact fell open as it dropped to the ground. Through a miniature mushroom cloud of powder dust, I saw my eyes reflected in the mirror, wide and scared and excited. I thought vampires didn’t have reflections. It struck me as hilarious that I hadn’t thought of that before. I handed Dahlia the money with shaking hands.

She counted it, smirked in satisfaction and tucked the bills into her bra. “Okay, then.” She placed the point of the stake above my heart, swept her hair back and bared her throat.

I traced the line of one blue vein down her neck to her collarbone with my finger. My breath came in gasps. I thought my heart would explode the way it beat so wildly in my chest.

I felt the point of the stake as I leaned down to fasten my aching mouth to her skin. Her neck was warm and soft. I bit down. The flesh yielded crisply like the skin of a ripe peach, and her blood gushed into my mouth so fast I nearly choked.

The reality of my situation suddenly overwhelmed me. A moment ago I had not been a vampire. At least, not as far as I was concerned. Now, as I greedily gulped down the blood of this strange girl, I was truly initiated. She moaned, and the sound vibrated through me like an electrical current. The implications of what I’d done made me nauseous. The possibility that I might not really be a vampire at all flashed through my mind. Maybe I made the whole thing up. Tearing my mouth from her neck, I struggled not to vomit.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” Dahlia shouted.

I didn’t answer her. From the shadows, someone ordered us to keep quiet. I couldn’t control my sobbing. I frantically grabbed the spilled contents of my purse and tried to stuff them back inside with shaking hands.

“Where are you going?” Dahlia asked, one hand on her neck. I expected to see blood flowing from the wound, but when she moved her fingers there was nothing but a faint bruise.

I wiped my nose on the back of my hand and winced in pain. My whole face was sore.

My compact lay innocently on the ground. I picked it up and checked my reflection.

My face, usually pretty by most people’s standards, was twisted into a vision of horror. Cruel eyes peered out under a flattened brow. My cheekbones sloped down, forming a snout with my bizarrely elongated upper jaw. I pulled back my lips. My teeth were unevenly spaced in their roomy new setting, my canines lengthened into sharp points.

I’d seen Nathan transform this way, and my nightmares were filled with visions of John Doe’s monstrous face, but I’d never considered such a thing could happen to me. I screamed and scrambled to my feet.

I fled from the donor house, gulping the fresh air as if it were water and I a lost traveler in the desert. Dahlia followed me. She leaned against the scorched cinder blocks and watched me check and recheck my face in the mirror. The demon was gone. A frightened woman stared back. My breath escaped in great white puffs of steam.

“Poor baby.” She put on her long black coat and hugged it tightly around her waist. She wore the same coat, I realized, and used the same gesture as the girl I’d followed into the club. But I hadn’t followed Dahlia…

She shook her head, laughing. “You guys never learn. You think you’re so smart. ‘Oh, we’re at the top of the food chain.’”

She pulled out a pocketknife and idly ran it up and down her neck. “The fact is, there’s power out there your kind can’t understand.”

I stared at her in fascination. “What are you talking about?”

She smiled. “Poor baby. Daddy didn’t bother to tell you anything, did he? Just ran right out after he got what he wanted.” Her mouth formed a momentary picture of disgust. “That’s so like him.”

With a flick of her wrist, she punctured her taut skin with the knife. A drop of blood welled and shivered on the surface of the wound before it broke and rolled down her neck.

My tongue grew thick. My body ached for more blood, though the thought repulsed me. I forced myself to look away. “Who are you talking about?”

I wanted to watch her face when she answered, but the scent of her blood was too tempting. I feared what would happen if I looked again, so I fixed my gaze on the streetlights above the highway.

“Cyrus, you silly goose. Don’t you know your own sire?”

I’d known something wasn’t right when we left the club. Maybe I’d known from the moment I saw the phantom girl on the street. But instead of following my intuition, I’d followed Dahlia. Right into a trap.

“I can’t believe how stupid some of you can be,” she shouted, suddenly agitated. “Your stories are splashed all over the papers, and yet you have no clue that someone might recognize you. I don’t even know why he let you have his blood.” She let out a sigh and appeared to calm herself. “Now you’ve made me lose my temper, and that really pisses me off.”

I watched her as she slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand and muttered to herself, pacing back and forth. She stopped and faced me. Her expression was blank.

“Your little bookstore friend took care of the last one for me. But sometimes, if you want to do something right, you have to do it yourself.” She pointed at me with the knife.

Suddenly, I was so weak I couldn’t stand. I fell to my knees, wincing as I hit the dirt.

“Good girl.” She threw the knife at me. It pierced the frozen ground inches from my knee. She took another deep breath, laughing. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. Do you ever have days like that, where you just feel—”

“Crazy?” I eyed the blade. It was so close. I should have been able to grab it and get to my feet before Dahlia could reach me, but my body was limp and heavy. “What do you want?”

“What do I want, what do I want?” she singsonged, scooping up the knife before I could stop her. “You sound just like the last one I took care of. You guys always try to bargain.”

She held the point of the knife to my throat. “I want to kill you.”

“Why?” It was barely a whisper. I imagined the tip of the knife puncturing my skin the way my fangs had split hers.

She leaned closer, twisting the blade against my neck but never breaking my skin. “Because you took what’s mine.”

“What? What did I take?” I wanted to swallow, but I was afraid it would kill me. “I don’t even know you.”