Mom rushed to me, hands extended. “You’re okay?” She cupped my cheeks with long-nailed fingers and looked me over. “You’re okay?”

I smiled politely. “I’m fine.” Relative to their understanding, that was true.

My father, tall and lean like me, with the same chestnut hair and blue eyes, was on the opposite sofa, still in a suit despite the hour. He looked at me over half-cocked reading glasses, a move he might as well have borrowed from Helen, but it was no less effective on a human than a vampire. He snapped closed the paper he’d been reading and placed it on the couch beside him.

“Vampires?” He managed to make the single word both a question and an accusation.

“I was attacked on campus.”

My mother gasped, clutched a hand to her heart, and looked back at my father. “Joshua! On campus! They’re attacking people!”

My father kept his gaze on me, but I could see the surprise in his eyes. “Attacked?”

“I was attacked by one vampire, but a different vampire turned me.” I recalled the few words I’d heard, the fear in the voice of Ethan Sullivan’s companion. “I think the first one ran away, was scared away, and the second ones were afraid I was going to die.” Not quite the truth—the companion feared it might happen; Sullivan seemed supremely confident it would. And that he could alter my fate when it did.

“Two sets of vampires? At U. of C.?”

I shrugged, having wondered the same thing.

My father crossed his legs. “And speaking of, why, in God’s name, were you wandering around campus by yourself in the middle of the night?”

A spark fired in my stomach. Anger, maybe mixed with a hint of self-pity, not uncommon emotions when it came to dealing with my father. I usually played meek, fearful that raising my voice would push my parents to voice their own long-lived desires for a different younger daughter. But to everything, there is a season, right?