Rashel didn't quite like the way she said it. And she didn't like the last thing Vicky was pulling out of her
backpack. It was a wooden device that looked a bit like a miniature stock. Two hinged blocks of wood
that fit snugly around a person's wrists and closed with a lock.
"Vampire handcuffs," Vicky said proudly, seeing her look. "Made of white oak. Guaranteed to hold any
parasite. I brought them from down south."
"But hold them for what? And what do you need all those little knives and stakes for? It would take
hours to kill a vampire with those."
Vicky smiled fiercely. "I know."
Oh. Rashel's heart seemed to thump and then sink, and she looked away to control her reaction. She
understood what Vicky had in mind now.
Torture.
"A quick death's too good for them," Vicky said, still smiling. "They deserve to suffer-the way they make
our people suffer. Besides, we might get some information. We need to know where they're keeping the
girls they kidnap, and what they're doing with them."
"Vicky." Rashel spoke earnestly. "It's practically impossible to make vampires talk. They're stubborn.
When they're hurt they just get angry-like animals."
Vicky smirked. "I've made some talk. It just depends on what you do, and how long you make it last.
Anyway, there's no harm in trying."
"Does Elliot know about this?"
Vicky lifted a shoulder defensively. "Elliot lets me do things my way. I don't have to tell him every little
detail. I was a leader myself, you know."
Helplessly, Rashel looked at Nyala and Steve. And saw that for the first time Nyala's eyes had lost their
sleepwalking expression. Now she looked awake- and savagely glad.
"Yes," she said. "We should try to make the vampire talk. And if he suffers-well, my sister suffered.
When I found her, she was almost dead but she could still talk. She told me what it felt like, having all the
blood drained out of her body while she was still conscious. She said it hurt. She said..." Nyala
stopped, swallowed, and looked at Vicky. "I want to help do it," she said thickly.
Steve didn't say anything, but then from what Rashel knew of him, that was typical. He was a guy of few
words. Anyway, he didn't protest.
Rashel felt odd, as if she were seeing the very worst of herself reflected in a mirror. It made her...
ashamed. It left her shaken.
But who am I to judge? she thought, turning away. It's true that the parasites are evil, all of them. The
whole race needs to be wiped out. And Vicky's right, why should they have a clean death, when they
usually don't give their victims one? Nyala deserves to avenge her sister.
"Unless you object or something," Vicky said heavily, and Rashel could feel those pale blue eyes on her.
"Unless you're some kind of vampire sympathizer."
Rashel might have laughed at that, but she wasn't in a laughing mood. She took a breath, then said
without turning around, "It's your show. I agreed that you were in charge."
"Good," Vicky said, and returned to her work.
But the sick feeling in the pit of Rashel's stomach didn't go away. She almost hoped that the vampire
wouldn't come.
Chapter 4
Quinn was cold.
Not physically, of course. That was impossible. The icy March air had no effect on him; his body was
impervious to little things like weather. No, this cold was inside him.
He stood looking at the bay and the thriving city across it.Boston by starlight. It had taken him a long
time to come back toBoston after... the change.
He'd lived there once, when he'd been human. But in those daysBoston was nothing but three hills, one
beacon, and a handful of houses with thatched roofs. The place where he was standing now had been
clean beach surrounded by salt meadows and dense forest.
The year had been 1639.
Bostonhad grown since then, but Quinn hadn't.
He was still eighteen, still the young man who'd loved the sunny pastures and the clear blue water of the
wilderness. Who had lived simply, feeling grateful when there was enough food for supper on his
mother's table, and who had dreamed of someday having his own fishing schooner and marrying pretty
Dove Redfern.
That was how it had all started, with Dove. Pretty Dove and her soft brown hair... sweet Dove, who
had a secret a simple boy like Quinn could never have imagined.
Well. Quinn felt his lip curl. That was all in the past. Dove had been dead for centuries, and if her
screams still haunted him every night, no one knew but himself.
Because he might not be any older than he had been in the days of the colonies, but he had learned a
few tricks. Like how to wrap ice around his heart so that nothing in the world could hurt him. And how to
put ice in his gaze, so that whoever looked into his black eyes saw only an endless glacial dark. He'd
gotten very good at that. Some people actually went pale and backed away when he turned his eyes on them.
The tricks had worked for years, allowing him not just to survive as a vampire, but to be brilliantly
successful at it. He was Quinn, pitiless as a snake, whose blood ran like ice water, whose soft voice
pronounced doom on anybody who got in his way. Quinn, the essence of darkness, who struck fear into
the hearts of humans and Night People alike.
And just at the moment, he was tired.
Tired and cold. There was a kind of bleakness inside him, like a whiter that would never change into spring.
He had no idea what to do about it-although it had occurred to him that if he were to jump into the bay
and let those dark waters close over his head, and then stay down there for a few days without feeding...
well, all his problems would be solved, wouldn't they?
But that was ridiculous. He was Quinn. Nothing could touch him. The bleak feeling would go away eventually.
He pulled himself out of his reverie, turning away from the shimmering blackness of the bay. Maybe he
should go to the warehouse in Mission Hill, check on its inhabitants. He needed something to do, to keep
him from thinking.
Quinn smiled, knowing it was a smile to frighten children. He set off forBoston .
Rashel sat by the window, but not the way ordinary people sit. She was kneeling in a sort of crouch,