"Mmm. The vampire you just collided with has some demon ancestry. There are some lupins here, as well." He wrinkled his nose.

"Do take care around them, they're liable to hump your leg."

"Lupins?" I remembered something Nathan had told me. "You mean werewolves?"

Cyrus shushed me. "Werewolf-vampire hybrids. But that's not the politically correct term. Lupins are making great strides at becoming semicivilized, and they prefer not to be lumped in with their lesser wolven brethren. My God, those creatures are still living in the woods, running in packs. Who would want to be associated with them?"

A guard stepped forward. "Sir? They're approaching."

Cyrus took a deep breath and turned to me. "Are you ready?"

I wasn't certain what I was supposed to be ready for, but I nodded. Still firmly clamped to his side, I walked with him as guards opened the doors.

The night air was cold as it hit us on the top step. In the moonlight, I saw the gate at the end of the driveway open. A long sedan pulled up, followed by a hearse. Another sedan completed the motorcade. They rolled to a stop at the top of the drive, the hearse in position in front of the door.

Eight men, identical in height, features and their black suits, exited the cars. A chauffeur stepped out of the hearse. He opened the back door ceremoniously, exposing a gleaming, bronze coffin.Cyrus straightened at my side. I thought I saw a tear on his cheek, but it might have been a drop of blood from his deteriorating replacement eye. He wiped it away with an unsteady hand.

The men lifted the casket on their shoulders and carried it to the house. Cyrus turned and guided me back inside. I glanced over my shoulder to see the pallbearers follow us.

The crowd parted and allowed our procession to pass. I saw some of them bow their heads as we walked by. Those who didn't either looked on in interest or boredom, and the Fangs lifted their beer bottles in salute as our weird caravan moved through the foyer.

Guards opened the study doors. Inside, the furniture had been removed to make a place for a large dais, ringed with tasteful arrangements of black and white carnations. The pallbearers moved past us and slid the coffin gently into place.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Cyrus said quietly. "My guards will see that you are adequately fed."

The doors closed, leaving us alone with the Soul Eater. Cyrus knelt at the side of the coffin and laid his hands reverently on the bronze lid.

He bent his head, his hair falling forward, obscuring his face. He pressed his lips to the lid's surface, and I heard him whisper, "Welcome home, Father."

I felt guilty for watching this exchange. Cyrus was vulnerable, and I stood there as if I wasn't about to jab the proverbial knife in his back.

He rose and turned to me, one arm outstretched to invite me closer. "Carrie, come meet my father."

Wicked butterflies rioted in my stomach. I knelt beside the casket as I'd seen Cyrus do, and slid my trembling hands onto the lid.

Never in my life had I felt hate so strong. It radiated from the coffin beneath my fingertips and wound around me like tendrils of bloodred smoke. My arms shook as I struggled to pull them away. All I could hear were screams of death. When I closed my eyes, pain and torture surrounded me. Fangs and claws tearing flesh. Blood pumping from severed arteries. I opened my mouth to scream, and when no sound came out, I realized I hadn't been able to move my mouth at all.

When the insidious power released me, I jerked my hands away. Sweat beaded my forehead.

Standing next to me, Cyrus didn't appear to notice. He stroked the smooth metal of the casket as if hypnotized by its reflective surface. "Father, this is Carrie. My fledgling, and your new daughter. I hope you find her worthy of your blood."

Something told me my new father-in-law didn't think I cut the mustard. I bit my lip and silently prayed Cyrus wouldn't see what I had felt and kill me right there. But whatever he experienced when he touched his father's casket, Cyrus's expression of serene pleasure never changed.

"I'd like to spend some time alone with my father. Will you see to the rest of the preparations for dinner?"

I nodded slowly, my gaze fixed on the casket. I was pretty sure I wouldn't win Daddy Dear over by ensuring the napkins were properly folded, but anything was better than witnessing this macabre family reunion. "Sure. No problem."

I wandered around for a while, scoping out the attendees more closely. It was fun trying to figure out who was a vampire, who might be werewolves, and how much money they might have spent on their outfits.

The guests milled around the foyer and dining room, sipping blood-infused cocktails and chatting about politics and art. A row of chairs had been placed along one of the dining room walls, and a few unlucky pets were chained to them. They slumped over unconscious, and thirsty vampires dispensed blood from taps in their necks. The pets who'd already expired were tossed unceremoniously onto a pile in the corner, and guards wrestled replacements in.The Fangs had already invaded the garden. Some lounged in the delicate chairs that were rented for the occasion and rested their heavy boots on the immaculate tablecloths. Another group had brought out a beat-up stereo and blasted heavy-metal music to drown out the string quartet playing on the terrace. I thought I should remind them of their manners, but then decided against it. I wanted to see Cyrus's face when he learned his elegant garden party had become the Head Banger's Ball.

By eleven forty-five it seemed the entire vampire population of the world had crammed onto the grounds. At least, the entire evil vampire population. Cyrus entered the foyer at five before the hour and greeted the assembly there. Then the guards ushered them into the garden. I was right behind them when Cyrus stopped me.

"Wait." He nodded to the only remaining guard, who then mumbled into his headset.

"You wanted the privilege of choosing. I won't deny you." Cyrus dropped something hard and heavy into my hand.

When I uncurled my fingers, I gasped. The dragon pendant lay against my palm, but the diamond had been replaced by a huge ruby.

"Do you like it? I thought it was time for a change." He pressed his lips to my cheek. "You have no idea how much it means to me, to have you at my side tonight."

Two guards escorted Dahlia and Ziggy down the stairs. She looked triumphant and sure of herself. He looked terrified.

"Hey," I whispered, giving him a small wave.

Cyrus stepped forward to inspect the pair. "Dahlia, you look lovely as ever."

She shot me a smug grin, and then turned back to admire Cyrus. He moved on to Ziggy. His dapper appearance clearly impressed my sire. "Are you nervous?"

Ziggy shook his head.

"Good," Cyrus continued. "There's no reason to be." He paced back and forth in front of them for a moment. "As you know, every year I must make a difficult choice. Of all my pets, two must survive this night to make our celebration complete. Still, only one may take the place of honor in our festivities. Until now, I've been charged with deciding who receives that honor."

Dahlia's eyes grew wide. "Until now?"

"Don't interrupt the man while he's talking," Ziggy quipped. I shot him a warning glance.

Cyrus paused. "As I was saying. Until now, I've had to decide who receives that honor. This year, I have the pleasure of seeing my fledgling perform this office. Carrie?"

I stepped forward, and without hesitation, pointed at Dahlia. "Her."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Interesting choice."

"Why do you say that?"

But he had already pried the pendant from my hands. Dahlia squealed and clapped her hands, then leaned forward, lifting her hair.

Cyrus slipped the chain around her neck and stepped back.

"Master, the first course is ready."

At the sound of the guard's voice, Cyrus turned to me. "We don't want to keep our guests waiting." He held out his arm and I took it, casting a reassuring glance at Ziggy. Cyrus faced forward and Dahlia was so preoccupied with her new prize, neither of them saw me mouth stay close to him.We stepped onto the terrace to a round of applause. A guard stopped Ziggy and Dahlia from exiting with us. The glass doors swung shut, leaving them inside.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Cyrus called, his voice cutting through the excited chatter. "Thank you all so very much for coming. It warms my heart to share this night with such good friends."

There was a polite smattering of applause. I tried not to scan the garden walls for signs of the Movement. It had to be nearly time now. Nathan promised they would come tonight.

The cavalry didn't show up. Not during Cyrus's long-winded speech about the importance of tradition and the looming threat of extinction.

God, it's like he's running for office.

Finally, he ended with some sugarcoated platitude about old and new friendships, clapped his hands and signaled the guards waiting inside the French doors.

"As you know, our guests of honor will enter in a moment. Please remember that one of them is for the Soul Eater, and the other is our traditional first course."

Dahlia and Ziggy joined us on the terrace. As I looked at her beaming face, a pang of guilt shot through me. She thought she'd been chosen for a great honor. I'd condemned her to a fate worse than death, once Jacob Seymour consumed her soul.

Cyrus waved Dahlia forward. I expected him to bite into her, to start the process so she'd be turned quickly for the Soul Eater.

Two guards stepped forward and grasped Ziggy by the arms. I assumed they prepared to throw him into the crowd.

Nathan, where are you?

I felt sick to my stomach as I saw Cyrus's hand twine around Dahlia's hair.

"Ladies and gentlemen, bon appetit!"

Then he threw Dahlia off the terrace.

Eighteen

The Soul Eater

Confusion flashed across her face as the vampires surged forward and seized her. She fought their greedy, clutching hands as she looked toward us. "Cyrus? What's going on?"

My own panicked brain echoed her question.

"This was what you wanted," Cyrus snarled at me before rounding on Ziggy.

"I thought you'd feed her to your father!" I gripped his arm, but I didn't have the strength to stop him as he turned away from me.

"No fucking way!" Ziggy struggled against the guards and actually managed to break their hold. He fell to the hard stone, scrambling backward on his hands and feet like a frightened crab.

He didn't get far. "No!" I shouted as Cyrus descended on him. There was a sickening crunch as muscle and vein gave way under fangs. Ziggy's agonized screams filled the air, a death rattle of blood gurgling from his throat.

I needed something, anything to use as a weapon. Ziggy's cries slowed, then stopped altogether, and his body hung limp in Cyrus's arms.

Dahlia faired much better. She shrieked a command and the vampires fell back in a wave. She ran toward the maze, never looking back. The Fangs followed her, whooping war cries as they disappeared into the dark hedges. The diners who were unaffected by Dahlia's flight murmured in surprise and looked around uncomfortably.

Cyrus rose and left Ziggy unconscious where he lay. I watched, sickened, as Cyrus wiped a rivulet of blood from his chin and raised his arms. His roughened voice and savage vampire face made him seem more evil, if that were possible. "Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the hunt."

Behind us, the doors pushed open and a frantic group of humans flooded the terrace. They ran for their lives and would have trampled Ziggy, had I not knelt over him and shielded his vulnerable body.

"Ziggy, can you hear me?" I pulled him into my lap and pressed my hand to the oozing wound on his neck. Blood should have been spraying from his gashed throat, if there was enough blood left to spray. He opened his eyes, but they rolled back into his head as his body seized in my arms.

Most of the pets ran straight for the maze, herded toward it by the pursuing vampires. A few of the humans broke away from the crowd and were caught as they tried to climb the garden walls.

Cyrus watched for a long moment, something akin to pride on his face. Then he turned to us and raised his wrist. "Shall I turn him, or will you?"

"No!" I shouted again, trying to cover Ziggy by leaning over him, but my answer was swallowed up by the pandemonium. "I made a mistake. I wanted him to live."

"Well, it's not bloody likely now, is it?" Cyrus asked dispassionately. "Look, we'll get you another one."

Tears rolled down my cheeks, stinging my cold flesh. "This wasn't how it was supposed to happen."

Cyrus frowned. "What are you talking about?"

He suspected something. Amid the screams and destruction around us, I let my guard down, my guilt and terror flooding the blood tie.

Over all this, a new sound emerged. The steady thump of rotary blades chopping through the air. I'd often heard the sound at the hospital, when accident victims were brought in by helicopter.

The medical chopper had nothing on the three sleek, black, military-style copters that dipped below the tree line. I stared up at the sky, transfixed by the whirling blades. My heart swelled with a mixture of dread and hope. The hour of salvation had arrived, too late for Ziggy.

Or me, for that matter. Without him, my safety wasn't assured. I wrapped my arms around Ziggy's chest and stood, half lifting him. He gasped and a cascade of blood poured over my hands. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Cyrus shouted frantically to his guards. New screams erupted from the hedge maze, the petrified cries of vampires trapped like foxes in snares, as one by one they realized what was happening. The helicopters' floodlights snapped on and pure UV rays drenched the lawn in artificial sunlight.

The heat and glare made my skin sizzle, but there wasn't enough direct exposure to kill me on the shaded porch where we were.

Others weren't so lucky. The few vampires who made it clear of the maze exploded into flame and burned before they could reach the terrace. Only a handful made it to the house, pushing past us and charging through the glass doors.

Long ropes fell from both sides of each helicopter and dark figures dropped onto the lawn.

The assassins had arrived.

Twenty of them slid to the ground, covered in head-to-toe black gear. On their heads they wore black hoods and dark goggles.

Leather gloves and boots protected their hands and feet. Not a centimeter of their skin was exposed.

They were impressively efficient. The vampires that didn't burn quickly enough were staked. A few were decapitated with long, studded knives.

It was gruesome. Headless bodies burst into fire, skin and muscle flaking to embers in the wind generated by the helicopters. For a brief second, all that remained of them was a flash of blue flame where their heart should be, just before their ribs turned to ash and crumbled to the lawn.

Cyrus fled past me, the right side of his face scorched by the lights. "I'll deal with you later! Run!"

But I couldn't leave Ziggy to die alone. I struggled backward to the door, dragging him with me, as my sire ran to cowardly safety.

The assassins surged up the lawn in a lethal wave. A thin line of smoke wafted off of the top of the head of one of the assassins.