I was supposed to be bait, again. Even after another month of training that was still all Christophe would let me do, and that was with me starting up a ruckus about it. I settled myself with the fact that at least I was doing something. I'd also learned from my last experience, fingering the silver-loaded switchblade in the pocket of my hoodie as I walked.

So that's how I ended up in the seedy, run-down and abandoned parts of the fine city of New York. Night had fallen, the deserted street leaving me alone with the echoing sound of my footsteps. But I knew I wasn't really on my own. Christophe's voice was a smooth murmur through the tiny device in my ear, as if he were right beside me. I knew he probably was nearby, despite being Mission Control, which was comforting in an odd way. And when I loosened the touch in my head and spread out my senses I could feel the Guard teams–Primary, Secondary, and even Tertiary–ghosting through the shadows behind me.

That's why when I looked forward down the street I almost jumped out of my skin. I hadn't felt him.

Danger candy coated my tongue so thickly and suddenly I almost gagged. The sucker was old–older than anticipated. And that meant more powerful. He stood about ten buildings away, partly hidden in the dark. I barely had time to close the touch into a fist inside my head protectively before the centuries-old hate burning in his black eyes jabbed into my brain. His glassine hiss sent pain shooting behind my eyes and I knew I hadn't closed up fast enough.

"Ssssvetocha…"

I stumbled back, pulling out my switchblade with fumbling fingers. What the hell? After weeks of training, I should be able to handle this. I wrenched hard away from the vampire's hold as though it were a physical thing, feeling the touch strain in my head, something tearing loose and knocking the breath out of me.

"Christophe, now would be a good time," I said, my voice strangled. The taste of rotting wax oranges choked me. The nosferat was closing in, moving with a spooky graceful speed towards me. At least there's only one, I thought dizzily, trying to brace myself. "He's old and gaining–"

"We're there," Christophe said calmly, starting to bark orders. "Primary team, go now–" I sagged against a railing on one side of the steps up to an empty apartment building's door as the nosferat hissed again, invisible claws digging in and twisting in my brain. Then there was a whoosh of air and the patter of near-silent footsteps as half a dozen djamphir ran past me.

The nosferat let out a crystalline cry as the Primary team attacked, and I felt the touch stretch painfully again against my will. I cried out, the starch leaving my body, my knees buckling. My head bounced off the apartment's concrete steps, a glancing blow that I was barely aware of as the mental battle raged. Whatever the vampire was doing, it was tearing me up inside. I screwed my eyes shut and heaved, throwing all my strength into pulling the touch closed inside my skull.

With one final screech the nosferat shook me loose, retreating. It was painful relief, but I still couldn't relax. The touch was in shreds. A dry half-sob escaped me as I dragged what was left of it into a tight fist. Christophe was still barking orders as I gasped for air, blinking and watching as the vampire disappeared with one final hiss down the street, djamphir racing after him.

"Dru? Dru?"

"I'm fine," I rasped, struggling to sit up.

"Stay where you are," Christophe said, his voice taught. "The Secondary team has secured the area. Your job is done. I'm coming to get you, little bird." I slowly caught my breath. Everything's fine. Christophe's coming, everything's fine. I clenched my fingers, willing them to stop trembling before I realized it was my whole body shaking.

He was with me in an instant, appearing out of thin air with a little whispering sound, just the way I hated and making me jump for a second time tonight. But he was here.

"Dru." He knelt in front of me on the steps, his touch gentle as he grasped my shoulders and held me upright. His eyes were intense. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine," I said a second time, coughing slightly. "He didn't touch me." Christophe was watching me with glowing, icy blue eyes. I looked away, trying to hide the fact that Something was Seriously Wrong. The touch was shivering in my head, like a ragged flag flapping in a cold wind and I was barely holding it together.

"Don't lie to me, kochana," he said softly. Christ. When he spoke like that I couldn't hide anything. His Christmas candle smell filled my nose, warm cinnamon and apples.

"The sucker tore something up–in-inside," I said, stumbling over my words and still not meeting his stare. His slim fingers came up under my chin, tilting my face up until I had no choice but to look into his eyes. A hot flush went through me. His face was right there in front of me.

"Are you okay?" he asked again slowly, his voice low and his gaze steady. I swallowed hard, trying to keep the world from tilting underneath me.

"I don't know." I almost didn't recognize the small, pitiful voice saying the words. But at the moment everything felt fragile, no matter how hard I tried to fight it. Without another word, Christophe scooped me up in his arms. I opened my mouth to protest but a throbbing headache had me in its grip. Instead I just let him.

A sleek black van pulled up a moment later, the side door sliding open. I shut my eyes as voices washed over me, letting Christophe handle it. He set me in the back seat, and I ignored the djamphir scrambling to get out of the way. The door slammed shut, echoing in my head, and I made a whimpering noise before I could stop myself. My whole body ached and I was just so tired.

"Shhh, skowroneczko moja," Christophe murmured, leaning me against his side. "You need to rest. You are safe, so now you must rest." I was safe. And what do you know, I believed him.

In his arms, I felt safe.