When I woke the next morning, I could hear Syd milling about outside my door. Her jeans would rustle, which would be followed shortly the impatient tap-tap-tap of her fingers against the wall. I laid back in bed and snuggled in the down comforter; it didn't take me long to decide to take the day off. That was the good thing about graduate research, especially with my boss. My schedule was generally my own. If I didn't want or need to come in, I didn't.

"Just get in here," I said to Ms. Fidget on the other side of the door. It was either that, or let Sydney pace in front of my door for the next hour. As soon as I closed my mouth, Syd was standing in the doorway, holding a very large bouquet of red roses.

"These came for you this morning," she said giddily. "There are more downstairs. Here's the card." She flicked the card in my direction; the small envelope landed just short of my reach on the bed just before she did.

Sloane McIntosh,

I am profoundly sorry about last night. Let me make it up to you tonight at dinner. I'll pick you up at eight.

David O'Hara

PS: I did not know which flower was your favorite, so I sent one of everything. Please let me know which you like best.

Syd set the roses on my bedside table and flopped on the bed next to me before I had finished reading the short note. "Who are they from?" she asked. I handed the card to her. She took a second to read the note to herself before her eyes shot up to meet mine. "You're going to go on a date with a man who tried to kill you? Not good, Sloane. Not good."

I shrugged. I didn't want to think about last night or the impending date. "I apparently don't have a choice. And he didn't really try to kill me," I said as I moved to sit up against my headboard.

We sat in silence for a few moments while Sydney debated how motherly to get. The more motherly, the more she was going to try and forbid me from doing something I didn't really want to do in the first place. Apparently, she was going to keep her motherly instinct in check. "I'm getting my cards. Meet you in the kitchen," she said as she popped off the foot of my bed. I may be the one with the foresight, but Sydney had her own kind of precognition. When used properly, tarot cards can be remarkably accurate, and Sydney was one of the best readers around.

My first stop was to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I could see I was rumpled. I had a faint bruise circling my neck that I didn't really want to think about. Since I hadn't bothered to pull my hair out of its ponytail before I fell into bed it had mashed into a hurrah's nest. After wrestling it out of the hair tie and brushing it out, I looked less human and more leonine. I hadn't bothered to get it cut in years, and my hair now fell down past my shoulder blades in a frizzy mane. That's why I usually don't brush my normally curly hair—brushing it just makes it bigger. I washed the remnants of makeup off and brushed my teeth. Even now that I looked more alive, I still wasn't feeling quite myself, so I pulled off my clothes and jumped in for a quick shower. After some rosemary mint shampoo and hibiscus soap, I felt almost human again. Almost. I threw on jeans and a button down shirt, and ambled down the stairs. With the best of intentions I brought my brush with me.

Sydney had the last key to my humanity ready and waiting for me on the kitchen table. A tall glass of Pepsi was waiting for me, along with a bowl of Cheerios. I fell into the chair and dug in. "Thanks, love," I mumbled, spoon halfway to my mouth.

"Not a problem, now shuffle." She handed me the deck of cards.

I complied, leaving the spoon in my mouth and mumbling, "What problem am I focusing on?" I knew that, in order for tarot to work, you need to focus energy toward a problem or a question.

"Start with last night," she replied. I focused on the events of last night while shuffling the well-worn cards. After a minute, I cut the deck and handed the cards back to Syd before pulling the spoon from my mouth and continuing to funnel Cheerios down my throat. She laid them out in her usual Celtic cross. Long ago, she had tried to teach me how to read the cards. I knew what each of the positions meant, I knew what each of the cards meant, but I could never accurately interpret what the end meaning was. That was a gift of Sydney's. She sat in silence, studying the cards and considering the meanings.

"Just tell me what I need to know," I said before taking a break from my bowl to focus on my favorite form of caffeine. It was too early for the cryptic messages Sydney was known for.

"Don't freak out, but everything's about to change."

"Perfect," I mumbled as I glanced over to her celtic cross formation. The Tower and The Devil together in the same tarot? I have no idea what that could mean. And The Hanged Man was never a good card to get. "Good or bad," I finally asked.

"That's what has me stumped, I can't tell. Maybe a bit of both?" My tarot had never stumped Sydney before.

"That's just fantastic." As I took the last bite of cereal and last swig of Pepsi, I was human. And feeling more observant. I looked up at Sydney and saw the array of flowers surrounding us. "Holy shit."

Syd saw me eying the flowers. "Yea, I know. He must have bought all the flowers in Holland." There were bouquets of roses in several colors, daisies, mums, lilies, orchids, asters, and many, many more. Vases covered the kitchen counters. "I left your favorite by the front door."

This I had to see. He must have literally sent every bouquet the florist offered and more, because hydrangeas aren't necessarily what you consider a giftable flower. But there, in a white porcelain vase, were a dozen hydrangea blooms in assorted colors. Even the rarer white and even the green hydrangeas were represented in the bouquet. "Oh, wow."

"Yea, no kidding, hun. He wants you bad."

I rolled my eyes as I fingered the light blue flowers. "I don't think it's that." In fact, I seriously doubted it was that.

"Then why?"

"I think they—the vampires from last night, I mean—want to keep me happy, and more importantly, keep me close. You know, so I can forecast the future for them." From what I know of vampires in general, they were not above acquiring and using things or people they deemed important. And I saw the gleam in Emma's eyes. She immediately knew what I could be worth to her, and the wheels had started turning.

"Oh. That's not good."

No, obviously not. The last thing I wanted to be was under somebody's thumb. I already worked my ass off in the lab to get my grad research done, took time out to attend class and teach, and occasionally had to act on particularly persistent visions, the last thing I needed was to be on the constant lookout to make life easier for a few vampires.

I couldn't believe what I was getting into. I sighed into my hands. "What am I going to do? I don't want to get in any farther."

Without anything else to say, Syd just nodded.