Let's get another thing straight, I only dressed as a cowgirl because it was so easy; already in a plaid shirt, I only had to throw on a hat and some boots and I was golden.

Yes, I had changed my mind. Even though I still hated the idea of hanging out at the Zeta house, I hated the idea of Laura there even more; Danny's hand on her back, or maybe brushing the hair from her cheek; one of those red plastic cups in her hand, a cup filled with a spooky bubbling punch that was so sweet you'd hardly notice the taste of arsenic, or worse, a drop of Deadly Nightshade.

My mind reeled with the dangers, but then I'd lean back on the bed, refocus on my book, and reassure myself that Laura would be fine. I'd given her the bat wing bracelet after all, and even though I hated to admit it, Danny was a pretty good bodyguard — not as good as me, but being the mere mortal that she was, what was to be expected?

A curious thing happened, though. As I laid on the bed, I found myself in a lingering state of discomfort. I would turn to my left side and feel a tingling numbness in my ribs; I'd turn to the right and feel a burning in my cheeks; I'd lay on my back, and feel as though the weight of a mighty wave was crashing down on me.

It's only the story, I told myself. It's only your own tell-tale heart. It will pass. Don't let it drive you mad.

But it didn't pass. I even tried laying on my stomach, my head at the foot of the bed, and my feet kicked up behind me. But that was the worst position of all. Instantly, the blood rushed to my head, and I felt a dizzy pounding at my temples, a pounding that seemed to come from both inside and outside of myself, a pounding that pulsated through the walls of the room, then up through the mattress itself, until the whole bed seemed to gyrate beneath me.

It's coming from under the bed, I thought.

I stood up, lifted up the mattress and growled; there, strewn haphazardly beneath the corner of the mattress, was the bat wing bracelet.

Of course! I thought. How had I missed the fact that she wasn't wearing it!?

I'd been so distracted by the bareness of her wrists — by the pink flesh, and the pretty, branching blue veins — that I had completely overlooked the cause their perfect bareness, completely overlooked the absence of the bracelet.

"Shit," I whispered — only partly because I was worried about Laura, but, also because now I had to put together some lame costume.

And worse, I had to think of some lame excuse.