Chapter Seven

The vampire calling himself Samuel Gregory picked up the phone. He stared at it for a minute as if he'd never seen a telephone before, despite the fact that he was considerably older than Alexander Graham Bell. Then, seeming to make up his mind, he punched a long string of numbers into the keypad and waited.

The tinny ringing stopped. "Yes?"

No politeness. No question as to who was calling. They already knew. He never questioned how much they knew.

"I have a request," he said. The words were thick on his tongue, an implicit admission of failure.

"What?"

"I wish permission to turn Farmer's daughter into one of us."

Silence, with nothing but thousands of miles of static to break it.

"You want to change the girl into a vampire?" the voice inquired, exquisitely and painfully polite.

He could tell from the tone what the answer would be, but he pursued his request doggedly. Whatever they would do to him for making the request, they'd certainly do now. Nothing he could say would make it worse.

"Humans may not know about the Night World," he said. "But there is precedent for changing them, once they've found out. Hunter Redfern changed his daughter's suitor, John Quinn, into a vampire. The council took no action against him and permitted Quinn to live." Another 'Hunter,' he thought idly, and wondered whether Farmer had chosen the name as an obscure challenge of some sort.

"And see how well that turned out," the voice said ironically. "If Quinn had been killed long ago, we would be better off now."

"There were unusual circumstances, sir." He decided not to say that the same unusual circumstances might exist in his case as well. "Besides, until Quinn . . . left . . . , he'd served the Night World council honorably and well. And, as I said, no action was ever taken against Hunter Redfern for his decision to change Quinn."

"Hunter Redfern has always been a member of this council. You are not a member. You never have been."

"True, but I have served you faithfully for centuries. And this is . . . the first such request that I have made."

"What is acceptable for council members is not acceptable for council servants," the voice said sharply. "Quinn was an exception. There can only be a few exceptions, or the exceptions become the rule. Our rule is a good one, and it cannot be weakened by too many exceptions. Or it will fail us when we need it most. Besides, as I have already pointed out, Quinn was a tremendous failure that we all regret."

Samuel was silent. He'd asked and been answered. He didn't really have anything else to say. He hadn't expected his request to be granted, though it would have solved most of his problems if it had been.

"And, if I may ask," the voice went on, poisonous-polite and now taking the aggressive, "why are you asking for permission to change the daughter of a notorious slayer into one of us?"

This was the question he'd most hoped not to be asked. He might believe that he was not at fault for having succumbed to the soulmate malady, but he knew better than to think that the Night World council would overlook the connection. On the other hand, he also knew that he was the council's servant. They had a right to his loyalty and honesty, even when it involved something that he would very much rather that they did not know.

"Have you fallen in love with her?" the voice asked.

He grasped hastily at the respite from his dilemma. "No."

"Some other reason, perhaps? Has someone tried to intercede for her life?"

"No. Nothing like that. The bomb was a bad mistake," he went on thoughtfully. "The FBI are still here investigating. Nearly every law enforcement agency in the vicinity has gotten involved in some way. The mysterious death of a girl now, under the circumstances, might attract the attention that the Night World seeks to avoid. If she were turned, however, we could control her actions, force her not to reveal our existence and to obey our rules—."

"Turning her is an overly dramatic solution for so small a problem," the voice disagreed, bored. "Make it look as if she'd set the first bomb and died when she tried to set off a second and it exploded prematurely. Everyone will be happy at such a neat conclusion. If anyone isn't, our representatives in the FBI will be sure to make the investigating agents accept the story."

Since that had been Samuel's exact plan when he'd taken her to the chemistry lab, he had no objection to make.

"It's not like you not to see the obvious," the voice added. "I hope you're not losing your touch."

Assassins who lost their touch were not given a pension and sent off into a happy and peaceful retirement. Unconsciously, Samuel's fingers clenched around the receiver. The plastic creaked, and he hastily loosened his grip.

"The problem will be solved," he promised.

It would be, too. No matter what it cost him. He was a council servant, and he was loyal to its wishes. Even when they were occasionally idiotic, as now. Setting off a second bomb to hide the damage he'd do when torturing the girl to death was possible, yes, but it wasn't certain that the bomb would hide everything, and if other students were killed in the blast, that would simply attract more attention to the incident. He might have an ulterior motive for asking for permission to change the girl, but there were also sound practical reasons for taking that approach.

"See to it, then. It's inappropriate for you to call us over trivia."

He heard a click and then the buzzing dial tone.

Letting out a sigh, he hung up his receiver as well. One option gone. He'd have to choose the least bad from the remaining ones.

Least bad, least bad. Which was the least bad?

"Darling," Anne's mother said, "I know you've been having some bad days at school. But you've hardly ever had detention before. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Um. It's nothing much, really."

"A bomb going off in your English classroom has got to be 'something much.'"

"Um. Yeah."

Anne didn't know what to tell her mother. She was afraid to say that the Night World was involved. She didn't think her mother knew about the Night World. Her mother never talked too much about her father, but they'd obviously dated for a while, even though Anne's father—whatever his true name was—had died before he could marry her mother. Her mother might know something. Or suspect. Anne didn't want the assassin to target her mother, too.

"You seem to have made new friends," Ms. Jamison prodded gently. "Amaranth Klein and, um, Meredith Lyon."

"Mary Lyon."

"Oops, sorry. Mary Lyon."

"They seem like nice girls. I should call their parents sometime and talk with them about how they're dealing with the aftermath of this bomb incident."

Anne thought that was a very bad idea, but she was fairly sure that her mother would become suspicious if Anne asked her not to call. It wasn't as if Anne could give a good reason for her mother to stay away from the Kleins and Lyons.

For the first time, Anne wondered if Amaranth's parents and Mary's parents were also part of Circle Daybreak. Neither Amaranth nor Mary had said they were. But if they weren't, did that mean that they would think that their daughters ought to be killed for violating Night World law?

"Is it all right if Mary comes over for a while this afternoon?" she evaded.

Ms. Jamison looked a bit startled. "That's all right, yes, but maybe she shouldn't spend the night. You've been having a lot of sleepovers lately, and you look as if you haven't gotten enough sleep."

Anne was sure her mother was right about that.

She also wondered if Amaranth's spells were wearing off. That was all right, actually. She didn't like to think of her mother permanently bewitched, or hypnotized, or whatever. But it had been very convenient when her mother hadn't argued about letting Amaranth sleep over, or about letting Anne go to stay the night with Mary.

"All right," she said.

If Amaranth couldn't stay the night, then she'd be alone, without protection. But Amaranth's protection hadn't saved her before. She was going to have to try something new.

Anne had decided that it was time she stopped relying on Circle Daybreak to protect her and that she find a way to protect herself.

Around them, the noise of the high school cafeteria rose to deafening levels. Anne and Amaranth were sitting apart with their heads practically touching one another so as to be able to hear. Even so, they were nearly shouting. Anne thought that if the cafeteria noise had suddenly stopped—which it never did—their voices would probably have been audible at the other end of the school.

"You want to take up sword practice again?" Amaranth asked doubtfully? "But why? I thought you didn't like it. And now that we know Samuel's your soulmate, the best thing probably would be for you to try to communicate with him and to persuade him to join Daybreak. You don't have to worry that he'll attack you any more."

Anne gritted her teeth. Amaranth had been good to her, had warned her about the Night World and had done her best to help Anne survive. But Anne couldn't believe that the vampire who'd looked at her with such absolute and unmitigated disgust would suddenly turn around and start sending her flowers. She didn't trust him. She didn't think she had any reason to trust him, soulmate or no.

"I want to learn to defend myself," she said firmly. "I don't want to feel helpless any more."

"You're not helpless."

"I feel helpless." Anne reconsidered. "No, I was helpless. When I was kidnapped, I was definitely helpless. I want to stop being helpless."

"Well. . . ." Amaranth sounded dubious, but she suddenly straightened and looked excited. "Yes! That's exactly what you ought to do. You and Samuel will be like Rashel and Quinn."

"Hunh?"

"Rashel and Quinn! I told you about them. They fight together for Daybreak. And that's why you ought to learn how to fight. If your soulmate is a fighter, you should be a fighter, too. You'll understand one another better that way, and you can be true partners. I mean, soulmates always understand one another, that's what the soulmate bond is all about, but . . . yeah, it's natural for you to want to learn to fight. Just like Samuel."

"I—" Anne paused to consider. That wasn't what she'd had in mind. On the other hand, having a soulmate was new to her. She wasn't an expert. How did she know?

"I guess," she finally concluded. "It could work that way."

"Great! I'll find Mary after lunch and let her know. She'd probably be glad to work out with you some more after school."

Mary's lunch period was the one after that of Anne and Amaranth. The high school, having more students than it had lunchroom space, held three lunch periods.

"I wanted to ask you something else," Amaranth said.

"What?"

"Um." Amaranth almost looked embarrassed. "I wanted to know if . . . well, if you'd like to join Circle Daybreak. Formally, I mean. I know we never got around to it before, but . . . well, we'd love to have you." Her last words, sounding oddly formal, came out in a rush.

Anne blinked. "Sure."

She hadn't really thought about joining Daybreak before. Well, there had been more important things to worry about. Such as staying alive after she'd been targeted for assassination.

"I'll arrange a ceremony," Amaranth promised. "Just leave it to me. This evening, maybe, after you work out with Mary?"

"My mother said I need to stay home tonight," Anne apologized.

"We'll hold it at Mary's house after you two finish practicing," Amaranth decided. "You can be home in time for dinner. Your mother won't notice anything."

"All right."

Neither Amaranth nor Anne noticed Ivy watching them balefully from the other side of the lunchroom.