“What the actual fuck!” I jump back with a jerk, and the chair ends up toppling to the side.
“Gee. Overreact much?”
“You’re a vampireanda shape shifter?” I say in an embarrassingly high-pitched voice.
“No,” someone else answers, and a moment later, I’m upright again, and the bane of my existence is staring at me.
“Sophie,” I say.
She frowns. “How do you know my name?”
“I heard it from your purse. I guess your cat was in it.”
Sophie glowers at her pet. “Tish, you have a big mouth.”
“Oh, so I can’t say your name out loud in front of Mr. Hottie over there, but you can say mine?”
“What do you want with me?” I ask.
“You’ve got things twisted around, Vaughn.” Sophie grabs my chin, digging her nails into my skin. “I’m the one asking the questions here.”
I jerk back to free myself from her clutch. “How do you knowmyname?”
My wallet appears in her hand like magic, making me even more leery of her. She takes my driver’s license out and reads, “Vaughn Joseph Bradley. Born 1998 in Salem, Massachusetts. How were you born only twenty-two years ago when vampires haven’t been able to reproduce in centuries?”
Shit. I had my wallet on me. My driver’s license still has my mother’s address on it.
“Have you ever heard of fake IDs?”
“Yes, but this isn’t fake. The girl who came looking for you in the alley was your sister—your veryhumansister.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. How did she already come to that conclusion?
Duh, Vaughn. Anyone with two brain cells and an internet connection could find that information. It isn’t like you deleted all your presence from social media.
I won’t confirm anything, though. “Oh, so how do you explain my existence, then?”
“You were made, but the question is, by whom?”
“Tough break. You ain’t getting any information from me.”
I try the binds around my wrist again, and to my surprise, I sense a bit of a slack. Maybe she laced them with vampire’s bane, but it’s already evaporating. I just have to keep her talking for a while longer.
Her pretty eyes shine with determination. “Oh, but Iwillget the information.”
“Why is my face wet?” Let the distractions begin.
“It was my idea,” the cat replies. “You weren’t waking up on your own.”
“What are you? I’ve never met a talking cat before.”
Sophie grabs my chin roughly again. “I said I’m the one asking the questions here. What were you doing at Night Crawlers two nights ago?”
“Hanging out with my friends. What wereyoudoing there? I doubt you have any friends.”
“Hey! I’m her friend,” the cat complains.
Sophie whips her face to her. “Tish, stay quiet or leave.”
