"What the hell part of 'come straight home' did you not understand?" Rachel's voice is quaking with anger, or fear, or both.
Lights are sweeping all over the area. She and Jeff arrived shortly ahead of the Agency's disposal unit, which deals with dead vamps. She, Jeff, Michael, and I are standing off to the side, while the unit works.
"We just … we just wanted to mess around for a while," I say, knowing it's an inadequate answer.
"You don't get to mess around, Dawn." Yeah, that's definitely anger. "You're a delegate now—"
"It was my idea," Michael says.
Rachel glares at him. She's shorter than I am, but at that moment I think she might terrify even Valentine. "What? Did you tie her up, sling her over your shoulder, and drag her here, kicking and screaming?"
"Uh, no."
"Then she had a choice, and she should have done what I—"
"Rachel," Jeff cuts in quietly.
Now she turns her evil eye on him.
"It's done. She's safe. It's not like you were never a teenager. Sometimes she's gotta rebel a little."
"Are you not looking at what I'm seeing here?"
Jeff rubs his jaw. "I'm not saying she should make a habit of this, but it's always safest when the Night Train comes through the city."
"Safest does not mean there are no dangers." She glares pointedly toward the vampire. "I know, but she was with Michael. I've seen him in training. He's good."
I meet Michael's gaze, give him a secretive smile. To have Jeff's endorsement means a lot.
"Don't do it again," Rachel demands.
"Yes, ma'am."
We hear footsteps and glance up as the coroner approaches. Everyone refers to him as Reap—an homage to the Grim Reaper. Sometimes I think it's not so much because of what he does, but how he looks. He's tall and wiry, with slightly hunched shoulders, as though dealing constantly with death drags him down.
"Well?" Rachel asks.
"I've never seen anything like it. Bite marks on his throat are sloppy, done in haste, like a lot of vampire attacks. But the victim is a vampire; their blood is useless to one another; it provides no nourishment."
"Then why?"
He just shrugs. "No idea." Reap checks his watch and makes a note for approximate time of death. "We'll take him back to the morgue, do an autopsy before we place him in the sun for disposal, but I don't think we're going to find any answers."
"Okay," Rachel says. "Tell your team this incident is confidential, need-to-know only. I don't want the public getting wind of this until we figure out what the hell happened."
"Right."
After he walks away, Rachel turns to us. "You're not to tell anyone about any of this."
"What about Valentine?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "No. Not yet, at least."
"Maybe it was a mad dog or something," Michael suggests.
"Whatever it was, it obviously doesn't like vampires," Jeff says.
"So maybe we have a new ally," Michael muses.
Only I'm not sure it's an ally we want.
The only advantage to what happened tonight is that at least now Michael and I are traveling in an Agency car, holding hands in the backseat. Jeff and Rachel are in the front. None of us seem to have much to say.
"Hope you don't get in trouble with your mom," I whisper. She's superanxious and prone to worry, but that's no wonder. He never knew his dad. He died during the war, shortly after Michael was born.
"No problem. I'll just tell her I had late practice. If she's even home." His mom works two jobs, and he's pretty much been taking care of himself since he was twelve. A lot of kids have stories like that. We draw to a stop outside Michael's apartment building. Since the war, the rebuilding efforts have concentrated on erecting apartments instead of houses. People like living in communities, where they can feel safe.
Michael gives my hand a squeeze. "See you at school tomorrow."
"Yeah." I lean in and give him a quick kiss—even though I know he's not comfortable with it in front of Jeff. "You were amazing tonight."
He grins. "Thanks. You, too."
He slips out and I settle back as Jeff drives away.
When we get home, Jeff comes upstairs with us. It's after midnight now. And I'm exhausted. "I'm going to bed." I walk over to Rachel and hug her. "Thanks, Rachel. Thanks for coming to our rescue."
"Don't make a habit of this," she says.
"Trust me. I don't need any more adventures."
As I'm walking to my room, I call over my shoulder, "And you two had better behave as well."
Rachel gasps; Jeff laughs. Definitely something going on between them. And I'm glad. Rachel needs a guy in her life.
Everything seems to catch up to me once I close the door to my bedroom. I feel like I'm moving through molasses as I get ready for bed: showering, putting on flannel pants and a tank, crawling into bed. I'm trying really hard not to think about what happened earlier.
But as I'm lying there, it keeps flashing in my mind. After a while, I hear a soft rapping and figure Rachel can't sleep either. I sit up and am about to call out to her when the knock sounds again. It's coming from my balcony doors. I consider lying back down and ignoring it. Maybe it's a bird pecking at the glass. Yeah, right. It comes again, and I know he's not going away.
I turn on the lamp, clamber out of bed, grab the stake from my nightstand, and pad over to the balcony. Drawing back the curtains, I see Victor's tall silhouette. I open the door. "At least you knocked this time. Still, just go away."
"I need to talk to you."
"Victor—"
"I heard a vampire died tonight."
"Vampires die every night. They keep the Night Watchmen busy."
"Not this one, Dawn. I need to know exactly how he died."
There is a chance that he isn't talking about the one Michael and I found, but if he is, I have to do some damage control. As much as I hate breathing the same air that he is, I sigh, step out onto the balcony, and cross my arms over my chest. "What exactly did you hear? And how did you hear it?"
"Someone saw a commotion near Dawson Elementary. He went to investigate, but couldn't get close enough to see much with all the Agency people hovering around. Still, he could sense everyone's … fear."
"There's always fear when we have confirmation that vamps are within the wall."
"He overheard someone say the vamp was bitten on the neck, possibly fed on." His voice is thrumming with impatience. I guess I can't blame him for wanting information.