I ended up having the driver take me home. I had nowhere else to go. Darla kept calling my phone until finally I turned it off. I knew I shouldn’t worry her like that. But what was my alternative? Tell her I was afraid I was being stalked by a vampire slayer? Yeah, that would have gone over well.

Back at home, I locked all the windows and doors. Set the alarm. But that didn’t stop my heart from racing. My gaze darting to every corner of the apartment. If Slayer, Inc. could infiltrate a vampire compound, surely they’d have no problem breaking into my little apartment.

I paced the living room, not sure what to do. Several times I considered going to my Carpathian puzzle box, in an attempt to calm my nerves. But I was determined not to do that anymore. And also, what if it wasn’t Slayer, Inc. who was after me? What if it were another vampire coven? They’d pick up the scent of my blood. Which was the last thing I needed now.

I read Logan’s note over again, for the millionth time, wishing he’d left his phone number. Some way to contact him, to let him know what I feared was going on. Maybe he would have come. Maybe he would have at least sent someone else to come. As it was, I had no one to turn to. I was alone.

I pulled my shades closed. As if that would help. Then I started to pick up the apartment. Useless, I know, but the only distraction I could think of. I couldn’t cut. And there was no way I could write. No way to lose myself in a fantasy, when a dark reality was lurking close by, waiting to strike.

I grabbed my clothes off the floor. The ones I’d worn the night before. As I walked them over to my washing machine, something fell out of one of the pockets. A slip of paper. I picked it up, frowning, at first not recognizing what it was. Then my eyes widened as I read the front of the card, the memory reigniting in my brain.

Rayne MacDonald, the card read.

My number one fan.

Call me if you need anything, she’d insisted. Anything at all.

Hands trembling, I dove for my purse. Pulled out my phone. Turned it back on. It rang immediately. Darla, of course. This time I answered.

“I’m fine!” I barked into the phone, not bothering with hellos. “You don’t have to worry!”

“Don’t have to worry? Hannah, you ran from the book signing like the devil himself was at your heels.”

I winced. She wasn’t wrong.

“I had a panic attack,” I explained lamely. Thankfully it wasn’t a far stretch for me and thus believable. “The walls were closing in. But I’m okay now. I’m home. I’m safe.” I drew in a breath. “Please tell the bookstore I am so sorry. That I will reschedule—any night they want me back, I’ll be there.”

Darla was silent for a moment. Then, “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound out of breath.”

“I’m fine. Really. I just…ran to the phone. I’d been charging it. It had run out of charge. That’s why I didn’t answer before.”

The lies flew from my lips before I could even acknowledge them. Ridiculous, too convenient to be true. I knew Darla probably only half believed me anyway. But she would support me all the same. She always did, I thought guiltily. Even when I didn’t deserve her to.

“Okay,” she said at last. “But I’m coming over. Once I wrap up at the store. Leave the door open in case you fall asleep.”

Shit. “Okay,” I said, not able to come up with any excuse why she shouldn’t. “Take your time though. I’m totally fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

I frowned a little. Was I that much of a child? That she felt she always had to take care of me? That I couldn’t deal with life on my own? Make my own decisions? Find my own way? If only she knew what I’d gone through the nights before. She might realize I could handle myself pretty well in a crisis after all.

I shook my head. Time to think of such things later. Right now I had a phone call to make.

I said goodbye to Darla, then dialed Rayne’s number. It rang three times and I was starting to worry she wouldn’t pick up. Then…

“Hello?” I could hear loud music in the background practically drowning out the voice.

I let out a breath of relief. “Rayne?” I asked. “This is Hannah.”

“Hannah…?” I could hear the doubt in her voice.

“Hannah Miller,” I added. “You know, the writer?”

“Oh my God!” she cried. “Hannah Miller! Of course! I’m so sorry! I just—well, I never thought you’d call!” Even over the loud music I could hear the excitement in her voice. “But I’m so glad you did! I have been freaking out since I met you. I can’t believe you were at the Blood Coven. How’d the research go anyway?”

“Um, about that.”

“Yeah?”

I bit my lower lip. “Can we meet somewhere? To talk?”

“Of course! I always have time for my favorite writer. When do you want to meet?”

“Is now too soon?”

“Nope. I’m at Club Fang. Can you get here?”

“I think so.”

“Awesome. Just text me when you get there. I’ll make sure we have a quiet room to talk in.”

I agreed and hung up the phone, my heart pattering in my chest all over again. Club Fang. Had I really just committed to going to Club Fang tonight? Back to the scene of the crime? I wondered if I should call her back. Tell her I wanted to meet somewhere else.

But something inside me prevented me from redialing her number. Something small and niggling at the back of my brain.

Maybe Logan would be there.

My heart skipped a beat at the thought.

And I knew I was going to go.

But what to wear? I had stuck out like a sore thumb last time I went to Club Fang and I didn’t want to do that again. I needed something cool. Something that would help me blend in with the gothy crowd. So I wouldn’t call attention to myself if Slayer, Inc. was lurking nearby.

But when I looked in my closet I saw nothing that would work. It was all yoga pants, cotton t-shirts. God, was I really this boring in real life?

But just as I was about to give up and resign myself to jeans and a black t-shirt, I saw the dress. At the very back of my closet, almost hidden from view.

It was crimson. A beautiful ball gown. With a full skirt, plunging neckline and no sleeves. Pretty much straight off the cover of Blood and Roses, the book that had started it all. The dress had been given to me as a gift from Darla the time I was signed up to go to DragonCon. She had told me that everyone there cosplayed. That I could play Maisie and it would be so much fun.

In the end, I had chickened out. I was too stressed out to go so far out of my comfort zone. To wear a costume so dramatic. Besides, who wanted to see my bare arms? The ugly silver scars and fresh scabs marring my skin. And so I had stuffed the dress in the back of my closet. And I had never looked at it again.

But now…

“Okay, Miller,” I muttered under my breath. “Let’s do this.”

Time to channel my inner Maisie. And find out what the hell was going on.