Mariska studies my palm, examining the lines, extreme concentration creasing her pretty brow. Finally, she releases a deep exhale. “I’m sorry. I can’t read your future. It’s a swirl of indecision. One option appears then another contradicts it.”

“Fuck,” Elaine snaps.

“Lainey.” I glance around the crowded restaurant. “Families come here. Anyway, she tried.” I give Mariska a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” my best friend says. “The uncertainty of all of this is making me crazy.”

I squeeze her hand and turn back to the young woman in front of us. “Did you find anything?”

Mariska pushes a lock of wavy chestnut hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to give you false hope, but…” Her golden eyes are so earnest, I can’t help liking her. “The problem with vampire cures is no one’s ever survived long enough to confirm if any of them actually work.”

“Oh.” I pull back. “What does that mean?”

“I spent all day yesterday pouring through Yaya’s journals and the journals of Philome. In most cases, the alpha vampire either kills the hybrid, or the hybrid kills the human trying to save him or her.” She gives me a cautious look. “From what I understand, the drive to feed is overwhelming. Most hybrids aren’t strong enough to stop before it’s too late.”

The memory of Derek’s blood floods me with heat. “It’s very hard,” I whisper.

“Well, that’s not very encouraging,” Elaine retorts.

Just then our oysters arrive. We lean back as the server puts a bowl of Oysters Rockefeller soup in front of Mariska, an ACME Special po-boy in front of Elaine, and a Peace-maker in front of me.

Mariska takes a spoonful of the dark brown soup and makes a happy sound before she continues. “Either way, I found two distinct possibilities!”

“What are they?” Elaine’s tone is sharp before she takes a bite of her debris-style roast beef sandwich.

I place a hand calmly on her forearm. “Tell us what you found.”

“Okay,” Mariska nods taking another bite of soup. “The first is pretty quick and easy. Kill the head vampire.”

“Seriously?” Elaine flops back against the booth, throwing up her hands. “Fucking Lost Boys?”

“I’m not sure Patrick is such a good influence on you,” I mutter, looking over my shoulder in her direction.

“I know!” Mariska nods unfazed. “They used it in that movie, but it actually has a basis in fact. Many devices novelists and screenwriters use have a basis in fact. It’s really cool.”

“I’m sure.” Elaine’s tone is the exact opposite.

“So our first option is to kill the one who made me straight out,” I say, trying to get us back on track. “I don’t think I’m strong enough for that.”

“Oh, you’re not,” our gypsy friend says with certainty. “Only specially trained vampire hunters should even attempt something like that. And they usually fail.”

I do my best to steady my breathing, and I realize I’m not going to eat any of my fried oyster and shrimp sandwich. All I can think about is Derek being specially trained. Derek failing.

“So assuming that’s not an option,” I say. “What’s our number two?”

“Okay,” she says again, wiggling a bit in her seat. “This one has real potential. It’s an old cure for chupacabra. It involves mingling lycan blood with verbena root—”

“Lycan?” I interrupt. “As in werewolf?”

“Or shifter. They’re also immune to vampire bites, so their blood would work.” Elaine and I exchange a look as Mariska continues. “I don’t know where we’d find a lycan or a shifter, but supposedly, if you mix their blood with the verbena root into a draught, it will burn the vampire taint out of you.”

“Burn?” My voice is quiet.

We’re all quiet, and Mariska looks straight at me. “Yes. That’s the downside of this cure. The lycan blood and the vampire blood oppose each other in your veins until one wins. It’s incredibly painful, and I’m not even sure how much shifter blood we’d need. If we even knew a shifter.”

Ice fills my stomach. “Oh, god. I was born under a curse.”

My hand is suddenly clasped in an iron grip. “Stop it!” Elaine’s green eyes bore into mine. “Whatever you’re facing, whatever sign you’re born under, I’m with you in it. We’re going to fix this.”

Turning to Mariska, her tone is all business. “Can you get this verbena root?”

“Of course!” Mariska smiles. “It grows wild all over the place.”

“Get as much as you need.”

“Wait.” Mariska’s eyes narrow. “Does that mean—do you know a shifter?”

“Actually, if you can believe it, we just met one.”

“Here in New Orleans?!” She jumps in her seat, immediately excited. Then, just as fast, she seems embarrassed by her enthusiasm.

“Yes,” I say, studying her strange reaction. “It’s a real coincidence.”

She starts, and her voice goes quiet. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Neither do I.” Elaine, unlike me, is calm about all of these things.

Golden eyes blink up to us. “Can I meet him?”

“I guess you have to if you’re going to do the spell. What’s wrong?”

Mariska’s entire body flushes, but she tries to hide it by switching the subject. “It’s the most painful cure. Are you sure you can do it?”

“It looks like I don’t have a choice.”

Elaine’s green eyes hold mine. “Too much has happened to get us here. Too many supposed coincidences. I’m more certain than ever we’re going to get you through this.”

I nod, wishing I had her confidence. Unfortunately, all I feel is dread.

* * *

Derek

Dim light fills my suite. The curtains are drawn and soft music, a capella male voices singing in a foreign language, drifts quietly from the sound system.

I’ve filled the Jacuzzi tub halfway. It’s too small for the three of us. We’ll have to do our best to keep everything in the water. Otherwise, I’m not sure how we’ll hide the mess.

Stuart is stripped to the waist. Light from the candles casts deep shadows across the lines of his arms and torso, and he holds an old, leather-bound book in his hands. Patrick walks around the room clenching and unclenching his fists as if warming up for a race. I’m trying to stay calm, focused. What we’re about to do is excruciatingly painful for me, but it will increase our chances of success.

I walk over and sit on the side of the tub, lowering my feet into the water. Five minutes, I say in my mind. I can bear the pain for five minutes. Then I’ll sleep. When I wake, I won’t feel any pain. I’ll actually feel like I’ve taken the strongest dose of steroids in the world.

Still my pulse ticks faster. I have to work to calm my breathing. Stuart’s focused solemnity doesn’t help.

“Hey,” Patrick laughs, breaking the mood. “What have we here?”

I glance up to see him holding a scrap of what appears to be black lace, but it’s too dark for me to know for sure. “What is it?” I ask.

Stuart walks over and takes it from him. “Nice,” he says, pulling it to his nose for a sniff. “Nope. She’s not mine.”

Suddenly I realize what he’s holding and hop out of the tub. “Give me that.” Snatching Melissa’s thong from his hands, I carry it over to the nightstand and put her panties in my drawer. “Fucking right she’s not yours. She’s mine.”

“Good taste,” Stuart says with a grin. “I’m glad to see you’re getting back out there.”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“Yes,” he says, returning to serious and following me to the tub.

We step into the warm, swirling water. Patrick carries a tall pillar candle with him as he steps in. We’re all stripped to the waist now, and Stuart reaches for the thing I’ve been dreading.

In the dim light, he raises a thick, steel knife with a twisted blade. Writing is on the sides and scrollwork is along the handle.

“The blood of the shifter is sacred.” Stuart speaks the words I’ve heard before as he hands the ritual knife to Patrick. Patrick holds the blade over the flame. “Sharing it is a gift. It makes you our brother as long as it flows in your veins.”

Using the razor-sharp tip, Patrick cuts a line down the center of his forearm. Dark red blood, almost black, immediately surges to the surface. Patrick only winces as he passes the knife to his alpha, who repeats the procedure before turning to me.

Quickly, Stuart makes an identical slice in my arm.

“Shit,” I growl as blood bubbles up on my forearms. It’s lighter in color than theirs and slightly thinner.

The knife-metal burns like fucking fire, and Stuart quickly flattens his forearm against mine, clasping my elbow in his fist, lining our wounds on top of one another. Patrick does the same on my other side, and my teeth grind as their shifter blood floods my veins.

“Fuck,” I growl through my clenched jaw.

Their blood is heavier than mine, and it feels like slow, painful molasses ripping through my forearms, searing my veins.

Stuart begins to chant slowly.

May my hand never separate itself from the fraternal hand of my brothers.

May my feet walk by the side of my brothers because we walk in the steps of light.

May my eyes look to heaven with my brothers, for we seek justice and truth.

May brotherhood emerge among all the beings.

May peace be established in the inner essence.

Until the evil is driven out from among us.

We are the protectors of the light.

Amen.

By the final sentences, I’m able to look up and see his lips aren’t moving. I’m hearing his words in my mind as the shifter blood takes over, uniting us telepathically.

Patrick’s voice joins the Amen in my head. The pain lessens. Shifter strength quickly rises in my body, changing my basic cell structure. It’s only a temporary change, but while it lasts, I’ll be almost as powerful as them, and the three of us will be united in our thoughts. We’ll be able to track each other.

“Rest now,” Stuart’s voice is in my head as he releases my elbow. “That’s more than you’ve ever taken. You need a few hours to adjust.”

My head is dizzy, and I hold onto the side of the tub while Patrick binds my arms with cloths. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to go,” he says in my mind.

Nodding, I lift my feet out of the swirling pink water. Only a few drops were lost in the tub. Two steps and I crash on the soft cotton sheets. My senses are already heightened, and I smell her ocean-kissed roses on my pillow. Melissa is the last thing I remember until it’s time to face our shared enemy.