The owner of the voice was a girl—probably not much younger than him, he noticed. She stood out like a sore thumb amidst the dull colors of the cemetery, with pixie cut blond hair and a pink- and white-striped set of stockings under cream-colored overalls and a high cropped Hello Kitty shirt. The girl noticed him staring and grinned. “What're you doing out here in the cemetery all by yourself this late at night? Midnight snack?”

On any other day, Jayden would have retorted by saying he could ask her the same question. Today, though, he merely hung his head and remained silent.

The girl clucked her tongue at him. “Hey, cheer up. I was just teasing.” She came closer and crouched down in the grass beside him. “A vamp's got to do what a vamp's got to do. Although I am wondering why you're snacking in the cemetery. You know grave dirt is dangerous for vamps, don't you?”

Jayden glared at her, hoping he'd look intimidating enough to scare her off. “I'll show you dangerous if you don't leave me alone,” he snarled, and threw in a hiss for good measure.

His attempt to frighten her failed: all the girl did was burst out laughing. “You're new,” she managed between giggles. “You're totally new. Oh my God, that was funny.”

He slumped back against the nearest tombstone. “You don't have to rub it in,” he grumbled. He paused for a moment, then added, “And I'm not new. I've been like this since I was born.”

“Sure you have.” The girl offered a hand to him. “I'm Chantelle. What about you?”

After a few seconds of hesitation, he took the proffered hand. “Jayden.”

The girl, Chantelle, gave him another of her wide, brilliant grins. “Nice to meet you, vamp.” She stood up, hauling him to his feet with her. “So, where do you live? Your folks would probably have a good fit if they knew you came out here to the cemetery. I'll walk you home.”

Jayden looked away and said nothing.

Chantelle seemed to understand what he meant without asking. “Do you want to come home with me? My parents won't mind. I've brought worse things home before.” She smiled as he looked at her hopefully.

“You know what I am,” Jayden said slowly, “but you want to take me home with you? Are you stupid?”

Her smile broadened, revealing little dimples at the corners of her lips. “No, I'm a sorceress,” she corrected him. “I think I can handle it if you get a little peckish.”

Jayden did a double take. For a sorceress, she looked remarkably human. He examined her appearance again, more closely this time. Now he noticed the poreless, porcelain look of her skin, the unnaturally vivid shade of her green eyes shot through with flecks of blue and amber, and the delicacy of her small joints, and he could tell she carried fae blood. “You don't look much like a sorceress.”

“What, were you expecting wings?” Chantelle quipped. “We Mystics don't stand out much, vamp. Not like you do.”

He made a face, knowing she was referring to his pallor and abnormally sharp canines. Most people didn't notice, but there was still the occasional person who commented on his vampiric appearance. “You've got a point. But still, you seriously want to take me to your house? When I look like this?” He gestured to his face, smeared with the blood he hadn't been able to wipe off.

She propped her hands on her hips and looked over him critically. “Like I said, a vamp's got to do what a vamp's got to do. It's not like you can get a blood milkshake at the local burger joint or anything.” Reaching up with one hand, she gave his nose a light pinch between two thin fingers. “Come on, it's late. Let's go before the Dark Law starts patrol for the night.”

Chantelle's house turned out to be a quaint two-story cottage on the outskirts of Clearwater. Its back was up against the edge of the forest line, which spread out behind in both directions as far as Jayden could see. It looked like a nice enough place to live, he supposed.

“All right, vamp, enough staring. Let's get inside.” She frog-marched him up to the front porch without hesitation and entered. “I'm home!” she announced loudly. “Could you set up the guest room, Mom?”

“What do you need the guest room set up for?” a woman's voice demanded from around the corner of the foyer. Moment later, the voice's owner stepped into view with an inquisitive expression. The woman bore a strong likeness to Chantelle, with the same blond hair and poreless skin, although her hair shimmered over with a fiery red tint that somehow didn't detract from its golden color. When she caught sight of Jayden, her thin eyebrows snapped up in surprise. “I see,” she said. “Well, bring the poor boy in and have him sit down somewhere. It's getting brisk out; we don't want him to catch a cold.”

“Vamps don't catch colds, Mom,” Chantelle pointed out with the tone of someone who'd reminded her of this on more than one occasion. All the same, she ushered Jayden through the house to a small living room decked out in cheerful blues and greens, and pushed him down onto the couch. Her mother entered shortly after with a cup of what looked like tea in hand.

“I know you would probably prefer blood, but I'm afraid I don't have any on hand,” she informed him apologetically, offering the cup.

Jayden took the cup and shook his head. “It's fine. It's … it's been awhile since I've had anything else.” He blew on the tea to cool it as Chantelle and her mother plopped down on either side of him.

“I suppose your bringing him home means he hasn't got a place of his own to stay?” Chantelle's mother asked her.

Chantelle shook her head. “He was in the cemetery. I don't think he'd be there otherwise.”

“Could you maybe not talk about me as if I weren't here?” Jayden demanded peevishly. Chantelle's mother went pink and stood back up, mumbling something about setting up the guest room for him. Chantelle stayed put.

“Why don't you go help your mom?” Jayden suggested to her. He was grateful for her opening her home to him like this, but he didn't like her hovering.

“She'll be finished soon enough,” Chantelle replied dismissively. “Setting stuff up, for us, is easy as one two three.” She snapped her fingers, releasing a flurry of pink sparks he recognized as magic.

She really was a sorceress, then. A very odd sorceress, granted, but a sorceress nonetheless. “Of course. I should have known.” He took a long sip of the tea and relished its sweet herbal taste, so different from that of the blood he had been drinking earlier.

“All finished,” Chantelle's mother announced, bustling back into the room. She was carrying a set of folded clothes; she dropped them into Jayden's lap. “I thought you might like some pajamas to sleep in. I hope you don't mind they're some old things of my husband's.”

Jayden shook his head. “Not at all,” he assured her.

“All right, then. Just let me know if you need anything else, okay? I'll be more than happy to do what I can.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Chantelle's mother smiled, revealing dimples the same as her daughter's. “There's no need to call me that,” she assured him. “Mrs. Emery will do for the present.”

He returned the smile shyly. “Thank you, then, Mrs. Emery.”

“You're very welcome.” And with that, she bustled out of the room again.

Chantelle launched herself up off the couch. “Well, vamp, I guess I should probably show you to the guest room,” she remarked.

Jayden rolled his eyes but stood up anyway. “My name is Jayden, you know. Not 'vamp.' How about calling me by it?” He balanced his teacup carefully in his hands as he followed Chantelle down a brightly lit and modestly decorated hallway to a small bedroom at the end.

“That would be no fun,” came Chantelle's reply. She pushed open the door of the bedroom and gestured for him to enter. “Here you go. It's all yours, vamp, for as long as you want to stay.”

Jayden, halfway through the door already, turned and stared at her. “What?”

When his stomach growled for a third time only a couple minutes later, Jayden decided he would be better off to return home and drink now. He recognized the onset of ravenous hunger when he felt it, and he didn't want to be on the streets when it hit its peak. Shaking a little, he made his way back to his apartment. Hopefully he wasn't too far gone to avoid making a mess while he drank his blood, or there would be hell to pay if the landlord found bloodstains in the apartment.

There was an agonizingly long moment of anticipation while he fumbled with his keys in both hands to find the right one. Then, mercifully, he was able to unlock the door and scramble over to the mini-fridge where he kept his stock of blood. He flung the door of the fridge open so hard that he nearly yanked it clean off.

The fridge was empty.

Jayden sank to his knees in a barely contained panic. How could he have run out of blood and not remembered to get more? In all the time he had lived on his own, this had never happened. He'd always been sure to procure more blood before he ran out, and yet this one time, when he needed it most, he had forgotten. How was he supposed to get more now, when his growing hunger meant the risk of attacking others?

His phone rang, making him jump. Who could be calling at a time like this? He pulled the phone out of his pocket and picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, vamp,” Chantelle's voice greeted him on the other end of the line. Her voice was almost annoyingly cheerful. “I was just wondering if you wanted to meet up at the coffee shop for a—”

“Chantelle, perfect timing,” he interrupted. “Listen, I need blood and I need it now. I don't have any. I'm in my apartment. I can't leave or I might end up hurting somebody.” His stomach was still growling impatiently, and his shakes were getting worse. He could hardly keep the phone held up to his ear.

There was a long pause on Chantelle's end. Then she sighed. “All right, all right, I'll be there in a minute. Keep your shirt on. You sound like you've just seen a ghost, by the way.”

“Chantelle.”

“I got it, I got it. Just hang on a minute, okay?” She sounded frustrated. “I'm on my way. Stay sane for me.”

“I'll try,” he replied grimly, and hung up. All he could do was hope that she got here soon.

The knock at his door five minutes later almost made him jump out of his skin. Clutching his arm in a vain attempt to control his shakes, he shuffled to the door and opened it to admit Chantelle.

Chantelle's eyebrows rose, but she didn't remark on his appearance. “Here you are,” she announced, gesturing to herself. “Fresh blood, hot and ready. You don't get much better delivery than this.”

Jayden felt his eyes widen in horror. She wanted him to drink her blood?

“Well?” Chantelle demanded. She stepped in through the doorway, pushing the door shut behind her so that they were no longer visible from the hallway. Probably because any other apartment residents would be alarmed at the sight of someone's blood being drank. “You said you needed blood now. I figured that meant going through the paperwork at the blood bank to get a bag would take too long.”

“Chan, I'm not drinking your blood.” His hunger was so tangible that he felt as if he were being pushed towards her, but he forced himself to remain in place. He had long past sworn off live blood. Even though he was starving, he didn't want to break that promise to himself now.

Her slender fingers combed her hair back away from her neck to expose the skin—pale and poreless, it looked like fine porcelain. “Yes you are, unless you want to starve. Which I know you don't.” She moved closer. Now he could smell the acid bite of sweat, the strawberry scent of shampoo, and, underneath it all, the tantalizing sweet tang of Mystic blood. His stomach roiled with hunger.

“I can't,” Jayden protested. “Chan, I'm too hungry right now. If I drink your blood, I might take too much. I don't want to kill you.” Drinking her blood to the point where it would kill her would have led to vampirism if she were a human. Since she was a sorceress, though, he wasn't sure what kind of effect it would have, and he wasn't too keen on finding out.

“You won't kill me,” Chantelle said with the utmost certainty. There was no trace of hesitation in her eyes. “I trust you, Jay. Now get drinking.”

He bit his lip and winced as his fangs pierced through the skin. Biting her would only hurt her for a moment, he knew from past experience. The process was like inserting an IV, painful for the brief instant when the skin was first pierced and no more. But if he went for too long, she could get dizzy or pass out, or, worse, die.

Chantelle's expression had slowly been souring into a frown as she watched his hesitation; now she was almost scowling. “Oh, for God's sake, Jay, quit being ridiculous.” And she pressed up against him, tipping her head to expose the side of her neck to his mouth.

Jayden fought for a brief moment against the urge to bite her, but then instinct and hunger kicked in, overriding his caution. He bit down and gasped in relief as he tasted the sweet coppery surge of blood. Under his touch, he felt Chantelle flinch before relaxing again. He forced himself to monitor her pulse and breaths. If he didn't, he may end up drinking too much. The taste of Mystic's blood was different from that of humans, sweet and strong and thick, almost addicting in its richness. It was nearly impossible not to want more.

Chantelle held very still as he drank, only moving when she grabbed at his arms to keep herself steady as he pressed harder. He would have thought something was wrong if he hadn't felt the slow, steady thrum of her pulse and known he hadn't had too much yet.

Then, suddenly, he knew, without knowing how he knew, that something was wrong. Her grip tightened like a vise around his arms a moment later, her breaths growing shallow. “Jay,” she hissed. He could feel the vibrations of her vocal chords where his mouth clamped against her throat as she spoke. “Jay, that's enough.”

With an effort, Jayden forced himself away from her. Stripped of her support, Chantelle stumbled momentarily before steadying herself against the wall. Her pupils were dilated wide in her spring green eyes, her thin chest heaving. She looked very, very small and very, very scared. He immediately regretted taking her blood.

Chantelle pushed her bangs away from her eyes with a shaking hand. “Well,” she said, obviously trying to downplay how bad she was feeling at the moment, “that wasn't so bad, now, was it?”

“Chan, you're shaking.”

She waved it off. “Never felt better. I feel like I just drank a gallon of espresso. By the way, you have floating dots on your ceiling, did you know?”

“Chan, sit down, now.”

She frowned at him but did as he said. “Fine. Are you happy now?” Her hand went up to rub at where he'd bitten her, where a bruise was starting to form. “Worrywart. The worst I'm going to suffer from that is this monster hickey.”

Jayden rolled his eyes, his worry over. If she was making wisecracks, she was fine. “It is not a hickey. It's a bruise. There's a difference.”

“Whatever. I'm still calling it a hickey.” She stood back up, stretching her arms overhead. Her shakiness seemed to more or less be over. “Just make sure you've got blood in your fridge from now on, okay? I'd rather not have hickeys all up and down my neck.”

“They're not hickeys.”