But as I catch a glistening tear caught in his black, sooty lashes, I realize that's going to be easier said than done.

"Please, follow me inside," Professor Lucedio instructs, clapping his hands in stiff-upper-lip fashion. "Rufus will bring your things to your rooms." He starts up the imposing set of stone front steps, flanked by two gargoyles.

I give one last look down the now empty driveway, then reluctantly trudge up the steps, my legs feeling as if they're made of lead. I still can't believe Magnus didn't even say good-bye...

8.

About twenty minutes later, I find myself lying on a king-sized bed in a small bedroom, very similar to the one Magnus and I shared on our first trip here so long ago. (Okay, it was technically just last May, but with all that's happened this year, it feels like a lifetime ago.) At the time I didn't want to touch him- and he'd gallantly offered to sleep on the floor so as not to offend me. But instead, I let him stay, and while we both fell asleep apart, somehow, through the night, we unconsciously came together. I didn't want to admit it at the time, but I was already falling fast for him.

What I wouldn't give for another night like that now. Curled up against him, his strong arms wrapped around me, refusing to let go as we drift off to dreamland together without a care in the world. Instead I'm cold and alone and scared and he's boarding a plane to go halfway around the world. And he didn't even say good-bye.

I toss and turn in my bed. Will Magnus really keep his promise and make seeking out Jayden's one hope a top priority? Or will he get caught up in Consortium business the moment he steps off the plane and, despite his best intentions, allow the quest for the Holy Grail to fall by the wayside? How long will I be stuck here, waiting, wondering? And why can't I just trust him to do the right thing?

Is it because of what he did in Vegas? Or something deeper than that? Are my past experiences with my dad and all his broken promises still tainting my ability to believe my boyfriend? Even though my father's actions were all justified in the end and it turned out he wasn't the terrible father we thought he was, it's still hard to reconcile the feelings of abandonment I experienced through his extended absence. And that makes it nearly impossible to truly believe that there's really someone out there now who loves me enough to never let me down.

And thus I force Magnus, time and time again, to pay for all my emotional baggage. Which is so not fair to him. If we want this to work-and oh G.o.d, I do, I do-I need to work on my own issues as much as he needs to work on his. One way or another, I need to learn to trust him. With all my heart, soul, and mind. Otherwise, like he said, why are we even bothering?

Realizing I'll never be able to sleep, I slide out of bed and start unpacking. The lights are dim- probably to accommodate the manor's normally nocturnal guests-so I draw back the curtains, hoping for some kind of early-morning light. But outside, the darkness still looms and rain sluices down, thunder cracking and lightning slashing through the sky. I shiver, then force myself to turn back to the chest of drawers.

I'm almost fully unpacked when I hear a firm rapping on the door. "Come in," I say, pushing the last drawer closed and straightening up. I catch my reflection in the mirror and try to pat down my messy hair to better greet my visitor. But the hollows in my eyes from lack of sleep aren't so easy to fix.

The door pulls open and Rufus, the human butler, steps in, carrying a syringe. "Sorry to disturb you," he says in a stiff English accent. "But I've been instructed to prepare for Master Jayden's feeding."

Of course. I nod and sit down on the bed, holding out my arm to him to let him do his thing. By this point the needle no longer even hurts that much and soon I'm watching the blood drain from my veins, down a tube and into a blood bag.

"So how is Jayden doing?" I ask. "Can I go see him?"

"He's fine," Rufus replies. "The girls are back and keeping him entertained."

Of course they are. "Well, I'd like to see him. Can you show me where he is after we're finished?"

Rufus shoots me a sympathetic look. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

"Excuse me?"

"Professor Lucedio gave me explicit instructions. You're to stay in your room until the sun rises."

"He did?" A cold feeling starts creeping over me. "But why?"

"This is a hotel for vampires," Rufus reminds me curtly. "And not all of our guests are... accustomed to sharing such close quarters with mortals."

"You're mortal."

"Yes. And I've had some... accidents... in the past because of it." He tilts his head to the side and I gasp to see a myriad of white scars crisscrossing his neck. Ouch.

"Dude. I hope you got major workers' comp for that."

He chuckles softly. "I'm used to it by now," he says. "And guests are usually respectful enough just to take a sip or two."

"Is that even legal? I thought it was forbidden to take from anyone who's not a sanctioned donor."

Rufus shrugs. "Sometimes, when you're on holiday, you're tempted to... let your fangs down, so to speak. And we, as a premiere holiday destination, find we're better off looking the other way when it comes to that sort of thing. After all, there's no use risking our impeccable TripAdvisor rating just over some random inconsequential indiscretion."

"No offense, but that seems a bit more than an indiscretion..."

"Which is why we need to keep you here," Rufus concludes. "Especially since you're not only mortal, like me, but you've got fey blood in your veins as well -which can be very addicting to some vampires. And let's just say you don't want to put temptation directly in their paths. You may not live long enough to regret it." He pulls the needle from my arm and presses a cotton swab to the wound. "It's better that you just stay here and rest, trust me."

I sigh. So basically what he's saying is I'm stuck under house arrest for my own safety for the foreseeable future. Stupid weakwilled vampires, unable to control their own bloodl.u.s.t.

"And when morning comes and all good vampires are resting in their coffins or beds, you can come downstairs," he adds. "I'll cook you a big delicious breakfast, then give you a tour of the entire place."

"Great." I feel bad-I know he's trying to be nice and accommodating. But what good will walking around in the daytime do me? Jayden will be asleep with the rest of them by then. So much for him keeping me company. I am seriously going to die of boredom in this place, aren't I?

"Look, I totally get it," I say. "But maybe you could send Jayden up to my room if I can't go down to see him? I want to make sure he's okay, at the very least."

Rufus gives me another pitying look. "Lord Magnus gave explicit instructions you're not to be alone with the boy during your stay here."

I frown. Why, Magnus? Because he l.u.s.ts for my blood? Or because I might be l.u.s.ting for something else...?

Rufus pats my shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry, miss. As I told you, the girls are seeing to his every need. He is having a grand old time down there with them in the library. His laughter rings through the halls."

Awesome. Just... awesome.

The butler rises from the bed and collects his things, then heads to the door. "Please feel free to use the intercom if there's anything you desire," he says, pointing to a little box on the wall. "Your door is programmed to unlock at sunrise."

And with that, he exits the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. A moment later I hear an electronic click, dooming me to my fate. Because I'm a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t, I run to the door anyway, trying to force it open. But, of course, it doesn't budge.

I slide down the wall and onto the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, mixed emotions swirling inside of me. Did Magnus know this was what it'd be like here? That I'd basically be a glorified prisoner during my stay? And if so, he was okay with all that?

And while I'm stuck in vampire jail, Jayden's living it up with those ditzy girls, all wanting to jump his bones. Probably completely forgetting that I even exist.

Seriously, boys can completely suck sometimes.

9.

In the movies, we often see our heroine get trapped by the bad guys and though there's a completely obvious, easy way for her to escape, she doesn't notice it until moviegoers are literally screaming at her at the top of their lungs to stop being too stupid to live and just go through the freaking window already.

But, let me tell you, when you're in the same situation yourself, it suddenly doesn't feel all that black and white. You're scared, you're stressing out, and your thought processes aren't being lubricated by b.u.t.tery popcorn and a giant diet c.o.ke.

So yeah, it takes me about fifteen minutes and a rousing mind game of "What Would Rayne Do?" to realize that though Rufus locked the door, the large window looking down onto the grounds remains fair game. Especially for a fairy with wings.

Of course first I have to break said window, which, I might add, looks a lot easier in the movies than in real life. In fact, it takes about thirteen exhausting attempts and the a.s.sistance of a nearby armchair to finally shatter the gla.s.s enough so I can crawl through and climb onto the ledge without cutting myself on the nasty shards jutting out from the frame.

Once outside, I press my back against the wall of the mansion, praying my feet won't slip out from under me as they seek solid purchase on the ledge, slick from the downpour of rain. My vision reels as I dare look down to the ground, four stories below, and my stomach roils in protest. Suddenly this doesn't seem like the most genius plan ever after all. To be honest, up until this point I've never trusted my wings to take me anywhere I couldn't already jump and live to tell the tale. Rayne once dared me to fly off the Stratosphere Hotel in Las Vegas but I wasn't having any of that, let me tell you. Heights are so not my thing.

Lightning slashes through the sky, followed by thunder that seems to shake the whole manor house. More than half of me wants to just climb back inside-to wait until morning and figure out a less death- defying escape plan.

But then I see my sister's disappointed face. And I hear Magnus telling me I need to stay home where it's safe. No one believes I can be the kick-a.s.s twin. I need to prove them wrong. And what better opportunity to do so than to jump off a four-story window ledge in the pouring rain?

Sucking in a breath and closing my eyes, I unfurl my wings and...

Okay, I know you're expecting me to say "jump," but to be honest, that might be overstating my next move a bit. Fine, I'll admit it. I fell. But you try reaching behind your back to pull your wings out from under your shirt on a ledge that's about three inches wide without having your foot slip.

And so I fall, careening toward the ground, wings still trying desperately to unfurl. I'm like a paratrooper whose chute didn't open and I'm quite positive I'm soon to become intimately acquainted with the ground below.

Oh G.o.d, I should have stayed in my room! Accepted my non-kick-a.s.s twin status and-A gust of wind catches my wings, launching me upward again like the second part of the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror ride at Disney World. I suck in a breath, readying myself for another tumble, but luckily life isn't like a Disney ride and instead of a second drop, the wind guides me gently to the ground again. I won't claim my landing was a perfect ten, by any means, but I don't seem to have any broken bones, so that's something at least.

I let out a long breath, trying to still my wildly beating heart, rejoicing in the feel of solid ground beneath my feet. Seriously, if I ever manage to get out of all this alive, I'm so going to take flying lessons over the summer when I'm visiting Mom in Fairyland. Gathering my courage, I start traversing the perimeter of the old Victorian mansion as rain sluices down, soaking me to the skin. I shiver as I slip around a corner, praying to find an open door so I can grab Jayden and the two of us can make our escape.

Instead, just my luck, I come face-to-face with a nasty-looking guard dog.

I back up slowly, holding my hands out in front of me. "Good boy," I try, my voice hoa.r.s.e and barely audible over the wind and rain. "Sit. Stay. Um, roll over?"

But the dog evidently doesn't have a solid grasp on the English language or just prefers to do his own thing and, instead of obeying my simple commands, steps forward, baring his teeth, a low growl emitting from his throat.

Yikes. My eyes dart around, desperate for an escape route. I know at any moment he'll lunge at me full force and my daring, amazing, cool-as-h.e.l.l escape will mean nothing as I literally become dog meat.

"Good boy," I try again. "Um, fetch?" I grab a nearby stick and throw it off to the side. But the rabid-looking dog doesn't even glance in its direction. Great.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a cracked window leading into the mansion. I might be able to jimmy it open, but will I have time to do so before the dog makes me his midnight snack? Normally I'd just use my wings again-fly above the bite range-but the rain has soaked them through and they're so heavy I can't even lift them, never mind fly.

So instead I slowly move toward the window, trying not to make any sudden moves. The dog watches with narrowed, bloodshot eyes, his tail swishing suspiciously from side to side. I lock my fingers underneath the weather-beaten window frame and pull upward, praying it'll slide open easily and allow me an escape route.

Of course, it seems to be stuck fast. This is not my lucky day.

But I grit my teeth, not willing to give up. I apply added pressure, though still slowly, as to not freak out the dog. "Good boy," I mutter, using my entire body weight against the window. Please open, please open. "Good, good boy."

At last the window frame lets out a loud groan and gives in. Which should be a relief, except for the fact that, let's just say, the high-pitched creaking sound it makes as it slides upward is not exactly music to the dog's ears. Instead it's the excuse he's been waiting for. He snaps his teeth and makes his move, lunging at me with full force.

I don't hesitate, throwing myself through the window. But I'm not quick enough and the dog's jaws wrap around my ankle. I yelp in pain as sharp teeth dig into my skin, and I flail half in and half out of the house. I try to kick at the dog with my other foot, forcing him to let go. (Yes, I know, kicking dog = completely unheroic but tell me you'd do differently if you had Cujo's rabid mouth locked down on one of your appendages.) My foot finally connects with the dog's head and he yelps in pain, loosening his grip on me. I use the momentary lapse to my advantage and squirm the rest of the way through the window, turning around and slamming it shut behind me.

I collapse on the floor, my breath coming in short gasps. That was too close. My ankle throbs, deep puncture marks in the flesh, and I pray the dog wasn't actually rabid. I rip my shirt, binding the wound with the cloth. At least the bone doesn't seem to be broken.

Looking around the room, I attempt to gain my bearings. I seem to be in some kind of dusty old parlor. I can't tell if that means the room hasn't been used for a while or if that's just the way the interior decorator designed it when going for her "vampire- friendly" motif. The room is dark, but light seeps in through the cracked exit door. I let out a long sigh. I'm out of the frying pan, yes, but am I now into the fire? If the vampires staying here couldn't be trusted when I wasn't sporting gaping wounds in my flesh, what will they be like now that I'm a walking b.l.o.o.d.y billboard, thanks to La.s.sie out there?

But that can't be helped. I need to get to Jayden to check on him before the sun comes up and he goes to bed. To make sure he's okay. After all, I'm sure the powers-that-be will be none too pleased to open my bedroom door at dawn and learn I pulled a Houdini-leaving future visitation opportunities in question.

I hear laughter break out in the distance and remember what Rufus told me. Jayden and the girls, giggling in the library. I manage to scramble to my feet and limp over to the door, pulling it open a crack and peeking through. There's no one in sight. So I slip through the door and out into the hallway. Following the sounds of laughter, I come to a set of French doors and steal a look into what indeed looks like a cozy library. There's a cheery fire raging in a mammoth stone fireplace, surrounded by floor- to-ceiling bookcases, stuffed with ancient-looking tomes. (And a few modern vampire bestsellers.) The girls are there, sitting on an old-fashioned Victorian sofa, all watching intently something going on across the room. Their eyes shine with excitement and Elizabeth is clapping her hands in glee.

Careening my neck, I strain to see what's gotten them so worked up. My eyes widen as they fall upon Jayden, attacking some young blond girl-biting her neck with wild abandon.

"No!" I cry, forgetting I'm supposed to be keeping a low profile. I dive into the room, rushing to his couch, attempting to drag him off his poor victim. But even in his half-vampire state, he's far too strong to budge.

"Jayden, stop!" I beg, feeling tears well into my eyes. "Don't do this!" After all, the Manor might overlook some "indiscretions," but I'm pretty sure my boyfriend will not. And I don't want to give him any more excuses to get rid of my friend.

To my surprise, Jayden releases his victim, turning to me, his mouth quirking up in a b.l.o.o.d.y grin. "Hey, Sunny!" he cries cheerfully. "Where have you been?"

I recoil in horror, tripping over a footstool and falling to the ground with a thump.

"Now, Jayden, it's not polite to talk with your mouth full," Elizabeth says primly.

"Sorry," Jayden replies, letting out a small burp. He covers his mouth in surprise and the three girls- make that four, including the blond girl he was just snacking on-start laughing.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on here?" I demand, rubbing my b.u.t.t.

Susan looks over at me. "Vampire lessons, of course," she sniffs.

I stare at her.

"Well, someone's got to train him, you know," Katie chimes in. "The guy doesn't even know how to properly drink from a donor."

"It's shameful," declares Elizabeth. "His Maker turning him and then just letting him loose like that. It's just not done."

"His Maker is dead," I say weakly, still horrified at the sight of Jayden with blood dripping from his mouth.

He wipes it on his sleeve and grins over at me, evidently super pleased with himself. "Now you don't have to worry about me accidentally hurting you," he announces, as if he's just discovered how to turn straw into gold. "I can drink and stop at will. Watch!" He turns to the blond girl. "Ready, Aleisha?" he asks.

"Yes, Master," she coos. "Bite me, baby!"

"It's okay! You don't have to," I quickly interject. "I get it, I believe you. Way to go."

He laughs. "Oh, and watch this!" he adds.

I squint at him. "Um, watch what?" "You didn't see?" He sounds disappointed.

"Huh?" I am so lost here. "See what? You haven't done anything."

To my annoyance, the girls start laughing again. "Jayden just ran around the room three times," Katie explains. "Not that someone like you could ever hope to see it."

"It's not her fault," Susan tells Jayden. "Her weak fairy eyes can't track super speed."

"I'm, like, the Speedy Gonzales of vampires!" Jayden chimes in. "It's one of my vampire powers. Cool, huh?"