"What?" I asked.

"This isn't high school and you ain't behind the bleachers."

Patsy sounded very irritated. We both sat on the couch like two children sent to the princ.i.p.al's office, but I kept my grip on his hand. My gaze was drawn to Ralph. He looked so delicious. I wanted to sit on his lap and lick him."I don't know what's going on here," said Patsy. "But it's weird."

It didn't feel weird. It felt right. I couldn't keep from staring at Ralph. I was intoxicated by his nearness. I thirsted for him. "You are so fine."

"What?" Patsy asked, her voice suspicious.

I coughed. "Wine. I asked if I could have some wine."

"We have enough stupidity around here. I don't keep booze in the house. Ralph, go make her some tea. Take your time."

"Aw," I whined. I didn't want Ralph to leave. Not ever. My attraction for him was otherworldly. The dragon had kissed me. Now I had a kinship with fire, with pa.s.sion.

Ralph didn't seem to want to leave, either, but he obviously couldn't disobey his queen. He took my hand and kissed it, then went off to do Patsy's bidding.

I looked morosely at Patsy. Then my gaze dropped to her belly.

"You're the queen of the vampires, right?" I frowned. "How can you be pregnant? Aren't you dead?"

"It's complicated. I'm sorta queen of the lycanthropes, too," said Patsy. Her expression looked as if she'd swallowed gla.s.s. Guess there was some tension there. I couldn't imagine trying to rule vampires and werewolves. I hadn't mastered balancing my checkbook, so keeping the balance between two traditional enemies was beyond my skills. Then it hit me. Oh, c.r.a.p. I pointed at Patsy's belly. "Loup de sang. You're loup de sang."

"How did you know that?" The question came from Gabriel and his tone wasn't friendly.

"We live, breathe, eat, and drink the paranormal. Mom's written several books. Vampires. Werewolves. Ghosts. Can you believe she actually uncovered a diary from a French fur trader who . . ." I trailed off. My whole body went cold. "Did you say your name was Gabriel? Gabriel Marchand? Saint Thomas on toast . . . you're the first blood wolf in history."

"Wow. She's good," said Patsy. "Look, she seems harmless, so I say we let her go."

Patrick shook his head. "I don't think that's wise."

"Well, you're not the queen, are you?" she asked. She looked at me, her blue eyes suddenly intense, mesmerizing. "You will leave Broken Heart. You will forget everything you've seen. You will return to tell PRIS there's nothing here."

Her voice seduced, beckoned, promised. I recognized that s.e.xy do-what-I-want undertone.

She stared at me, and I stared at her. Finally, I said, "Is this the part where I call you mistress and agree to bring you victims?"

Patsy looked shocked. She stood up, crossed to the couch, and took my hands in hers. Once again, I was drawn into her forceful gaze.

"Forget everything you've seen and heard in Broken Heart. Forget Broken Heart. Tell PRIS nothing is here."

I said nothing, hoping they might believe her second attempt worked. Maybe they would take me back to our car and leave me alone. I still needed to find out what had happened to Mom and Dad. Even though Broken Heart was filled with the evidence we needed to prove the paranormal world was real, it was too dangerous. I was more than happy to forget about this town and what lived here.

"It didn't work," said Gabriel. "Did it? Ralph said it wouldn't."

His voice held soft menace. I swallowed the knot suddenly lodged in my throat. He was the most dangerous one in the room. I didn't want to cross him. He rose from the divan and stepped toward me. Patrick had shifted as well, his gaze on mine. Patsy wasn't moving, either. I slipped my hands from hers.

The singing changed harmonies. It rose in alarm, a chorus of warning.

I stood up, unsure about what I could do against people who were faster, stronger, and smarter than I was. I didn't care who they were; they couldn't hold me against my will. I slid closer to the fireplace; the heat beckoned me. I craved more of its warmth.

"I'd ask nicely, but I can't give you a choice," said Patsy. I heard real regret in her voice. "You might as well get used to the idea, Libby. You're not leaving Broken Heart."

Chapter 7

"I won't breathe a word," I promised, my heart thundering. "I'll never return. I swear!"

"I believe you," said Patsy. "But it doesn't much matter. You know too much about Broken Heart that we can't make you forget."

I couldn't form a response. I had no doubts Patsy and her friends would keep me here. Fear skittered through me. I hated not feeling in control.

"You can't hold me hostage," I said. Anger pulsed low and heavy. The fire blazing so close to me just added to the heat filling my body. "People will notice I'm gone."

"Will they?" asked Patrick.

I realized then that, even though their glamour didn't work on me, I got the impression that they'd had lots of success with others.

Would PRIS forget me? My parents?

The ball of anger refused to dissipate. The ugly emotion threatened to consume me.

I glared at Patsy. "I'm not one of your subjects! You can't tell me what to do!" Patsy's gaze hardened. "What are you, twelve? Put on your big-girl panties and deal with it."

Rage surged through me. I grappled with its ferocity, trying to get it under control. Clenching my fists, I stared at the floor, listening to the fire's swelling music.

I hadn't lost my temper in a long, long time. I was furious. At myself. At the circ.u.mstances. At everything.

"Do you see that?" asked Patsy.

"Yes," said Gabriel. "What is it?"

"Jay-sus," muttered Patrick.

Heat pulsed in my every nerve ending. I felt as though the very air around me was spinning. I felt hot. The whirling air felt hot, too.

Gabriel grabbed his wife by the shoulders and tucked her behind him. Patrick went to stand next to his friends. They all stared at me.

"You can't make me stay here," I said. My voice sounded odd. Deep and raspy. Even my words felt like they were on fire.

"Demon possession," suggested Patsy.

"No. Something else," said Gabriel. "She's mortal. I've never seen anything like this."

"Gabriel, I think it's wise to get Patsy out of here."

"Are you kidding?" asked Patsy. "I'll blast her or something."

"Don't argue, sweetheart," said Gabriel. "Think of our babies."

I heard their conversation, but I no longer cared what they said, what they thought, what they did.

I watched Gabriel and Patsy retreat. My vision was dark around the edges, as if I were viewing the world through binoculars. The music rose, triumphant.

"Libby," said Patrick, his voice low and calm. "We didn't mean to upset you."

What a liar. Electric heat crackled along my limbs. My fury was a powerful thing, nearly alive. I had no control . . . whatever-this- was controlled me. It was almost as if I floated outside myself, watching some scary woman wield a terrible ability.

The air twisting around me picked up books from the end tables, tossed lamps to the floor. The coffee table exploded. Shards flew everywhere. Mangled wood joined the debris zipping around me. The couch detonated. Batting filled the air like snow.

I looked down, dispa.s.sionate, and saw flames licking my skin. I knew I should be afraid, but I wasn't. This was part of me. Part of who I was now. The fire told me the truth, and I embraced it.

I couldn't see Patrick. He'd probably left, too.

The next burst of energy hit the hearth. Stone shattered. White dust plumed. The fireplace cracked in half and fell inward, dousing the cozy fire. I felt my power wobble.

"Libby!"

Ralph's voice cut through the roaring symphony in my head. I turned toward the doorway. He stood there, the cup of tea in his hand falling to the floor.

He walked into the maelstrom, his anxious gaze on mine. Loose book pages flapped at him. Debris pummeled him. He didn't stop.

He didn't look away.

The minute his hands clamped onto my shoulders, I felt my quaking power drain. I collapsed, or would have. Ralph scooped me up and held me close. I felt his lips press against my forehead.

"It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay."

I don't know how long he stood there holding me. Long enough for the dust to clear. Long enough for me to see the damage I'd done. Long enough to realize that Patrick hadn't made it out of the room.

"Oh my G.o.d." I scrambled out of Ralph's embrace. He was so surprised at my sudden, frantic movements that he let go. I fell to the ground and immediately crawled to Patrick, lying so still on the floor. My insides quivered coldly.

Wood and stone shards were embedded in his body. Most of the projectiles were small, all except the one piercing his heart. The fragment sticking out of his chest was large, probably what was left of a coffee table leg. Blood spattered his clothes. His eyes were closed and he was so limp. Dead. Really dead.

"I killed him." I started plucking out all the pieces. I was no longer worried about leaving Broken Heart. I was worried about leaving the earthly plane. No one I'd met so far struck me as the forgiving types.

"Libby." Ralph crouched beside me and covered my shaking hands with his. "It's not like in the movies. A stake to the heart doesn't kill the undead."

"Are you sure?"

"I told you. The only way to kill us is to remove our heads. Or get us into very bright light." Ralph's gaze was kind. And he wasn't freaking out, so I had to believe that Patrick would be okay. "Stay here, Libby. I'll get help."

I nodded. I looked at Patrick. I didn't know him. h.e.l.l, I didn't even like him. I hadn't meant to do this.

Yeah, I could try to run. But even if I managed to escape the vampires tonight, it didn't mean I'd escape them forever. They had pushed me and, in a way, they'd unleashed whatever scary thing had happened. But I couldn't go. I needed to fix my mistake. I figured there was one sure way to help a dying vampire.

I grabbed the stake I'd unintentionally jabbed into Patrick's heart and yanked it out. Blood burbled out of the jagged hole. Oh, G.o.d. I took off my sweater and pushed it against the wound.

Finding a sharp object was easy enough. I grabbed a sliver of stone and slashed my wrist. It stung like h.e.l.l, but I'm sure it hurt a lot less than getting stabbed in the heart.

I held my bloodied flesh against Patrick's mouth. Seconds pa.s.sed and nothing happened. When Patrick's lips finally moved against the offering, I yelped. His fangs dug into my wrist; the pain was excruciating.

He drank and drank. After a while, I felt light-headed and dizzy. My vision grayed. My hand slipped away from the sweater I'd been pressing against his injury. The material fell off and I could see that the hole was gone. Relief flooded me. He would be okay.

His eyes popped open, those silvery orbs filled with accusation. He freed my arm and sat up, then rubbed his mouth, as if to get the taste of me off his lips.

I didn't blame him. Not after what I'd done.

"I'm sorry," I said.

I scooted away from him, feeling dizzy and strange. Closing my eyes made my head spin worse, so I stared at the floor. Loud voices, scurrying feet, banging and cursing and sc.r.a.ping infiltrated my mind. Somewhere in the noise, I heard Ralph's voice. "d.a.m.n it, Patrick. What did you do to her?"

"What did I do to her?" he yelled. "She d.a.m.ned near killed me!"

"Looks like she saved you, too. What's wrong with her wrist? It's still bleeding," Ralph asked, ignoring Patrick's ire. "Your saliva didn't heal her. Hey! Why is her sweater off? She's only in her bra!"

"Who are you? Her mother?" This voice was Patsy's. "Did she give you blood, Patrick?"

"Of course she did, otherwise I wouldn't be talking. Her blood is strange. It tastes metallic." I heard the grimace in his tone. "She's got a h.e.l.luva temper."

"We pushed her too far," said Gabriel. "None of us would accept being a prisoner so easily."

Huh. I hadn't expected understanding from Mr. Grumpy. I looked up and tried to focus. No good. I couldn't figure out how many people were in the room. I felt hands on my shoulders. Ralph.

Suddenly, I felt better. It was like energy flowed into me, healing what was injured. I looked at him. He was removing his shirt.

Wow. He had nice abs. Crisp brown curls feathered his chest and arrowed down to his jeans. He helped me put on the shirt and then b.u.t.toned it for me.

"What the h.e.l.l happened in that cemetery?" Patsy's blue eyes studied me and then Ralph.

Patrick said, "It seems Ralph was set on fire."

"So was Libby," said Ralph. His eyes were on mine. He nibbled his bottom lip, distracting me from the conversation. "The dragon took human form and kissed her. They were both on fire, but neither one burned."

"I'm burning now," I said. I waved my hand in front of my face and smiled seductively. "I'm really hot."

"Me, too," said Ralph. He scooted closer to me. His scent was stronger and so was his aura. It shined brilliantly.

"What do you think this all means?" asked Patrick.