"Dockal!" Jared said in a strong voice and moved to stand beside Craft. "You are acting against the tenants of the Hunter's Code. This is a public place."

"But he is disobeying, Jareth," Dockal's tongue lisped against her now sharp teeth. "He must be brought back to his masther. Ghoulths can not be allowed to disthobey."

"Dockal-" Jared narrowed his eyes. "Stop and listen to the blood. Listen to Craft's blood. You of the House of Babineaux know its song better than anyone. You were made from its sweet taste. Listen to the blood in Craft's veins. Do you hear the call any longer?"

I had no idea what Jared was saying. It was all just formal gibberish and silliness. But it did seem to be working on Dockal. She stopped hissing and narrowed her eyes at Craft. Her head tilted to the side and she took in a long breath.

Abruptly her eyes snapped open and she backed away. "What....is this? This can't be! You stole him!"

Excuse me? "I didn't steal anybody. I don't know what's going on here."

But Dockal was pointing her finger at me now and she wasn't staying back. In fact, she was coming at us! I yelled out and put my hand out- There was a bright light-so bright it hurt my eyes and I closed them. I felt heat on my skin and I could hear Jared cursing. Craft had his hand in mine and before I could breathe we were running back down the hallway to the end and burst out close to the waiting room.

I saw two people talking to a doctor and knew from their smell they were Brandon's parents. They glanced at me as Craft jerked me by my arm away from them toward the hospital's exit. Once through the door I saw dawn coming as everything sparkled in the morning frost.

"I have to get you to ground before I end up carrying you," he said as he pulled me down the sidewalk to the parking lot.

"What-" I managed to blurt out as we ran. The sun's advance was making me so very sleepy and I was dragging my feet. "Craft...what happened?"

"Not now, Carly. I'll tell you as soon as night falls again." We'd stopped next to a ma.s.sively large motorcycle. It had built in storage on the sides and in the back where Craft pulled out a helmet and handed it to me. "There's a 2-way radio in the helmet. Put it on."

I slipped the helmet on, if for no other reason than it felt good against my cheeks and protected my face from the sun's rays. I wasn't kidding when I said I wouldn't burst into flames in the sun, but it was uncomfortable. And like most fair-skinned humans, we did burn easy. Just a little faster.

He slipped a helmet on as well and then mounted the bike. I got on behind him and he used my knees and calves to position my feet properly. Then he wrapped my arms around him. "Hold on to me and don't go to sleep. We've got about an hour's drive to get you to safety. Got it?"

I nodded, not really sure if I spoke he'd hear me, though I heard him through tiny speakers in the helmet. Once I had my arms firmly around him, he turned the beast on. The thing vibrated beneath me. Luckily the noise from the engine was m.u.f.fled through the helmet-but I'm pretty sure we woke up a few b.u.ms scattered in the nearby woods.

He inched the bike forward through the parking lot, careful not to hit any of the cars. As we got to the exit he reached into this pocket and produced a ticket, and a twenty dollar bill. He handed it to the lady in the booth, grabbed the change and pocketed it before he took off toward the drive that would take us to the highway.

I didn't want to leave. I hadn't spoken to Brandon. Not one word since we were rammed from behind and then in the side. And what bothered me even more was that I had no idea who had rammed us in the car. I'd gathered from the officer they were as clueless as we were. Though I was pretty sure they'd use that magic forensics stuff to identify the car.

Eventually.

We got on the highway and he signaled to take the interstate.

"Craft?" I still wasn't sure if he could hear me.

"Yeah?"

"What happened? Back there? That light?"

He didn't answer at first. Not until we were safely merged on the interstate. "That was you."

Huh? "Me?"

Another pause. "Carly-I don't think it's my place to tell you what you need to know."

"I can order you too, right? You're my Ghoul?"

"Only partially. That much I realized when Dockal ordered me to her. It took a lot of my own willpower not to follow her. Which means she and Michel still have control if they want it."

"I-I don't understand any of this. So you are my Ghoul or you're not my Ghoul?"

"Right now, I'm more of your majordomo," he said. "I'm here to serve you because your blood is in my veins. But I think it's only temporary."

"What?"

He paused again. "I think that once your blood mingles with my own, once it's no longer in my system, my body's loyalty will once again belong to Michel Babineaux."

I did manage to hold onto Craft for the ride. He took us north for nearly an hour before he took one of the mountain exits. The state's camping industry thrived up here in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. Here's where the mountain range began as monstrous hills, but not full fledged mountains. Either way, the scenery as we took two more smaller roads with broken asphalt was breath taking.

The sun was fully up by the time we arrived at a small cabin. Craft stopped the bike and I got off. He told me to wait there as he pushed it by the handle bars into a shed just to the right. Once it was inside, he took my helmet and his own and locked all of it inside.

The tree cover was enough to shade me from the sun, but nothing was going to stop my oncoming sleep. I yawned a dozen times before he unlocked the door and I stumbled inside. The interior was nice if not spa.r.s.ely furnished. Two couches, throw pillows, a rug, coffee table made out of an old tree trunk, table and chairs, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom.

The curtains in the bedroom were already drawn, making it dark inside. I flopped down on the bed and immediately slept.

The spicy smells of food greeted me as I opened my eyes. I knew it was close to four in the afternoon as I stood. Clothes were set out on the bed next to me. And to my surprise, they were my clothes, from my own closet. Jeans, socks, underwear, a sweater. Beside them was my bathrobe and slippers. I took the robe and went into the bathroom.

A mug of warm blood sat on the sink and I immediately downed it. Why was I so hungry now-when I'd gone for so long before? Things were changing inside of me and I didn't understand any of it. Even the girl in the mirror was looking different.

I still had my red hair-that billowy ma.s.s of curls I'd always had. Only now with the Wyndham blood in my veins it seemed to glow with an almost preternatural sheen. My skin was devoid of the freckles I'd had as a human. Now smooth and unblemished. My eyes were bluer than ever and my entire face seemed...

Smaller. It looked as if I were thinning or something. But vampires didn't lose or gain weight. They usually stayed the same age. Well, that's not true. We do age. Just not the same.

My toiletries were also in the bathroom and I showered and washed my hair. Once done, I went back to the bedroom, changed and wrapped my hair in a towel.

Craft wasn't in the main part of the cabin, but I could sense him nearby. I also realized his presence didn't burn as bright as it had the night before. I still knew where he was-but he was no longer a beacon. He was more a light whose battery was dimming.

Was this what he meant when he said his loyalty to me would wane?

He was standing on the back deck. The cabin had a full over-look to a breath-taking vista below. A steaming mug of what I smelled was coffee in one hand, his other hand rubbing his chin as he stared out at the darkening sky.

"Thank you, for getting my things."

"Thank Jared," he said as he turned to face me. "This is his place."

Now that was a shocker. "This is Jared's cabin?"

"It's one of many little places he owns. He gave me the keys and directions last night-before the accident. I think he suspected they would make a move like that."

"I don't understand. Who? The people that hit us in the car?"

He tilted his head to his right shoulder. In this light his blue eyes looked dark. He was such a beautiful man, forever preserved in youth. "Why haven't they told you everything? I don't understand."

"Neither do I. You seem to know more than me."

"That's only because your kind think of Ghouls as dogs. Nothing more. And what can a dog do?" For the first time I heard hurt and scorn in his voice. And it was reflected in his eyes.

"Craft-I don't think-"

"I know," he interjected and looked away to the scenery. "You're different. There's an innocence that surrounds you. It attracts me and I find I want to stay with it. With you." He looked back at me. "But apparently, I can't."

"You feel it too, then. Our connection?"

"Yes. And it p.i.s.ses me off. I don't want to belong to Michel or the Babineaux House anymore. I've done my time. I want freedom, Carly. I want to..." and he sighed. "I want to remember."

I took one of the rocking chairs on the deck and sat down. It was chilly and I could see the gooseb.u.mps on his exposed forearm. He was still wearing a plaid shirt and jacket. His jeans were muddy and dirty. When was the last time he'd taken care of himself? "Talk to me Craft. I don't know...anything. I thought I did. But I'm finding out I don't know enough about myself."

"Your story is much simpler, but much more dangerous." He took one of the chairs and pulled it close to me, facing me. After setting the coffee on the wooden floor he took a deep breath. "What do you know about the different houses?"

"I know what Jared told me. What I was taught. That there are five-well really four now. There used to be more."

"Do you know why there are only four now? And what happened to the fifth?"

"Yes....no," I made a face. "I swear I was paying attention but I think Jared left out some stuff."

He laughed. It was a pleasant sound and a smile looked good on him. "Babineaux, Wyndham, Loewe, Montague, and the le Senechal."

I nodded. "Yeah, and that last one's extinct."

"Do you know why it's extinct?" He sipped at his coffee.

"The Babineaux."

"Yes. And did you know your Father, Baron Wyndham, was once bonded and mated to a Senechal?"

I blinked. "No...I didn't know he was ever bonded at all."

"Yes. It was a merging of Houses. A very long time ago. So you know about the little gifts-like the one Michel has with making others see what he wants them to see?"

"Yeah. My Father can read some minds, the Loewe can move things with their minds and the Montagues can basically predict the future. But," I made a face. "My Father's not very happy with the Montagues. He said their gift is nearly gone. Bred out."

"No. It's as strong as it's ever been. They are the advisors to the Council, Carly. What your father dislikes about the house itself is that they actually predicted the death of the House of Senechal. Unfortunately, no one believed them. Your Father was one of their loudest doubters. So when the House did fall because of Babineaux treachery-something no one has ever been able to prove-your Father was made to look like a fool. And you know how much he hates that."

I'd always known my Father had a reverence for the Senechal, and now it made sense why he disliked the Montagues. "And his bonded mate?"

"She was killed in the coup. The attackers destroyed all the children, and the Ghouls. Supposedly they kept a few of the females alive for their blood."

"I don't get that."

Craft sat forward, his elbows on his knees. "There's a little bit about the Babineaux you don't know. Not many do. I'm sure the Council does, and your Father as well. And that's that their gift of Illusion was a stolen gift. Something they took from one of the long destroyed Houses. So long destroyed no one can remember their name."

"So...that's not a gift native to their blood?"

"No."

"How do you know all this?"

He sat back and put his hands on his knees. "Like I said," and he stood and started pacing the length of the deck. "Most vampires don't pay attention to Ghouls and their presence. After all, we're slaves to the whims and commands of our Makers. They talk. I listen. And pay attention. It's what makes me a very good Ghoul to have."

"But you don't want to be a Ghoul anymore, do you?"

He stopped. "I don't have a choice, Carly. The alternative for me is death. Or birth as a vampire. And after all the death and hatred I've seen among your people-" he shook his head. "I do not wish that curse on my soul. But, to continue," and he started pacing again. "The little known secret to the Babineaux gift is that it was at one time, the most feared and cursed of the vampire gifts."

"What was it?"

"They still possess it. They've just found a way to silence the truth and create a legend of it. The Babineaux blood, if mingled with magic-can absorb the powers of others, Carly. Not just by taste. But by ritual. Full moon. Clear night. The intended victim whose gifts they would want, was sacrificed upon the altar of Nox."

"You mean...the G.o.ddess of Night?" I had to laugh at that one. "Craft-there's no such thing."

"There are things such as you, isn't there? And there are witches, Ghouls, Hunters, and Weres. Why not G.o.ddesses?" He shrugged. "You know the term blood magic?"

I nodded. It was something that was forbidden. And then I got it. "You mean they used to use blood magic to steal powers."

"On the head, Carly. They would take the strongest of the opposing House who possessed the power they craved, and at least five of them would feed on this poor victim until they were drained dry. And then they would eat the flesh. But this didn't guarantee them the prize," he shook his head and stopped pacing. Instead he came to sit back in his seat. "If they were lucky, one of them would take on the power."

"Oh gross. So, then I'd guess this one that actually stole the power would be the one to wield the new power?"

His expression looked grim. "No Carly. The one who actually took on the power was then sacrificed to the House, their blood dispersed to every member of the Family."

"What happened to them?"

He gave me a long, sad sigh. "They died."

The sun finally set as we talked. And with its pa.s.sing my strength and night perception increased. I felt strong. The blood I'd had before taking a shower had been Craft's. Apparently his blood having my blood mingled with it did wonders for me.

The advantages of having a Ghoul.

"Craft," I settled back in the chair. "I don't get what's happening. How do the Families fit into this? Into Michel and this bond he wants? Why join the Houses?"

"It's actually your Father's idea, Carly," Craft said. "No one's happy about it. No one really likes the Babineaux. They're mostly tolerated because they are the second largest family but they have the most power."

"And they apparently have their own Hunter," I muttered, my thoughts returning to Dockal.

And then I remembered the flash. "You didn't tell me what it was that happened last night." I was definitely changing the subject here, but sometimes my mind flits about like a squirrel. And right now, I was flooded with worry about Jared and Brandon-and what Brandon's parents might think about me, running off with another guy like I did.

"Oh. Right. Well, this sort of ties into that. I think. I've been thinking about it all day while you slept. But none of it is making sense."

"Craft-what?"

"Well, when Dockal came at us, you put up your hand and this light exploded from it. When it was gone, Dockal was pretty much this charred crispy thing on the ground and Jared was-"

My eyes widened. "What? Did it hurt Jared too?"

"No. Jared was fine. He was just...as shocked as I was. I looked at him, he pushed me against you. I knew what he wanted me to do-why else tell me about this place? I called him earlier to let him know we were here, but he couldn't talk openly."

"What happened to Dockal. Is she dead?"