... suddenly freezes.

I watch in horror as he stumbles backward, fear clear in his beautiful green eyes. And suddenly I realize he's felt them. My little wings, which I've been trying to hide under loose clothing. Lost in the moment, I totally forgot they were there.

And now he knows what I am. Who I am.

And what I've done to him.

Slowly, he shakes his head, then turns and walks down the hall, leaving me standing there by myself, wondering what on Earth he's going to do.

I have to get out of here. Now.

17.

I search the library for what seems like hours, looking for my sister. I finally find her-hidden behind the stacks, making out with some random, icky-looking boy with major zits on his face. Ew. What is she doing? So gross.

"We've got to talk," I say, tapping her on the arm when she comes up for air. She looks over, annoyed.

"Can't it wait? I'm busy."

I grab the boy by his shirt and shove him away. "Get lost."

He scowls at me. I raise my fist. He slinks off down the stacks, off to find another bored Slayer in Training to suck face with probably. This time preferably one without an overprotective twin. I grab my sister and drag her down the hall until we find a small, unoccupied office. I push her in, then step in myself, closing the door behind us.

"What's your problem?" Sunny snarls, propping herself up on an empty desk. She's wearing a short skirt I've never seen before and doesn't even have the decency to cross her legs. "I was just getting to know Carl there." Her face is flushed and I notice she has hickeys up and down her neck. "Or ... was it Chris?" she ponders to herself. "I'm so bad at names."

"I don't care if his name was Santa Claus," I growl. "Sunny, I need you to be serious for a second." I cross the room, stopping a few feet in front of her. "We have a major problem. Corbin felt my wings. And I'm positive he's figured out that I'm the one who bit him. We have to get out of here. Now. Before he rats me out. Or comes back and kills me himself, for that matter."

"But I don't want to leave," Sunny whines, actually sticking out her lower lip in a pout. "I like it here."

"Have you been smoking pixie dust?" I cry. "You were dying to leave just a few days ago. And now you're all big girl on campus?" I shake my head in disbelief. "Don't you want to find Mom and Dad and make sure they're okay? Not to mention Magnus, who I still can't believe you're cheating on with that disgusting dork in the stacks." I slump in my chair. "It's so not like you. These past couple of days-it's like you've turned into this whole other person. Like you've been body s.n.a.t.c.hed or some-"

I stop short, suddenly remembering something I read that afternoon in the library.

Oh G.o.d. But that's impossible, right?

Then again, she did start acting weird the day after the fairy attack ...

Without warning, I lunge at her, grabbing her in a headlock before she can leap away. She squeals in protest, squirming like crazy. But I'm stronger. "Who are you?" I demand.

"Duh! I'm your sister. Sunny. Let me go!"

I tighten my grip. "Don't effing lie to me!"

"Rayne, stop, you're hurting me."

"What's Mom's favorite meat to cook with?"

"Um ... I don't know ... chicken?"

"Yeah, right. Try tofu. What's your best friend's name?"

"You're my best friend!"

"Very flattering, but also wrong," I look down at her. She's gasping for breath. "Who did Magnus catch you kissing in Vegas?"

She glares up at me, her face suddenly defiant. "Mother effing Elvis, b.i.t.c.h."

Startled, I let go and she falls to the ground with a thump. I take a wary step back, pressing my back against the door as Sunny-or, more accurately, the fairy changeling pretending to be Sunny-slowly climbs to her feet, a menacing look on her scarred, twisted, green-tinged face. The glamour has shattered and she no longer looks anything like my poor sister.

The changeling starts to laugh, an evil cackle that sends chills through my bones. "You figured it out," she crows excitedly. "Took you long enough, by the way."

"Why are you doing this?" I manage to ask with effort. "And where did you take my sister?" I feel like such an idiot. How could I have not known? My twin sister-the one person I'm closest to in the entire world-and I couldn't even recognize the difference between her and an evil changeling. Wasting all this time, thinking nothing was wrong while poor, sweet Sunny has been floundering captive in fairyland, probably desperately wondering when someone would come rescue her.

"Your fool of a father thought he could hide you away and keep you safe." The changeling snorts. "But we have spies everywhere. With the right ... donation ... even Slayer Inc. operatives can be bought." She grins, as if proud. h.e.l.l, she probably is. She played me like a freaking fool. "Then it was just a matter of time. You idiots made it easy, actually, by running away into the woods in the middle of the night, away from the protection of the guards. All we had to do was launch an attack, steal Sunny away, and have me step into her place instead."

"So where's Sunny now?" I demand. "G.o.d help you if you touched a hair on her head!"

The changeling yawns. "Puh-leeze." She snorts. "You've been listening to your parents too long. We're not uncivilized beasts, you know. Your sister will be treated like the royal princess she is. Transformed into a fairy and crowned queen. I can promise you, no harm will come to her."

"Right. Just like no harm came to the former queen, my grandmother, when you had her under your protection."

A flash of guilt crosses the changeling's face but then she waves a hand dismissively. "In any case," she continues. "None of this is your concern. Now that Slayer Inc. has delivered us a queen, we must pay what we owe to them in turn." She gives me a knowing look.

I shudder, guessing Slayer Inc. doesn't exactly take Amex for this kind of thing. "And that payment is ... ?"

The changeling smiles. "Why, you, of course. You're very valuable, you know. The first-ever vampiric Sidhe. They're completely thrilled."

I stare at her, horror slamming into my gut. "You told them," I whisper hoa.r.s.ely, suddenly realizing that anything Corbin might have figured out is nothing compared to what my sister's changeling has already done.

The changeling opens her mouth, but a sudden, commanding knock on the door is really all the answer I need.

"Sorry to Rayne on your parade." The changeling smirks. She blows me a kiss as the guardians push the door open, sending me flying to the floor. My palms skid against the hardwood, giving me one h.e.l.l of a splinter. But I'm pretty sure that's going to be the least of my problems soon.

"Bye-bye," the changeling chirps, heading for the door. "I'll give your sister your regards back at fairyland."

I turn to the guardians, ready to fight. But before I can even scramble to my feet, they throw a silver net over my head. I know it's real silver, too, since the metal fillings singe my skin-making it sizzle and smoke. Helpless, I fall to the ground, writhing in pain, knowing there's nothing I can do. They've got me and they've got me good. And a moment later, I find myself swimming into blackness.

18.

When I wake, I'm in four-points restraints-lying on my back with wrists and ankles cuffed to some sort of rollaway bed. Lifting my head, I strain to take in the room, desperate to figure out where the h.e.l.l they've taken me. It appears to be some kind of mad scientist laboratory, complete with beakers and test tubes-their yellow and green concoctions boiling madly over red-flamed Bunsen burners, threatening to bubble over at any second.

Definitely not a part of Riverdale I've seen before. If I'm still at Riverdale at all.

After a brief scan of the room, my straining neck pangs in protest and reluctantly I settle my head back down on the bed, my gaze reverting to the dark, high-beamed ceiling draped in cobwebs. Large spiders seem to grin wickedly at me as they go about their work, as if laughing at my current predicament.

I suck in a breath, hoping to calm my jangled nerves. Questions come, fast and furious, with no answers naturally following their query. Where am I? Why am I here? To be honest, I figured I'd be taken to some sort of Riverdale jail to await trial. Or that they'd simply stake me in the heart and be done with it.

The changeling's words suddenly ring through my ears. You're very valuable, you know, she'd said. But valuable for what? That, as Hamlet would say, is the question.

"Awake, are we?"

A man with wild salt-and-pepper hair and thick bifocals steps into view. He's wearing the traditional white coat, probably acquired from some mad scientist uniform shop, and has the requisite crazy-man look on his face to boot.

I swallow hard. I've seen enough movies to know this is so not good.

"h.e.l.lo, Rayne," he says in a screechy voice. "It's great to finally meet you. I'm Dr. Franken."

I grimace. Dr. Franken? As in Frankenstein? Man, this place gets more cliche by the second. I mean, come on. If I'm going to die anyway, is it so much to ask for a little originality?

Dr. Franken holds out a hand, as if to shake mine in greeting, then seems to remember that I'm tied up at the moment. He cackles. Mad scientist humor. Awesomeness.

"Where am I?" I manage to choke out, trying to sound fierce, but succeeding only in sounding scared and helpless. "Release me at once!" I try again, without much more success.

He chuckles. "All in good time, my dear," he says, wheeling over a small metal table to the side of my bed. He picks up a syringe the size of a freaking turkey baster and connects it to a clear plastic tube. "But first I'm going to need a sample of your blood, if you don't mind."

"Actually, I do mind. I appreciate you asking."

"Your objection is duly noted," he replies. Taking a length of rubber off the table, he proceeds to tie it around my forearm. "It makes me wonder, though. Do you think Corbin minded when you took all that blood from him without asking?"

Corbin's name stabs like a dagger to my heart and my mind proceeds to treat me to a disturbing flashback of his glazed eyes, torn neck-blood spilling down and soaking his shirt collar. I wonder wildly what an interesting laundry detergent commercial something like that would make.

New Tide with bleaching action! Perfect for getting rid of those pesky bloodstains!

I shake my head, my stomach rolling with nausea. Maybe I deserve all of this. h.e.l.l, maybe I deserve worse. 'Cause let's be honest here; I haven't exactly been a cla.s.s act recently.

"What do you plan to do with my blood?" I ask weakly, wondering if he plans to take only a little or completely drain me dry. I know in some TV shows vampire blood becomes a powerful black market drug, but I don't think it works that way in real life.

In real life, the only use for vampire blood is to make more vampires. But why would Slayer Inc. want MORE vampires? Isn't their whole mission in life to get rid of them?

"Why, I wish to study it, of course," he says brightly as he jabs the needle into my arm. I wince and force myself to watch as the thick, dark liquid drains from my body, down the tube, and into a plastic blood bag. "And hopefully someday make more of you."

Wait, what? My eyes fly from the syringe to his face. "Make more of me?" I repeat. "I mean, I know I'm awesome and all. But isn't one Rayne McDonald enough?"

"Oh, you yourself are much more than enough," Dr. Franken replies, thankfully removing the needle and placing a cotton swab over the wound, binding it with white tape. "But your blood, on the other hand ..."

"My blood?"

"But of course. The blood of the very first vamshee." He grins. "It's practically priceless."

I do a double take. "Vamshee? Are you kidding me?"

"Do you like that?" he asks. "I came up with the term myself. It's a combination of vampire and Sidhe. Kind of like banshee, which is loosely translated to mean female fairy. So thusly, vamshee means vampire fairy."

I roll my eyes. "No offense or anything," I say, "but that's pretty lame."

He stops laughing and sets his face to a scowl. Way to p.i.s.s off the mad scientist, Rayne. "In any case, the name really doesn't matter," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "What matters is what we can make of it. A creature with the powers of a vampire and the powers of the fey folk, all mashed together in one delicious chain of brand-new DNA. A hybrid creature with unimaginable potential."

"But ..." I struggle to understand. "Why would Slayer Inc. need a ... fairy vampire?" (I'm so not using his stupid term.) He looks down at me in surprise. "Why, my dear, they don't need a fairy vampire. They need an army of them."

An army? "But why ... ?"

"Ah, there she is. Our little vamshee! Captured at last."

With effort, I twist my head to see Headmistress Roberta step into the room. She closes the heavy metal door behind her and walks over to my bed, looking down at me with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. She picks up what I a.s.sume to be my chart off the table and studies it carefully.

"Do you think this is going to work?" she asks, turning to Dr. Franken. "I can't afford any more failed experiments."

"Wait-what experiments? What are you trying to do?" I demand awkwardly from my strapped-down position.

"If my calculations are correct, the fey cells will work to stabilize the vampiric ones," Dr. Franken replies, ignoring me. "So they won't oxidize and mutate before we can inject them into our test subjects."

"Excellent," Headmistress Roberta says, rubbing her hands together gleefully. "And, as a bonus, these vamshee hybrids will be even more powerful than just plain vampires would have been." She looks down at me. "I really owe you a big thank you, Rayne. Without you, none of this would be possible."

"None of what? What are you talking about? Why the h.e.l.l would you want to make vampire fairies?"

"Why, so we can take over the world, of course," she replies, sounding surprised I didn't already know.

Take over the ... ? I stare at her in disbelief. "But you're part of Slayer Inc.! The good guys! You're supposed to be protecting people from people taking over the world!"

"Please. You think we should be content to live out our entire existence as a police force?" she asks in a haughty voice. "Content to serve and protect all the ungrateful vampires and self-serving fairies out there?" She shakes her head in disgust. "We're done with that. And once we create our master army of vamshees, we'll be on the top of the food chain. For the first time ever, we'll be calling the shots."

This is so not good. I need to warn the Vampire Consortium-not to mention the American arm of Slayer Inc.-before it's too late. But how? I mean, let's be honest here. They've told me their evil plan, which, more than likely, means they're not about to let me walk out of here alive.

Okay, sure, in the movies, that's usually the bad guys' big mistake: spilling their whole evil plan, only to have their captive pull a last-minute James Bond-type move and manage to get away just in time. But sadly I'm far from James Bond. And I have no idea how I'd pull off some thrilling movie-esque escape.

I decide it's best to just keep them talking. At least until I can figure out what I can possibly do. "So this is what Slay School is really about?" I ask, my voice full of disgust. "All these kids training here are just fronts for your ... experiments?" The word makes me shudder.

"Of course not," Headmistress Roberta replies, looking slightly offended. "Riverdale really does train normal human slayers and has been doing so since before you were born." She shrugs, then continues. "Most of our Slayers in Training will graduate and be sent on regular a.s.signments, none the wiser to any of this building's activities. But a chosen few-the best and the brightest-will continue their studies after graduation, becoming part of our Night School program."

I gasp. Night School. The Alphas. Corbin.

"So let me get this straight," I say. "You tell all the Alphas they're entering some kind of top-secret, kick-a.s.s grad school program that will turn them into slayer secret agents with a license to stake. But instead, you plan to turn them into monsters-and use them as p.a.w.ns in your Slayer Inc. revolution?"