She marveled at the familiar faces: the action hero, the wild rapper, the misunderstood music idol, the gorgeous, puppy-eyed comedian-all who had died.

All old faces here to welcome their new sibling.

Old faces that had never aged during this process of becoming new faces.

Jesse Shane, whose own "death" had been designed to provoke strange, neverending speculations, raised a gla.s.s of warm blood to his little sister. "Long live the new Tamsin Greene."

The rest of the crowd repeated his words, their voices a merry chorus.

"Long live the new Tamsin Greene!"

And, years from now, after the final change when she returned Above as a different actress/singer, that's what the press would be saying, too.

Here's to the new Tamsin Greene.

Never knowing she was actually the old Tamsin Greene.

TWENTY-EIGHT.

THERECOVERY.

ITwas midday at the hospital, where Dawn and Breisi sat with Kiko, keeping vigil over his bed. Although they'd taken quick showers at their crash pads to clean the blood off their skin, they hadn't gotten any sleep, and it was wearing on them.

But they could always get some shut-eye in this room, Dawn kept telling herself as she forced her eyes open. She was holding Kiko's fingers in one injured hand and nursing a coffee with the other while she watched TV. On the other side of the bed, Breisi fiddled with her locator receivers, trying to goose some kind of response out of their silence. Both of them wanted to spend as much awake time with their partner as possible, because tomorrow, when Dawn and Breisi got back to tracking Frank and this Underground, Kiko would be in surgery.

Since his L1 vertebra had burst into his spinal column, he'd sustained damage to his spinal cord but hadn't severed it, thank G.o.d.

In order to stabilize his back, the doctors planned to use plates and pins and, although it'd take about a year for him to make a full recovery, the professionals were telling him that he'd be walking fairly soon after the operation, with the help of a brace and rehabilitation.

All the same, Kiko kept insisting he could continue working. His brain was still good, he'd muttered in one of his more lucid moments. Didn't need surgery onthat.

Now, he was knocked out on painkillers, his compact form swathed in hospital gear. On the TV, a Dodgers game should've been on but, much to Breisi's fan-girl impatience, the station kept interrupting the broadcast for local reaction about Tamsin Greene's suicide. The news was inescapable, the coverage wallowing in sensationalism.

It seemed like the media had totally missed Tamsin's message about exploiting her because now, more than ever, they were doing a h.e.l.l of a lot of it.

A reporter was interviewing celebrities, collecting their grief in a montage of overkill. At the moment, a rising fifties-pop-inspired musician, Bradley Mistle, was wiping down his thick nerd-framed gla.s.ses that had fogged up from emotion.A huffing Breisi muted the sound when her cell phone rang.

"What a circus," the baseball fan said as she checked the number. Her eyes were ringed with red. "Let the dead rest in peace, I say."

After last night, Dawn wasn't sure how likely that was.

After Breisi pushed a b.u.t.ton, The Voice came on speakerphone.

"Please tell me you're getting some rest there," he said.

"Yes," both Dawn and Breisi lied. Aside from a couple of catnaps, neither of them had made much of an effort.

Breisi gave Dawn a conspiratorial nod. Dawn raised an eyebrow back.

"And how are your Friends?" the other woman asked.

"Like you, they're recovering."

In all the tragedy, Dawn had almost forgotten about how Jonah's buddies-the ghosties from the office-had lost their battle with Robby's superior powers. Earlier, The Voice had told them that his "Friends" had been drained of strength and had been summoned back to him when they realized they'd be of no more use at the Pennybakers'. Thus, their sudden disappearance.

She'd also gotten an answer about why Jonah had gone quiet on the cell phone when Nathan had shown up. In an unprecedented sharing of actual answers, The Voice had told her that, once Mr. Pennybaker had arrived with the Guards-commanding them, nonetheless-he'd suspected Nathan's intimate involvement with Robby's Underground. Since Jonah was adamant about hiding his presence from any forces that had come with the Guards, he'd protected himself by withdrawing from a possible threat, surrendering the chance to try to hypnotize either RobbyorNathan.

What the h.e.l.l that all meant, Dawn didn't know. But she was d.a.m.ned well going to find out.

Along with discovering where Frank is, she thought,I'mgoing to dig into all your mysteries, Jonah: what your friends are...

whatyouare.

The Voice continued. "It's good to hear you're all secure." Then he paused, tone softening. "Because, contrary to popular belief, I do care what happens to you."

Even though the words hadn't been aimed at Dawn, she felt her skin flushing, tingling with suggestion. And when Breisi pursed her lips, Dawn knew that she wasn't alone in thinking maybe Jonah had spoken volumes more in that one little sentence than he had in the sum of all their conversations.

Clearing her throat, Dawn glanced at the bed sheets. Suddenly, there was too much intimacy in the air.

"And how's Kiko faring?" Jonah continued brusquely, as if ignoring the previous odd moment.

Dawn patted her friend's hand. "Slumbering away."

"Sleep rebuilds the body."

"Jonah." Again, Dawn looked at the phone as if she were addressing him in the flesh. Wishful thinking. "You sound a lot more chipper than I would've ever predicted after what's happened. Our clients ended up dead or missing. We still have no idea where Frank is-"

"Ah, but we're much farther along than I'd hoped at this point. As I said, Robby leads us to the bigger picture-the main reason we summoned you." Dawn recalled Kiko's description of his vision: Dawn, covered in the blood of a vampire, victorious. She'd been covered with red last night, all right, but she hadn't reached the victorious part. That's because she hadn't fulfilled the prediction, The Voice had told her. Not yet.

"Beginning tomorrow," The Voice added, "we shift focus in Frank's investigation. To the Underground and this Dr. Eternity we heard Nathan Pennybaker speak of."

"So it's business as usual," Dawn said, watching Kiko as he groaned in his sleep. "Almost."

"And back to secrecy," Jonah said. "We must work more quietly than ever. Surprise with these creatures is essential."

Dawn let go of Kiko and held up a hand in a mock-yet all too serious-vow. "Vampire hunter's honor."

Even if she sounded brave, a pall fell over her. How many creatures of darkness were out there? How many were hiding in the crevices of society, like Robby? Like this Underground?

And...just as disturbing...how many vamp hunters were there?

The image of Robby's arm being sliced off by that long blade shadowed her again. She couldn't help wondering where Matt had been last night while she was fighting vamps. Wondering who the h.e.l.l had hired him, and why.

In her peripheral vision, Dawn noticed Breisi making a rapid swipe at her face. Crying. d.a.m.n it, what was she crying about?

Kiko? Frank?

Then it hit her.Vampire hunter's honor.

Dawn had taken Frank's place, becoming the hunter he'd turned into. Except instead of just tracking vamps, she was trackinghim.

More than anyone, Breisi had to be aware of that.

The other woman smiled at the daughter of the man she loved. "We'll find him," she repeated. It'd become their mantra.

Before things could degenerate into an Emotion Fest, both women turned to the phone, seeking another place to look.

"I've gotta have more coffee," Dawn said.

"Andrest," Jonah commanded before he hung up.

Stowing the cell, Breisi turned the TV's volume back on. An old interview of Darrin Ryder, Dawn's super favorite actor, was gracing the screen as a reporter voiced-over that the star was recovering from an attack last night. A supposed mugging.

Dawn grabbed back on to Kiko and mustered a little sympathy for Ryder. Not a lot though. Karma was a sneaky b.i.t.c.h, and she didn't begrudge it some playtime.

A tiny squeeze tightened her fingers. She glanced down, finding Kiko half-awake, his gaze unfocused. Her heart constricted as he unlinked his fingers from hers, then reached out to touch the undershirt she'd worn after washing it.

Frank's shirt.

"Bait," Dawn thought she heard him whisper before he closed his eyes and drifted off.

Wait-had Kiko made contact with Frank again? Good news since, after some thinking, she realized that maybe Kiko got present-time clothes readings only if the subject had a conscience that still worked. It made sense, because Kik had gotten a reading from thepastvia Robby's old shirts-clothing he'd worn when he'd had a soul. Just as she hoped Frank still did. Or was Kiko only reliving that one debilitating vision from the other night right now?

Or...Dawn thought of another possibility, a sad option. Maybe it was just the painkillers addling his brain.

Pain. Too d.a.m.ned much of it around here.

She picked up her coffee, started to down the rest of it, but found the foam cup empty.

Reacting to Dawn's frown, Breisi rose from her seat, gesturing to the cup. "I'm going out for some tea. You want more caffeine?"

"h.e.l.l, yeah. As much as my body can hold without imploding."

An image of vamp bodies sucking inward shook her.

Breisi must've been thinking much of the same thing, too, because as she left, she shot Dawn a stoic, knowing glance, then disappeared out the door.

Alone now, Dawn slumped farther into the chair, exhaustion trying to drag her down again. As she fought to keep her eyes open, the TV news continued, the name "Tamsin Greene" like a whisper deep in her brain, leading her toward sleep.

Suicide...Internet...blood...dead...

"Dawn?"

It was a whisper, too, just like all the white noise that had been fritzing through her head. The sounds of the TV floated away, becoming a part of the nothing.

Then something touched her arm.

She bolted out of her chair, blinking open her eyes as her heart pattered against her ribs. Fear and experience forced her body into a defensive stance as she tried to focus.

In the fuzz of Dawn's tired vision, Jacqueline Ashley stood, dreamlike. She was dressed in fashionably faded blue jeans, a "Drive Hybrid" T-shirt, a baseball cap that she'd shoved all her hair into, and those d.a.m.ned sungla.s.ses. Carrying some white papers and a bouquet of friendly flowers, her appearance reminded Dawn that she'd invited the girl over here to see Kiko, knowing it would cheer him greatly. She also suspected Jacqueline would appreciate the company.

Relieved, Dawn found that she was actually grateful to see her. h.e.l.l, a normal chick from Pahrump, Nevada, beat a fang-wielding vampire any day of the week.

She relaxed, but her pulse still jittered her veins in the aftershock.

Jacqueline's head was tilted in obvious concern as she set the flowers on a table. "Oh, my G.o.d. You were hurt in Kiko's stunt, too?"

In Dawn's sleep-deprived world, Jacqueline's words sounded like they were being played at slow speed. Even the edges of the actress's body seemed blurred.

Dawn forced her eyes wide. Tired. Still very tired.

"Kiko and I need to be more careful with our ch.o.r.eography, I guess," she said, voice croaky. "He's asleep now, but he'll love waking up to the sight of his favorite up-and-coming fencer."

"Anything I can do to help. For both of you." Now that Jacqueline knew Dawn was okay, she got a big, goofy smile on her face, then started bouncing on her heels.Dawn just gave her a curious look, still blinking the sleep away.

"So..." Jacqueline said. "Guess what?"

Her first instinct was to answer with a Kiko comeback that included freaky apartments and their evil residents, but she didn't have the energy right now. Subdued, she merely went along with Jacqueline's enthusiasm.

"What?" Dawn asked.

The actress made a tinyeeeksound and handed the papers over. Printouts from the Net. "I know you haven't had time to pay attention to gossip, but"-she hopped up and down some more-"I got the part! Can you believe it?"

"Wow." Happiness mixed with doubt. Here it went: the change of Jacqueline from nice girl to movie star, right? "Congrats, that's...amazing."

"Thanks." She shuffled her sneakers, looking like she was at a loss for words. "But I thought I should tell you something before you start hearing it for yourself...." She began to continue, then stopped.

Dawn could hear anything at this point and not be fazed. "Just say it."

"Okay." Jacqueline blew out a breath. "Okay, here goes." She exhaled again, then offered a hesitant glance. "They're...well, they're calling me a throwback...a..." She shrugged helplessly. "Jeez, this is rough. My managers want me to go with this whole thing that they dreamed up for my 'image.' So, maybe if I show you this makeover they sprung on me this morning...Well...here."

With a shy flourish, the actress took off her baseball cap.

As her bleached golden locks came tumbling down, Dawn felt the first jab of dream-addled disquiet.

But when Jacqueline slipped off her sungla.s.ses, Dawn took an inadvertent, heart-stopping step backward, dropping the papers.

Holy...no.No.

At the fencing studio, Dawn hadn't cared to look Jacqueline in the face while she'd helped her with the jacket, and when she'd decided to finally do so, the actress had already donned her mask. And then there'd been the sungla.s.ses...the ever-present dark lenses hiding her gaze.

As Dawn's vision blurred, Jacqueline anxiously waited for approval. Disapproval.Something.