And I had a mission. I needed to get dominant, I needed to find someone like me, someone better than average, someone agile and intelligent, someone who smelled right. I needed to be away from the stifling world of manicured lawns and blaring TVs and kiddie pools-needed to be under a canopy of trees, preparing.

"Wait," I said aloud. "What?"

I squeezed my eyes shut and shoved back the out-of-place desires and daytime me's questioning voice. It didn't matter what Daytime Emily had to say about the weird urges. My mission was to find Megan, then find Terrance, then do something to get back at him.

Ready to get back to the business of vengeance, I continued across the lawn, toward the back fence. As I did, something barked to my left.

It was a small, curly-haired dog, standing in front of a doghouse I hadn't seen in the darkness of the backyard. It flattened back its ears and growled.

I turned to the dog, considering it. Then I lunged forward and spread out my arms, like a bully psyching out a little kid on a playground. The dog yelped, tucked its tail between its legs, and darted inside its house.

I straightened back up and laughed.

From now on this would be me, I decided. No more hiding in plain sight.

No more taking trash talk from anyone-especially not from yappy little dogs. No more being afraid to speak my mind. My usual self spent so much time worrying about how others would perceive her that she never actually did anything. What kind of life was that?

I knew it deep down in my bones: I was a new Emily Webb. And this new Emily Webb was better than the old one in every way imaginable. Was even better than the Emily I'd wanted to be back in junior high.

I reached the back of the yard, sidled between two trees, coiled my legs, and prepared to leap over the fence. But then I stopped. Suddenly I felt as though someone was close, watching me. So close that it made the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end.

Thinking it was the cracked-out driver guy following me, or maybe even that dog, I spun on my heels to face whoever was behind me.

No one was there.

Except I could still feel someone, some thing, looking at me. Even though the yard was empty. Even though no curtains moved at the back of the house in front of me.

Now I realize I should have paid more attention to that sensation. But then, at that moment, I grew quickly bored and brushed away the feeling. I turned away from the yard and leaped over the six-foot fence as if doing so was perfectly normal.

I continued north, shutting out all the distractions-voices seeping out of walls, cars pulling into and out of driveways, animals cawing and barking and mewling. I pa.s.sed the small library that looked more like someone's house than a place to check out books-the midpoint between my house and Megan's. The homes went from being mostly two stories with big yards to mostly one story and cramped together.

Megan's house stood dark at the end of the street. All the windows that I could see were shadowed, and though Megan's car was parked at the curb in front of her small lawn, her parents' cars were gone.

Perfect. No nosy adults getting in my way.

I strode across the street and headed around the side of the garage to Megan's window. It was closed and the curtains drawn, but I could see her shadow7 moving in the orange glow of her desk lamp.

My plan was to crouch in the bushes beneath her window7, slam my hand against the gla.s.s, and freak her out. But that changed when I heard the strains of a guitar being tuned and the thumping of drums. The garage.

Hmm. Scare Megan or go see what her brother was doing with his band?

Angry Megan, or boys playing rock and roll?

Really, there was no question.

The Vesper Company "Envisioning the brightest stars, to lead our way."

- Internal Doc.u.ment, Do Not Reproduce - Partial Transcript of the Interrogation of Branch B's Vesper l Part 2-Recorded Oct. 31, 2010 F. Savage (FS): Hmm. Make a note: The nature of the- Vesper 1 (V1): Make a note?

FS: Ah, sorry, I'm just making a statement aloud for the record. So I can refer back to the transcript when writing my full report.

V1: Got it. Sorry.

FS: Make a note: The nature and actions of these deviants- V1: Deviants?

FS: Excuse me?

V1: You people call us deviants?

FS: I'm afraid that "deviants" is the slang term that we came up with in-house for those of you we haven't... observed. I a.s.sure you it is not meant as a suggestion of your character.

V1: [laughs.] It's actually quite appropriate, so, whatever.

FS: [clears throat.] As I was saying, the nature of these deviants, as suggested by the actions of Vesper l- V1: Wait, so which is it? Am I a vesper or a deviant?

FS: Emily, please. We're on a schedule. [V1 begins to speak; FS talks over her.] The nature of these deviants, as suggested by Vesper l's actions during the events detailed in chapters three and four of her written account, would indicate that they develop heightened abilities based on some sort of time schedule. One that also alters their personalities before they- V1: Turn into even more of a deviant.

FS: Excuse me? Uh, no, no, I meant before you- [Distant, thumping noises echo; FS and V1 fall silent for several moments.

Distant noises fall silent.]

V1: That normal around here?

FS: Ah, not particularly. Usually quite silent. I haven't... I think we should continue on with your account.

V1: Aren't you going to finish dictating your note to self?

FS: [sighs.] Forget it. Let's just move on.

Chapter 5.

The Bubonic Teutonics The garage's side door was unlocked, so I didn't bother knocking. Megan's older brother Lucas was there with a long white guitar hanging from his shoulder, a cord snaking from it to some sort of speaker sitting in the back of a truck parked on the other side of the garage. Lucas was basically a male version of his sister-tall and crazy skinny, with pasty skin and white-blond hair scooped up into some spiky anime-like 'do. Not usually my cup of soy chai latte, but I'm not gonna lie: a guy with a guitar? Pretty d.a.m.n hot.

Behind Lucas, beneath shelves holding paint cans, and surrounded by drums and cymbals, sat the police deputy-slash-drum player. His short honey-blond hair was tousled and curly at the ends, his jaw shadowed with stubble darker than you'd expect a blond guy to have. His bare arms-shown off to great effect by an exceptionally clingy wifebeater-were tanned and so very, very defined.

Let me tell you, if I'd known how beautiful the deputy was, I'd have come to Lucas's rehearsals a lot sooner. The deputy's biceps were things of my late-night dreams. His pale blue eyes were too. And his broad shoulders. And his...

"Ready, Luke?" the deputy asked. Neither of them had noticed me.

"Yeah, I got it. Give me a four count."

The deputy nodded and banged his drumsticks together four times before pounding on the drums, while Lucas flicked at his guitar and began to sing.

The walls rattled as the sound reverberated through the garage.

I wasn't in the mood for a concert and had things to do, so I took a step forward and gave two loud claps.

Lucas actually jumped. The deputy didn't react much except to smile over at me. He had perfect, movie-star teeth.

"Uh, can I help you?" Lucas asked.

Grinning, I sauntered deeper into the garage.

"Don't recognize me?"

His cheeks flushed as I came close-very close. "Em-Emily?"

"Can't believe you didn't recognize me, dork," I said, swatting at his arm. I looked over at the deputy and met his smile with one of my own. "Introduce me to your friend."

Lucas took a step back. "Megan's inside, Emily. We're gonna be canva.s.sing clubs this week to advertise our gig on Sat.u.r.day, and I want to make sure we don't suck before we do. So please-"

"Jared." The deputy stood up from behind his drums and extended a hand.

I went and took Jared's hand, shaking it and letting my fingers linger as he let go. His grip was strong.

"Ignore him," Jared said as he gave me a once-over. "He doesn't know how to behave when a pretty lady enters the room."

Rounding the drum set, I sat on the stool he'd just vacated. "A gentleman and a drummer, huh? So does this band only have the two of you?"

"You got it. We're the Bubonic Teutonics."

"So, what, you're like an albino White Stripes or something?"

Jared laughed, sending his Adam's apple bobbing up and down on his long neck. I could see small beads of sweat forming there, could smell something enticing in his perspiration. Some part of me wondered, Is he the one?

The one what? I wondered again, but only briefly. Somehow7, as nighttime me, the unusual thought almost seemed to make sense.

"Yeah," he said. "Something like that. So, are you and Megan heading out somewhere?"

I needed to get closer to him to be sure. I decided to bat my eyes and tilt my head so that my hair brushed against my bare shoulders. From Jared's expression, it seemed to work.

"Totally," I said. "Wanna come? It'll be tun."

"I'm pretty sure I'm too old to be going places with sixteen-year-olds."

"You are too old," Lucas called. Having grown bored with the two of us, he'd gone to the truck and was fiddling with his guitar and the speakers. He strummed a cord, and a screeching sound echoed through the bare rafters above us.

Jared shrugged, the muscles on his broad, bare shoulders tensing tightly.

"Sorry, guess you two are on your own. Just make sure it's a crowded place and you drive there. Can't be too careful after what happened to that poor girl last night"

"Ooh, you really are a deputy, aren't you?" I had to know if he was the one my brain was searching for. Leaning in slightly, I closed my eyes and inhaled.

I expected ... I don't quite know what I expected. But he smelled off. He smelled clean, artificial, like the mix of man-made chemicals that are soap and shampoo. And though usually I thought that would be a good way to smell, a strange disappointment washed over me.

I didn't know how I knew, but he wasn't right. At least not the right this new version of me wanted. Still, he was so pretty to look at.

"Lucas, Mom told you to keep it down and-what the h.e.l.l?"

The door leading into the house slammed shut, and I spun on the stool to see Megan standing there. She was dressed in her clothes from that morning, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail. She stiffened in surprise at the sight of me.

"Emily? Is that you?" I raised my eyebrows. "Hey, what's up?" "Hey, Meg,"

Jared said. "Your friend was just saying hi."

"Yes, she's distracting Jared and keeping me from practicing," Lucas said, still focused on tuning his guitar. "Get rid of her and then I'll keep it down."

Megan could only stare slack-jawed at me. "Emily?" she said again. "What are-Why are you dressed like that?"

"Come on, I look awesome," I said. Regretfully leaving Jared behind, I rounded the truck and grabbed Megan's arm. "I'm on a mission."

Speechless, Megan let me lead her back through the door. I waved over my shoulder as I went inside. "Bye, Deputy."

He winked at me. "Nice meeting you. And remember to be safe."

"Always."

I shut the door and could hear the boys begin their song again. Shoving Megan, I said, "Why didn't you tell me that the deputy was basically a male model?"

Megan flinched away from me. "Is this some kind of joke? What are you talking about? That guy is twenty-one years old, Emily, and you were hanging on him like a frickin' groupie."

"How could I not?"

With a disgusted sigh, Megan stormed down the hallway to her bedroom. I followed her in, went to the edge of her bed, and leaped on top of her messy comforter. I rested back on my arms and crossed my legs.

"I need you, Reedy," I said. "Been to Emily Cooke's blog today?"

Megan continued to gape. "What? No, I-," she started.

I waved my hand. "Didn't miss much, just a bunch of kids acting like they cared about the hot chick at school before she died. But you know Terrance?

Down the street? He called me fat, so you and I are going to go to his house and verbally smack him down." I wagged my eyebrows. "Maybe a little physical smackdown too."

Megan gawked at me.

"h.e.l.lo?" I gestured toward her shoes in the corner. "Chop-chop, girl, put your shoes on. We've got things to do, teenage boys to humiliate-"

"Okay, stop!" Megan threw her hands in the air. "Back up, Em, 'cause you are flirting with my brother's friend, you're dressed like a giant s.l.u.t, and you're acting like you've downed a c.o.c.ktail of vodka and crack."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come on, we don't have time for this, just-"

Megan stormed forward and put her finger in my face. "No, listen, Em: You don't come barging into my house done up like this and get away without explaining yourself." She caught sight of my mud-splattered shoes and gaped at me. "How did you even get here, anyway? Did you walk all the way here by yourself? After what happened last night?"