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  I can't really describe what I felt when I pulled that sheet of glass out. I will say that it was the most painful thing I have ever done (so far), and the amount of blood that came welling out of the wound was enough to make even me feel like fainting, and blood doesn't normally bother me at all. My first aid kit was nowhere to be found, but my jeans were shredded well enough that I started ripping at them to create strips I could use as a makeshift tourniquet to slow the bleeding. I still wasn't aware of the full extent of my supernatural healing ability, so I was very worried that I was going to bleed to death.

  When I felt like I could move again, I tried to stand up, very slowly. I made it as far as my knees before I needed to stop and catch my breath. That gave me the opportunity to glance over the beam, where I saw Damon. The woman was cradling him in her arms, brushing the hair out of his eyes. It would have been a very touching moment, except for the fact that Damon had about two feet of steel rebar sticking out of his stomach. His eyes were open and glassy, staring at nothing. His chest was not rising.

  I made a pathetic sounding whimpering noise, and started a slow, painful crawl over to where they were. I was already feeling better – my movements were less stiff, and I barely noticed the pain in my side. The woman glanced over at me when she heard the noise, and smiled, looking pleased.

  “Ah, you made it! Excellent. I figured something like this would not be an issue for you, and you did not disappoint me. I am already most pleased with your progress. This young man chooses his friends well. I am afraid I was being terribly rude earlier, not introducing myself. Where are my manners? My name is Jeanette LeCroix. I heard the young man here call you Delaney earlier, is that correct?”

  I stared at her for a moment, while my brain tried to organize my thoughts: we had just been blown up by some crazy men for no reason, I was fairly certain Damon was dead, I was probably going to bleed to death, and this woman wanted to make formal introductions? The problem was, I couldn't really see any reason not to introduce myself. I wasn't going anywhere fast, and the least I could do while I waited for some emergency vehicles to respond to all the noise that alarm was making – not to mention the explosion and subsequent fire...surely someone had noticed this building was burning? – I might as well play nice. She was holding Damon like he was a sleeping child, and it was starting to creep me out, but if she ran off with him, there wasn't much I was going to be able to do about it in my current condition. So I shrugged, then nodded. “Yes, my name is Delaney Jones, and that is Damon Truvenart.”

  She smiled down at Damon. “Damon Truvenart. That is a beautiful name. A strong name. Fitting.” She ran a hand through his hair again, and I continued to creep forward.

  “Is he dead?”

  She nodded at me, smiling pleasantly. “Oh yes, dear. Very much so.”

  I grunted like she had punched me in the stomach. I knew it was likely, but to hear her say it like that, so callously, looking almost pleased about it... I started to get angry.

  She must have seen something in my expression, because she held up a placating hand. “There is no need for you to get upset, dear. If you will allow me, I would be more than happy to ensure that Damon does not remain in this state. This does not have to be his final death, if you do not wish it to be so.”

  Now I was angry, scared and confused. My emotions were all over the place. My best friend was lying dead in a stranger's arms, and this woman was now telling me that he didn't have to stay that way? I think it was at this point that my brain pretty much just shut down.

  Interpreting my silence as agreement, she stood, still cradling Damon in her arms. She pulled a card out from somewhere – with the shreds of her dress remaining, I have no idea where – and handed it to me. “I will take young Damon home with me. This is my card. Call that number once the sun goes down, and a car will be brought around to you. It will then bring you to my home, where you and Damon can be reunited once again. It was a pleasure to meet you, Delaney Jones, and I hope to see you again this evening.” With that, she was gone, leaving me kneeling in the remains of a burning building, holding a plain white card with nothing on it but her name and a number.

  Not wanting to be caught here when the police and fire department showed up (the response time of which left much to be desired, in my opinion) I tried to stand – and found I could do it with ease. I peered down at the gash at my side and discovered it was almost completely closed up; the only evidence it had been there in the first place was the dried blood and the rip in my t-shirt. I had always been a quick healer, but that was with scrapes and small cuts. This was healing on a whole new level.

  I have no idea how I made it back to my dorm. I don't remember walking there. I know that apparently I found my bag, because it was sitting on the foot of my bed when I woke up hours later, in nearly perfect condition. There were a few smudges that could have been dirt or ash, but no other indication that it had been involved in an explosion. I was a completely different story, however, and even though it used to hurt my feelings to have a roommate that didn't want to have anything to do with me, for once I was grateful that she was never in the room, so I wouldn't have any explaining to do. I hadn't bothered to change my clothes before falling into bed, so I found both my clothes and my sheets covered in dried blood and dirt. The entire room reeked of smoke, but I didn't think there was enough air freshener in the world to get rid of it, so I cracked a window and hoped for the best.

  It wasn't until I'd disentangled myself from what was left of my clothes and put a robe on, that I saw the white business card sitting on my desk, and all the events from the previous night came slamming back to me in flashes. I had to check on Damon. I glanced out the window and saw that it was nearly dusk, which meant I must have slept the entire day away. Jeanette told me to call once the sun went down, and I didn't have much time. I was pretty desperate for a shower, so I grabbed a spare change of clothes and a towel. I was about to head for the showers when I noticed the bloody mess sitting on the bed for anyone to see. I shoved my clothes down to the bottom of the hamper, as well as the sheets, and vowed to do the laundry once I checked on Damon.

  I meant to take a quick shower, but it took longer than expected to scrub all the blood off my body and out of my hair. I had no idea where the blood in my hair came from, and it worried me that I didn't notice a head wound. The gash in my side was completely healed, leaving me with just a tiny, barely visible scar. The scar was new – usually my scrapes and cuts healed flawlessly, but I had never wounded myself so terribly before, which I suppose meant that even my body had its limits.

  I threw on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then headed back to my dorm to grab my purse and Jeanette's card. Then I walked to the Commons area, where I knew the closest pay phone was, and dialed the number. It rang once, and then a man's voice came on the line.

  “Yes?”

  “Um, hi. I was told to call this number? I need to see Damon?”

  There was a pause, and then the man said, “Please wait at the curb. A car will arrive shortly.”

  “Uh, which cu-” A click on the line told me that the call was disconnected. I hung up the phone, then headed for the street, with no idea which curb he was talking about. I had barely stepped off the grass of the common area and onto the sidewalk when a long, black limousine pulled up, and a man stepped out. He was dressed in a full tuxedo, complete with tails, and his hands were hidden with black driving gloves. He didn't speak, just opened the door in the back of the limo and stared at me expectantly.

  “This is the car for me? To take me to see Jeanette?” The man just nodded, so I climbed in. The windows were tinted completely black, and the interior was all black leather. I had never been in a limo before, so I wasn't sure what to expect, but this definitely seemed like a nice one. There was a bar, and it was completely stocked (I checked). There was no one else in the limo with me, so as the driver got in and started to drive away, I poured myself a drink.

  The ride took some time, and as I watched the scenery pass by through the window, I realized that Jeanette must live in the really nice part of town. Sure enough, we eventually started passing houses that were three times the size of the house I lived in with my father. Then we started passing houses where the garage was three times the size of my old house, and I knew Jeanette must be loaded.

  We were about fifteen minutes away from my dorm when the driver pulled into the driveway of the largest house I had ever seen. The car passed through huge golden gates, and followed the driveway around a perfectly manicured lawn to park in front of a garage that looked like it was large enough to hold an airplane. The house itself looked from the outside like it was at least three stories, with pretty shutters and flower boxes on the first floor windows. It had a style like something out of the 1950's, and was only missing the white picket fence. I half expected a golden retriever to come trotting around from the backyard. The walkway curved in an S shape up to the door, and was lined on both sides by perfectly pruned rose bushes of all different colors. The doorbell was in the center of a flower decal, and played a little tune when I pressed it, instead of the normal ding dong. The entire situation became incredibly surreal when the door was answered by the scary lady from earlier, and not the 1950's housewife this residence was clearly meant for.

  “Uh, hi, Jeanette?”

  “Jah, darling. It is a soft J, not a hard one. It's French. Delicate, like me.” She swung the door open wide and gestured for me to enter. “Please, do come in. Welcome to my home. It is a pleasure to see you again.”

  Feeling very much like the fly entering the spider's lair, I stepped through the door.

  The inside of the home was even nicer than the outside. The furniture was the kind that looked so expensive I would never feel comfortab
le sitting on it. There were glass vases on pedestals in corners that made me feel clumsy just being near them. The floors were white marble, and shined like they had just been cleaned. I was certain I could have eaten off them, if necessary. I could see stairs to my right, leading upstairs to the second floor, and straight in front of me was a sliding glass door providing a glimpse into the backyard. I could see another building back there, and assumed it was the pool house that went along with the giant pool just outside. Every door was closed, with the exception of the one immediately to my left, which I could see opened up into the kitchen. This is where Jeanette led me.“I am sure you are eager to see your friend, but can I offer you something to drink while we wait?”

  I shook my head. “No, thank you. I would just really like to see Damon, please. Is he okay?”

  She smiled, and the look she gave me was a proud one. “He is perfect. Right now, he is still asleep, but if you would like, we can go downstairs and wait for him to wake.” She moved to a framed picture next to what I thought was the pantry door, and slid aside part of the wall to reveal a panel with numbers on it. She pressed four of the numbers, and there was a beep and a hiss, followed by the door swinging open, revealing a flight of stairs leading down. She gestured to the door. “After you, my dear.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. Yes, I can do that. I practiced in front of a mirror for hours until I could, and it was totally worth it. Awesome talent aside, there was no way I was going to go into that dark basement before she did, and I told her so. “There is no way I'm going into that dark basement, only to have you lock the door behind me and trap me down there.” I crossed my arms and glared at her. Yes, I had come all the way over to this stranger's house, by myself, without telling anyone where I was, but that didn't mean I was going to be tricked into a scary basement. As far as I knew, Damon wasn't even alive, and she was just using my friendship with him to lure me down there. It wasn't going to stop me from doing it; I just wanted to make sure she was down there with me, so she couldn't lock me in.

  She laughed when I told her I wouldn't go down there without her, and then looked surprised when she realized I was serious. “Why, Delaney Jones, what on earth do you think I am going to do to you? I have never known one of your kind to be worried about something as simple as a dark basement.”

  “I'm not worried about the dark basement, I'm worried about having you behind me. I don't even know you; I certainly don't trust you. I'm just here to see Damon. You said he'd be okay, so prove it.”

  Jeanette put a hand over her heart. “You wound me so, Delaney. What have I done to you to earn such distrust?”

  “For one thing, I still haven't seen Damon. You're standing there chatting with me instead of taking me to him, and that makes me think you don't want to go down into that basement any more than I do. Now, are you going to take me to him, or are we going to stand here and talk about it all damn night?” The last part came out in a near growl, and the expression on Jeanette's face became much more serious. Without a word, she stepped into the door and started to descend the steps. I took a moment to compose myself, then stepped down.

  The basement was not at all what I was expecting, and I was starting to feel like dealing with the unexpected was going to be par for the course when it came to Jeanette LeCroix. It was pitch black, with the exception of a few lit candles in sconces along the stone walls. There were two steel doors – one straight ahead and one to the left – and both were shut tight, with similar panels next to each door that looked identical to the one upstairs. To the right was another steel door, but this one was open, and I could see a flickering light coming from the entryway. That was the door Jeanette walked through, so I followed.

  The flickering light turned out to be about a hundred candles, spread out on every available flat surface in the small room. There was a large four poster bed in the corner of the room. Next to it was a nightstand, which was also covered in candles. I had never seen so many candles in my entire life. A plush chair sat next to the bed with a book placed on the seat. The room was cold, but not unpleasantly so, and there were so many candles that it made the room bright, but in a softer, more pleasant way. In the bed, tucked under a large comforter, and looking just as dead as he did the last time I saw him, was Damon.

  Jeanette made her way to the chair, picked up the book, and made herself comfortable. I stood at the foot of the bed, looking at Damon, then Jeanette, then back to Damon again. “He still looks dead. You said you were going to fix him. I assumed that meant you were going to take him to a doctor or something, not tuck him in like a child and watch him lay there all creepy like. He isn't even breathing.” I was starting to get angry. “What is your deal, lady?”

  This time it was Jeanette's turn to raise an eyebrow at me, and I will be damned if she didn't make it look even cooler than I did. “Has anyone ever told you that you have quite the way with words, Delaney?” She put her bookmark into her book with a sigh. “I assure you that he is very much alive. Perhaps not in the sense that you are expecting, but if you will just be patient, you will see that he is still the same Damon, just...different.”

  “What do you mean, not in the sense that I'm expecting? What does that even mean? How can someone be alive in a way different from actually being alive? For crying out loud, you're either alive or you're not!”

  Jeanette just shook her head. “Oh, Delaney. You clearly have a lot to learn.”

  And that was how I discovered that there were vampires in the world. Not only did vampires exist, but Jeanette was definitely one of them, and she had turned Damon into one, as well. Luckily for me, Damon was all right with it, and didn't resent me for essentially giving her permission to turn him. In fact, Damon was thrilled. When he finally did wake up that night, and discovered that he could now move with supernatural speed, fight with supernatural power, was practically impervious to damage – with the ability to heal himself if he did manage to take damage – and was gifted with supernatural senses on top of all that, he couldn't have been happier. Sure, there was the whole blood drinking thing, but he got to live forever.

  Unfortunately, Jeanette wasn't the world's greatest teacher, and most of the perks of being a vampire had to be self taught, which meant there was a lot of trial and error that first night. The funniest thing during the whole evening was when he couldn't get his fangs to come out. Trying to convince me that he was, in fact, a vampire, he decided to scare me with his fangs. Only, when he opened his mouth and hissed, nothing happened. He looked ridiculous, and the only thing that kept me from laughing in his face was his dejected look. He did eventually get the hang of it, but I will never forget that first time.

  As I said, Jeanette was not very good at being a mentor. To be honest, she was awful at it. It was incredibly frustrating for Damon, because Jeanette was the only other vampire he knew, so any knowledge he had about them had to come from her, and she was not at all forthcoming. Every time Damon would ask a question, she would either change the subject, or outright refuse to answer him at all. She didn't really seem very much like a vampire for the most part. My only real guide to vampires was everything Bram Stoker had provided about Dracula, so I was expecting dark dungeons in the basement, a long cape for her to creepily hide her face behind, and a lot of fang flashing, hissing, and blood. At the very least, a Transylvanian accent and cheesy one-liners.

  She made it very easy to forget that she was a predator, but I remembered that feeling she gave me when she looked at me as if I were prey. I would never forget. I kept expecting that side of her to slip out, but instead, we had a high fashion, classy woman from France that seemingly worried about nothing more important than whether or not there were stains on the fancy couches, or if her shoes were in season. She was a woman who was used to getting her way, and if things weren't going her way, then she would either force it to go her way, or she would ignore it.