

Cornered Magic

By Charissa Dufour

© 2014 by Charissa Dufour

All rights reserved.

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# Chapter One

Sam slowly opened her bedroom door, pausing to listen for any signs of life within her family's tiny apartment. By mostly-mutual consent, the family avoided contact with her, and she them. They left for their work in the Reservation before she left her room, and any time they had to be in the apartment with her she stayed in her room.

As a Void, Sam couldn't expect any better.

Voids were a rare nuisance to the fae community, even now that they were forced to live within the tall walls of the Reservations dotted throughout the United States, like all the other mystical entities. While other fae had a certain power or gifting, a Void had nothing but the ability to drain another mystic of their power and therefore, no one, even her family, want to be near her.

Sam scratched at her tattoo. It always itched when she thought about her gift. The tattoo, along with the power of the mage who had crafted it, helped Sam control her powers. She had gotten the tattoo at the young age of thirteen, but it was too little and too late. The work of her gift had already ostracized her within the mystical community. She was alone—except for her two friends, the only people to look past what she could not always control.

Trying hard not to think about her life, Sam scarfed down a bowl of stale cereal, washed her dishes, and left the apartment.

The Gollet family lived in what had originally been built as a parking garage. When it became illegal for mystics to live outside the Reservations in the year 2000, the population skyrocketed, and the garage had been retrofitted to house the increasing population. Even now, thirty-one years later, Sam could smell the leaked oil which still stained the concrete. Each floor was designed with a central courtyard surrounded by tiny apartments.

Sam shut the door to her family's home and turned, stopping in her tracks. Lee Rose stood in the courtyard, his brown eyes trained on her. Sam took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down.

Though the population of the Illinois Reservation was too large for Sam to know everyone, everyone knew Lee Rose, the top enforcer for the leader of the vampire community.

While most vampires appeared somewhat stuck in the era they had been turned, Lee was pure American emo band guitarist. His layered hair was streaked with highlights and his slim figure was clad in a tight-fitting black button-up shirt, the collar stylishly popped.

Despite his chosen style of dress, Sam knew he was one of the most dangerous mystics in the Res.

Sam chose to ignore him, hoping he would do the same. She had no idea what he was doing in a housing complex that was not his own while the sun streamed down outside. If she could just make it to the spiral driveways attached to the corners of the parking garage, she would be safe.

"Sa-am," Lee called before she could take more than a few steps, drawing her name out into two syllables.

She stopped and turned to look at him. It didn't surprise her that he knew her name. As the only Void in this Res, even the toddlers knew who she was. Of course, her looks didn't help her quest for anonymity. Unlike most fae, Sam didn't look entirely human. Her hair was white, not blonde but white, and her eyes—while slightly shaped like the human Asian population—were nearly as devoid of color as her hair. The effect had always unnerved the humans she met through her touring duties.

"Yes, Lee," she said softly, not wanting the other fae on her level to overhear her talking with a vampire—an action that would only further ostracize her from her people.

"You're a Void, right?" he asked, matching her pitch as he crossed the courtyard, dodging the various children's toys left out.

Sam rolled her eyes in an effort to hide her fear. She didn't like his proximity.

"Everyone knows that," she said when she realized he was still waiting for a response.

"And you can take power from others?"

Tired of being afraid, Sam decided to be angry instead.

"Would you like a demonstration?" she asked as her power rose to the surface.

Her tattoo itched again and Sam fought to keep her powers in check. If she wasn't in constant control she could drain Lee until he passed out. While tempting, it wouldn't do any good in restoring her in the eyes of her family or her people.

Lee's smiled, his eyes remaining dark and threatening. The combination brought Sam's heartbeat back into triple digits. In an effort to hide her fear, she leaned toward the vampire, allowing her power to taste his strength.

Taking a vampire's mystical speed and strength always left her hungry and angry. Each type of mystic had a different effect on her. Werewolves left her edgy and hyperactive. A fae's power, while giving her their gift, left her feeling sick, as though her body fought against the idea of her attacking one of her own. A mage... well, that was a whole different story. Beyond the differences between each species of mystics, each individual had their own taste. While she might forget someone's face or name, she never forgot their power-flavor.

Lee's power seemed to feed her anger, as though he was angry now as he confronted her in her own home.

She watched with satisfaction as his shoulders drooped and he eyes fluttered shut for a second. He was feeling the effects of her theft and, to her disgust, she enjoyed his weakness.

Lee opened his eyes, his smile vanishing as he realized what was happening to him.

"Point taken," he replied. "And here I thought you had to touch the victim."

Sam cringed inwardly. She didn't like to hear the word "victim" in association to what she had done, not that she could argue with it. It was accurate.

"Touching them allows me to take more faster. Why are you asking?"

Lee's smile reappeared, his eyes glowing. "I have a favor to ask of you."

Sam rolled her eyes. Like she would be doing the vampires any favors. "I don't have time for this. I have to get to work."

"Oh, yes. You give tours for the executives and rich tourists that come barging into our homes."

Sam wasn't stupid. She heard the threat in his voice. Most of the mystics didn't like to see humans prowling around their home, such as it was. Sam argued they would get a tour whether she did it or not. At least this way she brought in a few extra tokens to help support her family. Tokens were how the U.S. government controlled the economy within the Res. Of course, they had no control over the free trading taking place between the families.

"I do as I'm told," she replied. "Now, if you will excuse me."

Sam turned to slip past him when she felt his hand grasp her arm. She looked down at his hand, which squeezed into the leather of her jacket.

Again she worked to control her powers. The contact between them only made her want more. Power and strength were addictive, and if she wasn't careful she would become what all the mystics feared—an out of control Void.

Still, she needed to show him she wasn't willing to be pushed around. Sam carefully released her hold over her gift, allowing Lee's power to leak into her, coating her skin and making the hair on the back of her neck stand to attention.

Lee's grip loosened.

Sam jerked her arm free and marched away. As she reached the spiral driveway that led down to the lower levels of the parking garage she glanced back, happy to see Lee leaning against the wall.

"Don't think it's that easy," she heard him say as she started her way downward.

Sam began to fret as she walked past the various pots of growing vegetables. The fae who lived in the parking garage used the spiral driveways to hold their potted gardens. Her own mother, Miranda, grew a tomato plant and a precious cucumber plant. The family seldom enjoyed the cucumbers she grew. They were too valuable in the realm of trading.

A few of the local women were out watering their plants. They skirted to the sides, giving Sam a wide berth.

To Sam's astonishment, she found her mother standing at the base of the spiral. Sam frowned down at her.

Over the hundreds of generations since the fae had come to the human realm the fae bloodline had been diluted as the fae married humans. With the industrial revolution, the fae had lost most of their power and their ability to conceive. The result was even more marriages between humans and the fae to continue the race. Still, there were a few full-blooded fae left, and Sam's parents were among them.

Despite this honor, Sam had somehow come out as a half-fae. Though her parents insisted it was a fluke—the result of previous generations diluting the gene pool—but Sam thought otherwise. Sam simply couldn't shake the notion that her mother had had an affair twenty years ago. Her father's obvious dislike of her gave the theory further support.

"Mom," she said as she moved to pass her mother.

"Sam, can we talk?"

"What's up?" Sam asked, trying to shake off her recent encounter with Lee.

"Well, I just wondered how things were going with Chad?"

Sam frowned. Her mother had stayed behind to ask her how her dating life was going?

"Fine," Sam replied, sounding suspicious even to her own ears.

"Think you two'll get married?"

Sam felt her brows come down into a deeper frown. "What? I don't know, Mom."

Her mother scratched the back of her neck. "I just thought... you might be happier in your own home."

Sam ground her teeth together. She knew what her mom really wanted. She wanted her Void of a daughter out of her house. Within the Reservation, a person didn't get their own apartment until they were married, no matter how old they were. Sam's brother was still living at home at the age of twenty-nine.

"Sorry my presence bothers you so much," she said as she tried to start walking again.

Her mother's hand snaked out and caught Sam's leather coat, right where Lee had just grabbed her. "That's not what I mean. Please know what I'm about to say is not meant in hatred. I love you, Samantha. I do, and therefore I want what is best for you. But the fact is you are a Void, and most mystics don't like to be around you."

Sam ground her teeth together again, her jaw aching with the pressure.

"And yet you have found a man who wants to date you. A man who is well connected, who has surprisingly good jobs. You're not going to get a better offer. And if you got married, you could move out... away from your father."

Sam stopped gnawing on her own teeth to stare at her mother. Miranda had never spoken against her husband before. In fact, in all the times her father Dave had verbally abused Sam her mother had remained silent.

"Just think about it, Samantha," her mother said as she released her daughter's arm.

Before either of them could say anything, her father appeared.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"Just talking," her mother said calmly.

Her father's eyes narrowed as he looked down at his wife. "What could you have to talk about?"

"Can't I give her a bit o' advice?" her mother asked.

"Guess so. After all, she is _your_ daughter," murmured Dave before taking his wife's wrist. "We need to get to work. When'll you be home, girl?"

Sam swallowed the lump in her throat. After all these years, her father's habits shouldn't have bothered her, but they did.

"I have a tour for the admin this morning. After that, I'm going to see Amber."

Her father nodded. "Fine. We'll see you after dinner."

It wasn't a reminder to be home before dinner. Her father's statement was a reminder to stay away until the family had finished their meal. Sam used her best poker face and nodded in return. Dave tugged on his wife's arm, leading her away from their daughter.

Sam rubbed her thumb against the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the tension forming. Today had been a perfect repeat of a conversation she had had with her father a hundred times. Why, then, was she so upset?

Sam tried to shake off her emotions and turned toward the street. At this rate, she was going to be late for her tour.

She had barely made it onto the street before someone else called to her. Sam turned to see her best friend, Amber, waving. She stopped to let the shorter-legged woman catch up.

"Good morning," Amber said brightly.

"Morning."

Despite Sam's efforts, Amber liked almost everyone. As an empath she felt their emotions, giving her a glimpse into the various things people tried to keep to themselves. When someone was mean, she felt the pain of past experience. When someone was rude, she felt their need to defend themselves from future hurt. In nearly every way possible, Amber was the exact opposite from her friend.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" asked Amber before laughing at her own joke.

"Nothing," Sam grumbled.

"You giving a tour today too?"

"Yep."

"Umm... when you're done, would you go with me to Becky's?"

Sam rolled her eyes. She wasn't in the mood to wander into vampire territory, especially after her confrontation with Lee. As an adult without parents, Becky lived in the tiny studio apartments that had been built in the streets of the only neighborhood with actual houses. The studio apartments were reserved for anyone who was single. This meant a lot of vampires lived in Becky's neighborhood—for some reason, vampires tended not to get married.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"I haven't seen her in days. We were supposed to meet up yesterday, but she never showed."

Sam sighed, her head bobbing up and down on its own accord.

She hadn't even made it to work and her day was already falling apart. What else could go wrong?

"Thanks," Amber said brightly, most likely in an effort to drag her friend out of the dumps.

As an empath, Amber always knew when Sam was grumpy—which was often—and most of the time her friend's efforts only made her grumpier. Still, Amber was one of the few people who actually trusted Sam to not drain her of power.

Amber gave Sam's shoulder a pat before wandering away.

Sam continued down the packed street toward the small, two-story brick building placed beside the main entrance to the Res.

The Res had originally been designed for car traffic, with six one-way streets—hence the parking garage—but when the population increased cars were forbidden. Now the narrow streets had barely enough space for the abundance of foot traffic.

Amber pushed her way through the crowd, making it halfway to the administration building before someone else called to her.

For someone who generally found herself alone and avoided, Sam was perplexed by her sudden popularity.

"Sam!" the voice called again.

She recognized the voice, but after her mother's suggestion, she didn't much feel like meeting with her boyfriend. She liked Chad, she really did—or at least that's what she told herself—but there was just something missing. She couldn't say what precisely, but something about him was lacking.

Though she couldn't put it into words, she wanted a man, and Chad was still a youth in so many ways. He played practical jokes and flirted with anything female. Sam didn't care about his flirting. She didn't see it as a form of infidelity, but rather as a sign of his adolescence.

While life inside the Reservation was not a life of luxury it was comparatively safe. The Federal Mystics Bureau policed the small space. Like herself, up until Lee confronted her, Chad had never experienced a moment of true danger, and it showed in the way he ran around the Res trading tokens for better-looking clothing.

The fact was, the Res didn't breed men. Instead, it bred pathetic boys who stooped before those who confined them to this small slice of hell.

Slowly, Sam realized her disgust was less concerning Chad and more relating to her people's current situation. "Current situation" implied that it might change soon, but the mystics had been forced to live within the Res for over thirty-one years.

"Hey, beautiful," Chad said as he reached her side, draping his arm over her shoulder, effectively pulling her from her frustrating thoughts.

Sam forced a smile to her lips as he gave her a gentle peck on the cheek.

"How are you?" he asked when she didn't say anything.

"Fine."

Chad's smile didn't waver. Either he wasn't very good at reading her bad moods, or he was so used to her being in a bad mood that he just ignored it.

"You have a tour?"

Sam nodded.

"Can I see you after?"

"I have to take Amber to visit Becky's apartment."

Chad's arm stiffened against her shoulders. "I don't like you going into that neighborhood."

"Good thing it's not up to you, then," she replied as she shrugged out from under his arm.

Chad was silent for a few minutes as they continued down the crowded street, weaving past children running to the school, women working to get to the courtyard where people set up stalls for trading, and other adults working to get to their jobs before the gong sounded.

"Sam, I don't want you going into vamp territory."

"And I already said it's not up to you," Sam said, not even turning to look at him.

"And when we're married? Will you defy me then?"

Sam stopped in her tracks. Was her mom conspiring with Chad?

"Who said anything about getting married?"

"I'm not saying let's go get married tonight. But surely we will eventually."

"Right," Sam sighed, her sarcasm coming out despite her best efforts. "Real romantic, Chad."

"Look, we need to figure this out. This is important."

"There's nothing to figure out."

Sam realized he was right, but she was in no mood to debate women's rights with him. Just as he opened his mouth to retort, they reached the admin building. Outside the building, a large, sleek, black sedan sat, its engine ticking cool.

Both Sam and Chad skirted around it to reach the steps and jogged up to the door. Chad opened the door for her, allowing her to enter first.

"Love you," he said, preparing to leave her.

Sam did her best to ignore the puppy-dog expression on his face.

"You too," she replied, unable to stomach the four letter word.

Sam turned away from her frowning boyfriend to find herself under the scrutiny of the admin secretary, the Res' human governor, and three strange men. The human secretary only had eyes for her computer screen, in contrast with the men who openly stared at Sam. While the governor, Mr. Tibbs, was glowering at her with his usual disdain, the other three were eyeing her as though her exchange with Chad had amused them.

"Miss Gollet, nice of you to join us," said Mr. Tibbs.

Sam forced a polite smile to her lips, even though she knew the governor was taunting her. Like the other mystics under his control, Sam disliked Tibbs. He presented himself as their best friend, their greatest advocate, then took bribes from politicians, resulting in a reduction in funds sent to the Reservation.

"May I introduce you to Mr. Sterling? He is the CEO of Michigan Plastics. He's here to look into replacing some of our iron structures with plastic to better improve the fae's health."

Sam nodded, willing her poker face into place. It wouldn't help her to reveal how little she trusted Tibbs' statement.

"As a fae," he continued, "I thought you would be best to show them around the Reservation, telling them when you feel the effects of the iron."

Sam bit down on her tongue. She couldn't tell him how little she believed him. Tibbs had made promises time and again without actually following through. The entire Res population didn't trust him.

"And these are his two assistants: Mr. Martinez and Mr. Hunt," Tibbs said, motioning to the two men standing behind the CEO.

Sam froze, quickly averting her eyes from Mr. Hunt. As she looked on his tall, lean figure, she realized she was not the only mystic in the room. She could feel Hunt's power caressing her skin. It called to her gift, begging her to taste his power. It tickled and enticed her all at the same time. Sam took a deep breath, drilling her well-trained focus into her tattoo, etching its shape in her mind as the magic of the tattoo worked in her, shutting down her gift. Sam might have thought it was the power of an untrained mage, a man who didn't even realize he was a mystic, except the power had the taste of experience and training. He was not a novice.

Hunt was a master of masters.

# Chapter Two

"Is there something wrong, Miss Gollet?" asked Tibbs.

"No," she replied too quickly. Sam swallowed the lump in her throat. "Shall we leave, gentlemen?"

A piece of her wanted to out the mage, revealing his secret to the FMB, but she had no reason to do such a horrible thing. What had he done to deserve her fate—trapped in an iron and concrete box?

Mr. Sterling smiled, his large teeth showing white past his lips. Though Sam could tell he was a man full of indulgences, he was also a man who would look good in a magazine. Sam fumbled with her snug leather jacket, zipping it up as she led them out of the admin building. She hadn't exactly dressed for a pricey executive. She was wearing dark-wash jeans tucked into scuffed lace-up boots and her favorite t-shirt. It said, "Free Bates" with a pudgy man's face plastered across the front. She didn't know who Bates was or why he needed freeing, but she could relate.

Usually, Sam didn't worry about her attire, but if Sterling could exchange plastic for iron within the Res then she needed to do her best to make that happen. Outside the brick building, they came to a stop. Sam glanced around, wondering what to show them first.

They had a planned tour route for the basic tourist, but she knew today called for something more. Sam found herself rubbing her forehead again. A headache was forming just behind her eyes. If her morning was anything to go by, she had her work cut out for her to make this tour worthwhile. At her current rate, she half expected one of the fashionable men to get turned into a werewolf while in her care.

Sam cleared her throat. "I have a normal tour route that we use for tourists and the like, but perhaps there is something specific you would like to see?"

"That's very kind of you, Miss Gollet," replied Sterling.

"Please, call me Sam," she said, forcing herself to act politely toward the human.

"I take it that's short for something."

"Samantha."

"What a lovely name! It's a pleasure to meet you, Samantha," Sterling said, holding out his hand.

Sam hadn't met many humans, but what few she had never offered her their hand. She was too alien for most humans to trust. She reached out tentatively, allowing him to close the distance and grip her hand in a firm shake.

"And what sort of faerie are you?" he asked.

Sam tried to keep her expression neutral. She knew he didn't mean to be offensive. His expression was open and inviting. He simply wanted to learn about her world. She just didn't much like sharing it with outsiders. The humans had trapped them in the Reservation, and now they wanted to study the mystics as though they were lab rats.

"I'm of the Harcos Clan. I'm a Void."

"Forgive me, but what exactly is a Void?"

Despite her efforts, Sam began to grind her teeth together. "A Void has no magic of their own. They can only drain others of their magic."

"I see. And are there a lot of Voids in the Illinois Reservation?"

Sam swallowed the new lump in her throat. "I'm the only one. There is a list of all registered fae, which is available upon request."

She hoped this last statement would end his catalog of questions.

"What would you like to see first?" she asked, trying to direct them back to their tour.

"What has the most iron in the Reservation?"

"The shipyard. This way," she said, motioning for them to head south toward the river.

They walked in silence for a few minutes until the other assistant, Martinez, spoke up.

"Are you still in school?"

Sam struggled not to laugh. "No. We stop going to school at age fifteen."

"What do you do after school?"

"We work."

"And you give tours?" asked the inquisitive young man.

"I also work for Organic Diapers."

"And what do you do there?"

"I clean cloth diapers... by hand."

The men were silent for a moment, no doubt imagining her daily tasks. Before any of them could think up another list of questions, they came into view of the shipyard. Sam stopped, keeping her distance from the iron framework.

"If I'm not mistaken, you ship out what you produce via the shipyard?" asked Sterling.

"Yes, and we receive our monthly food supply through it. The vampires work the night shift and the werewolves work the day shifts, with the occasional mage for help."

"No fae?" asked Martinez.

Only through sheer force of will was Sam able to keep her eyes off the secret mage. She wanted to know what he thought of his fellow assistant and his ridiculous questions.

Once again her magic awoke, pressing against her defenses. It wanted to taste the mage, to know him and his powers. Sam focused on her tattoo for the third time that morning, working to maintain control.

"No. The shipyard's crane and infrastructure are made of iron."

"And what precisely does that do to you?" Martinez asked, his eyes aglow with sadistic pleasure.

"Enough," ordered Sterling.

With the swift injunction, Sterling marched to the shipyard, entering the maze of small, metal shipping crates. Sam forced her feet to move forward, knowing full well what to expect. She followed them into the maze, barely able to keep up.

Her skin crawled, the sensation swiftly shifting to pain the longer she stayed within reach of the crates. Without thinking about it, she glanced up at Hunt. His dark eyes were on her, tracking a bead of sweat rolling down her temple. Sam jerked her eyes off of him. He held too much temptation for her, and she was slowly realizing it wasn't just his powers she wanted.

Mr. Hunt was not like the other two men, and not just because he was a mage. While he wore a suit made by the same high-priced tailor as the others, subtle signs suggested he did not live a pampered life. His large hands were calloused, and small scars enhanced his attractive face on his lower lip and his left eyebrow. The knuckles on his right hand looked to be healing, as though he had recently punched something harder than his own fist. Whatever Hunt did for Mr. Sterling, Sam was sure it wasn't in the financial department.

"Take from me," he said, interrupting her thoughts.

Sam glared up at him.

"Take my power. You're in pain."

She rolled her eyes and marched forward. He may be a powerful mage, but he was clearly also an idiot. If she started taking his powers, as weak as she was, she wouldn't stop until she had drained him. Though she had never done it, Sam had heard of Voids killing mystics by draining them of all their magic. Either Mr. Hunt thought a lot of himself and his ability to stop her, or he thought a lot of her and her ability to control her gift. Either way, he was wrong.

Sam walked away, following the humans until they made it through the maze of crates and stood gazing at the enormous crane, currently lifting crates onto a flat river boat. Sam spotted a row of heavy-duty plastic barrels. Slowly, she shifted to them and leaned against one. Despite her efforts, Hunt followed her movements, shifting his feet to keep her within his line of sight. She didn't like the protective look in his eyes.

Sam wasn't used to someone looking out for her well-being. Even her best friends, Amber and Carl, knew better than to try.

Sterling and Martinez continued to gaze over the shipyard for a number of minutes before finally turning back to look at her.

"What does all this iron do to you?" asked Sterling with only the barest glimpse of compassion for her suffering.

"It weakens me," Sam whispered just loud enough for him to hear her. "It hurts."

Sterling looked to Hunt, as though silently asking for more information. "Iron is poison to a fae. Just like Dart Frog venom or cobra's venom. The longer a fae stays near iron the weaker they get."

"Yes, I know all that, Roman," snapped Sterling.

Strangely, the executive balked at his own statement before swallowing a lump from his throat as though he thought Hunt might retaliate. Whatever their relationship, Sterling knew Hunt was a mage.

Annoyed at their scholarly discussion of her agony, Sam pushed herself to her feet and stomped over to the nearest metal crate. She didn't hesitate before firmly pressing her hand against the iron. The air snapped and sizzled, as though a lightning storm was brewing within their midst. Sterling and Martinez covered their noses as the cloying smell of burning flesh filled the air, while Hunt glared at her as if he were angry.

When Sam couldn't take the pain anymore, she peeled her hand away from the iron and presented it to Sterling, absently noticing that a thick layer of skin remained on the crate in the perfect shape of her small hand.

"This is what iron does to us!" she snapped, only half aware of how stupid she was being.

If Sterling complained to Tibbs, Sam would lose her job, and might even be put into solitary confinement as punishment. Sam bit down on her tongue, willing herself to not say anything else that might offend him.

"I see," Sterling said, his eyes flicking from her to his two assistants.

"Shall we continue the tour?" asked Hunt.

Sterling nodded, shaken by Sam's display.

Sam stumbled back into the maze of crates. She felt Hunt's hand grip her elbow, his touch sending shocks of pleasure and desire through her body, masking the agony she felt in her hand. When they reached the clear street, Sam jerked her arm free. If he kept touching her she was going to do something even more idiotic than pressing her bare hand against an iron crate—like drain him or kiss him.

# Chapter Three

Sam returned the three men to the administration building just in time for their meeting with a few government officials. This time, Sterling didn't offer to shake her hand. Hunt eyed her for a moment before turning away and following his boss into the conference room. Before Tibbs could question her, Sam ducked out of the building and hurried down the street.

A few minutes later, Sam knocked on Amber's door, her injured hand tucked against her chest.

"Ready?" she asked, not feeling up to parsing pleasantries when Amber opened the door.

Amber frowned at her. Amber was used to her surliness, but this was a stretch, even for Sam.

"Everything okay?"

"Rough tour."

Amber's eyes flickered down to the hand Sam held against her chest. "They hurt you?"

"Not precisely."

Sam watched as Amber ground her teeth together, no doubt feeling Sam's emotions. Slowly, Amber nodded. She grabbed her own jacket and closed the door. Amber lived in the same parking garage housing complex as Sam, one floor up. Though Sam would never admit to it, the notoriety Amber suffered for being her friend broke her heart. Amber and Carl shouldn't have to pay just because they were nice to her, but they did and did it willingly.

The children playing in the courtyard gave them a wide berth as they made their way to the spiral driveway.

"You sure Becky's missing?" Sam asked as they reached the ground.

"Yes. I've asked around. No one's seen her in at least two days."

"In that case, we need to go to the Feds."

Amber's face melted into a look of rebellion. She may have loved everyone, but the officers of the Federal Mystics Bureau didn't count according to her code. Then again, Sam didn't know any mystic who liked the Bureau.

"Amber, you don't have to come."

Despite the two years since the attack, Amber still couldn't face the uniformed officers with any ease, and Sam didn't fault her for it. In truth, Sam knew Amber's perpetual friendliness was in direct response to the horrors of her past. The officer in question had not actually managed to rape her, but her boyfriend had spent six months in solitary confinement and had been transferred to the Florida Reservation as a result of his interference. The Bureau didn't see it as a man saving his girlfriend from a revolting act, but rather as a mystic attacking a federal officer.

"I'll come," Amber finally said, forcing a smile to her face.

Sam gripped Amber's shoulder with her good hand. "You sure?"

"Can't be afraid my whole life."

Sam shrugged. "I plan to be," she mumbled under her breath as she turned to walk back to the admin building.

Together they walked into the administration building, standing in the same foyer where Sam had met Hunt and the others. Amber stepped forward and asked the receptionist if they could speak with the captain in charge for the day. While Amber spoke, Sam tried and failed to keep her eyes off the door leading to the conference room.

It was a glass door, with blinds pulled up. From where she stood, she could easily spot Roman Hunt standing behind Sterling's chair. Sterling was talking, gesturing emphatically. Sam watched the executive talk, unaware that Hunt had spotted her. Her eyes flickered up, catching his gaze. To her annoyance, he glanced at her hand, still pressed protectively against her chest.

Sam turned away, hiding her injury from him, just as the Duty Captain emerged from the hallway that led back into the bowels of the building.

Despite her efforts, Sam cringed at the sight of the human sauntering up to them. Captain Reynolds had been the bane of her existence since the first time Sam was put into Solitary. She didn't know what had caused the man to hate her so much, but after a number of confrontations, the feeling was mutual.

"What?" he asked, none too kindly.

Amber swallowed. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but a friend of ours has gone missing."

"Friend gotta name?"

"Becky Stirgus."

The man rolled his eyes down to the computer and punched a few buttons. Neither Sam nor Amber knew what he was doing. It was illegal for mystics to own any technology fancier than a tape player. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean a few mystics didn't own computers with connections to the internet. Sam didn't understand any of it but Carl did.

"Well, there aren't any incident reports concerning her."

"But we can't find her anywhere," said Amber, fluttering her eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent.

Sam tried not to roll her own eyes at Amber's efforts.

"Sure she ain't visiting her boyfriend or something? Spending a few days in the sack?" asked the captain, obviously thinking all mystics were enormous sluts.

"Are you sugges..." began Sam before Amber smacked her on the arm.

"We'll just keep looking," Amber said over the top of Sam's grunt.

"You just do that," said Reynolds before patting the secretary on the shoulder and turning away; he disappeared into the hallway before Amber and Sam could leave.

They reached the street, no closer to finding Becky.

"Guess it's time to go to her house," Sam said.

Within minutes they entered the little neighborhood, once designed to be like a regular housing community. When the Reservation had first been built the designers had put in the neighborhood, trying to give the inmates more of a human experience. The neighborhood consisted of a one-way loop surrounded by row housing. The houses had since been divided up into single-story apartments. In recent years, to keep up with a major increase in tenants, the government had brought in plastic crates and turned them into studio apartments for the single residents of the Reservation. These crate-apartments were put in the streets, leaving only the cracking sidewalks for foot traffic.

Sam and Becky entered the dark, narrow pathway, keeping their pace up as they scurried past two werewolves lounging against their front doors and chatting. The two men chuckled as they passed, one even letting out a wolf-like howl of appreciation.

For the billionth time that day, Sam felt the urge to release her gift. She was tired and tired of being used, and the day was only half over. Sam focused on the pain in her burned hand in an effort to ward off the temptation beating through her veins. Just a small taste of the wolf and you'll be strong, whispered her gift as though it were alive.

Thankfully, Amber kept their pace up and they quickly passed the werewolves. They reached the eastern end of the neighborhood and climbed the steep steps up to Becky's second-story crate. Amber knocked on the door and waited. Knocked again and waited some more.

"Carl?" suggested Amber.

Sam nodded. They made their way back through the neighborhood and out onto the main street. Carl was one of the unlucky fae who lived in the complex nearest the shipyard and all its iron. Sam didn't feel much like approaching the iron again, but she didn't have a choice.

"You gonna tell me what happened to your hand?" Amber asked as they neared the southern-most complex.

"Long story. It's fine."

Sam could practically hear Amber roll her eyes as they entered the complex.

Like most housing complexes in the Reservation, Carl's was designed to use as little electricity as possible. It was laid out with a minuscule courtyard in its center with balconies wrapping around it on the second and third levels. This tiny courtyard allowed the apartments to have exterior walls—and therefore windows—on two ends. The natural light provided by the windows, theoretically, meant the inhabitants didn't need to turn on their lights as much. This theory took such hold in the collective heads of the FMB that apartments were now limited on the power allowed per month. Most inhabitants had learned to restrict their uses of electricity for basic necessities like cooking.

Carl opened the door, a wide grin already plastering his face. Carl was the sort of young man for which one immediately wanted to make a sandwich. From head to toe, he was nothing but skin, bones, and heart. He took a step back to allow them entrance, tripping over his own feet in the process.

Amber smiled at him cheerfully and Sam did her best to copy the expression. They followed Carl back to his closet-sized room. The room fit his twin-sized bed, a narrow dresser, and a small desk with his smuggled computer. Beyond that, there was about a one-foot-by-two-foot swath of empty floor. Amber moved straight to his bed, sitting on the edge, to make space for the rest of us. Carl took up his seat at his desk while Sam leaned against the closed door.

"Did you guys go?" asked Carl, clearly aware of Becky's disappearance.

"Went to the feds. No help. Went to her apartment. She didn't answer," replied Sam.

"Carl, could you do some computer snooping?" asked Amber, waving her hand at Carl's fancy box.

The thin man hesitated a second before turning in his chair and powering up the computer, his gift surging forth to power the technology. Carl's gift—creating electricity—was a major contributor to his interest in technology and his ability to pursue it. Without his gift, he and his mother would never have been allotted enough electricity for him to use a computer.

"I'm not sure what I can do, but I'll try."

Sam moved to sit beside Amber as Carl began typing. Neither of them knew the first thing about human technology and computers. The screen changed a few times, sometimes with nothing but words, other times with pictures of strange people and places. The girls kept quiet as he worked.

Fifteen minutes later he turned and shook his head.

"I checked the news sources. Nothing. No stories about a fae dying or escaping the Res."

"What about the feds thingy?" Sam asked.

"The fed's program?" Carl replied.

Sam shrugged. "Sure. That thing."

Carl chewed on his lips. "I can try to hack into their network. Maybe they're holding her in Solitary."

"Why wouldn't they just tell us that?" countered Amber. "They usually sing that from the rooftops. They want us to know each time they put someone into solitary confinement. They want us to know what the punishment is for whatever."

Sam and Carl nodded in response.

"I don't know what else to do," replied Sam. "Carl, can you try?"

He hesitated again before turning back to his computer. "This is gonna take a few hours at the least," he said over his shoulder."

"I've got nowhere to go," Sam said as she pushed herself back onto the bed so that she could lean against the wall.

Amber copied her and settled in to wait.

Finally, when Amber had given up on getting Sam to tell her what Chad lacked as a boyfriend, Carl announced he was "in"—whatever that meant. He made a few more clicks on the keyboard.

"All right. They have a file on Becky." He whistled. "Pretty big one. They keep track of every time she's had an encounter with the feds."

"Such as?"

"Six months ago she did a stint of two weeks in Solitary for possession of drugs. Another visit to Solitary after an altercation with a vampire... Lee Rose."

Sam felt her stomach clench in fear. Lee. Why was he constantly crossing her path?

"They dated," explained Amber. "Thought Becky had ended that."

"Another warning when seen talking with Joe Matsen again."

"And I thought she was off the drugs," said Amber.

Sam rolled her eyes. They were putting a lot of effort into finding a vampire-dating, drug-smoking woman.

"When was that visit to Solitary?" asked Sam

Carl clicked something and read, "Less than a month ago."

Amber and Sam cringed in unison. At the sound of the front door opening, Carl quickly exited the feds' network.

"Guess we need to go talk to the druggie," said Sam.

"Tomorrow. My parents will be looking for me," said Amber, her eyes flicking to Sam's hand.

Sam knew she wanted her to go to one of the healers, but Sam wasn't about to explain her injury to anyone, especially a judgey fae who despised her for her gift.

"Good idea," said Sam before climbing to her feet.

Sam and Amber exited Carl's room, their friend right behind them. Carl's mother was still stripping out of her jacket when they passed her to leave.

"See ya, Carl," Amber said for the both of them before they slipped out.

They reached the street and headed north up to their own complex. As they passed the administration building, Sam heard her name being called. Though she had barely spoken to him, she recognized his rich voice.

Sam turned to see Mr. Hunt jogging down the steps of the admin building to catch her.

He glanced at Amber before he looked at Sam's hand.

"Amber, this is Mr. Hunt. He was on my tour today. Mr. Hunt, this is Amber."

"Pleasure to meet you," he said.

Amber smiled up at him, obviously seeing the same man Sam felt drawn to.

"Would you mind giving us a moment?" he asked, giving her a winning smile, his white teeth standing out against his dusky skin.

"I need to—uh, get home... anyway," she said before slipping into the fading light.

Sam stared at Hunt for a moment, unsure what he wanted with her. She refused to feel his draw or the longing of her gift. Sam set her face into a glower before looking up at him again.

Her glare brought a smile to his lips. "Did you get your hand checked?"

"What's it to you?"

"Just concerned," he said, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender.

Sam didn't respond. She was struggling against the pull of her gift. Her tattoo began to itch as she worked to pour her focus into the design on her chest. The more she interacted with this strange man the more she felt her tattoo was not sufficient protection from the damage she could do.

"Why didn't you take the power I offered you?"

Sam felt her own glare darken. Couldn't he leave her alone?

"I'm no thief," she snapped.

This too made him smile.

"Is it stealing when it's offered to you? You know what I am?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't tell the FMB."

"No," Sam said unnecessarily.

"Why?"

"None of my business."

To her increasing frustration, he smiled again. Sam wasn't sure if her frustration was to do with his annoying tendency of smiling at everything she said or her growing desire to kiss that smile away. She licked her lips, almost expecting her desires to take over.

Hunt nodded. "I'm Roman," he said introducing himself formally.

Sam didn't take his offered hand. She couldn't control her gift, or her hormones, if she touched him. What was wrong with her?

"Sam," she said, not looking down at the proffered hand.

Slowly, he lowered the hand, a new smile forming on his lips.

"You should have taken my offer."

"Why does it matter?"

Roman shrugged. "Guess it doesn't. I'll be seeing you," he added before turning back to the admin building.

Sam rubbed her aching head. What a day!

# Chapter Four

Sam trudged up the spiral drive, her body aching after her long day. She could still feel the effects of the iron, seeping past her wound and into her bloodstream. It would take days for the iron to leave her system, and still longer for her hand to heal.

She stopped outside the door of her family's apartment, wondering how she was going to hide the wound from her mother. Her father wouldn't care, but her mother would. Sam cringed as she folded her hand into a fist and slipped it into her jacket pocket. Using her other hand she awkwardly opened the door and walked in, using her foot to push it shut again.

As Sam expected, she found her family sitting at the dinner table eating their evening meal. She had tried to miss the experience in its entirety, but the call of her bed had been too strong. She needed rest to heal.

Her family looked up, each with their own expressions.

"I left your plate in the oven."

"Thanks, Mom," she said as she skirted around the dinner table and carefully pulled the oven open just enough to retrieve the warm plate.

The leftover heat from the oven wafted upward, warming her for a brief moment. Their home was always cold in the winter with the bureau only allowing so much heat per building. Sam retrieved her dinner, eyeing the dried-out piece of beef and the three carrots awaiting her. Using her hip she shut the oven door, her injured hand still in her pocket.

"What's in your pocket?" demanded her father.

"Nothing," Sam replied,

"Let me see."

Sam wanted to argue but knew it was pointless. She slowly withdrew her hand, revealing the burned and blistered flesh. Her mother gasped and bolted from her chair, the unsteady chair banging into the wall in the process. Her mother cradled her hand, carefully pulling her fingers open to get a better look at the burn.

"What happened?" asked her mother.

"Nothing."

Her mother gave her a look that clearly showed her annoyance.

"It was just an accident. I leaned up against something. Didn't realize what it was," Sam finally said.

"Typical," spat her father. "Stupid girl can't even tell iron from plastic."

Sam lowered her head as if to look at her hand. In truth, she didn't want her father to see the hurt on her face. Of course, she knew the difference between iron and plastic.

"Half-fae," grumbled her father as he stuffed another bite into his mouth.

"Let me go get Hannah," her mother said.

"It's oka..." began Sam before father cut her off.

"No. She's fine, Miranda. A little pain might teach her to pay more attention."

Sam could see the rebellion in her mother's eyes, but Miranda knew better than to argue with her husband. Though Sam had heard of human women disagreeing with their husbands, fae marriages were not so progressive. Sam smiled at her mother, took her plate with her good hand, and disappeared into her bedroom positioned just off the main room, which served as kitchen, dining room, and living room all together.

Like Carl's, Sam's room had just enough space for her bed, her dresser, and a tiny desk. Sam flopped down onto her bed, only then realizing she hadn't grabbed any silverware. Before she could decide whether it was worth going back, her door creaked open. Miranda entered carrying silverware and a jar of healing paste. To Sam's disgust, her father loomed in the doorway.

"Hey, mom." Sam began as she meekly presented her hand for treatment. "Have you seen Becky in the last couple days?"

"Becky? That sad girl with no parents?"

"Yes."

"What's it to you?" demanded her father.

"Amber's worried. She was supposed to meet Becky and Becky never showed. We went to her home, but no answer."

"You went into vamp territory?" her father asked, sounding as though he might just be impressed.

"It was daylight," Sam replied, trying to act like it had been no big deal.

"Still a dumb idea, girl. You leave this Becky mess to the feds. It's none of your business," he added before turning and leaving.

Sam didn't try to argue, but let him leave. Her mother finished the painful work of spreading the salve before handing her daughter the silverware.

"Obey him, Sam. It's not worth angering your father over that girl."

Sam nodded, trying to look as though she agreed with her mother.

"Miranda, get out here," ordered Dave from the living room.

Her mother gave her one last look of caution before leaving. With a sigh of relief, Sam leaned against her pillow and dug into her meal one-handed.

Sam woke the next morning and scurried to get ready for work. It was going to be a rough day with her hand still blistered and sore. She did her best to dress one-handed. Thankfully, her flyaway hair didn't require any styling, not that she would have bothered even if it had. She kept it cut short for a reason.

Her family was still asleep. On the days she worked cleaning cloth diapers for the rich environmentalists of the world she started at four in the morning. Sam dragged herself out of her apartment, skipping breakfast entirely.

She emerged from her apartment, the sounds of snoring audible from various rooms on her floor, only to find her path blocked.

Lee gave her cocky smile. "Good morning, Sam."

"What now, Lee?" she asked, her pain making her extra cranky.

Sam scratched at her tattoo, feeling the draw of her gift. Vampires healed supernaturally, unlike the fae. All she had to do was take a little of his power to heal her hand and rid herself of the iron poisoning. Sam took a deep breath, willing herself to not steal from him. She had already taken more from Lee than she usually took from anyone in a month or even a year.

Sam was no thief.

"As I said yesterday, I need a favor from you."

"I'm not dealing with the vampires, Lee, and you know that."

"See, the thing is, we know about Carl."

"What about Carl?"

"We know about his favorite pastime"

Sam worked to keep her expression neutral. So far, Lee hadn't said anything actually incriminating against Carl. It could all be a ruse.

"And his... technology," added Lee when Sam didn't respond.

Sam felt her stomach clench in fear. Carl's mass of black-market technology could land him in Solitary for a year, or worse. If Lee actually made good on his threat, her best friend could die.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, hoping she hadn't already given away her nervousness.

"Nice try, Sammy, but I can hear your heartbeat. Hard to lie to a vampire."

"What's going on out here?" demanded a voice from behind her.

Sam spun to find her father standing in the doorway of their apartment, eying his daughter and the dangerous vampire.

"Nothing, Dad. I was just going to work."

Her father didn't look at Lee, his eyes pinned to his daughter. Sam knew from experience that her father assumed anything and everything was her fault. In Dave's eyes, his daughter likely arranged a meeting with the enforcer for the vampires.

Lee smiled at Sam, making her skin crawl. Sam didn't say anything but turned to walk past the vampire. With her father here, Lee wouldn't dare try to stop her.

"We'll talk later," Lee called to her.

Sam cringed. Lee had chosen his words wisely, making it sound as though they interacted all the time. No doubt her father was thinking the worst of her. Her father likely assumed she was having an affair with the vampire. Sam cringed again.

# Chapter Five

After a long shift at Organic Diapers, Sam emerged onto the busy streets. She only worked two days a week, but at twelve hours a shift, the rest of her week was spent recovering. Today, having worked with an injured hand, she was even more tired.

Organic Diapers was stationed at the exact opposite end of the Reservation from her home. She began to weave through the early afternoon crowds, hoping to get back to her home before her family got home. All she wanted to do was sleep and be alone.

Before she had made it halfway up the long street, Chad appeared at her side.

It unnerved Sam to realize the usually noisy man had managed to sneak up on her. She was far from her best, and it was showing. Sam took a deep breath, fully expecting an argument with her boyfriend.

He walked beside her for a few minutes in silence, allowing the noise of the crowd to flow over them. Women were out in the streets and the courtyard, calling out the goods they had to trade. Being the beginning of September, most of them had freshly picked vegetables available to trade for whatever they needed, whether it was children's clothing or medications.

Finally, Chad let out a gusty breath.

"You went to the vamp's territory."

Sam couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement so she kept silent.

"You don't deny it?"

"Why would I?" she asked.

Sam flinched, hoping Chad hadn't noticed. As much as she wanted to end her relationship with Chad, she had to remind herself that he was the only man who seemed interested in her. If she wasn't careful, she would end up living under her father's roof for the rest of her life, and that was not a very pleasant prospect.

"I told you I didn't want you going in there."

"It was daytime. There was no threat."

"Still, people saw you there. What if they talk?"

Sam rolled her eyes. Evidently, Chad had been talking with her father. They weren't worried that she might get hurt while searching for Becky, but that she might cause people to talk about them. Like Chad's family, her parents were respectable members of the fae community. She might be a pariah within her own clan, but Chad welcomed the connection to her full-blooded parents, just as her parents welcomed a connection with Chad's family.

"What _if_ they talk?" she asked in response, trying to point out how ridiculous it all was.

"Do you really want more people disliking you?" he asked.

Sam stopped in her tracks, turning to look at her boyfriend. "They already do. There's nothing I can do to make the clans respect me."

"You could at least try," Chad snapped, drawing the attention of the people around them.

Before Sam could think of a reply, a voice interrupted them.

"There a problem here?" the voice asked from behind her.

Sam bit down on her lips, hesitant to turn and face the attractive mage, especially while she was in the middle of a fight with her boyfriend. Slowly, Sam turned to glare up at Roman.

To her annoyance, he smiled down at her. From the gleam in his eyes, she knew he was aware of his interruption. In fact, she was pretty sure he had done it on purpose.

"Who are you?" asked Chad, sounding threatened by the older man's appearance.

Sam would never tell Chad that he had good reason to be threatened. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she found the mage attractive.

Sam nearly burst out laughing at the thought. Mages were the greatest haters of Voids. The very idea of a mage and a Void in a romantic relationship was comical. Besides, Roman lived outside the Res. Sam carefully set her attraction aside. In a day or two, Roman would be gone and she could get her head back in the game, so to speak.

"Roman Hunt," he replied, reaching past Sam to shake Chad's hand.

"You don't live in the Res," Chad said.

"No. I'm an assistant to Mr. Sterling, the executive of Michigan Plastics. We're here looking into building more fae-friendly items. Sam, here," he added, patting her on the arm affectionately, "has been very helpful."

Sam took a careful step away from the mage. His touch was making it hard to hold her gift in check.

"I gave him and his boss a tour yesterday," she said as she took another step towards Chad.

"Yes. A very good one, too. How is your hand?" he asked, closing the distance between them and taking her injured hand.

Roman gently caressed the back of her hand as he examined the burn. His dark eyes glanced up at Chad, making sure the other man was seeing his attention.

Sam withdrew her hand from his grasp despite the delight she took at feeling his skin against hers. Roman was making trouble and having the time of his life doing it. Sam couldn't decide if his mischief made her like him more or loathe him.

"How'd you get that?" Chad asked, taking up her injured hand to get a better look at her burn.

After a long day of wringing out cloth diapers the skin looked even worse than it had the day before.. The blisters had burst and pus still leaked from a few of the worst burns. Thankfully, the company had given in to the mystics' demands for plastic gloves.

"Just an accident during the tour. Is there something you need, Mr. Hunt?" she asked as she pulled her hand free yet again.

"Yes, actually I had a few more questions for you if you have a minute."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Chad cross his arms over his chest and settle into a firm stance. He wasn't about to leave her alone with another man.

"Sure. What's up?" Sam asked, trying her best to keep things polite between the two men.

Roman's eyes flicked to Chad's defensive stance and back on her. She was trying her best to look as though she wanted Chad's presence. The truth was...she wasn't sure what the truth was.

"In private? Mr. Sterling does not want his activities here to be known throughout the Reservation."

Sam began to chew on her lip but stopped when the mage's eyes took in her movement. She glanced in Chad's direction, taking in his belligerent posture. A small part of her wanted to send him away just to cause trouble. She wasn't happy with Chad and his egotistical ways. She didn't like him telling her where to go, and who to associate with, and was perfectly happy to walk away with Roman.

Thing was, Roman was an issue in of itself.

"I'll see ya later, Chad," she finally said, regretting it the minute the words escaped her lips.

But Sam wasn't about to recant her statement. She wouldn't give Chad the satisfaction, no matter how angry he was with her. Instead, she turned and started walking toward the Res' entrance. Roman turned too, matching her strides despite his longer legs. Roman glanced over his shoulder, throwing Chad a playful smirk. Sam heard Chad curse as he turned to storm away.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Sam could feel Roman's power, as though he was caressing her naked skin. It aroused and frightened her.

"So what do you want?" she demanded, trying to distract herself with her own belligerence.

"Who was that?" Roman asked, ignoring her question.

"Chad."

"And who's Chad?"

Sam rolled her eyes. Why did he care? "My boyfriend."

"Ahhh," Roman murmured as if that explained everything. "And he didn't like where you had gone?"

"Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?"

Roman shrugged.

After another moment's silence, Sam said, "I went into vamp territory. He didn't like that."

Roman smiled as though her explanation amused him. "Why did you do that if you knew your boyfriend wouldn't approve?"

"Who's he to tell me what to do? He's not my dad," she grumbled more to herself.

"True enough."

"Why do you care?"

Again, Roman just shrugged. "And why did you go into a dangerous part of the Res?"

Sam hesitated. Roman spoke as though he knew there were many dangers inside the walled-in village. Most outsiders assumed every inch was policed and the mystics never hurt each other. Roman knew better.

"A friend is missing. She lives in that neighborhood."

"And you went looking for her?"

Sam nodded.

"Even though you were injured."

It was a statement, but she nodded all the same.

Roman came to a sudden stop, forcing her to turn and face him. "Why wouldn't you take from me when we were at the shipyard?"

"I already told you. I'm no thief."

"So you've never taken power before?"

Sam began chewing on her lip again, only to stop when she noticed him eyeing the movement.

"That's what I thought," he said with another annoying smile.

"What is it to you?" she asked.

Once again Roman shrugged. The gesture was growing annoying.

"Just trying to figure out what sort of person you are. As you yourself said, Voids are rare."

"Great," she mumbled more to herself. "I'm a freakin' science project."

To her exasperation, Roman heard her and laughed.

"Anything else you want?" she asked, trying to sound sweet rather than ready to scratch his eyes out.

How could he annoy her and tempt her all at the same time?

Roman smiled down at her, his lips parting to reveal his white, straight teeth. His dusky brown skin made the white of his teeth stand out. Sam pulled her eyes away from him. If she wasn't careful she was going to do something incredibly stupid, and she'd already risked her relationship with Chad enough for one day.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Will I see you?" he asked.

Sam shrugged, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

He smiled again, as though he saw her gesture for what it was.

"See you tomorrow, then, Void." With that, he turned and walked away.

Sam cringed. She didn't want him—or anyone—to know how much the term hurt her bruised ego.

Before she could head to her own home, Amber bounced up to her, slipping her hand through Sam's arm.

"Was that that Hunt guy?" she asked. "He's smokin' hot!"

Sam rolled her eyes. She didn't need to be told that. Her eyes and her hormones were screaming it as they watched Roman saunter up to the administration building.

"An assistant to an executive who's visiting the Res. I gave them a tour yesterday."

Amber made a purring sound. "Want to know what he's feeling?"

"Not especially," replied Sam, trying her best to keep her tone neutral, though, in reality, she was dying of curiosity.

"We gonna follow up on what Carl told us yesterday?"

"Sure. Let's go see Joe."

Joe, one of the many drug dealers in the Res, specialized in natural drugs—made from plants only grown by the fae. He was becoming so well-known some said that he had a string of dealers outside the Res. Sam didn't fully believe the rumors. Joe lived in the same building as Carl, on the top floor.

Everyone in the Res knew what he did and what he sold—including the feds—but no one really cared. A few drug addicts did little to bring down the neighborhood. Even the feds only arrested someone if they made a scene while high. Sadly, Becky had pretty bad luck.

Sam had never taken drugs and had no intention of ever doing so. If she lost control of her gift, very bad things could happen. It wasn't worth the risk, no matter how much she wanted to check out now and then.

They reached Joe's door and paused, looking at each other as though they thought the other one ought to knock. Annoyed with Amber's hesitancy, Sam pounded on the door loud enough to call a neighbor to the hallway.

A woman—a werewolf, Sam's gift told her—glared at them for a moment before shutting and locking her door.

Finally, Joe came to the door and leaned against its frame. He smiled at them, his eyes only slightly glazed. Sam had spoken with him a couple times. As far as she could tell, Joe was coming down from a high rather than going into one.

"And what can I do for you lovely ladies?" he asked.

"Can we come in?" responded Sam.

Sam heard Amber catch her breath. She didn't want to go into the drug dealer's home, but Sam didn't want to have this discussion in the hallway.

Joe nodded toward the apartment and turned to lead them in. Amber glared at Sam as they entered, which Sam chose to ignore.

Joe lived with a rather disreputable woman he called his wife. According to the fae, they were actually married, but that didn't stop either of them from seeking affection elsewhere. In fact, most of the Res knew his "wife" could be bought.

Sam considered their arrangement. While she would never resort to prostitution, maybe she could marry Carl and escape her father's home. Then again, some small part of her still hoped to fall in love. She wasn't in love with Carl, but she wasn't in love with Chad either.

Sam pulled her thoughts to the here and now. Joe was too dangerous to be around with only half her mind on the conversation.

Joe's apartment was mostly taken up with tables holding potted plants pushed up against the windows. Joe's fae gift was in the growth of plants, and he used his gift on a daily basis.

"Now," he began, leaning up against the only counter devoid of pots. "What can I do for you two?"

"Has Becky been to see you lately?"

"Becky? Becky?" he asked, repeating her name as though he was struggling to remember who they were talking about.

"Don't play with us, Joe. You know who we're talking about."

"You should play nice with me, or I won't return the favor."

It was a threat, and Sam knew it, but she could make threats too. She lowered her head and glanced up at him through her lashes.

"You know who I am and what I can do. Answer the questions or I drain you... and your plants with you. I can kill them all right now. You really want to be without stock for months?"

It was a complete lie—and had it been a vampire or a werewolf she wouldn't have tried it—but he didn't need to know that. If he thought she could hurt him _and_ destroy his plants, he might be more cooperative.

"I haven't seen Becky in weeks. Evidently, she was wanting to get pregnant and therefore wanted to get off the stuff," he said, speaking of his drugs as though they were innocuous herbs.

Sam could feel Amber looking at her with shock and confusion. Sam was just as confused but she didn't want Joe to know that.

"Did Becky tell you who the father would be?" she asked.

Joe shrugged. "Why would she tell me that? Didn't make much sense. I thought she was dating Lee. Vamps can't make babies... not for a lack of trying," Joe added with a smirk.

"The mommy tunnel?" Amber whispered.

Sam ignored her friend. The mommy tunnel was too far fetched for Sam to believe in. It was an escape route supposedly used by fae women who couldn't get pregnant by their fae husbands. Theoretically, the woman would sneak out into the world, get pregnant by a regular human, and sneak back into the Reservation. Sam had never believed the rumors, but clearly, Becky did.

"What's this all about?" Joe asked. "I take it Becky's missing?"

Sam nodded.

"I'd talk to Lee."

Sam tried her best not to cringe. It seemed wherever she turned, Lee waited for her.

# Chapter Six

Sam and Amber left Joe's and began making their way up to their own housing complex. They walked in silence for a while, the streets unusually clear as night began to set in.

"You think she left through the mommy tunnel?" Sam asked, her disbelief apparent even to her own ears.

"Maybe."

"Becky?" scoffed Sam.

Sam just couldn't believe it. Becky was the picture of a party girl, and she wasn't even married. Assuming the mommy tunnel was real, it seemed logical that only married women would risk using it. Why would a woman known for drug use and dating vamps try to get pregnant?

"She was lonely, Sam. I thought you of all people would understand that. No one wanted to be around her because of the choices she had made, except for Lee and she wanted free of him. Lee wouldn't be interested in a pregnant woman."

Sam frowned. "What about Lee?"

"What do you mean?"

"Could Lee be involved in her disappearance?"

"You think he... killed her?"

"Becky has been missing for days. I don't like saying it, but I think at this point we're looking for a corpse."

Amber gasped, clutching her hands to her mouth. Sam suspected she was more surprised that she would say it out loud than at the actual thought of Becky being dead. Amber was a strong believer in the ability for spoken words to become reality. Sam, not so much.

"Unless she used the mommy tunnel," Amber whispered through her fingers.

"Unless she used the mommy tunnel," agreed Sam.

Sam reached her home after her family had finished dinner. Her brother was already in his room while her mother cleaned the dishes and her father lounged on their narrow couch.

"Are you all right, Sam? You look exhausted," her mom said from her place beside the sink.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah. Pretty tired."

"Too much gallivanting with your friends," grumbled her father, his eyes still closed.

Sam didn't respond as she navigated her way past their furniture and disappeared into her room. Though she was sure her mother had saved food for her, Sam wasn't in the mood to circumvent her father's attitude just to get some dinner.

Before she could begin to strip out of her work clothes, the smell of baby poop still clinging to them, her mother knocked on her door.

"Yeah?" Sam asked as she sat on the chair at her desk to make room for her mother.

Her mother entered with a plate of plain pasta and vegetables. Sam didn't need her mother to explain the meal and its lack of protein. The end of the month often meant there was no meat to be had, no matter how many tokens you had to spend.

"Thanks, Mom," she said, almost choking on her own sarcasm; she had to remind herself that her pain and confusion was not her mother's fault.

Her mother nodded before turning to leave.

"Mom," Sam called before she knew she had come to a decision. "Have you ever heard of the mommy tunnel?"

"Why do you ask that?" demanded her mother, sounding sharper than Sam had ever heard.

Sam looked up at her with a frown. What was wrong with her? Her mother had never snapped at her, most likely in an effort to balance the subtle abuse of her father.

"I uh—I was talking with Amber about Becky's disappearance. Amber thinks Becky used the mommy tunnel to escape, maybe to get pregnant."

Her mother took a deep breath as though she had been unconsciously holding it before taking a seat on the bed.

"I thought Becky wasn't married," she finally said.

"She was dating a vamp," admitted Sam reluctantly.

Her mother took another deep breath, her eye flicking to the left. "I don't think the mommy tunnel ever existed."

Sam didn't respond. Her mother nodded once as though that had ended the conversation and left.

Sam couldn't discern why, but she doubted her mother's statement, some portion of her believing her mother was outright lying to her.

Her father's voice ordering his wife to bed cut through Sam's train of thought.

_Am I a result of the mommy tunnel?_ Sam wondered. _Does my father hate me because he isn't my father at all?_

Sam squeezed her eyes shut. She just couldn't see her mother sneaking out into the great wide world to find some man to impregnate her, with or without her father's consent. The whole idea was preposterous.

Sam ate her dinner and climbed under her covers, her mind still racing through the ramifications of her mother's defensiveness. Becky, Lee, Roman were all forgotten as she struggled to grasp just what this might mean.

Could she possibly have a human father out there somewhere, completely oblivious of her existence?

Sam woke the next morning, aware that her father was home for the day—his one day off a week. Though she didn't have work or give a tour, she knew she needed to escape the apartment. She dressed quickly, ran a comb through her white hair, and emerged.

Her father was struggling to fix a broken door on a cabinet when she appeared. He glanced over his shoulder at her, grunted, and returned to his work. Sam was hungry, but she chose to skip breakfast again in favor of avoiding his ire.

She found Amber waiting for her outside her apartment. Amber handed her a breakfast roll wrapped in a paper napkin. Sam smiled at her in gratitude before sinking her teeth into the warm, fresh bread. They walked mostly in silence as they headed out of the complex.

"I think we need to go back to Becky's apartment. Maybe pick the lock. I want to see inside before we assume she's snuck out of the Res. I just can't see her doing that."

Amber nodded, willing to follow Sam's lead. They walked back to Becky's plastic studio apartment. Amber stood watch as Sam knelt and used one of Amber's bobby pins to pick the second-rate lock.

While Amber was innocent of nearly any crime, Sam had spent a stint or two in Solitary. She had a few skills—most gained in her efforts to avoid her father—that weren't often used for legal purposes.

In seconds she had it opened. Sam turned her head away from the opening, her hand going to her nose instinctively. She doubted Amber realized the meaning of the smell, but Sam did.

Something was dead inside the enclosed apartment.

"What's that smell?" Amber asked as she turned away from the empty walkway.

Sam hesitated. She didn't want to answer but figured it would be kinder to give Amber a heads up, rather than to let her come to the horrible truth all in one instant.

"Something rotting."

"Like she left her dinner out?"

Sam opened and shut the door rapidly, wafting fresh air into the apartment, unable to meet Amber's gaze. If Amber was so determined to ignore reality, Sam wasn't going to push. She would get her awakening soon enough.

"Stay behind me," Sam ordered as she began to slip into the studio apartment.

The open room only had two doors—the tiny bathroom and the even tinier closet. Sam ignored the body on the floor to check behind each door. Amber, though, was not able to ignore the body. Sam heard her gasp as she took in Becky's corpse and rush to her side.

Like a pro, Amber checked for a pulse and prepared to start CPR.

"Stop that," Sam ordered.

"We have to try!" argued Amber.

Sam grabbed her friend's arm and pulled her back before she could put her lips to the corpse's mouth.

"She's been dead for days, Amber. There's no point trying. You'd just get sick in the process."

Sam knew her friend needed comfort, but she was here to solve the problem. They could mourn when the bastard who'd killed her was dead. Sam began snooping through the dirty apartment, looking for anything that might point toward Becky's killer.

When she didn't find anything, she shifted to the body. Amber had scooted away and was sitting with her back up against the bed, hugging her knees to her chest and crying. Sam knelt beside the body and began looking for any wounds. Strangely enough, Becky hadn't been wearing much when she'd died. It saved Sam an awkward conversation with Amber. Amber cared more about a person's dignity than seeking vengeance—it was just another way the two friends thrived as opposites.

As Sam worked her way up Becky's body, noting a few bruises on her arms and legs in the shapes of five fingers. Whoever had assaulted her had been strong. Other than the hand-shaped bruises, Sam didn't find any other damage until she reached Becky's neck. Blood covered one side of her neck.

"Hey, Amber!" Sam called softly. "You up to helping a little?"

Amber gave a mighty sniffle. "Ye-es."

"Go get a wet towel."

A moment later Amber returned with a wet cloth. Sam washed the blood away from Becky's neck, revealing two puncture marks.

"Vampire," whispered Amber.

Sam nodded.

"Can we go?"

"No," replied Sam. "Not quite yet."

"But you know what killed her."

"There's more to learn from her body than just that."

Sam began to do another sweep over her body.

"Do you see any bruising other than the hand prints?" Sam asked.

"No."

Sam checked Becky's hands. They were clean. She checked her shins, also without finding any bruises. Finally, Sam sat back on her feet and looked up at Amber.

"I don't see any defensive wounds."

"How can you tell the difference?"

Sam chewed on her lips. She didn't want to tell Amber that she had received a number of beatings from her father, or that she had learned to defend herself, and thereby knew what defensive wounds looked like.

"Look here," Sam said instead as she lifted Becky's pale hands. "No bruises. Becky was a scrapper. If someone was attacking her she would have thrown a punch. Nothing. Her fingers are clean. She didn't try to scratch or claw at anyone."

"What about the other bruises?"

Sam didn't blush often, but when she did her whole face turned cherry red, making her white hair stand out even more. Today, she blushed scarlet.

"I think they're from sex," she finally said.

Though her experience with sex was limited, she also wasn't a virgin. Amber on the other hand...

"Really?"

"These here, on her thighs, look like someone was... pushing her legs open and got a little too vigorous. These on her wrist look like he was holding her hands... like above her head."

Amber started to turn green. "You think she was sleeping with a vampire?"

Sam let out a sigh. "We already knew that, Amber. She was dating Lee."

" _Was_ dating."

"You never had a moment of stupidity where an ex is concerned?"

Amber chewed on her lip. Amber hadn't ever had the opportunity to be stupid with an ex, but Sam had still made her point.

"So you think it was Lee?"

"I don't know who else could do this. Becky had her own powers, limited as they were. And I don't think she was sleeping with just any vampire."

Amber nodded.

"Let's get out of here," suggested Sam.

"What about her?" Amber asked. "We need to notify the feds."

Sam let out a long sigh. "I'll tell them. You go home and rest."

"You sure?"

Sam nodded. She didn't want to face the feds alone, but Amber wasn't up to it after finding her friend dead. Unlike Sam, she had assumed until the very end that Becky was safe somewhere. Besides, talking with the feds was still better than going home.

"Yeah. Get out of here."

Sam followed her out, shut the door, and walked with Amber back to their housing complex. From there she went on to the administration building. She stopped at the front desk, waiting for the secretary to recognize her presence. As she waited her eyes scanned over to the council room positioned just off the foyer. Leaning against the wall next to the door waited Roman. His brown eyes were on her, a slight smile pulling one side of his mouth up.

Sam ignored him, allowing her eyes to slide past him and continue her slow perusal of the room.

"Can I help you?" the secretary finally asked.

"Can I see the Duty Captain?"

"Again?"

Evidently, it was the same woman she had spoken to the last time she'd come in to speak with the feds.

"I found a dead body. The body of my friend I came to inquire about a few days ago. So yes, I would like to see the Duty Captain."

The other woman pursed her lips as she glared at Sam. Sam, knowing she was being an idiot, glared right back.

Before either of them broke, a gentle voice interrupted their staring contest.

"Sam," the voice said, dripping with admiration. "Glad to see you again."

Sam paused for a moment to allow her eyes to drill into the other woman before slowly looking up at Roman with a smile. The smile wasn't natural, but she could already see the results of Roman's presence in the other woman. The secretary squirmed, her pursed lips pulling up into a smile as Roman beamed down at her. Out of the corner of her eye, Sam watched the secretary fidget slightly before lifting the phone to her cheek, her eyes never leaving Roman's face.

To Sam's astonishment, she felt a strong wave of jealousy wash over her. She stuffed the unexpected emotions down into the pit of the stomach. She would consider her feelings later. For now, she had to focus on the human feds.

Roman reached out and gripped Sam's shoulder in a gentle fashion. She wanted to pull away from his touch, afraid she wouldn't be able to resist his two-fold temptation, but the secretary was watching their every move. Instead, Sam gave him a little grin.

"How have you been, Sam? You know, Miss Evinston," he said gesturing to the secretary and not giving Sam a chance to answer, "Sam is the first fae I met here in the Reservation. She gave me and Mr. Sterling a lovely tour."

Miss Evinston's smile wavered for a second, her eyes running to Roman's hand, still touching Sam's shoulder.

"She's a... treasure," said the secretary, sounding as though she was choking on the word.

Thankfully, before Roman could push the secretary too far, the Duty Captain appeared.

"Ah, Mr. Hunt. What can I do for you?" Reynolds asked politely.

"Actually, it's my friend Sam who needs to speak with you," Roman said.

"Oh. Uh... Miss Gollet," grumbled the captain, sounding only infinitely less polite. "What do you need now?"

Sam stared at him for a moment, amazed to find it was the same man who had been working when she and Amber had asked for help.

Sam worked to keep her tone polite as she said, "I found my friend Becky Stirgus dead in her apartment. I came to notify you."

Roman gripped her shoulder a little tighter. Whether she wanted it or not, he was ready to show her sympathy.

Captain Reynolds stared at her, his jaw muscles working. "All right. Show me."

"Are you all right, Sam?" Roman asked, real sympathy in his usually comical gaze.

Once again, Sam fought the urge to pull away from his touch. He seemed so inviting, as though he would gladly take her into his embrace and hold her tight, but she couldn't afford to look weak in front of the feds.

"Sir, I'd like to accompany you and Miss Gollet," Roman said when she didn't answer him.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Mr. Hunt."

"Need I remind you that under the authority of Mr. Sterling I have complete access to this Reservation?"

Again, the Duty Captain ground his teeth together before nodding. He led them out of the admin building and waited for Sam to lead the way. She did and within minutes they were at Becky's apartment. Sam opened the door and stepped aside, allowing the human to enter first.

Captain Reynolds looked at her before glancing at the knob.

"Was it unlocked when you got here?" he asked.

Sam sighed, knowing her efforts had left marks on the lock. "No. I picked the lock."

The man's eyebrows climbed to the top of his forehead. "That's illegal, Miss Gollet. Two weeks in solitary confinement."

"I came to the Bureau asking for help when she went missing and received none. I took matters into my own hands."

"Still illegal," replied the Duty Captain.

"Oh, Captain Reynolds. I don't think that will be necessary."

"It's not any of your concern, Mr. Hunt."

"Then I'll just inform Mr. Sterling that his favorite tour guide will be unavailable for the next two weeks," replied Roman.

Sam kept quiet, perfectly willing to let Roman fight this battle. She had entered the admin building knowing she would likely be put into Solitary as a result of her prying. It had been the main reason she had sent Amber home. She didn't want Amber sharing the punishment.

Captain Reynolds glared at Roman for a moment before giving one shrug of his shoulders.

"Fine. Save your little pet. No difference to me."

The Duty Captain walked into the studio apartment and stared down at the near-naked body.

"You clean up the blood?" he asked, pointing to the blood-stained cloth lying next to Becky's neck.

Sam nodded.

Captain Reynolds opened his mouth as if to say something before grabbing his walkie-talkie and calling for a cleanup crew. The feds would make a show of questioning suspects but quickly wind down the investigation until it puttered out. Despite a myriad of murders in the last couple years, Sam had never seen a suspect sentenced for the crime. The bureau didn't care about justice for the mystics.

Sam spent the next couple of hours outside Becky's apartment, waiting to be released. Roman sat with her as long as he could, but after an hour received a phone call that sent him back to the admin building.

"You sure you're gonna be okay?" he asked as he rose to leave.

"Yep."

He hesitated a moment before turning and walking away. Sam watched him go, admiring the way his dress pants hugged his backside and muscled calves. Once again, Sam found herself caught up in inappropriate thoughts concerning Roman.

"You have a boyfriend, idiot," she mumbled to herself.

Just as the sun was beginning to set, the feds brought Becky's body out of her apartment, along with all her belongings in boxes. Tomorrow the apartment would be handed over to someone else. With the last box removed, Sam was finally released to go home.

# Chapter Seven

Sam walked away from Becky's apartment, her mind occupied with the broken path ahead of her and the difficulties of the day finally winding down to an end. Had she not been so tired and so preoccupied, she might have noticed how close the sun was to setting. Had her eyes not been on the ground, she might have spotted Lee before he blocked her path.

"Miss Gollet," he said with a smile she was beginning to recognize as him at his worst.

Sam skidded to a stop, her heart rate soaring as she took in Becky's murderer, or at least the man she assumed had murdered Becky. Sam worked to calm herself. She knew Lee was able to hear her heart racing around her chest. Hopefully, he would assume it was due to the natural nervousness of the situation. After all, Sam was in his territory as the sun was setting. It was already safe for Lee to come out so long as he remained in the deep shadows of the narrow walkway.

"What do you want, Lee?" she asked, all courtesy gone from her voice; she was in no mood to dance around the age-crazed vampire.

"You still haven't agreed to do me my favor."

"And you haven't told me what the favor is."

"Touché."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Sam said, "Well? What's the favor?"

Lee cleared his throat and glanced around before speaking. "You know Dan Jillian?"

"The mage?" Sam asked after a moment's thought.

Lee nodded. "He has something we vampires need."

"You're really telling me with the number of vampires in the Res, you can't steal one thing from one mage?"

Lee smiled, fully aware of the insult in her question. "Of course we could, but we do not want the feds aware of our actions or aware of the item we are stealing."

"A relic?"

Lee nodded.

"And what do you want from me?"

"If you drain him of power, he can't stop us. We can send in one or two vampires and be out before anyone grows suspicious."

"You want me to kill him?"

"You don't have to kill him," said Lee with a fresh smile, as though he found Sam's concern humorous. "You just need to take him out of the action."

"I don't use my powers."

"You used them on me."

Sam began to chew on the inside of her cheek. He was right, dammit.

"Lee, that was the first time I'd used my powers in nearly a year." Sam pulled her shirt down until her tattoo showed, displaying it to someone else for the first time since she had gotten it. "This helps me maintain control, but just barely. When I took from you, I barely managed to stop. If I try to drain the mage enough to knock him out, chances are I will kill him."

"That's your issue, not mine," replied Lee, no concern apparent in his tone.

"I don't want to get involved," Sam said honestly.

"You may not want to, but do you have a choice? I would hate to have to go to Captain Reynolds and tell him about Carl's technology and how you knew all about it."

Sam felt her stomach do a little flip of nervousness. While knowing about Carl's activities was less of a crime than him actually owning computers, Captain Reynolds' hatred for her had been growing over the last couple years. If he was the officer in charge of the investigation, Sam would spend a month of Sundays in Solitary.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, Sam wasn't sure which she feared more, Carl being found out and punished or her own punishment.

Sam stared down at the cracked pavement as she ground her teeth together.

"Fine," she growled. "I'll do it."

"Excellent!" Lee clapped his hands together. "Come meet Heywood."

Sam felt the bottom of her stomach drop out altogether. Though she had never met the head of the vampires, and in fact didn't even know what he looked like thanks to his secretiveness, she knew his name and knew to be afraid.

"What? Afraid? I never thought I'd ever live to see the day the Void was afraid," chuckled Lee. "All the same, you'll need to meet him."

Lee took her burned hand and placed it in the crook of his arm as though he was a long-lost gentleman. Sam flinched at the pain, which Lee ignored.

Lee led her around to the other side of the row-housing neighborhood. At a door, he knocked and waited. A pale man—like most vampires—opened the door and ushered them in.

"Don't vampires have to be invited in?" Sam asked; she didn't associate with vampires often and genuinely didn't know much about their magic.

"Only the first time and, apparently, not in the Reservation."

"Why not in the Reservation?"

"I do not know. A home is a base of power, even for a human. The magic of a vampire cannot invade that base of power without expressed invitation, except inside the Reservation. Heywood suspects it is because those living in the Res do not consider their apartments as their home, as though they are just stopping by on a journey elsewhere."

Sam thought about his words as they walked up a flight of wooden stairs. It was better to think on the theoretical magic of vampires rather than to take notice of her surroundings. Lee led her up to the second floor. Sam had always assumed the row houses had been divided into separate apartments on each floor, but based on what she saw, she suspected the vampires had turned this house back into one unit. Whether they had the blessing of the feds or not was another topic entirely.

Lee led her into a large room set up as a sitting room. Had Sam not been so unnerved the decorative choices would have made her laugh.

The three windows facing the street were shrouded in long black curtains. Candles that didn't smell entirely of wax burned in carefully distributed intervals around the room. A fainting couch upholstered in more black fabric sat in one corner with a scantily-clad woman draped across it. Across from the fainting couch sat two dining room chairs, painted in black.

Sam waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, meanwhile wondering where they had gotten their hands on an antique fainting couch within the Res.

As her eyes adjusted, Sam took in the man sitting on one of the painted dining room chairs. He looked to be twenty-six or twenty-seven, though Sam knew not to trust his looks.

Sam hoped he hadn't noticed the look of surprise that had passed swiftly across her features. Just like the room, his appearance was not what she had expected. He looked like the type of teenager who dressed up in a way they _thought_ vampires might dress. She half expected his fangs to be made of plastic. His dyed-black hair was streaked with raven-purple and styled up into a faux-hawk. His dark eyes were lined with black eyeliner and his nails were painted a matching raven-purple.

He wore skin-tight black leather pants and a dark gray t-shirt that had been systematically torn to reveal his flat, white chest. A black, leather bracer hugged his left wrist.

Slowly, the man turned away from watching the unconscious woman to look at the newcomers. Sam let her gift reach out and caress the man and the woman.

The woman was a mage and not a strong one at that. Sam doubted she had ever done much more than the rudimentary training. Occasionally, two humans would produce a mage child. To the disgust of humans and mystics alike, the child would be taken from their parents and placed in the Reservation's orphanage. There were numerous weak, half-trained mages living in the Res.

The man was a vampire.

Therefore, it came as no surprise—despite his appearance—to hear Lee introduce him as Heywood.

"And you're Samantha Gollet?" the vampire asked as he stood up, further revealing his physique.

Sam knew not to be deceived by Heywood's slender body. Whatever his appearance might be, Sam knew he was perhaps the most powerful inhabitant of the Res. Finally, when she realized she hadn't responded to his question, she nodded.

"And you're a Void?"

"Ye-es."

To her disgust, her voice broke on the one word.

"You're afraid of me?" Heywood asked.

Sam's eyes flickered to the unconscious woman, taking in the two puncture marks on her wrist for the first time.

"I'm smart enough to know when to be afraid," she said, her heart rate settling down as her voice came out stronger.

Heywood threw back his head and laughed, the sounding waking the woman on the fainting sofa. She groaned, adjusted her stiff arm, and lapsed back into a deep slumber.

The vampires in the Res were fed via blood donors through the Red Cross, given the blood that had aged past the point of usefulness for hospitals. The result was that the vampires lived in a continual state of being half-starved. Technically speaking, it was against the law for a vampire to feed on another inmate within the Res, but like many of the laws, this one went unenforced. Clearly, legality didn't bother Heywood.

Sam wondered how a mage had come into the service of a vampire but chose not to ask.

"How 'bout a demonstration of your abilities?"

Sam swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "I don't have the greatest control. I could take more from you than you want me to."

Heywood smiled, the expression never reaching his make-up smeared eyes. "I'll take my chances."

Sam swallowed again before carefully releasing her gift. She closed her eyes to better focus as she felt Heywood's power reach out to her, as though it wanted her to take it. Sam siphoned off a tiny sip of power. It felt like hot syrup being poured over her body and molding into a sort of armor.

She liked it. She liked to feel strong, invulnerable.

Before she could pull her gift back within the confines of her control, it opened wide and began to drain the vampire. Power and strength, as well as a deep all-consuming thirst, flooded into her. Sam gasped as she stumbled back against the doorframe, unable to sort out the various sensations coursing through her body.

Never since she first realized she was a Void had she taken so much from another mystic. Just as the vampires were not supposed to feed on other mystics, it was considered an unspoken rule that the fae would not use their powers on each other, unless it was something like healing.

Sam tried to drag her power back under her control, but it pushed against her making her tattoo burn. Sam was beginning to panic when she felt something wallop her in the head. Slowly, the world went black.

Sam woke in a haze. It took her a long moment to realize she was laying on the same fainting couch the mage had recently occupied. Her head ached, pounding with the beat of her heart. She blinked a few times as she began to wonder how long she had been unconscious. She turned her head, wincing at the pain, as she glanced around the creepy room.

Heywood sat in the same seat as before. If possible, he looked even thinner than he had before she drained his power.

"You're awake," he grumbled.

Sam reached up to cradle her head. "Yeah. Sorry 'bout that. Told you it was a bad idea."

"I suppose you did."

Sam opened her eyes again, taking in the puncture marks on her wrists. "You drank from me?"

"No more than you did from me."

Sam let out the breath she had unconsciously been holding. "And how am I supposed to explain this when I go home? Speaking of home... what time is it?"

"About ten p.m. You've been out for a couple hours."

Sam bolt into an upright position, regretting it instantly. The room spun around her until she thought she might vomit. Heywood reached out and gripped her shoulder, steadying her.

"You took quite a blow to your head. Lee patched it up, and with your hair over it, the cut isn't even noticeable."

Sam was only half listening to him—the pounding in her ears louder than his gentle voice.

"I need to get home," she mumbled, slowly rising to her feet.

To her astonishment, Heywood stood with her, making sure she wasn't about to fall over.

"We will be seeing you tomorrow night, 'bout this time."

It wasn't a question, but Sam nodded, all the same, regretting the movement as the room spun again.

Lee appeared at the doorway and escorted her out of the house.

# Chapter Eight

Sam waved at Lee over her shoulder. It took her an unusually long time to hobble out of the row-house neighborhood. Her own housing complex was on the other side of the main thoroughfare, but even that short distance appeared to be an eternity away.

Her stomach began to roll again as she stepped down off the curb. The downward motion was the last straw. Sam dropped to her knees and began to vomit, but having eaten nothing since Amber's breakfast roll, the only thing to come up was stomach bile.

When her stomach finally stopped heaving, she spat the remainder out of her mouth and sat down on the curb. The usual Illinois wind swept her hair back, drying the sweat from her face.

"Sam?" a recognizable voice asked from her side.

She groaned, unwilling to open her mouth.

"Are you all right?" Roman asked as he sat down next to her.

"What're you doin' here?" she mumbled.

"Consider that classified information."

Sam grunted. She felt too sick to care what secrets he might be keeping.

"You look awful."

"Been a long day."

"You're hurt?"

Sam grunted again. She didn't even know where to begin with her various aches and pains. Her hand still hurt, her head throbbed, and her stomach roiled.

"Where are you heading at this time of night?"

"Home."

"This it?" he asked patting the curb with his large hand.

"Funny," she said as she pushed herself back to her feet.

She wasn't up to dealing with the strange mage. All she wanted was her bed. It seemed like she was returning home in worse shape each night this week, and no doubt tomorrow night would be even worse.

Roman rose beside her, a steadying hand reaching out to her. She shook off his touch. Her control was too fragile to handle his skin against hers. Absently she looked down and noticed her wrist donned Heywood's leather bracer, which effectively concealed his bite mark.

Despite her attempt to keep him from touching her, Roman slipped his arm around her shoulders and scooped her up. Sam clenched her teeth together, determined not to throw up on him—though it would serve him right.

Roman took off, crossing the street and heading up to the spiral driveway. Despite her efforts, Sam's eyes closed and she relaxed into his strong arms. A moment later they reached her floor and Roman carefully lowered her to the ground.

Sam was just about to turn the knob on her door when she paused and looked at Roman. "How did you know where I live?"

"Go get some rest, little Samantha," he ordered before walking away.

Sam was only half aware of the fact he hadn't answered her question. She wandered into her family's apartment. Thankfully everyone else was already asleep. She stumbled into her room, collapsed on her bed fully dressed, and fell fast asleep.

Sam woke to the sound of her parents arguing. To an outsider, their arguments tended to sound rather one-sided. Dave would rail against whatever incident had bothered him—usually something to do with Sam—and Miranda would try to calm him down.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Dave," Miranda said, breaking away from their normal script.

Sam held her breath, afraid they would realize she was awake and listening. They weren't shouting, but then again they didn't need to shout to be heard throughout the tiny apartment.

"Did you put her off?" demanded Dave.

"I did what I could. I told her that I didn't think it ever existed. She seemed to accept that."

"I hope so. Damn that girl," grumbled the father, his voice fading as he moved toward the exit.

Sam wasn't positive that they had been talking about her, but her father's tone was the same one he used any time she came up. Was her mother referencing their discussion about the mommy tunnel?

Sam was ready to blast Becky to the human's hell if this whole situation got her in more trouble with her father.

Gingerly, Sam climbed out of her bed. To her astonishment, her hand didn't hurt. She looked down at the pale flesh, surprised to find the skin completely healed. There wasn't even any scarring on the once-burned palm. As she thought back to her last twenty-four hours, she remembered the extreme amount of power she had drained from Heywood. Similar to werewolves, vampires healed quickly.

And Sam, juiced on Heywood's power, had done the same.

Despite the power of the vampire, she felt drained, almost as though she was hung-over. Sam had never been drunk—alcohol wasn't technically allowed within the Res—but she assumed it felt something like this. Though Heywood's power had initially healed her wounds, he had then drunk from her to regain his own strength. In the end, Sam couldn't decide whether the exchange had been worth it. Her hand had hurt worse than anything she had felt—until this headache.

Sam stumbled her way into some clothing—a pair of blue jeans that had seen better days, her usual boots, and a too-big plaid flannel shirt over a white t-shirt. She had seen magazines from the human world that showed women striving for the same look. Sam didn't work to look like this. Her jeans naturally had holes in them from too many washes and her shirt was too big because that was what had been donated to the Reservation bins last Christmas.

Sam didn't even bother looking in her little mirror to see what her hair was doing. Chances were she was going to die today. There didn't seem much use for cosmetics.

"Sam, when did you come in last night?" asked her mother as she exited her bedroom.

"Late. Sorry, Mom," Sam mumbled.

They had never suffered a traditional mother-daughter relationship. Her father wanted Sam out of the house too much to have things like set curfews or daily chores. If Sam had ever been honest with herself, she would have gladly traded a few time-outs for a father who could stand her presence.

Sam pushed those thoughts out of her mind before they could show on her face.

"No worries," said her mother as she put a bowl of cereal on the table for Sam; her voice shook, as though she was still nervous after the fight.

As much as Sam wanted to ask about what she had heard, she refused to put her mother in a difficult position. Assuming the fight had been about Sam and her questions, she would do everything she could to keep her mother from a similar argument, even if that meant her own questions remained unanswered. Whatever the story behind her existence, it wasn't worth angering her father over, or at least that's what she repeated to herself.

Sam ate slowly, her body still aching from the mayhem of the night before. Though she didn't have to work today, she had to arrange things to keep her family from suspecting her planned activities, and, more importantly, so that her family and friends wouldn't suffer if she were caught by the FMB.

Finally, Sam finished her breakfast and washed out her bowl.

"I was thinking of staying at Amber's tonight," she said, almost forming her statement into a request.

Her mother smiled at her, though the expression never reached her eyes. "I think that's a good idea."

Sam had been staying at Amber's house on a regular basis ever since she could remember. As a child, her mother would arrange the dates whenever her father was in a particularly foul mood. Now, Sam arranged her own play dates.

She went back into her room, grabbed a few handsful of clothing and stuffed them into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder. Sam emerged from her room and kissed her mother on the cheek one last time. She had no idea what sort of punishment she would incur if the FMB caught her attacking a mage, but she had a pretty good idea what would happen if she accidentally killed one.

Sam grabbed her leather jacket off the peg on the wall before slipping through the door. Children were already at play in the bare courtyard. A small group was laughing as they stacked discarded bricks to make a little fort in one corner. Sam recognized the partial bricks as those falling from a nearby deserted building.

Sam stopped to watch them as morbid thoughts crept into her mind. She couldn't fathom why anyone would try to escape just to create a child and return. The children of the mystics were trapped animals, barely surviving on the _giftings_ from the government and those few organizations that collected donations for the Reservations. This life wasn't worth passing on to another generation.

Eventually, the children took notice of her scrutiny. They stopped in their play, staring at her with wide, frightened eyes. Sam tried to smile at them as she turned and scurried out of the courtyard. They wouldn't relax and go back to their game until she was long gone.

Suddenly Sam didn't feel so bad working for the vampires. They, at least, didn't care that she was a Void. In fact, they found her powers useful, rather than a blight on their good name. Despite her best efforts, Sam felt tears press against her eyes. She scurried past the two women who were already out working on their gardens, her head down to hide the liquid quickly making tracks down her cheeks.

Once on the ground, Sam hurried to the same abandoned building—once used as the school before the population increase—where the children had extracted the bricks. She crawled behind it and huddled on the ground, pulling her legs up against her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees.

It wasn't often she gave into her more disturbing thoughts, but when she did Sam often hid behind the old school building. Based on the garbage littering the narrow sliver between the back wall and the chain-link fence used to keep the inhabitants away from the Res' stone wall, other people had used this as a hideout too.

After a good cry—both for herself and her mother—Sam crawled back out of her hiding spot, only half aware of the wall guard watching her. The human guards were concerned with any inhabitant who got that close to the fence. Thankfully, they didn't shoot on sight. Sam stood up, wiped her eyes, and waved at the guard before turning away. She felt more than saw the guard lower his gun and move on in his patrol.

Sam made her way to Amber's apartment and knocked on the door. Amber opened it, quickly taking in Sam's bag.

"Sleepover?" she asked unnecessarily.

Sam forced a smile to her lips. She didn't want her friend actually knowing what was going on. From her position in the hallway, she could see Amber's mother frantically getting her youngest child, Ben, ready for school.

"Yep," Sam said, forcing herself to wait to explain until they were alone.

Amber turned and led Sam back to her room.

As children, sleepovers had been simple. They both easily fit in Amber's twin-sized bed. As adults, it got a little more complication. The fae didn't like to touch much, unlike the werewolves, and so Amber and Sam had come to the arrangement of sleeping head to foot.

Amber shut the door while Sam dropped her bag on the desk chair.

"Okay, what's really going on?" Amber asked in a whisper.

Sam hesitated a moment, listening to the angry cries of Ben, who evidently didn't want to go to school today. The lad's wails would drown out anything they whispered.

"I have to do something tonight. I need you to cover for me."

"What?"

Sam began to chew on her lips as she thought through, one last time, the ramifications of telling Amber everything that had happened since Lee first contacted her. The fact was, despite her love for Carl, Amber would never willingly help the vampires. Sam, though, would kill for her two friends. They had saved her in more ways than she could count.

"Just something I have to do, that's all."

"Something that's gonna get you in trouble."

"Why do you say that?"

Amber sighed. "If you need an alibi, then you shouldn't be doing it."

Sam ground her teeth together. She hated the fact Amber was right.

"All the same," she finally said. "I have to do it."

"This has to do with Lee, doesn't it?"

Sam froze. How had Amber figured it out? She had never spoken to Lee in front of Amber. In fact, the only person who had seen them together was her father, and he wouldn't mention it to anyone for fear that it would start people talking about his family.

"Why do you say that?" Sam asked, hedging away from an actual reply to the question.

"You think Lee killed Becky."

Sam struggled not to let out a gusty sigh of relief. In all her stress about the vampires, Sam had completely forgotten that Becky's murderer would likely go free, or that she was about to work with him directly; the fact was that their anger toward Lee was the perfect cover.

Slowly, Sam let out a controlled sigh, only half faked. "Lee needs to be dealt with. If someone doesn't do something about him, he'll just kill again."

Amber stared at her for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "I'm wrong. There's something else."

Sam's jaw nearly hit the floor. How had Amber seen past her pretenses?

It didn't take long for Sam to realize her emotions were giving her away, and her empathic friend was reading them like a recipe.

"What's really going on? I don't feel any hatred or anger in you. Just resignation. Like...like you think you're going to die tonight."

Sam swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Her friend continued to stare at her, but she didn't see any judgment or anger in the expression. Amber's face was a mask of concern. Sam closed her eyes against her friend's sympathy. If she continued to see Amber's expression, she would break down in tears and tell her everything.

Before Sam could prepare herself, building her defenses against her friend's expression, Amber grabbed her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. Sam opened her eyes as her world wobbled. If anything, Amber's expression had grown more concerned as tears began to fill her eyes.

"What is going on?" Amber asked, saying each word slowly as though Sam might be in shock.

Sam felt her bottom lip begin to quiver. She bit down on it, determined to fight against the growing emotions. Though Amber insisted she could only feel others emotions, Sam sometimes wondered if her friend could manipulate them too. Before she could get herself under control, Sam felt moisture begin to roll down her cheeks. As they reached her jawline, she knew the game was up.

"Lee approached me the same day you told me Becky was missing, asking me to do a favor for the vampires."

"And you're gonna do it?" Amber asked.

"He's threatening to tell the feds about Carl and his tech."

Amber's moist eyes widened as her hands slid from Sam's shoulders. She began to pace in the small room. Sam sat down on the bed to give her more space. Pacing was Amber's go-to habit when she needed to think.

At last, Amber stopped and stared at Sam. "Do you think you can do this favor without getting caught?"

Sam stared up at her friend. She had assumed Amber would disagree with her plan outright. "I—uh—I'm not sure. It kinda depends on how well they've planned their part in it."

"Don't tell me," Amber said as she held up her hand. "The less I know the better."

"You mean you're okay with me working with the vam... I mean, doing this?"

"For Carl? Yes. If he got caught... what would happen to his mother? I've always told him he was a fool for keeping the computers, but he never listens."

"We can't tell him about this. He would never let me... do something foolish for him. We cannot tell him," Sam repeated for good measure.

Amber nodded. "We can't tell him. I'll pretend you're here tonight."

They paused as the door banged shut, signaling Amber's mother's departure with the screaming Ben; they were alone. They both let out a collective sigh, Amber settling on the mattress with her friend.

"When do you need to leave?"

"'Bout ten p.m."

"Parents will be in bed by then. The trick will be sneaking out without them hearing."

"I'll go out the window," Sam said, sounding sad even to her own ears.

Without realizing it, Sam had been hoping that Amber would talk her out of her plan, but now there was nothing but a long, boring day between her and tonight's activities. In all her dreams about the future, Sam had never expected herself to willingly work with the vampires of the Res.

"Can you make it down?"

Sam nodded. Truth was she had climbed out of her second story apartment window many times before. Amber's third story window couldn't be that much harder. The enormous holes in the exterior walls of the old parking garage had been bricked up into smaller windows. Between that and the decay of a building left to its own devices in the windy state of Illinois Sam had ample handholds.

"Guess that solves that. What do we do now?"

"Wait," sighed Sam. "If you want to go out today, don't let me stop you."

"We could go see Carl."

Sam shook her head. "I know it shouldn't matter, but I can't see Carl right now."

Amber grabbed Sam's leg, squeezing her knee in sympathy. "It's okay. I get it. I'll stay in with you and we can gossip."

Sam tried to smile but failed. In any other situation, the contrast between Amber's words and her voice would have made Sam laugh. Amber had sounded positively heartbroken as she suggested they gossip. Sam pushed herself back onto the bed and settled down for a long day of waiting.

Slowly, they found other people to talk about. It was better than thinking of the night and what it would bring.

# Chapter Nine

Sam and Amber listened to her parents settle down for the night, her father's breathing slowly turning into loud snores that vibrated throughout the apartment. From Amber's bedroom, they could hear the faint murmur of at least three other snorers in the building. As quietly as they could, they pulled the old window open. Sam flung a leg out, carefully finding a footing before dragging her other leg out, her hands firmly gripping the windowsill.

Amber gave her a friendly peck on the cheek. "Be safe."

Sam nodded before she began the slow descent. Halfway down she had to work her way sideways in order to avoid the next window. She had just made it far enough away from the second story window to begin her descent again when she lost her grip and began to slide. The crumbling wall bit into her palms and bruised her knees as she scrambled, her hands and feet all trying to find purchase in the pockmarked wall. She slid a few feet before her fingers dug into the decaying cement. As her body came to a sudden stop, her left foot found a ledge. The resulting sudden stop jarred her leg. She quickly pulled on her new hand hold, relieving the weight from her injured ankle.

Tentatively, Sam put some weight on the leg. As quickly as she could, she found another toe hold to support her weight. She didn't think the ankle was broken, just badly sprained.

Sam tried to look over her shoulder. She still had one and a half stories to climb with only one foot. Sam had never had a lot of upper body strength. Other than climbing out her window on the odd occasion, she hadn't had a need to be strong.

_Well, that changes today_ , she thought as she slowly lowered herself using nothing but her arms, while her one good foot frantically searched for a new foothold.

It was a long and painful journey down to the ground. Sam glanced up, spotting Amber hanging out her window, her fist in her mouth. Evidently Amber had nearly screamed when Sam began her frantic slide downward. Sam waved to her, hoping she would go back inside before Sam began limping toward the row houses.

Sam waited for a second, but it quickly became clear Amber would not close her curtains until her friend was out of sight. Resignedly, Sam turned and limped across the street. She could almost feel Amber's gaze on her back as she turned toward the vampires' territory.

Sam felt as though her body was growing heavier with each step as she dragged herself into the vampires' territory. She didn't want to do this. Though she had never met the mage in question, she doubted he deserved what was coming to him. Still, she had to do whatever she could to save Carl.

It wasn't a long walk between her housing complex and the row-house neighborhood, but even in that short distance, she managed to get stopped. Chad called to her, bringing her to a halt.

"What are you doing out?" he demanded.

"Just have to meet someone," she said, hoping to draw the conversation to a quick end.

"Surely not tonight," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up against his chest.

Chad kissed her lightly, as though inviting her to do more. She ignored the invitation and turned her head away. With the movement, his grip on her loosened.

"Seriously?" he asked, stepping away from her.

"I'm sorry, but I got to go."

Chad glanced over his shoulder, in the direction she had been traveling. "To vamp territory."

"What does it matter?" she snapped, the pain in her ankle and her own nervousness making her snippier than normal.

"You are not going into vamp territory, Sam."

"It's not for you to say."

"I'm your boyfriend, like hell it ain't!"

"Oh, shut up," she growled as she surged past him.

Chad caught her arm, spinning her around on her weak ankle. Sam grimaced with the pain, but he didn't seem to notice.

"You are not going in there," he repeated. "You do and we're through."

Sam shrugged. "Then we're through."

With that final statement, she used his shock to escape.

As she limped into the row-house neighborhood, she began to wonder what Heywood would want from her next. Would they allow Carl's secret to fade into oblivion, or would they continue to use him to get her to do their dirty work? Sam had just reached Heywood's home when she came to the ugly realization that they might continue to blackmail her for years to come.

She was just beginning to wonder if she should turn around and leave when the door opened, revealing Lee. The old vampire smiled at her as he guided her up the steps and into the house. Her brain was still working through her depressing epiphany as her feet moved mechanically, leading her into the lion's den.

"What happened to you?" asked a voice from the landing above her.

Sam looked up to where Heywood stood on the staircase landing positioned halfway between the first and second floor, where the stairs did a switchback and headed in the opposite direction.

"Just a sprained ankle," she said, half her mind still sorting through her dilemma.

"Carry her up here, Lee."

Before she could protest, Lee scooped her up and raced up the stairs. Heywood made his way up after Lee to the second story. Inside the room where she had first met Heywood, Lee lowered her to a seat.

"Want me to look at it?" Lee asked as Heywood took his own seat.

"No. It's fine. Thank you," she replied, still a little breathless from the speed of the vampire's movements.

It was one thing to know that vampires moved with lightning speed. It was an entirely different thing to experience it first-hand.

Today, Heywood was garbed in snug pants covered in patches that had been stitched on, making them into a sort of artistic collage. Sam suspected the patches had been added by himself. She didn't think the pants had come like that. With the unusual pants, he wore a durable-looking jacket that vaguely resembled the human's army coats. The sleeves were pushed up, revealing two studded bracers on his wrists. On a normal teenager, a human teenager, the bracers would have been nothing more than a fashion statement, but on a vampire, they were a weapon. A blow at vampire speeds, with those bracers, would be deadly.

"I think you might want to wear this," suggested Heywood as he tossed a black beanie to her.

Sam pulled it down over her white hair. Without her hair visible, she might be confused for another vampire. Sam hadn't expected them to worry about her reputation, but she was thankful for the consideration.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Sam was just about to ask what the holdup was when a third and fourth vampire appeared. They were dressed in black like everyone else, with beanies over their heads, though their clothing bespoke the donations bins—like Sam's—rather than a unique style. Sam assumed the leader of the vampires had more luxury items like studded bracers and designer jackets than the average Reservation inhabitant.

"Excellent," said Heywood with a brisk clap of his hands. "Let's go."

"Is there a plan I should I know about?" asked Sam.

The four vampires looked at her as though she was crazy.

"Get the relic," said Heywood, sounding as though he had just explained that the sun is yellow.

Sam still didn't know what the relic was, and she wasn't about to ask. Her job was to incapacitate the mage, leaving the other four to search his apartment. Truth was, she didn't need to know what they were stealing.

Sam silenced her fears and hobbled after the vampires. As the others began to descend the steps, Lee stepped in front of her, motioning for her to climb onto his back. Her ankle hurt badly enough that she didn't worry about his offer, but rather scrambled up until she rested on his back.

With her as a backpack, they were outside the mage's housing complex in seconds. Lee set her down behind the other vampires. Sam had hoped to have time to think about Lee and the accident he might have during their mission while they traveled, but the journey had been too short to do anything other than gasp.

To Sam's surprise, three men stood outside one of the entrances, watching the vampires. This housing complex had originally been three traditional apartment buildings with two narrow parks in between them. When the housing crisis had escalated, they quickly built two more apartment buildings in between the original three. Whoever had built the two new ones hadn't worried about matching the styles, but rather how to make it as cheap as possible. The result was one long building that looked as though it had split-personality disorder.

"Heywood," called one of the men standing outside the entrance. "I was expecting your goons, but not you."

Sam heard the slight tremble in his voice. Even without Amber here to tell her, she knew he was afraid. Sam would have thought him rather dumb if he hadn't been afraid of the head vampire. She was assuming the man speaking to them was the mage in question, though how he had known they were coming was beyond her.

"You really think five vampires can take us mages?" he asked.

Sam glanced at Heywood. He was smiling. He liked deceiving his enemy. Sam couldn't decide if she admired Heywood's strategy or despised him for it. Either way, the mage had no idea that she was a fae, much less a Void.

"I take it you're here for the ring," continued the mage.

Again, Heywood just smiled.

"You have it?" asked Lee.

"I never let it go," replied the mage—Sam recalled that his name was Dan—as he lifted his hand and twirled a powerful ring around his pinkie.

"Glad to see that."

"My friends are prepared to fight to the death to keep it from you."

"They can try," said Heywood quietly, so quietly Sam could barely hear him; she doubted the mages had.

Sam began to pull her gift up from the prison in her heart. Her tattoo burned as she set its magic aside. Her gift leaked out in tendrils as it caressed the people around her. As she tasted the four vampires, she directed her gifts to the others.

She felt their power. Mages, at least well-trained mages, were the most powerful of the mystics, and the mages standing before her paled only to Roman. They were by far the most powerful mystics living within the Res. Sam wondered if Heywood knew what they were up against.

Their power swam together, mingling until she had trouble telling what came from one and what from the others. She clamped down on her gift, her tattoo burning until she almost cried out. Her gift did not want to come back under control. It wanted to take from the others, molding itself in their power, in their identity. She fought against it until sweat dampened her beanie and trickled down her spine.

She had to keep her gift in control or their secret weapon wouldn't be so secret.

The mages stood in a loose triangle, as though the other two mages were bodyguards for Dan. Sam wished their formation was that simple, but she knew it came from a mage strategy where the three mages worked together, combining their power. She hoped this did not affect the way she stole their power. If they were weaving their magic together, she might not be able to drain one without draining the others.

While that might not normally bother someone like Heywood, she knew what the results would be. Like any tank or battery, she had a capacity limit, and when that limit was reached, her last secret would be revealed.

Sam felt the trickle of power before she saw their triangle began to glow. Unlike the vampires, she knew a little about how the mages' power worked. They had arrived early to the fight to prepare, increasing their power. However Dan had discovered that the vampires would be attacking, his foreknowledge was going to be the deciding factor. Sam wanted to warn Heywood, but she didn't know if the mages would hear her whispers.

She glanced at the old vampire, but his face was still masked in haughty playfulness. He was having fun toying with the mages.

Sam swallowed the fear rising from her gut. The plan had been to catch Dan in his apartment, where Sam would disable him and the vampires would make a quick search of his apartment. This was an entirely different kettle of fish.

She glanced up at the walls of the Reservation. They were standing in the large courtyard of the Reservation, used by the inhabitants for any sort of large gathering and for their own trading. This late at night, the courtyard was empty. From two perspectives, the guards could not see them, being blocked by a tall housing complex on the north and south side of the courtyard. But the other two angles were open, allowing any guard passing by to see the firework display of the mages defending themselves. If they weren't careful, they would all end up dead with a bullet in their skulls.

"The guards," she whispered, just loud enough for Heywood and Lee to hear with their vampire-enhanced hearing.

Heywood rolled his eyes over to where he stood and threw her a wink. Whatever he had planned, he wasn't worried about the humans. Before turning his attention back to the mages, he gave her a defined nod.

It was time.

Sam forced herself to set the worry aside. She needed to be focused on her gift. Sam let it free again, giving it a long rein. It snaked out, winding itself into the fabric of the spell the mages were working on. Sam waited until her gift had weaved itself through all three mages. When it had, she gave it a yank, dragging her gift and the mage's power with it.

All three mages slumped, barely keeping themselves on their feet. At that same instance, the vampires attacked.

They charged forward in a group. For some reason, they weren't moving at the lightning speed she had experienced before. Sam put the oddity aside, leaving it with her fear so that she could focus on her gift. She could always ask them later.

Her gift surged, pressing itself against the walls of her control. It wanted to drain them all, mage and vampire alike, and though the thought was tempting, she held it back by a thin thread. Once she knew her gift was back under control, she looked for an enemy.

While she was busy wrangling her gift, one mage raised his hand and chanted something strange. A second later a ball of sunlight appeared above their heads, streaming down on the vampires, burning them.

Sam didn't stop to consider what side she should be on, but reached up, focused on the ball of light, and released her power. Within seconds she had drained the spell of its magic.

Sam glowed.

Though she knew it wasn't visible to the others, she could feel the sunlight spell inside, demanding to be released. But she knew if she did that, her allies would burn to ash.

What Heywood—and in fact, everyone else—didn't realize was that Sam could do a lot more than just drain powers from other mystics.

Sam put these thoughts aside, with her fear and her confusion, and focused on the here and now. The two vampires she didn't know had stumbled to the ground under the power of the sunlight spell, but Heywood and Lee had continued forward, plowing into Dan and the mage who had done the sunlight spell.

Sam focused on the only mage still on his feet and began sucking his power away. She tried to take as much as she could, her skin beginning to tingle and grow hot as her magical battery neared its capacity. As she continued to take from the mage, he dropped to his knees, his eyes drooping as though he was about to pass out.

Sam reached her limit, dropping to one knee like a man proposing. She needed to release the power built up inside her before she exploded, but if she did Heywood and Lee would know her secret.

Sam squeezed her eyes shut. Not even her parents knew that she could wield the magic she stole. She had first learned of her extended ability a year after her gift had manifested. She had gotten angry at a schoolmate—a werewolf—and taken his power. After running away from school in shame, she had found her hand turning into wolf claws. She had hidden behind a dumpster for five hours, waiting for the power to drain on its own. If anyone knew what she could do, they would never trust her. She doubted even Amber and Carl would be willing to look past her abilities.

All the same, she wasn't going to be of any more use until she dispelled the magic raging inside her. The worst part was, her gift sang to her, calling for her to dispel the power and steal yet more. It wanted to take and take, even when she was full to bursting.

Sam focused on the mage still on his feet. Unlike a mage, she wasn't trained. She didn't know any spells to use with her stolen powers, and so she focused on Dan, who was just climbing back to his feet after disengaging himself from Heywood with a powerful Scorching-Ray spell. Instead of trying anything fancy, she simply flung the power back at him, knocking him off his feet as though another vampire had plowed into him. He fell back, bashing his skull against the pavement.

Sam refused to worry about it—even though a voice in the back of her mind told her she had killed him—and turned toward the mage who had found himself caught between Lee and one of the other vampires.

Sam blinked and the mage was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Sam glanced around the courtyard, suddenly spotting the mage at the far end of the large empty space. Lee and the other vampire raced after the mage. Instead of working on the mage, Sam released her gift onto Lee.

Like before, she let her gift leak into Lee, winding itself around the mystical side of his strength. She waited, knowing full well she was off mission until her gift had wound itself around the very core of his being. She could feel him, taste him, as her gift and he became one. The vampire continued to run, oblivious to what the Void was doing. Just as the mage threw a spell at the vampires, Sam gave her gift a mighty jerk, tearing it back with every fiber of her control and hatred.

Lee dropped to the ground and immediately turned into ash.

Sam had no idea what her powers could do. She had never pushed them to the limit until now, but now she knew. She could take the very life force from a person, even a vampire. The thought both thrilled and scared her.

Sam turned to the mage, who was still teleporting around the courtyard, keeping the other vampire running in circles. Being filled with the power of Lee, she had speed and strength at her disposal, rather than innate magic as she had after draining Dan the mage. She watched the mage bounce around the courtyard, slowly taking notice of a pattern.

With Lee's power buzzing in her ears, she turned and raced to the corner of the yard where she expected the mage to teleport next. As expected, the mage appeared just as she reached the corner. She grabbed him before he could move again, her movement taking them both to the ground. Before she could do more than wrap her arms and legs around the mage, Heywood appeared at her side. He grabbed the mage's head and gave it a twist.

Even as the vampire power drained from her body, Sam could hear the distinctive pop as the mage's neck broke.

As though the pop was the bell ending a round of boxing, the courtyard went silent. Sam disengaged herself from the mage's dead body and scrambled to her feet.

Rain was beginning to splatter down on them, quickly picking up tempo. Sam glanced at the pile of ash that had been Lee and wondered if Heywood had noticed his enforcer had died.

Their leader walked over to Dan's body and pulled the disputed ring from his hand.

# Chapter Ten

From where Sam stood, she noticed that one of the other vampires she didn't know stood near the entrance, one arm missing. She didn't know when he'd lost the arm, or if it would grow back, but he had clearly lost his ability to fight early on.

The last of Lee's power drained from her, washing away with the rain. By mere fingertips, Sam held back her gift from taking the other vampires. Her control was weakened after stealing and using so much power. Slowly, she reined in her gift. As she did so, she lowered herself to her knees. No doubt the ungraceful collapse would leave bruises on her knees, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was too tired to think beyond getting out of the rain and avoiding Heywood's ire for killing his man.

She dragged the beanie off her head. It had grown too wet to be comfortable.

Sam glanced around the perimeter of the courtyard, amazed that the guards had not taken notice of their battle. She would have to ask Heywood how they had managed that. As she continued to scan their surroundings, she noticed a figure standing in the shadows of the opposite housing complex; they hadn't gone completely unobserved.

Even in the darkness, and without Lee's night vision, she knew who watched them. Her gift pressed against her boundaries, as though it too knew who watched them, and, like before, her gift wanted to taste him.

Roman stepped out of the shadow of the building until she could see his face. His eyes ran over the remains of the battle, finally resting on her. Though she didn't know him well, she could read the disappointment in his eyes.

Sam pushed herself to her feet and turned away. How dare he despise her! He didn't know her. He didn't know the reasoning for her action. She worked to save a friend, and he could just go straight to hell.

Sam stomped over to Heywood, no longer worrying about the vampire punishing her for killing Lee. Heywood smiled at her as her stomping turned into limping. During the battle, she had forgotten about her ankle, but as the adrenaline faded from her bloodstream the pain returned. She hadn't had Lee's power in her long enough to heal the damage done to the muscle.

"Good work, Sam," he said with a smile.

Sam wondered if he was even aware of Lee's death. Heywood gripped her shoulder squeezing gentle.

"I'll help you back to the house to rest. You can go home before daylight."

Sam nodded. She wasn't about to argue, as much as she didn't want to remain in his presence. Heywood slipped his arm around her waist, helping to support her as he walked over to the fading pile of ashes. Sam glanced over to where Roman had stood, but he was already gone.

_Screw him,_ she thought to herself as she pulled her gaze back to the pile of ash.

"Oh, Lee. Always the fool," sighed Heywood.

"Why do you say that?"

"I'll explain when we're alone."

Sam glanced around, noticing the two vampires she didn't know mingling around the dead bodies, stripping them of anything valuable.

"What do we do about the bodies?" she asked, doing her best to ignore the intimacy of Heywood's arm wrapped around her waist.

"Leave 'em. The feds will start an investigation, but like all other investigations, it will dwindle into nothing. At worst, Jerry over there will do some time in Solitary. He deserves it after losing his damn arm."

"It doesn't grow back?"

Heywood laughed as he used his free arm to scoop her up. Within seconds he had raced back to the row-house neighborhood and up the steps of his house. He gently lowered her back to her feet before opening the door. Sam hobbled in, not wanting his help anymore. She didn't like the way his fingers messed with her clothing, somehow finding skin despite her layers.

"Where shall I wait?" she asked, not wanting to just assume she was supposed to go upstairs.

"You can stay in my guest room," he said, motioning up the stairs.

_Dammit_ , she thought as she started to hobble.

"Are you always this obstinate?" he asked from the first floor.

"Pretty much," she said, making it up two more steps.

Without any warning, Heywood grabbed her waist and carried her up the stairs, his arms alone taking her weight. Sam gasped as they reached the second story and the vampire carefully settled her on her one good foot.

"Which way," she growled.

"This way, my dear," he said smiling again.

Sam hobbled into the room. It was nothing like the only other room she had been in. Where the other room had been all black and gothic, this room held a pretty little white daybed, clothed in lavender sheets and a darker purple quilt. Matching curtains hung over the windows, covering the blackout curtains used by all vampires. A white wardrobe and dresser with a delicate mirror sat against the walls, leaving the center of the room empty. Sam reveled in the space. Had Amber been with her, one of them could have taken the bed and the other on the floor—a luxury neither of their rooms afforded.

"Pretty," she said when she realized Heywood was watching her.

Sam hobbled forward and sat on the little stool that belonged to the fancy dresser with the mirror.

"How come the guards didn't notice what we were doing?" she asked before Heywood could leave.

"We vampires are violent creatures. It is within our abilities to mask our fights from human eyes if need be. If we couldn't do this, we would have been discovered centuries ago."

"Is that why you guys weren't moving as fast?

Heywood nodded. "It takes some of our powers to work the magic."

Sam nodded. She didn't know when the vampires had arrived in the human realm. Most of the origin histories had faded into legends, and from legends into myths. Now there was little left but whispered theories.

"Now, Miss Gollet, I think we ought to discuss your future," he said as he leaned casually against the doorframe.

"My future?" she asked, looking up at him. "What do you mean? I did my part. You saying you won't keep Carl's secret?"

"I would have, but you have left me without my enforcer."

Sam frowned, her stomach beginning to tie itself into knots.

"Don't play innocent with me, Miss Gollet. I know about Lee's romance with Becky and about her death. I also know that you and that little Amber, the empath, have been investigating it. Don't think for a minute that I am dumb enough to think a mage took Lee out while simultaneously dealing with you. You drained his power, completely."

Sam sat very still. Had her ankle not been injured, she would have risen to her feet. Instead, she held still, defying his words with her lack of nervous activity.

"Are you suggesting I killed your enforcer? The most powerful vampire under your control?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain calm.

"I'm not suggesting it, Miss Gollet. I'm stating it outright. The question is, what do I do about it."

Despite her effort to appear calm, Sam felt her throat swallow the enormous lump that had built up. Besides, Heywood could easily hear her heart racing around her chest.

"Oh, calm down. I'm not going to kill you. At least, not yet. I don't waste the gifts that have been given to me. I wouldn't be in control of the vampires if I did."

"You think I've been given to you?" she asked, all façade of calm forgotten.

"I know it. You gave yourself to me by killing Lee. From now on, Miss Gollet, you serve me. You answer to me. Do you understand?"

For a split second, Sam considered fighting him, but she knew she would never win. Just as the one-armed vampire was nothing compared to Lee, Lee was nothing compared to Heywood. Even if half the stories about him were made up, she would never be able to drain him in one gulp, and while she paused to dispel the stolen magic, he would break her neck. Without some sort of distraction, she would never have enough time to bring him to ash.

And as the realization hit, she heard the utter truth in his words. Somehow, in just a few short days, she had worked herself into the position of enforcer for the head vampire of the Reservation.

Within days, the whole Res would know her true abilities. And they would fear her.

Whether you liked this book or not, please consider taking the time to write a review.

Honest reviews help future readers make an informed decision.

Thank you

To continue reading Sam's story, check out Misguided Allies.

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# Works by Charissa Dufour

The Series that Just Plain Sucks

Life Sucks (Prequel short story)

Sucked In (Book 1)

Sucked Away (Book 2)

That Sucked (Book 3)

Or purchase in a box set:

The Series that Just Plain Sucks: The Complete Series (Books 1-3)

Suck It Up (A little something extra. Can be read at any time in the series)

The Dothan Chronicles

Bought (Prequel short story)

Torn (Book 1)

Lost (Book 2)

Alone (Book 3)

Or purchase in a box set:

The Dothan Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy (Books 1-3)

The Void Series

Cornered Magic (Book 1)

Misguided Allies (Book 2)

Balanced Chaos (Book 3)

Sinful Redemption (Book 4)

Hostile Takeover (Book 5) coming April 12, 2018

The Echoes of Sol Series

Trust and Treachery (Book 1)

Broken and Hunted (Book 2)

Profit and Peril (Book 3)

Mayhem and Mutiny (Book 4)

Lost and Found (Book 5)

Heart and Sol (Book 6)

Untitled book 7 coming Summer 2018

# Sneak Peek of Misguided Allies
Chapter One

As she had for the last week, Samantha sat in the pitch-black cubicle, feeling the seconds and minutes tick by. No light or sound penetrated her prison cell except when the guard came to feed her twice a day. She was left with her brain and all its wonders. Only her thoughts hadn't felt very wonderful lately.

They were more like jagged cliffs, sharp enough to cut the most callused skin. Or flighty butterflies flitting from one... or rather, morose pools of molten liquid...

Sam let out a gusty sigh through her nose before pounding her first against the plastic wall of her narrow cell. She couldn't even come up with a good simile for her confused and unsympathetic thoughts. She didn't want to be left alone with them. They weren't good company. They spent too much time telling her what a mess she had made of her life.

This wasn't her first stint in solitary confinement. It wasn't even her first stint since coming under the employ of Thomas Heywood—the most powerful vampire in the Illinois Reservation.

Theirs was an unconventional relationship, her being half fae, him being a vampire, but it worked because it had to. He knew secrets about her friend, and she had to keep them secret. Sam working for Heywood was the cost, something she was willing to pay.

Sam ran her hands through her greasy hair. How had she gotten to this point? Only a few months ago she had been a mostly law-abiding citizen of the Res, living with her parents, and best friends to Amber and Carl. Now she was slugging illegal goods across the Res, and while she technically lived with her parents, she spent most of her nights at the vampire's house, using the room he had given her. As for Amber and Carl, they barely talked to her.

It's better this way, she thought as she struggled to find a more comfortable position on the bed slab. If her friends were close to her they would be in Solitary too. The distance protected them.

Originally it hadn't been this way. When Heywood's flunky had approached her with the threat of revealing Carl's secrets, she had gone to Amber and told her everything, but a few weeks into working for Heywood, he had learned about it. Through his connections with other magic users in the Res, he had altered Amber's memories and insisted Sam keep the secret.

It left her even lonelier than normal, and the loneliness was eating away at her. Each day was another bite gnawed away from her, another ounce of strength and resolve never to return. She needed to stay strong to keep the feds from knowing about Carl's illegal technology, and yet the longer she worked for Heywood, the less inclined she was to protect her friend.

And this growing weakness continued to peck at her, making it even harder to stand firm in what she had chosen to do for Carl. Sam felt as though she was caught in a vicious cycle. Heywood asked her to work and she questioned her choices, and the more she questioned her choices, the more she doubted. The more she doubted, the weaker she felt.

Sam jumped as she heard the sound of the bolt being thrown back on her cell door. A second later, the thick plastic door creaked open, a ray of light shining down on her. Sam flinched as she squeezed her eyes shut, the light hurting after so much time spent in the dark. Slowly, she cracked them open and blinked furiously.

"Get up," barked a voice from beyond the glaring whiteness of the corridor.

Sam recognized the voice and winced. Of all the guards, it just had to be Captain Reynolds. She grabbed her jacket from the foot of the bed slab.

"Reynolds," she said as she scooted off the slab and lifted her arm to block the worst of the light.

She reached the threshold and allowed him to grab her arm and drag her out. The truth was she couldn't see the threshold. Everything was glowing whiteness. Sam blinked again, tears springing to her eyes as they ached with the brightness. The captain led her down the hallway, past the ten other solitary confinement cells.

Solitary confinement was the only punishment used by the Federal Mystics Bureau within the Reservations dotted around the United States—except for the rare occasions when executions were required. Most transgressions earned two to three days within the boxes and the subsequent loss of pay. Rumor had it one of the boxes had held the same person for over ten years. After spending so much time in the underground detention center, Sam didn't give the rumors much credence.

"Going back to the prick Heywood?" the captain asked as they neared the door leading out of the cell block.

"Don't have much of a choice," she mumbled as she blinked the last of the tears away.

Sam's head began to ache. It always hurt when she was released from Solitary. It might not have been that bad if she didn't spend a week at a time in the black box. The thing was, Solitary was the only place where she could truly rest. Not just from Heywood's demands, but from the tug of her gift.

All fae, even half fae, held a gift of some sort, depending on the clan they were born into. Of course, as the fae continued to struggle to reproduce, the lines between the clans grew ever hazier.

Sam possessed a rather unusual gift. In fact, it was downright rare. Sam was a Void. She had no powers of her own, like those who could bend the wind to their will or create fire. Instead, she could drain their powers, even to the point of killing them. Not that she did that, much.

All the same, the call of their powers was a deafening clamor against her senses. While within the thick walls of Solitary, she could rest from the constant urging of her gift. It wanted to take from the others. It liked the feeling of power coursing through her veins and, if she was honest, so did she.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Reynolds demanded before opening the door, his hand resting on the handle.

Sam let out a sigh. How was she supposed to explain her life to this human FMB—Federal Mystics Bureau—agent? She couldn't tell him that Carl had illegal technology that Heywood knew about and used to blackmail her.

"With all due respect, Captain Reynolds,"—of which she felt none—"you don't understand the lives of us mystics. You watch us, you keep the laws, but you don't know what it's like to live within these walls. I work for Heywood because I have no choice, and that, Sir, is something you can't understand."

The captain stared at her for a moment, as though he was actually mulling over her words, before bursting into a raucous laugh. Sam flinched as spittle struck her face.

"You almost had me convinced, Sam," he chortled. "Now get outta here and don't get in trouble again!"

It was always the same parting words, no matter who the officer on detention duty was.

Sam shrugged into her leather jacket, ignoring the man watching her from the glassed-in foyer of the building. She was in no mood to talk to Roman, the handsome assistant to some plastics tycoon. Last she had heard, the Michigan Plastics company was coming into the Reservation to exchange some of the iron works with industrial-strength plastics. Evidently, a recent discovery had allowed them to harden plastic in such a way that it could be used in place of iron.

Thanks to the work of some rather vocal human activists, it had risen to the attention of the masses that the iron in the buildings and walls was poisoning more than a fourth of the Reservation inhabitants on a daily basis. Now, Michigan Plastics worked from within the Administration to distribute plastic throughout the Reservation, starting with the port where the most iron was used.

Even now, standing on the steps of the admin building, Sam could feel the drain of the iron in the Res' walls and in the enormous semi-truck parked just within the gate of the Res.

She paused for a second, eying the vampires working to unload the supplies. Usually, the supplies for the Res and the results of their manufacturing were shipped in and out through a river port stationed on the south end of the Reservation, but with the port currently demolished for the new plastic-made structures, the supplies were coming in by truck.

She didn't stop long to watch them work under the bright street lamps. It was simply too cold.

Despite her efforts to ignore him, Sam glanced over her shoulder to see if Roman was still staring at her. He was.

She forced herself to walk down the steps, despite the trembling in her limbs and the twisting of her guts. She didn't want anything to do with the mage, who somehow had hidden his abilities and continued to live outside the Reservation. It wasn't just that she was jealous of his freedom. She was also deeply attracted to him. When she had a boyfriend, this had been an obvious conflict. Now that she and her boyfriend were separated, the issue was less well-defined. All the same, she wasn't up to any form of temptation.

Her gift granted her enough of that.

Sam glanced up at the night sky. The stars were out and the winter Illinois wind cut into her flesh. She might as well have been naked for what little assistance her leather jacket provided. She trudged forward, intending to check in on Heywood. Appearing at his home would not bother him while showing up at her parents' apartment at this hour would irritate her father to no end.

Captain Reynolds always liked to release her in the middle of the night, considering it more annoying than it really was. What he had failed to realize was that while she worked for a vampire she was awake more during the night than she was the day. The heedless fed hadn't put two and two together, and she doubted he ever would.

Sam trudged past the workers and headed east toward the little neighborhood where Heywood resided. Originally it had been a circular street with a number of row houses. Since the population increase, the houses had been divided up into apartments and plastic shipping crates had been placed in the one-way street and retrofitted to be studio apartments. Now the neighborhood was as run down as the rest of the Res.

The walled-in city had been built for a certain number of inhabitants. But in the forty-two years since it's opening, the numbers had skyrocketed. Now even the old parking garage had been retrofitted into an apartment building, and it was there that her family resided.

Sam continued past her building until she reached the next street to head north-south. The Reservation consisted of only six streets large enough to carry a car—not that cars were allowed—two long ones running north-south and four short ones running east-west to connect the two long ones. There were plenty of footpaths and alleyways winding between the buildings. Sam was just about to head into the little neighborhood where Heywood lived when she heard a loud crash. She paused, hearing a grunt followed by a muffled, low-pitched scream.

Though in retrospect she should have stopped to consider her actions, she didn't. Sam bolted in the direction of the scream, using muscles that had been left dormant in her prison cell for a week. Her legs strained as she pushed herself to move faster. Sam ducked down an alleyway running between a warehouse used by Fae Manufacturing—a company that made fairy statues supposedly imbued with real fae magic—and the Res' orphanage.

At the end of the alleyway, she saw the outlines of people crouching over a body.

"Hey," she called, wincing as she realized how dumb she was being.

The attackers looked up before turning and barging into the back door of the warehouse. Sam ran after them, pausing only long enough to ascertain that the victim was, in fact, dead. She pushed through the door and squinted. It was pitch black within the warehouse. At least outside there was ambient light from the glowing moon and the occasional dim street lamp.

Sam wanted to pursue the attackers, but she knew it would be futile and dangerous to do so blind. She reached out with her gift, letting it snake out in the warehouse and grope among the machines, but she couldn't sense anyone, mystic or human. Slowly, with her teeth clenched, she called her gift back to her, trapping it under the boundaries of the tattoo on her chest.

The tattoo had been etched by a mage of considerable power. He had done it more to protect himself, and the other mages, from her than for her own good. Mages hated Voids simply because mage power was what her gift craved the most. Mage power was the most malleable, or so the rumors said. No one had bothered to train her, leaving her unsure what any of the rumors meant. What little mage power she had tasted had left her wanting more, that was true, but she wasn't sure why exactly.

Sam tried to shift her train of thought. She couldn't control her gift if she was thinking about how much she desired the power of a mage.

Slowly, she turned back to the doorway and crouched over the body. The light within the recesses of the alleyway was minimal at best. She touched the still form, and though she felt the warmth of recent life, her skin burned with the ever-present coldness of the Víz—a clan dealing exclusively with water and ice. They could make ice, mold ice, create storms, etc.

This fae, she suspected, was a necromancer. As she touched him, the taste and smell of rotting flesh filled her senses. Sam suddenly felt cold—much colder than the winter wind had managed.

"Check down here," she suddenly heard someone call.

Sam glanced down the alleyway and spotted the bobbing glow of flashlights. Only the feds had flashlights. As quickly and silently as she could, she ducked back into the warehouse and eased the door shut. Sam leaned against the wall, pressing her ear to the slit of the door.

"Dead all right," said a baritone.

"Vampire by the looks of it," said a tenor.

The baritone grunted an agreement.

"I'll call it in. They can get this mess cleaned up before sunup," stated the tenor before Sam heard the click-crunch of the walkie-talkie. "Clean-up crew to location..."

Sam stopped listening and began to crawl away from the door, feeling her way in the general direction of the door at the other end of the enormous room. Her mother worked in this warehouse and she had a pretty good mental image of the layout. All the same, she hoped the attackers had left. She didn't want them to sneak up behind her in the inky darkness.

Sam groped forward, stopping to lean against something solid in the hopes of slowing her frantic heartbeat. Evidently, her jacket had crept up. Her bare back pressed against something iron and Sam hissed as she flung herself forward, barely keeping her mouth clamped over a scream. She collapsed on the ground, working to slow her gasping breath.

It hurt worse than any iron burn she had ever received, and she had no idea why.

Sam didn't know how long she stayed on the dirty ground, but eventually, a crick in her neck made it imperative to move. Slowly she climbed to her hands and knees and continued her cautious crawl toward the far door. It felt like an eternity before she found it and pushed the release bar. The door swung open and a flood of cold air and lamp light poured over her. As she had intended, she emerged from a back door positioned on the alleyway running between the warehouse and the back fencing of Heywood's neighborhood.

Considering what the fed had said about it being a vampire attack, Sam didn't much feel like going to Heywood's house. Most likely the feds were scouring the row house neighborhood—where most of the vampires lived—for the attacker, and the fact she still had the victim's blood on her meant she needed to steer clear of all feds.

If her dad caught her sneaking in with blood on her he would turn her into the feds "for her own good," leaving her with only two options—Carl or Amber.

Sam winced. Her two best friends had been near strangers since she started running errands for Heywood. They couldn't understand her reasoning, and she couldn't explain it to them. All the same, she had to go somewhere for what was left of the night.

The logical choice was the last place she wanted to be. Sam swallowed her pride and walked up to the parking garage. She wasn't going home. That was out of the question. But maybe Amber would let her crash on her floor for the night. The only thing was if she went to the front door Amber's parents would hear her knock.

Sam looked up the tall wall. Amber lived on the third story.

The parking garage had been like so many others before it, with wide openings in the walls to increase visibility. These huge openings had been bricked over with smaller windows in place. Sam had crawled up and down from her own two-story window on occasion and even descended from Amber's third-story window once, but she had never made the climb after spending a week in a plastic box. Even now, after running around the Res and crawling around a warehouse, she felt spent. Did she even have the strength to make the ascent?

Sam took a deep breath and began to climb.

The old building had been plagued by the continual winds, leaving plenty of pock-marks and crevices for her to use as hand holds. The climb would have been downright simple if only her muscles would stop shaking. She reached the window with only one scare and a scraped knee.

Hanging from the ledge with one foot wedged into a crevice, Sam gently tapped on Amber's window. It was a long wait before a dim light flicked on and Amber appeared in the window. She stared at Sam for a second before pulling the window up enough to talk but not enough for Sam to climb through.

Sam felt a stone drop into her stomach, weighing her down.

"What're you doing?" Amber asked, her voice sounding like liquid ice.

"I need a place to crash," panted Sam.

"It's one in the morning."

Sam flicked her eyes around. "That's why I came to you."

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"You in trouble with your folks?"

Amber wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. "No. I just... I just can't."

"Amber, what's going on?" Sam asked as she adjusted her grip on the windowsill.

"I don't want to associate with the vampires," Ambers said, sounding only minimally guilty for turning her friend away.

"I'm not a vampire," Sam said, feeling dumb for stating the obvious.

"You might as well be one. Go home, Sam," Amber added before carefully lowering the window.

A second later the soft lamp flicked off. Sam hung from the window, staring at her own reflection in the glass, her thoughts racing from What just happened? to Well screw you, Amber in a split second.

Eventually, Sam began the descent, being careful not to slip as she had the last time she crawled from Amber's window. That had been the same night she had killed Lee to avenge Amber's friend and inadvertently come into the employ of Heywood. And yet here she was, being rejected by the very same friend who had gotten her into this mess.

She had to remind herself that Amber didn't know anything about Heywood's threats against Carl. Heywood had made certain of that, and if she told Amber again, Amber's life would be at stake.

Sam reached the ground with nothing worse than another whack to her scraped knee. She stood in the shadow of the building and shivered. The temperature was still dropping. If she didn't find someplace to go soon, she wouldn't have to worry about her crumbling life.

She stared out at the deserted Reservation, a tear leaking over her eyelid and freezing to her cheek.

Chapter Two

"Sam?" came a recognizable voice as she stood in the shadow of the parking garage.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked as Roman stepped into her line of sight.

In truth, he was the last person she wanted to see, and yet as he stood there in the flood of a street lamp clothed in a winter jacket she couldn't help but sigh at the feeling of his power caressing her. Her gift slammed against her boundaries and her tattoo burned as though someone had lit it on fire. It took all her strength to keep from releasing her gift and draining the powerful mage.

Roman wasn't just a man with innate skills. His magic had been honed and formed from his first steps, and the result was magnificent. She had never seen him in action, but she knew from the way his power made her feel that he was a dominant among the mages.

"Look at you," Roman said with a huff as he unzipped his big winter coat, walked to her side, and wrapped her in the fabric, warmed by his own body heat. "I gotta get you inside. Why aren't you home?"

"C-c-can't g-g-go h-home," she said, her teeth suddenly chattering.

"C'mon."

"Wh-wh-where?"

Roman didn't answer. He scooped her up into his arms, causing the skin on her burned back to stretch. Sam let out a cry, muffled by the fabric of his jacket.

"You hurt?" he demanded as he increased his pace.

All she could do was nod.

It wasn't long before she realized where he was taking her. "I c-can't go to the admin b-building."

"Shut up."

At the bottom of the steps, he set her on her feet and took his coat back, slipping into it and zipping it up.

"Just follow my lead, okay?" he said.

Sam nodded, too cold and hurt to care what happened next. She stuffed her blood-stained hand into her jacket pocket and followed Roman up to the front door. He used a plastic keycard to unlock the door and sauntered in, Sam at his side.

The night clerk at the front desk eyed them suspiciously. "What's this?" he asked.

"It's a cold night," Roman said with a sinful glint in his eyes. "Need a little something to warm my bed."

Sam missed a step. She struggled to keep her face relaxed. The rattling of her teeth helped mask her shock. It wasn't that she was offended by the idea of going to bed with Roman. Far from it. If anything, she was extremely thrilled by the notion.

Sam missed another step as she fought to control the urges working through her. It wasn't just her gift that called out to him this time. It was something much more primal.

The night clerk grinned at Roman, throwing him a wink.

"C'mon, girl," Roman barked, treating her like so many humans had done before.

Sam hung her head and followed him up a couple of flights of stairs. She knew the administration building had guest rooms for when dignitaries visited but she had never seen one. Roman led her into his, stepping aside to let her enter first. Sam swallowed a lump in her throat as she eyed the opulent room.

The generous bedroom was decorated in warm browns and pristine whites. Long brown drapes hung at the edge of four large windows that ran from floor to the ceiling, looking out over the wall of the Reservation.

Sam ignored the rest of the room as she walked, dumbfounded to the nearest window and stared at the darkness ahead of her. She couldn't see anything much beyond her own reflection, so she leaned into the glass using her hand to shield her eyes from the light of the room. She caught a glimpse of a few white lights moving quickly. Running parallel to the white lights were a row of red ones, moving just as fast, in the opposite direction.

"What's that?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Roman was already standing beside her.

"What's what?"

"Those red and white lights moving over there."

"The freeway. Those are cars."

"Oh."

Sam felt incredibly stupid when he used that tone of voice, but the truth was she had never seen beyond the walls of her home other than in the occasional picture. Another shiver ran up her spine, distracting them both from the images outside the window.

Roman flung his coat over the white upholstered bench positioned at the foot of the king-sized bed, grabbed up a chocolate-brown throw blanket, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

He left her standing beside the window to pull the drapes closed. She frowned at him and he noticed.

"If we're doing what they think we're doing, then we would close the blinds."

Sam felt her cheeks flare red with a deep blush and turned away. When the drapes were closed, Roman went to a tiny kitchen with cream-colored cabinets and put a kettle on the two-burner stove. Long before she expected it, the kettle was steaming. Roman removed it before it could whistle and made her a cup of tea.

She watched him from her place beside the window, silently appreciating the new view. Roman was a perfect combination of deadly and sexy, or maybe it was his deadliness that made him sexy. Even through his tailored dress shirt and slacks, she could see the lines of strong sculpted muscles. His face and knuckles bore the scars of a habitual fighter. Roman kept his beautifully shaped head shaved down to nearly nothing, revealing more of his warm, soft brown skin. Some days his short hair was shaved down to reveal the barest hint of a Mohawk, but other days the Mohawk was gone. The truth was, Roman matched the room.

Sam turned away before he could catch her staring at him when he finished making the tea. She didn't much like tea, but she would have been willing to drink urine so long as it was warm.

"Now where are you hurt?" he demanded, coming to stand in front of her.

"It's nothing," she said, turning to eye the room again.

"Tell me where you are hurt or I will tear all your clothing off... and not in a fun way."

Sam glared up at him, considering using her gift on him. As though it had been called, her gift pressed against her resolve. She resolutely put it back in its place.

"Fine," she said, tossing the blanket and her jacket on the bench.

She turned and lifted her shirt to reveal her back. Sam didn't know how bad it was, but the quick intake of breath from Roman suggested it was bad.

"How did you get this?" he demanded, his voice sounding harsh again.

"Accidentally leaned against something iron not knowing my shirt had ridden up."

"Against what?"

"Not really sure."

"How do you not know what you leaned up against?"

"It was dark," she bit back, annoyed with the anger in his voice.

"Did you fall asleep against it?"

"No," she replied, turning to look at him. "How bad is it?"

"Bad, Sam. It looks a helluva lot worse than your hand did."

Sam grimaced. She had burned her hand when she first met Roman, displaying the effects of iron on a fae to his nosy boss. It had been a severe burn. How could this one possibly be worse?

"I'll make up a healing salve for you. You hungry?"

Sam nodded as she wrapped herself in the blanket and took a seat on the bench.

"What were you doing out in the middle of the night, other than getting yourself hurt?" he asked as he returned to the kitchenette and poured her a bowl of cereal.

It was the best cereal she had ever tasted—a mixture of wheat bits and tiny marshmallows. Also, it wasn't even remotely stale.

"What is this? It's fantastic," she said around a large bite.

"Never had Lucky Charms before? And don't change the subject. What were you doing?"

"None of your business," she mumbled.

"I think I've made it my business. After all, I'm the one hiding you."

Sam chewed silently, watching him work with hurried, angry motions as he smashed various herbs in a mortar. He had a point, as much as she didn't want to admit it.

"I just got released from Solitary. Reynolds likes to release me in the middle of the night."

"I'd noticed. Why?"

"He's a dick."

Roman nodded, as though this was explanation enough.

"So I was... going to a friend's when I heard a scream. Found a dead body. I chased after the attackers."

"What? Are you nuts?" demanded Roman, momentarily forgetting about his herbs.

"I can take care of myself."

"Yes. I can see that," he grumbled.

"Anyway. I lost them in the warehouse. When the feds showed up I hid. That's when I leaned up against something. It was pitch black in there. I have no idea what I touched. There isn't that much that's iron in there. After all, they employ mostly fae workers."

"Whatever it was, it was enchanted."

"What do you mean?" she demanded, her fists going to her hips on their own accord.

"You yourself have shown me what iron does to a fae, and I've seen it on other occasions too. What happened to your back is not just from regular iron. Someone either enchanted the item or enchanted you."

"Me?" Sam asked.

Roman nodded. "Most likely they took down your natural defenses, what little you have left in you to fight the effects of iron. That's why the burn is so bad."

Roman stared at her for a moment before turning back to his mortar. He held his hands over the green gunk, closed his eyes, and began to pour his own magic into the poultice. Sam bit down on her tongue, using the new pain to distract herself from the call of his power. She wanted to take it for herself. If nothing else, her gift was extremely greedy.

When Roman finished, he glanced at her and stopped.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Sam could only imagine what he saw. She felt the sweat of effort rolling down her neck and her brows creased in concentration.

"It hurting more?"

Sam nodded. It wasn't the truth, but it would have to do. She couldn't bring herself to tell him that she craved his magic. She was already amazed that he was spending time with her. Mages usually shunned Voids—or at least that was her experience.

"Take off your shirt," he ordered as he joined her on the bench, his arms loaded down with more than just his poultice.

Sam hesitated only a second before removing the soiled garment, showing him her back. Thankfully, her sports bra was more concealing than most human swimsuits. All the same, Sam blushed deeply, thankful that he couldn't see her face.

She hissed as he began to dab at the long burn with a damp cloth. Sam took up her shirt and bit down on the fabric to muffle her pained cries. Slowly, carefully, Roman cleaned the wound, smeared it with his poultice, and wrapped vet wrap around her abdomen to keep the bandage in place. When it was all over, Sam collapsed against the foot of the bed, her tears staining the white fabric of the duck-down comforter.

Sam didn't just cry for the pain in her back, but for the anguish in her heart. Amber had rejected her—the one person she thought would always be by her side, would always be an ally against the cruel world even if she didn't understand why Sam was working for the vampires. As an empath, Amber was nearly as rejected by mystic society as Sam was. No one liked knowing that she could feel their emotions. Telepaths were the only others as ostracized as empaths. Voids, of course, were practically banished, except by those who wanted to manipulate them.

Despite all this, Amber had always been her friend. She had never feared Sam would steal her powers. She had stood up for Sam when the other children mocked her. Amber had consoled Sam on those rare occasions when she had struggled to control her powers as a child and accidentally stolen from another fae. And yet now she had rejected Sam as though she was the leper everyone else saw.

Sam heard Roman move but didn't register what he was doing until he scooted to her side, wrapped the blanket around her exposed flesh, and pulled her against his chest. She felt his strong hands brush the sweat-dampened hair out of her eyes and caress her cheek.

As the pain receded, thanks to the magic in the poultice, her body reacted to his touch. A warmth began to build in her stomach, just below her navel, and work its way southward. Sam stopped crying, focusing instead on the feel of his fingers stroking down her neck to her bare shoulder.

Without thinking, she turned to look at him. Sam knew her crying spree must have left her pale face splotchy and her inhumanly pale eyes bloodshot, but she didn't care and evidently neither did he. Roman relaxed his hold on her, allowing her to turn carefully onto her back. His hand trailed across her collarbone as she shifted before running back up her neck and tangling in her hair.

Sam's heart beat painfully against her chest as he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers. Sam was pinned. As much as she wanted to reach out and begin to work on the buttons of his shirt, the throw blanket was securely tucked around her body, leaving her in complete submission to his will.

Roman deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the deep recesses of her mouth. Sam pressed against his chest, the only way she could show him that she enjoyed his touch and wanted more. He responded by wrapping his arms around, avoiding her wound, and rolling until she was lying across his chest. The movement released the tension on the blanket and she managed to free a hand. Of its own free will, the hand grabbed Roman by the back of the neck as she explored his mouth in return.

The powerful mage let out a groan of pleasure as her other hand found the warm skin between his pants and his shirt. Roman pulled on the blanket, tossing it off the bed in one swift motion. With this new freedom, Sam went to work on his shirt, shamelessly popping a few buttons in her hurry. At last, she pressed herself against his bare chest, only her sports bra and bandages between them.

His warmth spread across her as he flipped her over again, this time pulling them up off the bench and fully up onto the mattress. Roman pinned her in place, a leg on each side of her hips as he removed his shirt. It joined the throw blanket on the floor.

Sam's hands worked their way up his flat chest to grab his neck and pull him back to her lips. He was only too willing to reciprocate.

Roman's strong hands ran down her sides to her hips and across her lower back, still avoiding the bandages. His kisses moved from her lips to her jaw, down her neck, and across her chest to the fabric of her sports bra. One lone finger began to work its way under the elastic, teasing her with the possibility of more.

Sam groaned with pleasure, only a small portion of her mind capable of wondering at the magic he had used to deaden the pain in her back. Too much of her focus was on him, his touch, his power. Without realizing it, her gift escaped her confines and began sipping on him, tasting his mage-power.

Sam shivered as he rolled again, giving her the dominant position. With all willingness, she copied him and began to kiss down his neck onto the flat, smooth planes of his chest. Her lips tingled, as though she were tasting his power through his skin.

The magic filled her, making her pulse beat all the harder. The room began to spin as she lost herself in his power, all the while kissing and touching what she should never have touched in the first place. Fire began to burn in her, not just of desire, but of his magic as it filled her from the inside out.

He groaned again, cutting into her delirious enjoyment.

Sam jumped back, rolling across the bed, and falling to a crouch on the floor beside the mattress.

"Sam?" he asked, sitting up and eyeing her.

"I can't," she croaked as she battled her will against that of her gift. Slowly it subsided back into the confines of her tattoo.

"Why not?"

From where she crouched she could see his chest quickly rising and falling, but she couldn't tell if it was from excitement or fear.

"I'd drain you."

A devilish smile spread across his brown lips. "I have more than you could ever take."

Sam swallowed, unsure whether she should believe him or not.

"No," she whispered. "You have no idea what I can do. And it would cost you your life to find out."

Without waiting for a reply, Sam jumped up, grabbed her shirt and jacket, and scurried toward the door. Roman beat her there, blocking her path. She stared at the white paint on the door, refusing to look at the beautiful color of his skin or the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Gently, he nudged her chin up to look at him. Sam flinched, jerking her chin away from his touch.

"You enjoyed my touch a moment ago."

"That's not the point."

"Will you not trust me?" he asked in a seductive whisper.

"No more than you trust me," she said before shouldering past him and escaping his room.

