Chapter 1

Curley's sported broken neon in bright red letters over a chipped brick building with bars covering the windows. Ther was either burnt out or broken and spelled “Culey's.” Cute, I thought, pushing my way into the dimly lit interior. After a quick scan of the patrons, I noted a dark corner with a single occupant at the opposite end of the bar. Cracked tile greeted my Chucks as I threaded my way over between the rickety tables. Garth Brooks played out of an old jukebox in the corner. Half the screen was lit, and I could barely make out the warbles of "Friends in Low Places.” Low being the key word in my mind. Easing onto a crooked stool, I placed my wallet on the only clean surface: the bar. A portly man with a handlebar mustache shuffled over with a grunt.“Tequila, please, Pepsi back," I mumbled, earning another grumble by way of reply. Pulling some loose change from the pocket of my apron, I hoped to have enough to put Garth in the back of the queue, and made my way over to the jukebox. As I flipped through the selections using the worn silver knobs, the paper placards flopped beneath the scratched glass. I quickly said a prayer to the All Mother for there to be some classic rock-anything other than country.

Yes! I smiled " Painted It Black." Making my selection, I popped in two quarters and headed back to my chair.

As the Stones finally shut down Garth, I eyed my drink. After a steadying inhale, I polished the shot in one go. Mouth watering at the taste, I quickly chased it with the glass of warm Pepsi. Ick. Gut rot stuff. Shadows moved out of the corner of my eye. Turning my head, I caught a glimpse of blond hair and a strong jaw as my bar mate shifted his position. Plucking my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, I squinted at the sudden bright light. 1:30 a.m. The bartender was polishing the aged oak down the way, so I raised my cup.

“A double, please.”

Grabbing the bottle, he poured four fingers of gold, and went back to his task.I stared hard at my glass, wondering where the hell I was, and who the hell I was. My days had taken on a monotony of sleep, eat, and work. It was all autopilot since Giselle took me in four months ago. I shopped at thrift stores for clothes, but that was about all I did to leave my studio apartment. A mini fridge, free Netflix, and a microwave were my stable companions. My cell was an outdated Nokia. It didn't even have data, not that

I'd have a use for it.

My friend Viv owned an internet cafe, but her being human made me feel more like an imposter. Reaching for the glass, I raised it to my lips and slowly swallowed the burn just to feel something as Mick hummed out his last tones. Switching to the warm soda to ease the fire in my throat, I debated on playing another song or heading back to my Orange Is the New Black binge. A brush of air whispered against my neck, prickling my skin as the only other patron made their exit. I stewed a bit more on things I couldn't change and checked the time: 1:45 a.m. Throwing a few bills on the bar, I gathered my things and left.Once outside, I zipped up my hoodie and shoved my hands deep into its pockets. It was chilly for a June night in San Diego. The weatherman had forecasted a light drizzle. Looking up, I searched for the silver face of the Moon, but the marine layer was too thick. I was getting spoiled; only fifty degrees out and I was freezing. I concentrated on my footsteps for two-mile walk home, and my vision slightly blurred while I berated myself for skipping dinner after the evening rush.

Wallowing back in my own self-pity, thoughts of my ineptitude flashed through my mind. I had everything; how could I be a magical dud? My parents had maxed out on what they could do for me, but when they could no longer deny my inability to cast even a light sphere, the Council forced them to cast me out. By that point they were so frustrated and embarrassed by what should have been a child prodigy, they didn't even accompany me to my own banishment. As I recalled the last time I had seen them at dinner before I was taken away like trash, I failed to pay attention to my surroundings. Without warning, I was hit from my right side and thrown to the sidewalk. The world spun as my head slammed against the unforgiving concrete. I caught a glimpse of blond hair just before my world went black.

I was being shaken. Rough hands began patting down my pockets.

"What?" I mumbled groggily. A male voice shouted in alarm, “Shit, she's waking up! Let's go!"

Slowly, I sat up to the slaps of their retreating footsteps and took in surroundings. Only about a quarter mile my from home. My fingers dug into the grass and bumped into the hard brick of my phone as I swayed to my knees. Snatching it to my chest, I thought it was absurdly comical that not even random thieves wanted the old piece of junk. Further inspection revealed my apron was a ripped mess and my wallet was missing.

Goddess, my head hurt. Reaching to the back of my skull with my free hand, I found a solid knot with the makings of a scab. Had I fallen?

I rocked back to sit on my heels, and my cell cheerily glowed, 4:30 a.m.

I ran through what I remembered: bar, tequila, time 1:45 a.m. About two missing hours. Maybe I drank too much? Staggering to my feet, I finally made it over to the sidewalk and continued home with my thoughts a scattered mess.

Ten minutes later, the light on the landing glowed like a beacon as I reached my studio. Leaning heavily on the rail, I slowly climbed the stairs. Thankfully, my keys had been safe in my inner jacket pocket.

After repeatedly missing the keyhole, I cursed myself. Had I really drunk too much and fallen over?

Eventually, I found the lock and turned the key. Fumbling the knob, I stumbled inside.

Kicking the door closed with my heel, I flicked the deadbolt and tossed my phone onto the hide-a-bed. Using the wall for support, I slowly made my way to the small bathroom and flipped on the light. My platinum hair was stained orange from the impact with the concrete. Dull sea-green eyes stared back at me from a reflection I barely recognized. The smattering of freckles on the bridge of my nose, normally not even noticeable, stood out in stark relief. My sun-kissed tan was gone; I looked like death after a benderwith a bottle of José.

Turning away in disgust, I turned the shower on as hot as I could stand and quickly shucked my clothes. Pulling the flimsy plastic curtain aside, I stepped under the spray. Oh, blessed heat. Swiftly, I soaped my locks and bits as anxiety fluttered through my belly. I just wanted to go to sleep and put the entire night behind me.

After a rough towel dry, I tugged on a tank and loose shorts before hopping into bed. Snuggling beneath my blue blanket, I flipped through my saved shows on the TV. Sleep finally arrived with the remote still clutched tightly in my hand.

I awoke to the standard sound of my Nokia tune. Blindly searching through the covers, I finally located the device once the ringing stopped. 4:30 p.m. I'd slept for nearly twelve hours. My thoughts scrambled as I tried to remember what day it was. Right, Wednesday, my night off. My phone chimed as a message scrolled across the display.

'Hey, honey! Dinner tonight at 6?' A big G shone next to the text-Giselle. She liked having dinner once a week. She worried about me. Her husband and daughter had passed away a year ago in a car accident.

I slowly typed back, 'I got in late last

night. Raincheck for tomorrow?'

‘Are you okay?

Fine, just a long night.

“Let me know if you need anything. Get some rest :/

I loved it when she sed emoticons. It was sweet. 'Will do :)'

As I looked around my studio, the events of last night came rushing back. What the hell had happened?

My stomach rumbled loudly. Well, I mused, that was one problem I could solve. Getting up, I pushed in the hide-a bed and resettled the cushions. Flipping on a nature documentary, I made my way to the small kitchen for some Honey Nut O's.

Back on the sofa, I took my first bite. Crunch, crunch, crunch... Odd, it didn't taste quite right. Maybe I didn't seal the bag and it was stale or something. I choked it down anyway and went back to clean up my mess.

Moving through my ritual in the shower, I noticed tenderness on the right side of my throat. Stepping out, I tucked the towel around my torso and peered into the mirror. My eyes were the color of the ocean-not quite like their normal sea green-and my skin was flawless. At least I no longer looked like the walking dead from last night.

Leaning against the small vanity to check my neck, I found two dot-like bruises. Hmm, I must have been bitten by a bug last night.

Swiping on a quick coat of mascara, I perused my closet. My go-to size-4 skinny jeans were loose, and I had to adjust the straps on my favorite C-cup bra. Even my lucky V-necked shirt was baggy. Weird.

Styling my locks, I noticed more of a silver sheen. Maybe I should go to bed with wet hair more often.

Hooking the front door closed with a ballet flat, I locked it and decided a visit to the thrift store was in order. It was only five blocks away.

I snorted to myself: hopefully I wouldn't get mugged again. It was a good thing I had a small stash of savings.

I trotted down the stairs with a bounce in my step, and my thoughts swirled with possibilities. I loved shopping.

As I neared the main drag of Pacific side of my throat. Stepping out, I tucked the towel around my torso and peered into the mirror. My eyes were the color of the ocean-not quite like their normal sea green-and my skin was flawless. At least I no longer looked like the walking dead from last night.

Leaning against the small vanity to check my neck, I found two dot-like bruises. Hmm, I must have been bitten by a bug last night.

Swiping on a quick coat of mascara, I perused my closet. My go-to size-4 skinny jeans were loose, and I had to adjust the straps on my favorite C-cup bra. Even my lucky V-necked shirt was baggy. Weird.

Styling my locks, I noticed more of a silver sheen. Maybe I should go to bed with wet hair more often.

Hooking the front door closed with a ballet flat, I locked it and decided a visit to the thrift store was in order. It was only five blocks away.

I snorted to myself: hopefully I wouldn't get mugged again. It was a good thing I had a small stash of savings.

I trotted down the stairs with a bounce in my step, and my thoughts swirled with possibilities. I loved shopping.

As I neared the main drag of Pacific Beach, I noticed the lights seemed brighter and the sounds had more depth. The ocean even smelled sweeter. Maybe that crack to the head had adjusted my sensory input? Only then did I realize there wasn't even a bruise on my scalp from the concrete. Shrugging it off, I continued on my way.

A bell chimed overhead as I pushed open the swinging door.

The bohemian-dressed teen at the register waved hello.

Smiling back, I began searching through the size-2 racks and small tops. My thoughts rolled. Bar... check. Drink... check. The jukebox... check. Another drink... check. Paying... check. Getting lost in my own failures on the fuzzy walk home... check. Then nothing until I was rudely robbed and left on the grass.

With a bundle of clothes draped over each arm, I chose a fitting room and stripped.

A beautiful stranger stared back in the full-length mirror. Where I wasn't toned before, I had triceps. I could even see my ribs. My waist tapered to a tiny hourglass while my hips flared just enough to attract male attention. Even the globes of my rear seemed perkier. If it wasn't uncouth, I could go braless. Grinning at the thought of the girls bouncing in the breeze, I quickly tried on the other selections.

It didn't seem to matter what I put on, everything looked amazing. This would be my best shopping trip yet.

Arms full of fabric, I skipped to the cashier.

She eyed my selections with approval and gave me my total.

Thumbing out a couple bills from my emergency stash, I paid and grabbed my bags.

In the glass reflection on my way out, I could see the cashier staring after me with a strange look of longing on her face. Weird.

Needing a caffeine fix, I popped into Starbucks. As soon as I stepped up to the counter, the room fell silent. The espresso machines hissed, but everyone just stopped and gawked. I looked around for a moment before I figured out that the object of their fascination was... me.

Feeling uncomfortable with my second hand purchases, I cleared my throat to order.

The barista immediately snapped to attention. “A venti mocha frappe, please," I

mumbled, reaching into my pocket. As I grabbed a ten, the drink appeared in front of me. Was he trying to give me someone else's order? You could have heard a pin drop as I held out the bill.

The employee looked at my outstretched hand like he didn't know what money was. Dumbfounded, he stared for a few beats. “No charge, miss. Thanks for coming in today.”

“Um, okay," I stammered, not even wanting the coffee now. Snatching my drink, I turned and headed toward the door.

Every person's eyes followed me with not just longing, but also jealousy, and... lust.

I rushed the five blocks home in record time. What the hell was that all about?

Locking the door, I plugged in my phone. Flopping onto the sofa, I reflected back on the strangest evening ever. I was a dud, just a normal non-magical person. What was with all the looks?

Venti Mocha Frappe and thrift clothes forgotten on the table, I decided to make popcorn and veg out.

Bed pulled out, comfy clothes on, Orange on the TV... Perfect. Exhausted, I nodded off in the middle of the third season.

A surge of panic startled me awake. Reaching over to the table for my phone, I checked the time: 2:00 a.m. I'd been asleep for about five hours. What had awoken me? I heard nothing but the soft sounds of the TV I had fallen asleep listening to, but inside my gut was screaming.

Something was wrong.

Giselle would be sleeping right now. Maybe I should go check on her? As I debated calling her, a soft tapping sounded on the door. Thoroughly freaked out, I grabbed my bat from the corner by the couch and sat on my knees.

It came again. Tap, tap, tap. After a moment, the handle wiggled. Panicking, I squinted at the deadbolt in the flickering light of the TV. Locked, I sighed in relief.

Tap, tap, tap, thump.

Heart in my throat, I tiptoed to the door while strangling the Louisville Slugger with my sweat-dampened fingers. My home was just a studio/bath above a detached garage with a stair entry on the side. The door opened outward. If shit hit the fan, maybe I could kick it and surprise whoever the hell was sneaking around on the landing.

Muffled voices quickly aborted that

plan. “...I smell it too," said a man's deep

timbre.

“Door's locked... too loud," came a muffled reply.

I looked back toward the phone I left on the coffee table, torn between crossing the distance and listening further.

“The scent... near the old lady's house, we... it out?”

In full-on terror, I gripped the bat in one hand and placed my other on the lock. No way was I letting anyone near Giselle.

Another man replied, “No, Blaze said to check it out, not harass old ladies in the... the night."

I slowly let go of the breath I was holding and released the deadbolt. It made a nearly inaudible click as it resettled from my touch.

Silence.

A moment passed.

Knock, knock.

“We can hear you breathing, mouse. Open up. We just want to have a chat." I debated answering, when the lock began turning on its own. No! Too slowly, I reached out as it fully disengaged and swung open.

Two huge men stood with their faces shadowed against the dim porch light. Heavily corded with muscle, they seemed as big as mountains to my five-foot-nine frame.

Lifting the weapon higher, I readied my stance to strike whoever entered first. I didn't have much, but this was my home. I wouldn't give it up without a fight.

Their shoulders immediately slumped in unison. I waited a few more moments, but they remain as still as statues on my porch.

I shrilled, “Who are you?” Instantly, I cringed at my pitch. No response.

Stepping closer, I flipped the overhead light on with my elbow.

Unseeing ocean-colored eyes stared back at me from both of their faces. One had dirty-blond hair, while his partner's was dark as night. Both men were dressed completely in black.

I met the blond's gaze and repeated my question. “Who are you?”

“Von," he rumbled.

“And you?"

“Jake."

My eyes ping-ponged while the two guys remained completely motionless.

Confused, I looked to Von. "Why did you come here?”

Factually, he stated, “Blaze said to investigate a strange lingering scent in PB last night. It's coming from you.”

“You can s-smell me?" I stuttered. “My, uh, scent drew you here?” I now leaned more toward creeped out, and my panic lowered a notch.

“Yes," he answered. “We caught it near Starbucks and tracked you back here."

“Why?" I squeaked.

He replied in a monotone, “Blaze told us to find you, see what you were."

I took a step back. They remained where they were as if frozen while my mind raced. Strange things had been happening ever since I left that bar. The people's behavior downtown, now two hulking men had tracked me to my home and were answering my questions as if they were hypnotized.

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm human. What are you?”

“Vampires, of the SoCal Clutch."

Obviously Von could carry on a conversation, but Jake stood next to him like a statue. “Jake, who is Blaze?” He promptly replied, “The leader of our Clutch."

Inspired by their non-threatening manner, I stared hard at Von. "Stand on one foot.”

He immediately lifted a black-clad leg. Surprised, I gawked for a moment before addressing Jake, “You too."

What the hell was I supposed to make of this situation? It was almost comical. I knew of Vampires, but I had certainly never met one. Racking my memories, I searched for anything to explain what was happening. It seemed like I was controlling them. Almost... almost like magic. I was a dud, non-magical, and abandoned because of it. Now it seemed I had some sort of power, just one I'd never heard of. Adrenaline flooded my veins at the revelation. Peering at Von, I asked, "What are you going to do when you leave here?”

"Tell Blaze... tell him..." his brow wrinkled in confusion “...that we found a human?” The end of his sentence lifted into a question as if asking my opinion. It seemed I could impart suggestions. Interesting... “How did you unlock my door?"

Jake answered, “We can do simple magic and manipulate items.”

That was freaky. Any Vampire could just stroll into my home? My adrenaline rush came to an abrupt stop as fear took over again. Both Vampires inhaled in unison. Their gazes turned from blank stares into ones of fierce protection and alternating adoration. Odd. Shelving their reaction, I continued the interrogation. “How do I stop a Vampire?”

Von nodded. "Wards from Mages are usually placed around the exterior of a home. We cannot cross them."

Jake added, “Stakes, beheading, and fire are also very effective ways to stop a Vampire. We cannot go into direct sunlight, and daylight hours weaken us."

Shifting from foot to foot, I slowly digested their information. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I didn't want this, whatever this even was. Narrowing my eyes, I spoke with feigned confidence. “I think you should leave. Never come back, and do not tell anyone about me, especially Blaze." Their faces mirrored hurt and

confusion like I had just kicked their puppies. Strangely enough, the effect almost made me take back my words, but my safety was paramount. Hmm... could I make it an order? Clearing my throat, I restated, “Jake, Von, leave my home. Never tell anyone about me. Forget me entirely. You were never here. Is that understood?”

“Yes," they replied in unison. Their faces cleared as they turned away and walked silently down my creaky stairs.

If I hadn't seen them leave with my own eyes, I never would have believed they'd gone. Predatory, my mind supplied as they faded into the night. With the bat still clutched in my hand, I questioned my own sanity and closed the door. There was zero chance of sleep now, so I decided to tidy up my bed and head down to the garage to wash my new clothes. Thank the Goddess Giselle's house was just over two hundred feet away and I could come and go as I pleased. As tragic as it was that she had lost her family, I was very grateful to fill the void that they had left behind, and even more grateful that Giselle filled some of mine in return.

A couple hours later, I finished folding my clothes and checked the time: 4:30 a.m. Deciding to watch some more TV, I soon passed out on the couch.

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