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  The only time that I had ever gotten close to learning about my mother had been on the eve of my sixteenth birthday. As Miss Elisa carefully brushed out my long hair—a bedtime ritual we developed when I was too young to remember and had carried on over the years—I begged her to tell me everything she knew about Zora Fairchild. They had been old friends, and I was yearning to learn anything I possibly could about the woman who gave her life in exchange for mine.

  “Your mother was extraordinary in every way,” Elisa began, her blue eyes brimming with memories of a time long ago. “She was full of life, so kind and loving. She adored your father and she would have loved you with all her heart if she had gotten a chance to meet you.”

  “Tell me more about her,” I whispered, fearing that if I spoke out loud, it would break Elisa’s trance. To my relief, she continued to speak.

  “Zora was graceful and charming, but also very child-like,” she said, smiling wistfully at the recollection. “Her laugh sounded like a thousand little bells going off at once.”

  “What did she look like?” I pressed, more bravely.

  “She was very pretty,” Elisa said, looking at my face intently. I straightened my shoulders and I lifted my chin in an attempt to emulate an air of confidence and regality I had always attributed to the imaginary Zora within my mind.

  As if she knew exactly what I was doing, Elisa smiled sadly. “Zora was extremely slight, only about five feet tall and very pale, with straight white-blond hair,” she explained.

  “So, she looked nothing like me?” I asked, blinking back burning tears.

  “Oh, Dawn!” Elisa’s voice suddenly became stronger. “You are your father’s daughter. You’re taller and have darker hair than your mother. And you’re even more beautiful—the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.”

  When she realized that the flattery did not appease me, Elisa quickly added, “But you two did have one special thing in common,” she gushed, stroking my cheek lovingly. “Your eyes! I’ve never seen anyone else with eyes the color of amethysts.”

  I brightened at the prospect of sharing something so unique with my mother, but was suddenly overcome by a darker, more chilling thought.

  “If my mother was one of the Born, and my father was made vampire by her in 1856, then how did she give birth to me in 1996? The Born don’t stop aging until they have a child.” Numbers and equations ran through my head at lightning speed. “She would have been over a hundred-and-fifty-years-old by the time I came into the world!”

  Elisa fell silent. For a long time, she just sat there, nervously running her fingers back and forth over her lips, as if racking her brain for something clever to tell me. She was about to speak, when my father entered the room, startling us both, and causing Elisa to jump out of her seat.

  She bent her head to mine, urgently whispering, “Dawn, your birth was a complicated procedure. Now be a good girl and don’t ask any more questions. You don’t want to upset your father.” She never said another word about my mother or my birth again, and I never dared to ask.

  Now, sitting in my father’s office, across from the only man who knew everything there was to know about my mother, I wondered if I would ever gather enough courage to ask the many questions I had surrounding the mystery of my birth.

  “Dawn? Are you still with me?” my father asked, pulling me back into the present with a sudden jolt.

  I quickly focused my eyes back on his face and nodded.

  “Good. I have something very important to show you.” He opened the door of a massive wooden cabinet, revealing a large flat-screen television.

  I stifled a chuckle. Here was a man trying to keep up appearances by hiding from the sun and using candle chandeliers, who, at the same time dispensed assignments on big-screen, high-definition televisions.

  With a click of a remote, images of a quaint little town began to flash in front of us.

  “Angel Creek, population nine-hundred,” my father narrated. “Over the past three years, all nine-hundred of those human lives were protected by a group of five extremely powerful vampires. They were known throughout the town as the Fab Five.”

  My eyes widened at the sight on the screen. Two tall, slender female vampires and three strikingly muscular male vampires strutted down a small street. Their luscious hair swayed in the wind as their chiseled faces and toned bodies moved from side to side in rhythmic motion. The five looked like they had stepped directly out of the latest fashion magazine, or perhaps as if they belonged in some high-end perfume ad. As they paraded by a bright blue sign with the words Welcome to Angel Creek inscribed on it in white, I could no longer contain my laughter. My father shot me a disapproving glare.

  “Yes, they were young and good-looking, but they had more skill and power than some of our most seasoned teams,” he explained, his voice somber. “More importantly, they were adored by the humans in town.”

  I didn’t even have to use my imagination to decipher what that meant. I was bombarded by images of the hotshots in various compromising positions with an assortment of their human peers. No amount of eye-rolling on my part could convince my father to turn off the television until the clip finished playing.

  “A week ago, it all came to an end. The council summoned the Fab Five to New York City to aid our army forces in a covert operation against a legion of rebel vampires. Once they arrived in the city, things completely unraveled.” My father’s voice was grave, his face solemn.

  “They were killed by the rebels?” Even though I fought it, I couldn’t hide the panic in my voice. I had always known peace among the vampires in my home country and around the world. At the same time, I was well aware of the gruesome tales of unrest and war from my father’s initial years as president in the early 1900’s.

  My father frowned. “No, they weren't killed, Dawn. Didn't I say they were strong and skilled?” he sighed. “The Fab Five quit the organization for other pursuits,” he explained slowly. “A couple of them were cast in the Next Vamp Idol—that new program looking for hot young vampire triple threats. The others flew to Europe for Transylvania Shore.”

  I stared at him blankly.

  “You know, the television shows?” he offered. “You must have seen them on TV.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t say that I spend much time watching TV.” Then, a little more teasingly, I added, “But I’m glad to see that the President does.”

  “Don’t look at me like that, Dawn.” A sheepish expression crossed my father’s face. “It’s for research purposes,” he said. “And, it’s reality television at its best.”

  I simply smiled, opting to let this one slide. After all, having dedicated his entire existence to his presidency and the vampire public, my father did deserve a break occasionally.

  “As I was saying,” he continued, “Angel Creek has lost its guardians. Without a group of vampires to protect the town, the humans are vulnerable. There has been peace among our people for a long time, but we have recently been receiving reports that rebel vamp groups are popping up in various areas across the country. While our council is strong and we have ensured protection of large cities, it’s the small towns that are at risk. We can’t take our chances. We need to defend the humans and maintain peace between our two worlds,” he said firmly. The man in front of me was no longer a reality-show fanatic, but was once again a powerful leader, well-respected and admired by vampires and humans around the world.

  “Unfortunately, many young vampires are leaving their assigned posts in rural towns to chase after their dreams in the big cities. We have lost countless talented warriors this year to vampire casting calls in Hollywood and even charitable organizations like Vamps Without Borders,” he sighed dejectedly, rubbing his temples. “And that doesn’t even factor in the human love affairs we’re constantly faced with.”

  “Can’t you prevent that from happening?” I asked. “Maybe threaten them with persecution?”

  My father shook his head. “In the early stages, we tr
ied, but once vampires get an idea that they’re going to be the next big thing, even persecution can’t deter them from that path. Sure, we succeeded in keeping them at their posts, but they spent more time and energy on acting classes and singing lessons, than on being active town guardians.”

  “Anyway, the solution is fairly simple,” he said, brightening. “All we need to do is to gather the remaining vampires in the towns and establish them as the official guardians.”

  He rose out of his chair and, in a rapid flash, crossed over to my side of the desk. He leaned against its ledge, fixing his intense green eyes on me.

  “And that’s why I need your help, Dawn,” he declared. “You’re my finest trainer, my best warrior. Not to mention, you are also my most trusted confidante.”

  As he spoke, I held my breath, trying my best to not make a sound.

  Was it finally happening?

  After years of training, was I finally getting my wish?

  As if he had read my mind, my father nodded. “You’re getting your first assignment outside of the Scarlet House grounds.”

  I had been begging my father for a mission ever since I turned sixteen and could officially be granted one, but he had always made excuses as to why I wasn’t able to partake in any assignments. His reluctance had baffled me, as he had ensured that I was better trained than even his highest ranked generals. But, none of that mattered anymore, as my dreams were finally coming true.

  I broke out into a huge smile, resisting the urge to fling my arms around his neck and squeal with delight. Instead, I summoned up all the maturity I could muster and stoically asked, “So, what’s the assignment? I just have to go to Angel Creek and train a couple of vampires to protect this little town?”

  My father cleared his throat. “The situation in Angel Creek is somewhat complicated.” He looked away from me, but not before I could see the guilty look across his face.

  “You see, there are currently only four vampires left in town and they will need some help getting, uhh, organized. It may be a bit tricky, but it’s a very low-risk assignment, I promise.”

  He continued to speak, but I could no longer hear the words coming out of his mouth. I was too preoccupied trying not to burst with excitement.

  I’m the luckiest girl in the world, I thought gleefully.

  If only I had known just how untrue those words would turn out to be.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The next morning, I excitedly set out on my mission. I was eager to reach my destination as soon as possible, my mind preoccupied with daydreaming about the new recruits. I wasn’t granted access to their files until right before my departure from the Scarlet House, so I was very much in the dark as to what lay ahead.

  The three-hour journey through lush farmlands and gentle rolling hills dragged on forever. I knew it was only my imagination, but each mile marker seemed to stretch out for ten. My body vibrated with fervent energy as I attempted to steady my hands on the steering wheel. Had I not been carrying so many supplies, I could have easily run the distance in half of the time it took to drive.

  Following the directions on my GPS, I finally turned my black convertible off of the deserted highway and onto an unmarked dirt road. The path traversed through a thick forest, continuing on without an end in sight. I was beginning to consider the possibility that my GPS had misled me, when the trees suddenly opened up, revealing a picturesque little town within a large valley. Quaint and charming, Angel Creek was smaller than I had anticipated it to be, yet it had a compelling, almost dazzling, presence. Everything about it—from the unusual cobblestone sidewalks to the pristine architecture—was stark-white.

  I steered my car into the heart of the town, coming upon a large, blue-and-white banner hanging proudly above the road.

  “Angel Creek. A Place Where History Resides. Est. 1805,” it read.

  The sign was attached to a bridge that served as a pedestrian passageway, which, judging by the look of the desolate street, must have been used only for ornamental purposes.

  Main Street, Angel Creek’s largest street, held all of the town’s most significant buildings—the small but majestic town hall, the library and post office, the medical offices and law firms, a grocery store, no less than five antique shops which paradoxically boasted the latest fashions, and a few mystery buildings without any signs to suggest their functions. Further up the road, on top of a small hill, I spied a wide, one-storey schoolhouse. Beside it was a church; its grand bell tower, soaring high toward the clouds.

  My history tutor, Françoise, would have been impressed by my ability to identify the influence of the Neoclassical movement in the architecture of Angel Creek. The bright stone structures with their smooth, rounded columns and symmetrical, stately windows drew inspiration from classical Greek and Roman structures, adding on a few unique Gothic twists.

  The most striking site in the entire town was the renowned Angel Creek Park. According to my brief research, the only information that I could find about Angel Creek was regarding its historic park and the white gazebo that the town founder, Henry Hamilton, had built for his bride, Angelica. According to the records, the gazebo was the first structure to be erected on the land. It had stood the test of weather and time, staying put even after the creek that once ran next it had dried up.

  I pulled into an empty parking space in front of the Angel Creek Town Hall. Though it was late July, the day was cool and windy. Dark, heavy clouds gathered in the sky above, threatening rainfall. The gloomy, grim weather could do little to diminish my high spirits. After all, I was on my first mission away from the Scarlet House. As far as I was convinced; I was living out a fantasy.

  I eagerly made my way toward the Angel Creek Library, clutching a sleek electronic tablet to my chest. It was a gift from my father, given to me to contain the information on the four vampires I was to train. My plan had been to study the reports at the library, before heading out in search of the recruits, but, as I approached the steps of the gray building, I noted that it was closed until noon. The Roman numerals on the worn-out town hall clock notified me that I had over an hour to kill.

  I turned on my heels and started back toward my car, dismally scanning all the firmly locked doors and curtained windows along the street. Suddenly, my eyes caught a glimpse of a faded sign that I had missed during my earlier tour through the town. It brandished a hand-painted picture of white angel wings, the words Angel Creek Diner scrawled above it in bold blue letters. A faint melody of a country song floated out from behind the diner doors, causing a renewed surge of excitement to pass through me.

  Light rain began to drizzle as I rushed through the diner doors, silently scolding the chiming bell that announced my entrance to the patrons. The door slammed behind me as I took a moment to adjust my eyes to the dim interior. The periphery of the diner was lined with old-fashioned booths made of coarse, dark wood, their rough table surfaces peeking out underneath green-and-white checkered tablecloths.

  A pungent aroma of fried oil filled my nostrils as I conducted a quick inventory of the place. There were only five people in the diner. A gruff-looking elderly gentleman nursed a beer at the bar, while a young couple lovingly shared a basket of fries in one of the front booths. A pretty red-haired waitress sang along to the tune on the radio as she wiped down a dessert display, and a man I imagined to be the bartender, hunched over the bar, almost completely concealed by the many bottles on the counter. All, except the bartender, who busied himself with mixing a drink, looked curiously toward me when I entered.

  Trying not to draw any more attention to myself, I silently sank into one of the empty corner booths. As I switched on my tablet, an overwhelming sense of exhilaration washed over me once again. Fighting to remain professional and contain the giddy laughter bubbling up inside me, I settled on a silent smile.

  Mid-grin, my eyes locked with a dazzling pair of honey-colored ones. The stranger’s gaze was so magnetic I had to physically force myself to look away as he came out from
behind the bar and approached my booth. The warm, sultry eyes were complemented by a rugged mess of dark golden tresses. He appeared to be in his early twenties, average in height, well-built and muscular. His green and brown plaid shirt and faded blue jeans clued me in to the fact that the face and body I was now staring at—just a tiny bit too attentively—belonged to the Angel Creek Diner bartender.

  He was also studying me, slowly taking in every part of my face. I was glad that vampires did not blush easily or else I would have undoubtedly taken on a deep burgundy shade. I cleared my throat and, in an attempt to emulate his confident smirk, put on what I had hoped was a friendly smile. I was a level-headed, self-assured and intelligent girl, but nineteen years of studying and training under my father’s direct supervision hadn’t allowed for much opportunity to develop skills for dealing with boys.

  To say that I was rusty in the romance department would be the understatement of the century. I couldn’t even be called rusty. For that, there first would have to be something to rust. So here I was, almost no longer a teenager, developing my very first crush—on a human no less. I had succeeded in all this, without actually exchanging a single word with the guy.

  “Hello there,” the stranger greeted me in a slight Southern drawl. I barely caught the accent in his deep, raspy voice, but it was a pleasant sound, adding to the air of mystery surrounding him.

  I drew in a long, calming breath before attempting to speak. “Can I help you?” I asked, doing my best to match the sultriness of his tone in my own voice. Even if I had sounded poised and elegant, in my head, I felt like a complete dork.

  “I think I should be asking you that,” his playful smirk was now a full-fledged smile, complete with slight dimples on each of his chiseled cheeks.