than humans, but a werewolf could sniff its prey out. It couldn't possibly miss the smell of humans in the
car.
Outside, the footsteps paused, and Rashel's heart sank. Eyes open, she silently put her hand on her
sword.
And then she heard the footsteps moving quickly-away. She listened as they faded, keeping utterly still.
Then she kept still some more, while she counted to two hundred.
Then, very carefully, she sat up and looked around.
No sight or sound of vampires.
"Can I please get up now?" came a small whimpering voice from the floor.
"If you keep quiet," Rashel whispered. "They still may be somewhere nearby. We're going to have to get
to my car without them catching us."
"Anything, as long as I don't have to run," the girl said plaintively, emerging from the floor more
disheveled than ever. "Have you ever tried to run in four-inch heels?"
"I never wear heels," Rashel murmured, scanning up and down the street. "Okay, I'll get out first, then
you come through."
She slid out the window feet-first. The girl stuck her head through. "Don't you ever use doors?"
"Sh. Come on," Rashel whispered. She led the way through the dark streets, moving from shadow to
shadow. At least the girl could walk softly, she thought. And she had a sense of humor even in danger.
That was rare.
Rashel drew a breath of relief when they reached the narrow twisting alley where her Saturn was
parked. They weren't safe yet, though. She wanted to get the blond girl out of Mission Hill.
"Where do you live?" she said, as she started the engine. When there was no answer, she turned. The
girl was staring at her with open uneasiness.
"Uh, how come you're dressed like that? And who are you, anyway? I mean, I'm glad you saved me-but
I don't understand anything."
Rashel hesitated. She needed information from this girl, and that was going to take time-and trust. With
sudden decision she unwound her scarf, one-handed, until her face was exposed. "Like I said, I'm a
friend. But first just tell me: do you know what kind of people had you in that truck?"
The girl turned away. She was already shivering with cold; now she shivered harder. "They weren't
people. They were... ugh."
"Then you do know. Well, I'm one of the people that hunts down that kind of people."
The girl looked from Rashel's face to the sheathed sword that rested between them. Her jaw dropped.
"Oh, my God! You're Buffy the Vampire Slayer!"
"Huh? Oh." Rashel had missed the movie. "Right. Actually, you can call me Rashel. And you're... ?"
"Daphne Childs. And I live in Somerville, but I don't want to go home."
"Well, that's fine, because I want to talk to you. Let's find a Dunkin' Donuts."
Rashel found one outside of Boston, a safe one she knew had no Night World connections. She pulled a
coat on over her black ninja outfit and lent Daphne a spare sweater from the trunk of her car. Then they
went inside and ordered jelly sticks and hot chocolate.
"Now," Rashel said. "Tell me what happened. How did you end up in that truck?"
Daphne cupped her hands around her hot chocolate. "It was all so horrible..."
"I know." Rashel tried to make her voice soothing. She hadn't had much practice at it. "Try to tell me
anyway. Start at the beginning."
"Okay, well, it started at the Crypt."
"Uh, as in 'Tales from the...'? Or as in the Old Burial Ground?"
"As in the club on Prentiss Street. It's this underground club, and I mean really underground. I mean,
nobody seems to know about it except the people who go there, and they're all our age. Sixteen or
seventeen. I never see any adults, not even DJs."
"Go on." Rashel was listening intently. The Night People had clubs, usually carefully hidden from humans.
Could Daphne have wandered into one?
"Well. It's extremely and seriously cool-or at least that's what I thought. They have some amazing music.
I mean, it's beyond doom, it's beyond goth, it's sort of like void rock. Just listening to it makes you go all
weird and bodiless. And the whole place is decorated like this post-apocalypse wasteland. Or maybe
like the underworld...." Daphne stared off into the distance. Her eyes, a very deep cornflower blue
under heavy lashes, looked wistful and almost hypnotized.
Rashel poked her and chocolate slopped onto the table. "Reminisce about it later. What kind of people
were in the club? Vampires?"
"Oh, no." Daphne looked shocked. "Just regular kids. I know some from my school. And there's lots of
runaways, I guess. Street kids, you know."
Rashel blinked. "Runaways..."
"Yeah. They're mostly very cool, except the ones who do drugs. Those are spooky."
An illegal club full of runaway kids, some of whom would probably do anything for drugs. Rashel could
feel her skin tingling.
I think I've stumbled onto something big.
"Anyway," Daphne was going on, "I'd been going there for about three weeks, you know, whenever I
could get away from home-"
"You didn't tell your parents about it," Rashel guessed flatly.
"Are you joking? It's not a place you tell parents about. Anyway, my family doesn't care where I go. I've
got four sisters and two brothers and my mom and my step-dad are getting divorced... they don't even
notice when I'm gone." "Go on," Rashel said grimly. "Well, there was this guy." Daphne's cornflower eyes