Chosen

still us, even if we were short one of us.
    The school was even more deserted today than it had been during the past month, which made sense. It was Christmas, and even though fledglings have to stay in physical contact with adult vamps, we are allowed to stay off campus for up to a full day. (There's some kind of pheromone vamps secrete that semi-controls the physical Change taking place within us and allows us to complete the metamorphosis into adult vamps, or at least allows some of us to do that. The rest of us die.) So lots of kids were spending Christmas with their human families.
    As I'd expected, the library was deserted. I didn't need to worry about it being locked up and alarmed like a typical school. Vamps, with their psychic and physical powers, didn't need locks to make us act right. Actually, I wasn't for sure what they did when a fledgling did something typically teenage and moronic. Rumor had it that the vamps would banish the miscreant (hee-hee, "miscreant," that was one of Damien's vocab words) for varying periods of time. Which meant the kid could get really sick—as in drowning in his own disintegrating bodily tissues and dying.
    All in all, it was best not to piss off the vampyres. Naturally, I'd made an enemy of the most powerful High Priestess at our school. Sometimes being me was good—like when Erik was kissing me or when I was hanging with my friends—but mostly being me was a big ball of stress and angst.
    I searched the musty old books in the metaphysical section of the library (as you can probably imagine, at this particular library it was a big section). It was slow going because I'd decided not to use the computer catalogue search engine. The last thing I needed was to leave an electronic trail that screamed: Zoey Redbird is trying to find information about fledglings that die and have been reanimated as bloodsucking fiends by a High Priestess who is an evil control freak with some kind of as-yet-unknown Master Plan! No. Even I knew that would not be a good idea.
    I'd been there for more than an hour and was getting frustrated by my snail-like pace. I really wished I could ask for Damien's help. Not only was the kid smart and a fast reader, he was also seriously good at research. I was clutching Rituals to Heal Body and Spirit and trying to get a top-shelf copy of a leather-bound old-as-dirt book titled Combating Evil with Spells and Rituals, when a strong arm reached up and plucked it easily from over my head. I turned around and almost banged dorkishly right into Loren Blake.
    "Combating Evil, huh? Interesting choice of reading material."
    His nearness did not help my nerves. "You know me" (which he really didn't). "I like to be prepared."
    His brow wrinkled in confusion. "Are you expecting an attack of evil?"
    "No!" I said way too quickly. So I laughed, trying for a gay, carefree tone (gay, hee-hee), but was sure I came across as totally fake. "Well, a couple months ago no one expected Aphrodite to lose control of a bunch of blood-sucking vampyre spirits and she did. So I figured, you know, better safe than sorry." God, I'm a moron.
    "Guess that makes sense. So there's nothing specific you're preparing for?"
    I wondered at the sharp interest in his eyes. "Nope," I said nonchalantly. "Just trying to do a good job as leader of the Dark Daughters."
    He glanced at the rituals book I was holding. "You know that those rituals are only for adult vampyres, don't you? When fledglings get sick there is, unfortunately, only one reason behind it. Their bodies are rejecting the Change and they will die." Then he added in a gentler voice, "You're not feeling ill, are you?"
    "Oh, gosh, no!" I said hastily. "I'm fine. It's just, well—" I hesitated, grasping for an excuse. With a sudden inspiration I blurted, "It's embarrassing to admit, but I thought I'd do some extra studying for when I become a High Priestess."
    Loren smiled. "Why would that be embarrassing to admit? I wouldn't have imagined you as one of those silly women who think being well read and well educated is an embarrassment."
    I felt my cheeks start to get warm—he'd called me a "woman," which was way better than him calling me a fledgling or a kid. He always made me feel so grown, so womanly. "Oh, no, that's not it. It's embarrassing because it sounds kinda conceited to assume that I'm going to actually be a High Priestess someday."
    "I think that assumption is just good common sense and justifiable self-confidence." His smile