The room erupted in flashes of light, reporters frantically snapping images of the ensemble. Seemingly oblivious to the flash of the strobes, they stood stoically, side by side, perfectly still.

"We are here," Alexander said, "to extend our deepest sympathies to the family and friends of Jennifer Porter, and to promise to do our part to assist the Chicago Police Department and other law enforcement agencies in any way that we can. We offer our aid and condemn the acts of those who would take human life. There is no need for such violence, and it has long been abhorred by the civilized among us. As you know, although we must take blood to survive, we have long-established procedures that prevent us from victimizing those who do not share our craving. Murder is perpetrated only by our enemies. And rest assured, my friends, they are your enemies and ours, alike."

Alexander paused, but then continued, his voice edgier. "It has come to our attention that a pendant from one of Chicago's Houses, Cadogan, was found at the crime scene."

"Oh, my God," Mallory whispered.

I kept my eyes on the screen.

"Although our comrades from Cadogan House do drink from humans," Alexander continued, "they are meticulous in ensuring that the humans who donate blood are fully informed and fully consenting. And Chicago's other vampires do not, under any circumstances, take human blood. Thus, it is our belief, although only a hypothesis at this early time, that the medal was placed at the scene of the crime solely to inculpate the residents of Cadogan House. To suggest otherwise is unjustified supposition."

Without another word, Alexander fell back in line next to his comrades.

Celina stepped forward. At first, she was silent, her gaze scanning the reporters in front of her. She smiled softly, and you could practically hear the reporters' sighs. But the innocence in her expression was a little too innocent to be believable. A little too forced.

"We are devastated by the death of Jennifer Porter," she said, "and by the accusations that have been leveled against our colleagues. Although Navarre House vampires do not drink, we respect the decisions of other Houses to engage in that practice. The resources of Navarre House are at the city's disposal. This crime offends us all, and Navarre House will not rest until the killer is caught and prosecuted."

Celina nodded at the bank of reporters, then turned and walked offscreen, the rest of her vampires falling in line behind her.

Mallory muted the television and turned back to me. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?"

"They say the Houses aren't involved," I pointed out.

"She says Navarre isn't involved," Mallory said. "She seems pretty willing to throw the other Houses to the wolves. And besides, vampires were involved when you turned up almost dead. A vampire attacked you. That's too many fangs to be coincidental."

I caught the direction of her thoughts. "You think I'm, what, number two? That I was supposed to be the second victim?"

"You were the second victim," she said. She used the remote to turn off the television. "And I think it's an awfully big coincidence that your throat was ripped out on campus. It's not exactly a park, but it's close enough. Look," she said, pointing back at the television.

A picture of Jennifer Porter, a small shot from an ID card, filled the screen. Dark brown hair, blue eyes, just like me.

We shared a moment of silence.

"And speaking of heinous people," Mallory finally said, "how was the visit home?" Mallory had met my parents only once, when I couldn't hold off an introduction any longer. She'd just adopted the blue-hair regimen. Needless to say, they weren't impressed. Creativity, even if benign, was not tolerated in the Merit house. After the one visit, during which Mal had barely avoided socking my father in the jaw, I decided not to force them on her again.

"Not great."

"I'm sorry."