Page 125 of Vampires and Violas

“See you soon.”

I end the call and then direct Noah to Sam’s address.

There are a few cars in the drive when we pull up, along with pink and purple birthday balloons on the fence.

“Looks like this is the right place.” Noah parks beside the sidewalk and gets out to help me.

“We’ll run these up to the door, and then maybe we can grab lunch?” I take a moment to steady myself, standing in the bare shade cast by the truck. “I’m feeling a little woozy. I think I need some protein.”

“Did you remember your second dose of blood this afternoon?”

I grimace. “Yeah.”

Noah has that look again—thatnot goodlook.

As we carry the arrangements up the drive, I decide I need to buy a better sunscreen. But do they make SPF 1000?

I ring the doorbell and wait. When there’s no answer, I try again.

When there’sstillno answer, I call Sam back.

He answers on the first ring. “Hey, Piper. Are you here?”

“Yeah, we’re on the front step.”

“We’re in the backyard setting up. Come on in through the side gate.”

“They’re out back,” I tell Noah when I hang up. “He said to go through the gate.”

A strange premonition passes over me, like maybe someone is watching us. I glance behind me, wondering if we were followed.

But the sun is high in the sky and stupidly bright. Vampires aren’t out and about right now, not unless they’re taking the daylight drug, and Noah said they’d have to be registered with NIHA to obtain it.

I juggle the flowers as Noah opens the gate, and we walk in together. I feel like we’re trespassing, and I don’t love it.

We walk through the small, graveled side yard, passing an AC unit and a lawnmower. When we round the house, we pause.

Though there are balloons on the gate, there’s no sign of party prep going on back here. Several guys sit on the patio in cheap, collapsable camping chairs, looking bored. They’re in T-shirts and shorts, but they’re allpale—too pale for Colorado, a state that claims three hundred days of sunshine each year.

Unless they usually only come out at night.

The four men stand as if to greet us.

My eyes quickly scan the rest of the yard, and warning bells go off in my head. Though the front yard always looks lived in, with beach towels and toys and shark sprinklers, the back is bare. There’s not even a grill on the patio. No table, no chairs, and no toys whatsoever.

“You must be the flower people,” one of the men says. “Piper, right?”

Noah instinctively edges in front of me. Quietly, he asks me, “Which one is Sam?”

“None of them,” I whisper.

Oh no—is this Colin all over again? Did these guys somehow figure out we were coming and shove Sam in a closet?

The gravel crunches behind us, and I turn, gasping when four more men appear.

“Hey, Piper,” Sam says. “Glad you could make it.”

Noah growls under his breath, realizing we’ve walked into a trap. But most of my attention is on the big guy next to Sam—thereallybig guy.

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