"Never mind how I got here—I have my ways. Thing is, I have the feeling you aren't going to like who our donor is."

"Why?" A rumble in my stomach told me that he was right—I wasn't going to like his answer. "Just who did you find?"

He cleared his throat. "Your friend. Cleo—Tim Winthrop. I had the feeling he'd be here, and he seemed the best choice. I told them about Erin and he volunteered to be the donor."

Holy crap! Of course Tim would volunteer. Erin was like family to him. I let out a long hiss. This was a mess. Tim had a little girl to think about. What if something went horribly wrong?

"Hold on, let me talk to the others." I put him on mute and ran back into the bunker to tell Camille and Delilah. Chase and Morio listened, but they clearly understood that this was our call. "So what do you think? Should we tell Roz to bring Tim with him?"

"How long before she wakes?" Camille said, looking down at Erin's still form.

I shook my head. "I have no idea. Probably not long."

Delilah scuffed the toe of her boot on the floor. "The way I see it, we don't have a choice. Erin will need blood. We need a donor. We don't have time to be choosy, and Tim's volunteered. We just do our best to keep her from draining him."

"Delilah's right," Camille said. "Tim knows the risks. Tell Roz to get the hell back here with him."

By their expressions, I realized they both knew exactly what we were risking. I'd made the choice, accepted the challenge, now we all had to cope with the ramifications and not let Erin down. The last thing I wanted to do was to have to stake my own daughter.

I hurried back to the steps and punched the talk button. "Get back here with Tim. Hurry it up—we don't have long before she rises."

"We're on the way," he said, then hung up before I could ask him just how he planned on getting both of them over here in time. With a look around to make sure we were still alone, I returned to Erin's side.

"They're on the way. Let's hope that Roz can fly," I said as I knelt beside Erin. She was cold, colder than death. I held her hand and closed my eyes, remembering.

"What's it like?" Camille asked, squatting next to me. "What's it like where she's at right now?"

"After you realize you're still tied to your body, you're pulled back in. You saw my memories—the ice tunnel… then crimson veins spreading through the silver cord that connects the body to spirit—like arteries filled with fire. Everything smelled like blood and my stomach began to ache. I was so hungry, so thirsty."

"The bloodlust," Delilah said, sitting on my other side.

"Yeah… the bloodlust. It's like… everything vanishes except the thirst. An itch on an open wound. All I could think about was finding someone to rip into, to satiate my thirst." I hung my head. I seldom talked about my passions and the drive to drink. It wasn't a subject my sisters could easily understand. Or so I thought.

But Camille nodded. "Like me and the Hunt. During the full moon, I have to run with the magic or the Moon Mother will drive me mad. Unless I can make it into the woods, I'll lose my sanity. And when I'm caught up in the chase… there's no force on earth that can stop me except for death."

"Exactly," I said, startled that she hit it right on the nose.

"Or like when I have to shift on the full moon. There's nothing in the world that can prevent me from transforming. If something tried, I think I'd die," Delilah said. More softly, she said, "It's harder when my Death Maiden aspect emerges. The Autumn Lord controls my panther form, and if he wants her to come out and play, I have no warning."

I stared at Erin's body. They did understand, in their own ways. I hadn't ever thought to correlate the forces that drove my sisters' natures with the bloodlust, but it was true. We each answered to our true form, we each waged war for control with aspects of ourselves that were beyond our abilities to curb.

"Maybe I've been too hesitant to talk about things," I said. "I never stopped to think that you might both face your own inner demons, that you both answer to forces greater than yourselves. I knew, but not on that gut level that really rings home."

I glanced up. Chase and Morio were playing dumb, but it was obvious they'd been listening to us. "What about you? Chase, is there something you can't control, that you answer to besides your conscience?"

Looking startled at being included in the conversation, he frowned. "I'm not sure. Humans like to think we control our world, but truthfully, we can't direct even a fraction of it. I don't think I have anything that quite compares to what you're talking about, but there are some people who seem driven by forces beyond understanding—religious fanatics, criminal psychotics… a number of things."

Delilah looked at him curiously. "Do you believe in the gods?"

Chase shrugged. "I won't say there aren't higher forces at work, but do I pray to any of them? No. I learned the hard way that nobody looks out for me but myself. My father was a dope fiend who disappeared when I was a kid. My mother's a fruitcake. We lived on welfare most of my childhood because she couldn't hold a job." He glanced up at Delilah and their eyes locked. I had the feeling they'd been down this road before.

"Who took care of you?" I asked.

"Me. By the time I was a teenager, I was managing to stay in school while working at McDonald's in the afternoons, running a paper route before school in the mornings, and late night I delivered takeout for Hunan's Dragon Palace. Somehow I scraped up rent every month. My jobs at Mickey D's and Hunan's fed me."

"And your mother didn't do anything to help?" I could hear the resentment in his voice. No wonder he avoided talking to her as much as possible. Delilah had told me Chase was constantly getting hounded by his mother for not calling. This was probably the reason.

"She was too busy trying to find Mr. Right to care much about me. Her boyfriends bruised me up now and then because I'd mouth off to them. They gave her money for food—for her. She collected AFDC, but wasted the money on clothes and booze. I spent all my spare time working. It was either that or join a gang. And I'm not gang material."

"AFDC?" Camille asked.

"Aid to Families with Dependent Children," Chase said.

"Oh, did your father ever come back?" Camille frowned.

He shook his head. "No. Haven't seen him since I was a little kid. My mother finally got married, but by then I was in the police academy." He shrugged. "Water under the bridge, now."

A sudden noise put a stop to our conversation. Erin was starting to stir. We had, at best, five minutes. "Fuck. Oh fuck, where are Roz and Tim?"

"Right here," a voice said from the hall. Roz and Tim pushed their way into the room. Tim looked pale, as if he'd been yanked through a wringer. Or maybe Roz had dragged him here on a magic carpet. Either way, they were here and that's all that mattered.

"Tim, listen to me. There's no time to explain. Erin's going to wake up and she's going to be hungry. If you still want to go through with it, I'll be here for you. She'll need to drink enough to keep from passing into a coma, which means you're going to be giving her enough blood so that you'll feel woozy. You don't have any problems like anemia or anything that could compromise your health, do you? Viruses, infections won't affect her, but blood loss might hurt you."

He shook his head, eyes glazed over as he stared at Erin's wan form. "Will I become a vampire?"

"No, not as long as you don't drink from a vampire's vein. But listen—things could go wrong. I'm much stronger than she is. I can keep her from killing you. Or at least, I'm ninety-nine percent sure I can. I won't give you a blanket guarantee." I didn't add that she still had the chance to go rogue, that she could choose to turn toward the dark side of vampirism. If she did, I'd be forced to stake her and end her life forever.

Tim yanked off his shirt. "How much will she drink?"

I stared at his bare chest, which was hairless and ripped to a tight six-pack. "Man, you take care of yourself," I blurted out without thinking.

He smiled, ducking his head. "Jason likes me fit."

"Does he know that you're here?"

"Nah," he said. "He wouldn't… I don't think I'm going to tell him."

"Right." From the few times I'd met Jason, I could guarantee that Tim would be single if his fiancé ever found out what he was up to. "Here's the rundown. Your best bet is to offer her your wrist. That way she can't accidentally break your neck in her excitement and I'll have better access to control her. Don't be surprised if she doesn't recognize you. Don't let her scare you—when she first wakes up she'll be frightened and hungry. Eventually she'll remember who she is."

"Menolly!" Camille's voice held an urgency that immediately caught my attention.

I whirled. Erin had gone into convulsions. "Everybody but Tim and me get out. Wait in the main room. Don't come in until I tell you to."

Chase and Morio obeyed immediately, but Delilah and Camille hesitated. "Now, damn it! Get out! Let me focus on helping her instead of having to worry about your butts." That got them moving. They shut the door behind them.

I turned to Tim. "Stay in the corner until I call for you. And you'd better decide now, for real, if you want to go through with this. Because if you chicken out, I'm going to have to stake her and it would be more merciful to just get it over with before she regains consciousness."

Tim blanched. "Erin took me in when my wife found out I was gay and kicked me out. She yanked me out of the closet and forced me to be honest with Patty and with myself. And she helped me rebuild my relationship with my little girl. It was hard as hell and I had to face the fact that I hurt a lot of people with my deception. But she was there to help me pick up the pieces and put them back together again. I owe her big time, Menolly."

With a nod, I crept over to Erin. Bloody foam was trickling from the side of her mouth. Transformation was ugly, that was a fact. It was messy, it was dirty, far from the delicate swoon portrayed in late night B-movies. Neither was it the sensual ride of a lifetime—at least not until after the change was over. Until the newborn drank and came to consciousness, it was a lot like a diabetic seizure.

"Erin, Erin, can you hear me?" I didn't try to hold her head. She'd lash out, and at this point a few bumps on her noggin weren't going to hurt her.

Erin opened her eyes and snapped up into a sitting position. She started to turn around, then I saw a familiar look cross her face. Not all newborns succumbed to panic when they realized they couldn't breathe, but apparently Erin was my daughter in more than just blood. She clawed at her throat, eyes wide with fear.

"Stop—Erin, stop! You'll be okay. Quit trying to breathe. You don't need to breathe. Relax, just relax."

Her shoulders shaking, she licked her lips as she quit struggling. Then she looked at me again, and flinched. I'd done the same with Dredge when I first awoke. Every vampire knew her sire. Every vampire was bound to her sire in a way that precluded all other oaths, even to the gods.

I could see the hunger in her eyes, the confusion and bewilderment as she groveled on the floor in front of me and, for a moment, I hated myself. Thoroughly, absolutely hated myself for what I'd done to her.

"Is it time?" Tim asked quietly, and the confidence in his voice shored me up. I glanced at him and saw, not revulsion, but relief as he watched Erin struggle. He caught my look of surprise. "She's my friend. She'd be dead without you. Let me help her, please?"

Not sure what to say, I nodded. "Come forward, slowly." I knelt in back of her and, with one hand, restrained her arms behind her. With the other, I stroked her hair. She'd be weak until she'd fed. She didn't struggle, merely glanced over her shoulder at me, looking for guidance. She was doing better than most newborns, that was for sure. I could tell that, hungry or not, there was already a spark of recognition beyond the fact that I was her sire.

Tim held his wrist out to her. "Erin, do you know me? It's Tim. I'm here to help. You can drink from me. It's okay." His voice was soothing, far from the bray that he used for his drag persona, Cleo Blanco. I could imagine him reading bedtime stories to his daughter with this voice.

Erin seemed to respond to it, too. She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. Her gaze never leaving his face, she leaned forward, eyeing his wrist, and her fangs extended.

Gently reassuring her as she placed the tips against his wrist, I guided her away from the main artery. She didn't need to drink from the main well. As the tips of her fangs sank into his flesh, Tim gasped and closed his eyes.

"Does it hurt?" I asked as Erin began to suck, licking it to stimulate the flow.

He let out a shuddering gasp. "No… no, it doesn't hurt. It feels like heaven. Oh God, I never expected this." His voice breathless, he looked about ready to come right there.

I felt a sudden surge of pride. Erin was so far beyond where I'd been at her stage. Dredge had turned me loose hungry, with barely enough blood to keep me going. I'd gone on a rampage all the way home.

After Erin started to settle down and I felt her energy stabilize, I gently disengaged her from Tim, who had dropped to the floor into a stupor, oblivious to his own danger. Erin struggled at first when I pulled her away, then glanced up at me and let go of his wrist.