Read Hannah Jayne for Free Online Page A

Vampire Empowerment and Restoration Movement. We don’t shorten it.”
    Will’s expression said he was waiting for more, and Vlad rolled his eyes.
    “Yes, we are a rather secretive organization.”
    I cleared my throat. “But isn’t VER—sorry, the Empowerment Movement—isn’t it basically running the UDA now? I mean, you’ve got Eldridge and Dixon and now you.”
    Vlad looked positively disgusted and ignored me completely. “As I was saying, the Vampire Empowerment and Restoration Movement is a rather secretive organization. To you people. But there are instances—like the egregious and degrading portrayal of our kind, especially just to make a few bucks—that demand we not stay silent. As I mentioned, this will be a peaceful protest.”
    Will blanched. “I suppose that’s good to know.”
    Vlad looked toward the window wistfully. “Originally we were going to have a parade.”
    I swung my head to gape at Vlad over the seat back. He looked slightly sheepish as he angled himself away from a lone shaft of sunlight. “That one fizzled, for obvious, we-burn-in-sunlight reasons.”
    Will leaned forward toward me, pressing himself into the front seat. The stubble on his chin brushed my ear, giving me a completely inappropriate little thrill.
    “This bookstore we’re headed to have an adult section?”
    “You’re disgusting,” I muttered.

    “I’m only human, love,” Will said, winking.
    I gritted my teeth, clamped my knees together, and tried to focus on the San Francisco streets racing toward us and the bits of my life flashing before my eyes. I almost took a bite of the dashboard when Nina spied a parking spot the size of a postage stamp and attempted to wedge her car into it. My heart was pinballing against my rib cage as Nina made her way into the spot, “tapping” the bumpers before and behind us because “that’s what they’re there for, silly.” Once she had parked, Nina killed the engine and went to work smoothing her hair.
    “We’re here!” she crowed joyfully. “How’s my hair?”
    “Great.”
    I slammed the car door behind me and watched Vlad beeline to a group of vampires, all similarly attired as Count Chocula, all looking distressed and sullen.
    Behold the bastions of Hell: a group of immortal teenagers decked out with hair gel, black nail polish, and toothy protest signs.
    The VERMers were huddled together in some sort of fang-tastic motivational meeting. I half expected them to pile all their pasty hands together and then do one of those bouncy, inspirational cheerleader yells: “Vampires, vampires, vampires, YEAH!”
    Will was doing an almost imperceptible bounce from foot to foot and I put my hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. The VERMers talk about empowerment, but they still get their blood from bags. You should be fine.” I smiled warmly.
    “And I suppose you consider that the kind of pep talk that should be comforting?”
    I rolled my eyes and yanked Will after me as I tried to keep my eye on Nina, who was elbowing her way through glamoured teenagers. The teens eyes were glazed, their breathing slow; it is this “glamour” that gives vampires their instant allure and constant access to willing necks.
    I pointed to a particularly affected girl. “Remind me to get after Vlad for using glamours.”
    “Isn’t that kind of their,” Will made air quotes, “thing?”
    I mimicked his quotes. “Their “thing” is like shooting fish in a barrel. Now come on.”
    When we finally got through the double glass doors of Java Script, the crowd was thinner, but not by much. I realized I was still gripping Will’s wrist, so I let it go. My fingers brushed his and he paused; then he laced his fingers through mine and little pinpricks of heat shot through my body. The gesture might have been completely platonic and under the guise of guardianship, but there was something about the way our hands fit together that gave me pause.
    “I think they’ve set the author up over here,”