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fence with one hand, and my fingers curled until the wire bent out of shape.
    It must have made a sound, because Robert looked up. His smile twisted into a sneer. He spoke to the girls, then stepped between them and strode toward me. "Hello, Mal."
    "Hello, Robert." I kept my voice low, and he had to move close to the fence to hear me. "You are overfeeding."
    He tilted his head back and laughed. "That's rich! You hunted me down to lecture me on my diet?"
    I waved a hand at the waiting girls. "What happened to choosing targets? Has the Necromancer grown so careless that he forgets to monitor you?"
    He folded his arms, and his stance turned defensive. "The Necromancer lets me do what I want, as long as I don't cause trouble. Same as you."
    For an instant, I saw my brother as the child he had been, defying me to tell on him after he had ridden his bicycle into the lake and lost it. He had been my friend, my little shadow. We built forts, explored the woods, and rode our bikes for miles through the Pennsylvania woodland.
    And now here we stood, monsters, struggling to make our way in a world oblivious to our hunger. No wonder God himself had abandoned me.
    Until yesterday.
    I struggled to keep my voice even. "You must not spread the infection this way. Look at what you've done to Libby."
    He glanced over his shoulder at his waiting victims, then bared his white teeth. "Don't tell me how to live my life, Malevolent. Pull your claws on me, push me around, fine, whatever. You try to take Libby from me, I'll make you pay." He spun on his heel and stalked back to his entourage.
    Fury shook my limbs. Rather than tear through the fence and follow, I stormed away with my fists in my coat pockets. Heat warmed my face and my heart pumped death power into my blood, drawing in the life of the grass underfoot, nearby bushes, anything alive.
    No! Not this. I breathed deeply until the power draw waned. By the time I had mastered myself, I had circled the entire school property twice. Tomorrow there would be a trail of dead grass as if someone had poured bleach everywhere.
    Robert must have fed upon Libby for a long time for her illness to be so extreme. Usually the vampiric corruption manifested as an itchy throat, a cough, perhaps, and a feeling of malaise that came and went. Not debilitating illness that confined the victim to bed.
    The worst of the infection would not manifest until the Necromancer raised his hand to summon their souls.
    Libby had once looked like these girls--healthy, pretty, and vivacious. But now hollows ringed her eyes, and her choices in clothing reflected her state of being: loose, formless things that one could wear during sleep. Yet her spirit burned on, unbroken.
    Judgment, and mercy; God had only required that I save one life, not all.
    I returned to the motor home, panting a little, with sweat cooling my back. My anger hardened into choice: to wrench a single life from the edge of undeath.
    I rested my forehead on the steering wheel. What did Libby see when she looked at me? A terrifying man who had tried to break into her room? She no doubt sensed my true nature, for she often looked at me as if searching out my secrets. Doubtless her father had told her of my time in prison.
    She had every right to be wary of me. I despise what I have become, despite my efforts to delay the inevitable. The Marchers rightfully imprisoned me, after I had broken through one of their barriers to steal valuable property.
    But I had not specified to Libby's father what sort of prison it had been.
     
     

Chapter 4
Libby
     
    I ate honeycomb for dinner. I wish I could say I ate it on bread, but no. I sat at the table with the jar and a spoon, and ate every drop.
    To her credit, Mom tried. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a piece of toast?"
    "No thanks," I said through a delicious sticky mouthful of honey and wax. "No wonder Winnie the Pooh eats honey all the time."
    Something about the golden flavor fed a craving I didn't know I had. I