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he wouldn’t hurt me, and that I could—and if I so desired, would —be safe with him.  
    I told myself I was being crazy, trying with everything I could muster to fear him.   I wanted to feel it.   Shouldn’t I?   Hadn’t I just witnessed a murder at the hands of someone who clearly knew this person?
    Or whatever he was, anyway.
    “I could say the same thing about you.   I don’t know what your name is, either.”   He finally responded.   I inhaled slowly, raising my chin just a little despite the pain that flashed through my neck.
    “Lucinda Malone.   I’m seventeen years old, I live in an apartment all by myself, and both of my parents are dead.”   I was aware of the sharp edge to my voice, but I did nothing to disguise it—perhaps hoping he would sense that I wasn’t afraid of him.   I wasn’t sure why, but I felt this was prudent to my survival.  
    If I feared him, I would seem more vulnerable.  
    But if I showed him that I was capable of handling whatever it was he had to throw at me, then maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t hold back so much.  
    His eyes found mine and held them.
    “Darren O’Connor.   I’m…well, I was nearly twenty-five—you don’t want to know how old I really am.   I live in a house all by myself, and both of my parents are dead.”   He shrugged, his eyes saddening briefly as he shifted his gaze.   “It’s been so long since I’ve told someone my name.”
    “It’s been so long since I’ve had to tell someone my name.”   I said, half smiling at the irony of it all.   Living in the same small town my entire life, most everyone knew who I was—especially with my history.  
    “You’re a…a vampire, aren’t you?”   Like in the car, I spoke before thinking—my mouth forming the words before I knew it.   Darren looked everywhere around the room, except at me, before nodding his head solemnly.   A shiver worked its way down my spine and I tightened my arms around my small frame.
    “Don’t…please don’t be afraid.”  
    His words weren’t needed.
    “I’m not afraid of you, ”   I said as I found his eyes, and we both knew I was being honest.  
    For some reason, the knowledge did not frighten me in the slightest.   It was almost as if I’d known all along of the existence of another world—as if I’d always known there was something more to the darkness.   I held steadily to his eyes, trying desperately to read them.  
    What I saw only gave me further evidence that I could trust him.   Darren not only looked ashamed, but it seemed as if the knowledge that I did not fear him actually frightened him .   I could tell he was completely taken aback and it took him several long moments to recover.  
    He said nothing though as he ducked his head, reaching out to place his hand under my back and lifting me a little so that he could pull my arm out of the jacket.   It stung briefly as the collar rubbed against my freshly torn skin and I gritted my teeth, preventing myself from alerting him of any pain.   I could tell he was using the most extreme of care, so as not to hurt me any further.  
    Mustering what little energy I could, I pulled my other arm out of the sleeve and handed the jacket to him, the air rushing from my chest as I did so.  
    It had been my mother’s jacket.   I remembered her wearing it when I was little—how she’d always looked so poised.   A reckless sort of beautiful, my dad had called it.
    Darren looked it over, his eyes pausing briefly on the neck, which even I could tell was saturated with blood.
    “You can trust me, Lucinda.”   He looked up then and held my eyes, his full of an unshakable resolve, and after an instant, I looked away, believing him.   “Sleep.”   I watched him rise, then turn and walk toward the door.   Before he had even left the room, I had fallen asleep.
     
    ***
     
    Again, my sleep was dreamless.  
    It was unusual for me to sleep without dreams.   Ever since I was a