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How could I have forgotten?
    Behind me, I heard Paul throw the car into reverse and drive away. I didn’t look back. I headed up the stairs to the front door, stepping into the squares of light thrown onto the porch from the living room windows. I opened the door and went inside, calling “I’m home!”
    Except that I wasn’t, really. Because home meant something else to me now, and had for quite a while.
    And he didn’t live there anymore.

Chapter

four
     
     

    The handful of pebbles I’d thrown rattled noisily against the heavy, leaded glass. I looked around, worried someone might have heard. But better for them to hear tiny rocks hitting a window than me whispering the name of someone who wasn’t even supposed to be living there….
     
    Someone who, technically speaking, wasn’t living at all.
    He appeared almost at once, not at the window, but by my side. That’s the thing about the undead. They never have to worry about the stairs. Or walls.
    “Susannah.” The moonlight threw Jesse’s features into high relief. There were dark pools in the place where his eyes should have been, and the scar in his eyebrow—a dog bite wound from childhood—showed starkly white.
    Still, even with the tricks the moon was playing, he was the best-looking thing I had ever seen. I don’t think it’s just the fact that I’m madly in love with him that makes me think so, either. I’d shown the miniature portrait of him I’d accidentally-on-purpose snagged from the Carmel Historical Society to CeeCee, and she’d agreed. Hottie extra-ordinaire was how she’d put it, to be exact.
    “You don’t have to bother with these,” he said, reaching out to brush the remaining pebbles from my hand. “I knew you were here. I heard you calling.”
    Except, of course, that I hadn’t. Called him. But whatever. He was here now and that’s what mattered.
    “What is it, Susannah?” Jesse wanted to know. He’d moved out of the shadows of the rectory, so that I could finally see his eyes. As usual, they were darkly liquid and full of intelligence… intelligence, and something else. Something, I like to think, that’s just for me.
    “Just stopped by to say hi,” I said with a shrug. It was chilly enough that when I spoke, I could see my breath fog up in front of me.
    This didn’t happen when Jesse spoke, however. Because, of course, he has no breath.
    “At three in the morning?” The dark eyebrows shot up, but he looked more amused than alarmed. “On a school night?”
    He had me there, of course.
    “Father D. asked me to pick up some cat food,” I said, brandishing a bag. “I didn’t want Sister Ernestine to see me smuggling it in. She’s not supposed to know about Spike.”
    “Cat food,” Jesse said. Now he definitely looked amused. “Is that all?”
    It wasn’t all and he knew it. But it also wasn’t what he thought. At least, not exactly.
    Still, when he pulled me toward him, I didn’t precisely object. Especially not considering that there’s only one place in the world I feel completely safe anymore, and that’s where I was just then… in his arms.
    “You’re cold, querida ,” he whispered into my hair. “You’re shivering.”
    I was, but not because I was cold. Well, not only because I was cold. I closed my eyes, melting in his embrace as I always did, reveling in the feel of his strong arms around me, his hard chest beneath my cheek. I wished I could have stayed that way forever—in Jesse’s arms, I mean—where nothing could ever hurt me. Because he’d never let it.
    I don’t know how long we stood like that in the vegetable garden behind the rectory where Father Dom lived. All I know is that eventually Jesse, who’d been stroking my hair, pulled back a little, so that he could look down into my face.
    “What is it, Susannah?” he asked me again, his voice sounding strangely rough, considering the tenderness of the moment. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing,” I lied, because I didn’t want it