Rashel glanced down at her sweater and jeans. "Yeah, the ninja outfit's just my career uniform."
Daphne grinned. "Well, you're still going to have to look different if you're going to get into the club.
Should we start now, or do you want to wait for the others?"
Rashel stared at a row of perfume bottles on the dresser across the room. "There aren't going to be any
others."
"But I thought you said..."
"Look. It's hard to explain, but I've had a little problem with the vampire hunters around here. So I'm
doing it without them. It's no problem. We can start now."
"Well..." Daphne pursed her lips. She looked different from the disheveled wild creature Rashel had
rescued from the street last night. Her blond hair was soft and fluffy, her cornflower blue eyes were large
and innocent, her face was round and sweet. She was fashionably dressed and she seemed relaxed, in
her own element in this normal teenager's room. It was Rashel who felt out of place.
"Well... do you want to just take along a friend or something?" Daphne asked.
"I don't have a friend," Rashel said flatly. "And
I don't want one. Friends are people to worry about, they're baggage. I don't like baggage." Daphne
blinked slowly. "But at school..." "I don't stay at schools more than one year at a time. I live with foster
families, and I usually get myself sent to a new city every year. That way I stay ahead of the vampires.
Look, this isn't about me, okay? What I want to know-"
"But..." Daphne was staring at the mirror. Rashel followed her gaze to see that the reflecting surface
was almost completely covered by pictures. Pictures of Daphne with guys, Daphne with other girls.
Daphne counted her friends in droves, apparently. "But doesn't that get lonely?"
"No, it doesn't get lonely," Rashel said through her teeth. She found herself getting rough with the lacy
little throw pillow on her lap. "I like being on my own. Now are we done with the press conference?"
Looking hurt, Daphne nodded. "Okay. I talked with some people at school and everything at the dub is
going on the same as usual-except that Quinn hasn't been there since Sunday. Ivan and the girl were there
Tuesday and Wednesday, but not Quinn."
"Oh, really?" That was interesting. Rashel had known from the beginning that her greatest problem was
going to be Quinn. The other two vampires hadn't seen her-she didn't think they even realized that
Daphne had run off with a vampire hunter last night. But Quinn had spoken to her. Had been... very
close to her.
Still, what could he have seen in that cellar, even with his vampire vision? Not her face. Not even her
hair. Her ninja outfit covered her from neck to wrist to ankle. All he could possibly know was that she
was tall. If she changed her voice and kept her eyes down, he shouldn't be able to recognize her.
But it would be easier still if he weren't there in the first place, and Rashel could try her act on Ivan.
"That reminds me," she said. "Ivan and the girl- are their little groups into death, too?"
Daphne nodded. "Everybody in the whole place is, basically. It's that kind of place."
A perfect place for vampires, in other words. Rashel wondered briefly if the Night People owned the
dub or if some obliging humans had just constructed the ideal habitat for them. She'd have to check into
that.
"Actually," Daphne was saying, a little shyly, "I've got a poem here for you. I thought you could say you
wrote it. It would sort of prove you were into the same thing as the other girls."
Rashel took the piece of notebook paper and read:
There's warmth in ice; there's cooling peace in fire,
And midnight light to show us all the way. The dancing flame becomes a funeral pyre; The Dark was
more enticing than the Day.
She looked up at Daphne sharply. "You wrote this before you knew about the Night World?"
Daphne nodded. "It's the kind of thing Quinn liked. He used to say he was the darkness and the silence
and things like that."
Rashel wished she had Quinn right there in the room, along with a large stake. These young girls were
like moths to his flame, and he was taking advantage of their innocence. He wasn't even pretending to be
harmless; instead he was encouraging them to love their own destruction. Making them think it was their
idea.
"About your clothes," Daphne was going on. "My friend Mamie is about your size and she lent me this
stuff. Try it on and we'll see if it looks right." She tossed Rashel a bundle.
Rashel unfolded it, examined it doubtfully. A few minutes later she was examining herself even more
doubtfully in the mirror.
She was wearing a velvety black jumpsuit which clung to her like a second skin. It was cut in a very low
V in front, but the sleeves reached down in Gothic points on the backs of her hands almost to the middle
finger. Around her neck was a black leather choker that looked to her like a dog collar. She said, "I don't
know..." "No, no, you look great. Sort of like a Betsey Johnson ultra model. Walk a little... turn
around... okay, yeah. Now all we have to do is paint your fingernails black, add a little makeup, and-"
Daphne stopped and frowned. "What's wrong?" "It's the way you walk. You walk like-well, like
them, actually. Like the vampires. As if you're stalking something. And you don't ever make a noise.
They're going to know you're a vampire hunter from the way you move."