Part One:
Summer, 1996

Lexine Pandora Melisenda-Delgado checked the three deadbolt locks on her bedroom door. They were all closed firmly, and the chain latch was in place. She walked to her window, which faced the backyard. She opened it and stepped onto the roof of the back porch. Avoiding the parts where the old wood would creak under her weight, Lexine made her way to the strong oak tree that stood nearby. She climbed into it and made her way to the ground in quick, practiced movements. The thick branches obscured her completely as she passed her younger brother’s bedroom window.

Dropping to her feet, Lexine skirted the house and made her way to the sidewalk. She walked quickly down the street and turned a corner. There she stopped, melting into the shadows. A moment later an impressive-looking motorcycle with a rather attractive rider pulled up. Lexine couldn’t see the rider’s face, but she wished she could. It was a face she could stare at for hours on end without tiring. In fact, she had spent the last meeting doing just that. She took the helmet he handed her and got on the bike behind him, linking her arms around his waist and holding on a little tighter than necessary. The motorcycle raced off down the street and onto the busy highway.

Fifteen minutes later the bike parked in front of a small brick building. Lexine jumped off the back and pulled off the helmet, shaking out her thick, luxurious brown hair. The rider got off as well and also removed his helmet, revealing eyes that were a startlingly bright blue. He ran a hand through his black hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He had decided recently to let it grow, and now it was in that in-between stage of short and long. Lexine liked it at this stage.

“Thanks for picking me up again, Cole,” she said, adjusting her black leather jacket a bit nervously. She always became slightly agitated under Cole Sullivan’s cool, accessing gaze. It was as if those light irises allowed him to see too much of her.

Cole nodded and smiled briefly, turning his already good-looking face into something unbelievably gorgeous for a split-second. “It’s no problem, Lex,” he said smoothly. “You know I don’t mind.”

“Still…” Goddess, did he have to look so good? It was very distracting. “It’s really nice of you. Otherwise I’d have to go through ten kinds of hell just to get here.”

Cole grinned, and after tucking his helmet under his arm he placed a hand on the small of Lexine’s back, guiding her into the building. “Come on,” he said. “They’re probably almost ready to start.”

As if they ever really do anything, Lexine thought. It annoyed her that every Wednesday night she was obliged to attend a “meeting” at this disintegrating pile of bricks. Sure, they always made plans for Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, and those were always fun, but did it have to involve sitting around for three to four hours every Wednesday? They all acted as if there was some sort of business that needed to be handled weekly, when all they ever discussed was their next crime, victim, or party. That could all be done over the phone, the way Lexine saw it. But no one had asked her opinion, and she was still new, so now was not the time to voice it. She would do that later.

Lexine and Cole climbed the two flights of stairs to the apartment that belonged to their leader, Trax Romero. Trax was never present when they arrived, but that was because he had an actual job, aside from running the gang. Because that’s what they were – The Gang. They were the only Night World gang in St. Louis, and very exclusive. Entry involved sparring with Trax or his girl, Cassandra, and successfully completing a few…tasks. The first was breaking and entering, the second armed robbery, and the third was assault. If you weren’t caught by the cops and came out unscathed, you were as good as in – if you passed the final battle with Trax or Cassandra. Both were extremely skilled fighters. They went easy on the person trying out, simply testing that person’s fighting ability. If the person couldn’t fight but was exceptional with a weapon of any kind, they were judged on that. There were only twelve members in the gang.

Cole turned the knob on the scarred metal door that led into Trax’s apartment. He rolled his eyes when he found the door didn’t open.

“They locked us out again,” he told Lexine in a bored voice. “Go at it.”

He stepped aside while Lexine expertly picked the locks. He could have done it himself, but she was extremely skilled at it and it would have taken him longer. The third lock gave her some trouble, but Lexine tried not to let it show. When she had successfully unlocked the door she turned the knob and it opened, earning her a nod of approval from Cole. He led the way into the apartment Trax shared with Cassandra.

Inside, two people sat on a worn sofa watching The X-Files on TV. Someone else stood by the window looking out, while another person sat at his feet on the bare wood floor impatiently smoking a cigarette. No one looked up as Cole and Lexine entered. Cole shut the door and silently crossed the room to go into the small kitchen. Lexine followed him.

In the kitchen they encountered two dark haired girls seated at the second hand table sipping beer. Both girls looked up and gave them friendly smiles. Lexine pulled out a chair and sat next to the one with waist-length hair and dark green eyes.

“Hey, Lexine.” The girl greeted her quietly and offered her the can of Budweiser she drank from. Lexine refused it.

“You know I don’t drink beer, Nadine,” Lexine reminded her. She accepted the glass of orange juice and vodka Cole handed her and took a long swallow, reveling in the way the alcohol burned her throat. “Thanks, Cole.”

“Lemme try it, Lex?” the other seated girl asked. This one had dark eyes and shorter hair. There was still a resemblance between her and Nadine, however. Their dark complexions were identical, and their eye shape was similar.

“Sure.” Lexine passed her drink to Nadine’s older cousin, Solana. Solana and Nadine Dominguez had been raised together in the projects by their maternal grandmother. Both were witches – very good witches. Lexine had participated in many rituals with them. They knew their stuff, and fifteen-year-old Nadine had something that was extremely profitable – witch fire. Only the strongest witches had the ability to create crackling orbs of energy and then shoot them out at will. Nadine was one of those witches. That, and her quick-thinking and rational mind, were what had earned her entrance into the gang.

Cole scraped a chair along the floor to sit beside Lexine. He plucked the glass of vodka out of her hand as Solana handed it back. He grinned at her before taking a long, slow sip.

“Didn’t you have your own?” Lexine asked, scowling into the nearly empty cup he gave back to her.

“I finished it,” he said shortly. It was a sure sign of stress for Cole, who wasn’t much of a drinker. He didn’t smoke, either, unlike all the other male members. As a raven-shifter, he enjoyed fresh air. When he wasn’t flying in it he preferred to breathe it, rather than pollute it.

Lexine rubbed the back of her neck. She could relate to Cole’s stress. She felt it herself. Some of the other members were not making things easy for her, and while she was able to ignore it for the most part, it still got to her sometimes. She could tell that it was getting to Cole, too. He’d been in the club for a year now. She’d heard from Solana that when he’d first joined the guys had given him a lot of shit due to his being a shapeshifter. They’d gotten over that, but now he was hanging out a lot with Lexine, and that wasn’t going over well. Lexine’s family was still in the dark about the Night World – or should it be in the light, she mused. Some of the others were really against humans. The fact that she lived with three upset them greatly.

“Stressed?” Cole whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her neck. Lexine, once again amazed at his perceptiveness, knew he was speaking low because vampire ears were about.

“Kind of,” she answered.

“Family givin’ you problems?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She turned a bit to glance at him. “You’re pretty stressed, yourself.”

Cole shrugged. “Maybe so,” he agreed. “You wanna go talk somewhere?”

“Why don’t you guys go in the extra bedroom,” Solana suggested under her breath. She’d been in this club for three years, long enough to figure out the hearing talents of the others. She knew how low to speak, and how high was too high. She also knew that Lexine liked Cole, and often took matters into her own hands in getting the two of them alone.

“Good idea.” Cole got to his feet and left the room. Lexine flashed Solana a grateful smile before following him. Solana raised her drink and clanked it against Nadine’s in a toast to Lexine and Cole before tilting her head back and swallowing the last of her beer.

Lexine found Cole turning left at the end of a long hallway. He opened a door and closed it behind them.

“Did you see them staring?” he asked.

Lexine nodded and laughed. “I thought Braxton’s eyes were going to fall out; he had them turned all the way to the side.”

Cole smiled and shook his head. “Stupid bastard,” he muttered under his breath. Then he looked up at Lexine and nudged her toward the bed. “Lay down,” he ordered. “Get some rest. I’ll sit over here and we can talk.”

Lexine stretched out on the blood-red comforter and watched Cole lean back in an old blue armchair. She shut her eyes.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked, although it was more of a demand.

“Jacob’s being a real asshole,” Lexine stated, referring to her stepfather. “I think something’s happening at his job – not that I care – and he’s taking it out on the rest of us. My mom seems weaker and weaker every day. She lets him walk all over her and abuse her. I hate her for putting me and Brendan in this position.”

“How is your brother?”

Lexine opened her light brown eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Brendan’s being left back in school because of behavioral problems. We get calls every day from the principal telling us how he needs to shape up and stop starting fights. At the moment he’s suspended, so he hasn’t been to school in about three days.”

“I see.”

Lexine turned her head to the side to stare at him. “I don’t want to unload my problems on you, Cole. You have enough of your own without my adding to them. I’m sorry.”

His intense blue gaze met hers. “Don’t be. You can’t hold stuff like this in for so long. Eventually you explode.”

“Then the same applies for you,” Lexine stated, sitting up. “Tell me what’s buggin’ you. It’s obvious that something is.”

Cole sighed. “You’re right.” He ran his hands over his face. “My father’s started drinking again.”

“Oh, Cole.” Lexine was instantly sympathetic. She knew what it meant when Cole’s father drank. It meant he came home with a different woman every night and he started beating up on Cole again. Two things always happened with his father’s women: They either tried to get with Cole, or they left in the middle of the night with bruises from his father’s fists. Cole always felt bad for them, but never as bad as he did for his mother. His mother had never had the chance to leave his father’s home alive. Cole feared his fate would be the same.

“A month ago he swore it was the last time he’d ever pick up a bottle,” Cole continued. “Last night he came home roaring drunk with a redhead on his arm. They shared a bottle of whiskey and then they shared my bed.”

“Oh, God, Cole.” Lexine got up and went to him. He didn’t move when she laid a hand on his arm.

“I left through the back door when I heard him come in, but when I finally returned hours later he was waiting for me.” Cole paused. “The girl was dead. He’d eaten at her flesh in the way of the cruelest shapeshifters – when they’re alive and helpless. I wouldn’t look at him; it made him mad. We started fighting and he threw me into the wall. I got up and left.” He placed his hand over Lexine’s and looked up at her, granting her a rueful smile. “But don’t you worry about me. Just worry about yourself.”

“Cole!” Lexine was shocked. “How can you expect me not to worry about you? Where did you get hurt? Let me see.” Cole hesitated, then turned his back to her and pulled his navy T-shirt over his head. Lexine felt a pang of pity as she ran her hand over the bruised muscles of Cole’s back. “How could he do this to you?” she murmured sadly.

Cole put his shirt back on and stood up. “You know how,” he told her. “The same way they do it to you. Show me.”

Lexine sighed and rolled up the sleeve of her left arm, revealing a series of black and blue marks dotting her biceps. “It’s not too bad this week,” she mumbled. “It could have been worse.” She grabbed Cole’s wrist and brought him over to the bed. “Lie down,” she told him. “I’ll give you a massage. And don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

Cole looked into her eyes for a moment before lying down on his stomach. He rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes. Lexine sat beside him and began to massage his back with expert fingers. She felt him relaxing under her hands, and she was glad that she was able to relieve him just a little from the stress that plagued him. The sound of a jiggling doorknob startled both of them, and a few seconds later the door was flung open, revealing the boy who had been smoking on the floor in the living room. He was tall and lanky, with curly reddish-blond hair and icy blue eyes.

“Get out,” the boy commanded obnoxiously. “Trax is here.” He pulled out another cigarette and left the room in the process of lighting it.

“I fucking hate that bastard,” Cole said heatedly under his breath in an uncommon display of emotion. He sat up and Lexine studied his profile. The skin over his high cheekbones was tight, and his cobalt blue eyes were hard and filled with anger.

She stroked a finger down the side of his face. “Relax,” she whispered. “You never let Sanders get to you before; don’t start now.”

Cole rolled his shoulders and neck, and Lexine sensed that some of the tension had drained out of him. “You’re right,” he said, getting to his feet. “Let’s go.”