Lane turned and started walking into the forest.

I had no idea whether or not we were travelling in the same direction that Malakhi went—or if Malakhi had gone in any direction at all—apparently vampires could levitate and fly, just like in the Vampire Chronicles. With the moon only a sliver in the sky, I could barely see anyway. I followed Lane's luminous skin through the forest, tripping occasionally.

I couldn't help but notice that Veronica and Frank never tripped. Was Lane sending them some kind of signal that kept them from stumbling around like fools? I found myself grasping at Lane's half-buttoned black shirt.

Did Frank or Veronica, lost in thrall, notice when Lane reached back and cupped his hand around the base of my skull? Or did Lane make them not see?

Clinging to Lane's shirt, his hand on my head, I felt like a child. A fearful child.

Can I explain why I clung to him, even as I feared he was leading us like sheep to slaughter?

I suppose it was because I felt like he was protecting me somehow, or because I wanted to believe he was protecting me. Not necessarily us—for whatever reason, Lane had not spared Veronica or Frank. I imagine that whatever game he was playing, he had begun with those two, but had found something in me that held his interest. Something he wanted to keep alive, when he would normally have tired of us all eventually. He hadn't let on to Malakhi that there was a human in his presence that knew what he was, even if she didn't entirely believe that vampires were real.

Even then, as I hurried through a dark forest in the middle of the night, fleeing from someone with the same name as the evil kid in Children of the Corn, I could not be entirely convinced that it was all some elaborate part of the game. Hope—I hoped that some acne-riddled kid would pop out of the trees and say, "Ha, ha, it's all just a game. By the way, my real name isn't Malakhi, it's Harold." And Lane would laugh and say, "Yeah, wasn't that great? I paid him ten bucks to come out and do that. He helped me with the digital camera too."

And Frank would say, "Lane's my cousin, Amy, how could you even think he was a vampire?"

And Veronica would say, "You should see your face! We really had you going!"

But no one jumped out of the bushes. No one cracked a smile. We all hurried along, deadly serious, to an unknown destination.

When we finally emerged from all the trees into a clear place, a building rose in front of us. It was old, possibly older than the historical houses in the center of town, or maybe it seemed that way because it was so rundown. Windows shattered, shingles hanging on by a wire or not at all, any trace of paint completely worn away. It reminded me of those squat houses I saw on a field trip to Salem, the Puritans' houses in the time of the witch trials. Dark, low to the ground to conserve heat.

It wasn't until my eyes drifted to the roof that I saw the steeple.

I have lived in Middlebury my entire life, and I never knew anything about an abandoned church out in the middle of the woods until that moment. A house, sure, houses get abandoned all the time. But a church? Wouldn't someone notice? The forest grew thick all around, with the path we had taken to get there barely visible, barely a path, even.

At the entrance I saw the signs:

NO TRESPASSING

CONDEMNED

VIOLATORS WILL BE PERSECUTED

These signs clung to the door in shreds, even those made from plastic. I couldn't tell when they were put up, but I could tell that it probably wasn't at any point after the early 1980s.

Into the condemned building we went. Briefly I wondered if Lane or the other vampires hadn't put those signs there themselves, to keep humans away.

Inside, the roof towered over our heads, full of holes and rafters containing birds' nests. I couldn't see anything until Lane waved his hands and there was light.

Hundreds of candles melted on the remains of the pews and on the window sills, illuminating a giant breach in the aisle, leading down into darkness and taking a few of the pews with it. The pulpit lay on its side. It, too, was used as a surface for candles.

"Step carefully," Lane told me. I did. The boards creaked and groaned beneath my feet, and those of my friends, but not Lane's. We made our way around the outer aisles, avoiding the broken boards in the center. At the altar I finally exhaled, not having realized I was holding my breath. The floor here seemed stronger beneath my feet. Lane kissed the top of my head and sat me down on a surprisingly lush chair—it had the ornate design of something from the 1800s.

I held myself, shaking. All of this was so alien to me. All my life I'd been so safe and secure that I imagined some mockery in gym class was the worst that could happen. Those glimpses Lane had shown me were still echoing in my head.

Frank took a position leaning against the wall nearby, and Veronica sat on one of the steps leading up to the pulpit. She did not look cold, even though she wore only a black tank top and a poncho that looked like a silver spider web. It was the beginning of July, after all, and the heat of summer pressed on even through the dead of night. Still, I clenched my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering.

"So, we have a situation." Lane spoke with his back to us, studying his own reflection in the window. "There are only two directions we might take if we are to please Samael."

I looked at Veronica. She was blinking slowly, taking in her surroundings with a dull interest. Frank's brow had furrowed until I could barely make out his eyes in the semi-darkness.

"Who is Samael?" I asked, my voice quaking.

"He is Retribution," Lane replied. "He is the reason I must take action."

It was not a real answer, merely a path around the answer. I knew it was the best I would get.

"Two directions, for all of you. Oblivion or immortality. You must choose."

Lane's voice had grown cold again.

I wasn't sure my friends could make any decision, never mind understand the choices. I understood. Death, or become a vampire. Only the death would be slow and agonizing. And to become a vampire?

Since our vampire games began, this would have been the only choice for me, for Veronica, for Frank. In our games. Fantasies. Not reality. I knew nothing of the reality of becoming a vampire. And suddenly, it did not seem so attractive.

I would be leaving my mother alone—she would need to believe I had died. I might never experience any of the human things we all look forward to. For me, that would include having a boyfriend, having sex, getting married, having children, making a mark on this world. I would need to remain hidden. I would need to learn how to kill, if not humans, then animals.

"You may tell me your decision later, but this you need to know," Lane continued. "You will face death in either scenario. Samael likes to approve those who share our blood, and in sending Malakhi he has indicted his displeasure already. Even with the strength you will gain if you choose the path of immortality, Samael will be stronger than you, and may destroy you simply to punish me. Oblivion will at least give you the illusion of pleasure even as you slowly die."

I searched those flashes of horror Lane had given me immediately after Malakhi's departure. Surely he meant that these things would happen to me should we be brought before Samael. Or was this only the result if we did not opt for Lane to kill us?

"You now know where I live. Once you have made your decision, you may come here to find me."

Lane then turned, without looking at any of us, and disappeared into a dark doorway I hadn't seen before.

With his disappearance, Veronica and Frank rose to leave. I watched them walking away, torn between trying to go after Lane—and what? Beg him to let me live? My head swam with the idea that I would have to choose between life and death. Gathering myself, I stood and hurried after Veronica and Frank, following them blindly all the way out of the building, through the forest to Veronica's car, and all the way home.