The smell of sizzling bacon and french toast pulled me from my sleep, causing my stomach to growl loudly.

God, I was ravenous. Thank goodness Mac always made breakfast. That was one of the main reasons why she was my best friend. Not just because she put up with my whining.

I pulled myself up with a loud groan and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I felt refreshed in a way that I hadn't been in a very long time, but my body still felt sore and achey.

"Good, you're awake. You were starting to snore."

My eyes snapped open.

Roman Ayers was watching me from the kitchen, spatula in hand, curious expression on his face.

"You okay there, Holly?"

"I'm..."

The events of last night came flooding back into my mind. Roman and Sinclair showing up at Mac's birthday dinner, viewing the police line up, seeing the person responsible for attacking me and killing that girl. Roman telling me about his massacred family and Stan Mitcham and his origin from the Bolsheviks. The impending trial and my eventual induction into all things supernatural with the Gloam, whoever they were.

So that really hadn't been a dream. Damn.

"I don't snore," I grumbled, getting to my feet. "Never have, never will."

Roman looked unconvinced. "If you say so."

I padded into the kitchen and grabbed one of the empty cups off the counter and poured out some steaming coffee from the carafe beside them.

"Jesus, it's only seven o'clock in the morning." I whined as I looked at the clock above the microwave. "Do you usually get up this early?"

"Usually, there are things that need to be done," Roman said as he flipped a piece of toast. "I don't waste time sleeping."

That explained several things.

"And do you normally make lavish breakfasts every morning?" I asked, gesturing to the fresh bacon on the stove.

He shrugged. "I like bacon."

"Don't we all?"

I had nearly finished my cup of coffee by the time Roman finished frying the French toast. He flipped a few pieces onto two plates and added liberal amounts of syrup, sides of bacon, and then took them over to the table.

"Thank you," I said, picking up a fork. "This looks delicious."

He gave a short nod as he picked up his own fork and dug into his breakfast.

We ate in silence, both distracted by our own thoughts.

What was supposed to happen now? I knew some of what was going on, so that counted for something. I knew that eventually I would have to testify at that vampire's trial, which was important.

And even if Roman said that the Gloam were secretive and not to be trifled with, I knew that eventually I would come to know them on a personal level. I was not looking forward to when that would happen.

"So, what exactly is an Immune?"

Roman polished off the rest of his French toast and wiped a napkin.across his mouth. "Someone who can't be defeated by any supernatural being."

"What?"

That explanation was a little different than what Crowley had told me before.

"The vampire that attacked you," Roman said. "He most likely bit you several times, but did you see any marks on your body at all?"

Now I felt like I was going to throw up my breakfast.

It was bad enough that he had touched me in the first place, but he had bitten me, too? I felt violated and dirty and I desperately needed to take a shower.

I gagged. "Disgusting."

Roman smiled grimly. "Just be thankful you weren't infected. Death would have been a welcome relief compared to what you would have gone through."

"But that doesn't make any sense," I said, confused. "If that's true, why do you have all those scars?"

I immediately regreted the words as soon as they left my mouth, but Roman didn't seem perturbed at all.

"Yes, but I was attacked by an entire pack," he said. "That was a whole lot of werewolf saliva for my system to get rid of, Immune or not. I'm lucky I got away with just these. It could have been a lot worse."

The mental images my mind created at his explanation were not pleasant.

"Okay, let's talk about something else now," I said. "What happened to Ezekiel Gold? He's a ghost, isn't he?"

Roman nodded. "From what he's told me, he died during a factory fire in the 30's. Apparently, being a ghost is incredibly boring, so to pass the time, Zeke floated along into classes at Harvard and fordged a diploma for himself. Got hired by the DA a few years ago. He prosecutes cases that are up our alley to keep things as quiet as possible."

"Remind me never to die," I said without thinking. "I don't want to be a ghost."

"Well, you won't die. Not for a very long time, at least."

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"Look," Roman said, shoving back from the table and standing. "Talk to Crowley. He has more than enough texts for you to read on he subject. I've told you too much already."

"Roman, wait - "

But he dropped his dishes in the sink and left the kitchen, heading for the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on a moment later.

I slumped forward on the table and groaned loudly. Was this ever, ever going to stop?

No. Definitely not.

I picked at my French toast, my stomach churning uncomfortably.

I think I needed to start doing yoga or meditation or some other relaxing excersize. I was going to give myself an ulcer from the amount of worry and stress weighing heavy on my shoulders now.

Roman was also right again. If I wanted more information, Crowley would be an excellent person to talk to. The guy had to have a considerable amount of information under his belt with how old he was. They said wisdom came with age, didn't they?

When I finished my breakfast, I filled the kitchen sink with hot soapy water and got to cleaning the breakfast dishes. It was the least I could do, since Roman had offered me clothes, food and a place to sleep for the night, even if reluctantly.

I had just finished drying off the frying pan when there was a loud series of chirping noises and something vibrating.

I grabbed the small cell phone off the counter and flipped it open without looking at who was calling.

"Hello?"

"...Holly?"

"Sinclair!"

Sinclair laughed over the line, bright and friendly. "Good to hear you, babe. Now, what are you doing with Roman's cell phone? Did he pick you up from your place?"

"Er. No." I nervously picked at a loose thread on my t -shirt. How was I supposed to explain what really happened without Sinclair getting the wrong idea? "Um...I'm at Roman's place right now?"

Silence.

"Holly, did Roman make a pass at you? Did he make you do anything you didn't want to do? Do I need to kick his ass?"

"Sinclair! I don't -"

"Who's on the phone?"

I quickly turned around and was about to apologize profusely for answering his cell phone, but -

"Oh."

Roman was standing in the kitchen, running a towel through his dark, damp hair, giving me a curious look.

I was more distracted by the fact that his shirt wasn't buttoned up all the way. I could see the smooth expanse of his lean stomach and chest, marred by long, pale scars that criss-crossed and curved all over his skin. Some were deep, some were shallow, short and long, some angry and raised as if they had only begun to heal. It was painful to look at. What really made it horrific were the knife-like bite marks scattered up and down his left side.

They really had destroyed him.

"Holly." Roman snapped two fingers in front of my face. "Can I have my phone please?"

"Oh, sure," I said stupidly, dropping his phone into his hand. "Sorry."

I spun on my heel and quickly busied myself with washing the rest of the dishes.

I couldn't believe I had just oogled Roman so blatantly like that. What was he going to think of me now?

Stop! Stop right there, Holly! I silently ordered myself. This is not the time or the place to be getting concerned about something like this. There is never going to be time for something like this.

"What do you want, Sinclair?" Roman barked into the phone. "I need to - what?"

I felt myself going rigid at the sharp tone his voice suddenly took on.

"Sinclair, you better not be bullshitting me right now. We can't have anything like this on our heads right now. Damn it. Look, tell Crowley to meet us there. Have Gina call Burton and tell him there's been another breach. I'll be there as soon as I can. I know that, Sinclair, but there's no way this is just a coincidence. Coincidences don't just happen in our world."

I gripped the counter tightly and waited anxiously as Roman exchanged more harsh mutterings with Sinclair and then hung up. He tossed the phone onto the counter and let loose with a string of Spanish, most of what I think were obscenities.

"Roman?" I said slowly. "Is everything okay?"

Roman passed a hand over his mouth, the expression on his face hard and cruel. "Get your things. We need to leave."

"Okay," I said. "Where are we going? Does this have anything to do with what Sinclair just told you? Do we - "

"Look, Holly, now is not the time to be asking questions," Roman said sharply. "You'll know eventually. Just not right now. Right now, we need to leave."

That was as much as I was going to be able to get out of Roman right now. I just hoped he had been telling the truth. I didn't want to know what was going on. I needed to know. I was one of them, wasn't I?

"Okay," I said. "Let's go."

I grabbed my coat off the edge of the couch and slipped into it, then swung my bag over my shoulder and draped Mac's dress over my arm.

Roman had already buttoned up his shirt and pulled on his leather jacket, had his gun belted at his hip. He gestured to the front door.

"Let's go."

The gray clouds covering the sky outside held an odd, reddish tint that was unnatural and eerie. It made me want to lock myself in my apartment and never resurface. Did the weird weather have anything to do with what terrible thing had happened that Sinclair had just told Roman?

I didn't want to think about that, either.

I curled myself up in the passenger seat in Roman's car and leaned my head against the window, trying hard to keep myself awake. I was bloody exhausted, but my mind was far too active to rest. Digesting the information that I'd taken in over the past twenty-four hours wouldn't be easy for anyone.

Roman drove in silence, staring straight ahead at the road, gripping the steering wheel so tightly the tendons in his arms were standing out.

"Where are we going now?" I asked when five minutes had passed of driving through the streets.

"I'm taking you home," Roman said shortly.

"But what about what just happened? What Sinclair said? I - "

"Don't worry about that. If we need you, we'll get you."

Knowing it was pointless to try and argue with him about anything, I settled for closing my eyes. So what if I did fall asleep?

The next time I opened my eyes, we were parked outside my ramshackle apartment building. I sat upright in surprise, looking around.

"How did you know where I lived?" I asked Roman suspiciously. "I don't remember telling you where I lived."

"Gina told me. Do you have anything to do today?"

"No. I'll probably be holed up in the apartment all day. I've got way too much homework, what with midterms coming up and everything," I said.

"Good," Roman said, nodding. "Don't leave. Stay inside, lock the doors and windows." He leaned back around in his seat and rummaged through a duffel bag in the back, then came up with a small silver cell phone and dropped it in my hand. "Keep this on you at all times. All of our numbers are preprogrammed, so call any of us if you need anything."

"Will I need anything?" I asked, my stomach twisting uncomfortably.

Roman didn't answer. He gestured to the building outside, unlocking my door. "You'd best get inside."

I bit back an exasperated sigh and swung myself out of the car, then turned back before Roman could drive off.

"Roman? Thank you...for, well, telling me...what you told me," I said awkwardly. "It means a lot."

Roman gave what I thought might have been a grim smile, and then I shut door and he peeled out from the curb.

"What a day," I muttered to myself before heading into the apartment building.

"Holly Marina Eberly! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

Mac was on me the second I unlocked the front door and stepped inside the apartment.

"There I've been, calling you all night and texting you, scared out of my mind that something had happened to you and - "

"Mac, calm down. Mac!" I gripped her shoulders, holding her back before she would most likely strangle me with her own two hands. "I'm sorry, I know I must've worried you, but I promise everything is okay."

Mac looked all but hysterical as she glared at me, her jaw set and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. I felt incredibly guilty for having just disappeared last night without telling Mac what was going on or where I was or when I would be home. She didn't deserve something like that.

"I'm really sorry," I said, squeezing her shoulders tightly. "I didn't mean to worry you so much."

Mac sighed heavily, her face falling. "I thought you weren't coming home. I thought you'd been murdered."

Not yet, at least, I thought.

"It ended up taking a lot longer at the police station than I thought it would," I said. "And, er...Roman - I mean Detective Ayers - "

"Wait, what are you wearing, Holly?"

I stared down at my outfit, realizing that I was still dressed in Roman's sweatpants and NYPD t-shirt. Great.

What was worse, wearing somebody else's clothes or the dress you wore the night before? A walk of shame, and we hadn't even had sex.

"Um..."

Mac's eyed widened and she made some sort of choking noise, pointing a finger at me.

"Holly! Did you sleep with that detective?"

"No! No, I swear I didn't!"

"Why are you blushing, then?! And those aren't your clothes!"

"I didn't sleep with Roman!"

"Oh, so he's Roman now?"

I was going to spontaneously combust at any moment. This conversation was going nowhere. By the time we were finished, Mac was going to think Roman and I had been having a secret liason for the past year.

"It was late after the police line up finished, so Roman offered to let me crash at his place for the night, since it was closer," I explained as calmly as possible.

No need to tell Mac about any of the supernatural nonsense. It wasn't as if she would believe me anyways.

"Uh huh." Mac did not look convinced. "Right."

"Scouts honor," I said, holding up two fingers. "If anything happened between Roman and I, you would be the first to know."

Mac glowered at me for several tense moments, moments where I thought she was going to kick me out of the apartment, but then a wide smirk broke out across her face.

"You put up a good front, but you can't hide it, Holly."

"Hide what?"

"You like this Roman, don't you?"

"Mac!" I groaned loudly and stomped my way through the living room for my bedroom. "I don't like Roman!"

"Sure you don't!" Mac called after me, laughter in her voice. "I'll wait until you decide to tell me the truth. I can wait. Roman's pretty hunky."

I slammed my door shut behind me and tossed myself onto my bed. Maybe if I slept for the next few days, everything would have blown over by then and I could go on with my life normally.

Hah. As if, I thought with a snort. Unnormal is going to be my new normal.

Watery afternoon sunlight was slanted across the floor of my room when I finally opened my eyes again. I sat up in a daze, grabbing at my alarm clock to check the time.

It was two in the afternoon.

"Shit," I muttered, tossing the alarm clock back on my night stand. 

I hadn't been kidding when I'd said that I had a lot of homework to do. Midterms were next week and I couldn't afford to bomb any test. Sleeping all day sort of put a damper on my plans for studying.

I rolled out of bed and padded into the living room, my stomach grumbling with hunger. Mac had left a note on the fridge saying that she was working the late shift tonight at the grocery store and wouldn't be back till eleven or so. 

Pulling out a pan from above the stove, I boiled some water and cooked up some instant ramen, then took my bowl into the living room and flicked on the TV.

"...According to law enforcement, the body was found sometime in the early hours of this morning, on one of Central Park's many trails. The identity of the victim is none other than the attorney Stanley Mitcham, the man responsible for putting 30% of the city's drug dealers behind bars."

I spit half of my bowl of ramen out in shock at the images flashing across the screen on Channel Eleven news. Stan Mitcham was staring out at me with his creepy, unnatural smile, his picture floating on the screen beside the news anchorwoman.

Had I heard correctly, or did the woman just say that Mitcham's body had been found in Central Park this morning?

"Detectives first on the scene believe that one of many enemies Mitcham made over the years are responsible for this vicious attack."

The scene changed to a trail in Central Park, an area roped off with yellow crime scene tape. I caught sight of Sinclair's head of tousled blonde hair as he crouched down beside a body sprawled out on the ground. Roman was standing beside him, phone at his ear, and Crowley was talking to a few other uniforms stationed by them. 

So this was what Sinclair had called Roman about early this morning. Someone had found Mitcham's body in Central Park. Somebody had killed Stan Mitcham. 

Wait a moment, I thought suddenly. Didn't Roman say last night that vampires could only be killed by fire?

The anchorwoman hadn't said that the body had been burned.

I was up on my feet and dashing for my room, leaping onto the bed to grab for my bag and search for the cell phone Roman had given me this morning. 

I let out an excited shout when I found it, and then quickly scrolled through the contacts list till I found Sinclair's name.

The line rang twice before I heard, "Sinclair here."

"Sinclair! It's me, Holly!"

"Holly? Is everything okay? Did something happen?"

"No, no," I said, sprinting back into the living room for the TV. "I'm fine, but Mitcham is dead?"

The news reporter at the crime scene in Central Park was talking about Mitcham's funeral services. In the background, I could see Sinclair holding his cell phone to his ear with Roman off to the side talking to Crowley.

"Ah," Sinclair said shortly. "I take it you're watching the news?"

"Correct. Is this what you called Roman about earlier? Why didn't anybody tell me? I thought a vampire could only be killed by fire, so how - "

"Holly, I'll tell you everything later, I promise, but right now, I'm kinda busy."

The line went dead. 

I tossed the phone onto the couch with an aggravated shout. 

I just wanted the truth. Just the damn truth. Was that honestly too much to ask for?

After pacing the living room for a few minutes to blow off steam, I slouched back onto the couch and grabbed the TV remote, flicking through the channels until I settled on an old re-run of Home Improvement.

When I was younger, my mother always liked to tell me that I had the ability to brood like no other. I would profusely deny this, but for the moment, I would have to agree with her.

I was brooding. I'd just turned nineteen in August, yet I was brooding over this entire thing. Brooding would get me nowhere. I might as well get some work done.

For the next several hours, I finished my essay for my genetics class, outlined the next two chapters in my biology textbook, and worked on on flash cards for calculus. My ass was sore from sitting on the couch for so long and I'd gone through a few cartons of yogurt and another package of intant ramen. 

I felt like a shut-in, but at least I'd gotten some work done. 

The clock had just ticked past seven when I finally threw down my pencil and stood, stretching my arms over my head. A shower sounded nice.

I snatched the silver cell phone off the coffee table as I headed for the bathroom, clutching it tightly in my grasp. I'd been watching the phone all day, waiting for a call or a text message from Sinclair or Roman or Gina or even Crowley. Nothing.

I'd even flipped through every news channel possible and searched Google for any new information about what had happened to Mitcham, yet every article or clip was just as brief as the anchorwoman had been earlier. It was frusturating and I wanted to rip my hair out, but somehow I forced myself to remain somewhat calm. Well, maybe somewhat calm was pushing it.

I stripped off my clothes in the bathroom and stepped under the hot flow of water, breathing a sigh of relief when the tension in my muscles started to ease. I would have spent an insane amount of time in the shower had I the paycheck to support the water bill, so I quickly scrubbed myself clean and hopped out. 

I wrapped a fluffy towel around myself and washed my face with lemon honey soap. I let out a shriek when there was loud, rapid pounding on the front door out of nowhere. My heart lept in my chest and I immediately felt a spike of fear rise in the pit of my stomach.

Who the hell would be knocking on the door? Mac and Jamie both had keys, and Mom would normally call ahead of time before she came over. 

I sincerely hoped it was Sinclair or Roman or somebody from the CD that would explain what the hell was going on.

But just in case...

I grabbed Mac's curling iron off the counter and slowly crept from the bathroom, down the hallway to the front door. The pounding was still continuing. I was surprised there hadn't been any protesting yet from the neighbors.

"I'm coming!" I called as calmly as I could.

"Yeah, well, hurry up, I really have to pee!"

I stopped, gripping the curling iron even tighter.

That had not been a voice I recognized.

"Who...who is it?" I said, swallowing nervously.

"A friend," the unfamiliar voice called back.

Funny, but I didn't trust the person's words alone.

I leaned up on my tiptoes and peered through the peephole, hoping to catch a glimpse of who was outside. It was blurry, but I could make out a tall girl with dark hair standing in front of the door, looking annoyed. I had never seen this girl before. What the hell was she doing outside my apartment?

"I know you're there, Holly, so you might as well open the damn door before I pee my pants on your doorstep," the girl said, wiggling a finger at the peephole. 

Well, I had the curling iron. I could beat the girl over the head with the curling iron if I needed to. 

I took a deep breath, unlocked the door and wrenched it open. 

The girl barged her way into the apartment and slammed the door shut behind her, locking it, then turned to me with a bright smile and went hands on hips.

"Well, Holly Eberly," she said. "What a pleasure it is to finally meet you. I'll introduce myself once I use the bathroom."

Then she dashed down the hallway, and the bathroom door swung shut a second later. 

I stood there, my mouth hanging open, unsure of what just happened. 

 A girl just burst into my apartment to use the bathroom? 

That went straight from weird to freaky.

I sprinted for my room and quickly slipped into jeans and a t-shirt, then returned to the living room with the curling iron.

I only had to wait a moment before the girl returned from the bathroom, looking much happier than before.

"Thanks for that," she said, grinning. "I really had to pee."

"Yeah, I got that part," I said. "Who are you?" 

"Tolly Ramsey, at your service," she said with a spectacular bow. 

"Er..." 

"Oh, no need to worry," Tolly said as she straightened up. "I'm friends of the CD."

"Yeah, that was what I was afraid of," I muttered, more to myself. "So, uh, Tolly? Is there a reason you just showed up to use my bathroom?"

"Sorry about that," she said as she took a seat on the couch, crossing her legs. "Riding the subway always screws up my bladder."

"Uh huh," I said."Right. When does that not happen?"

I sat on the edge of the easy chair, shooting Tolly Ramsey furtive glances. Who the hell was this girl? 

"So," she said conversationally. "How much do you know?" 

"What?"

"How much do you know?" Tolly repeated, staring at me pointedly. "About us."

"Oh. That." Figures she would've wanted to talk about that. "Well, let's see. There are things that go bump in the night. The end."

Tolly smirked. "Oh, yes, there are. And you don't even know about most of them."

I groaned. "Fantastic."

Tolly laughed loudly. "They said you were a riot, Holly, and apparently, they weren't wrong."

"Who said that?" I demanded, even more alarmed. "Who's been talking about me?"

"Why, Sinclair, of course," Tolly said, like it should have been obvious. "What, you think you haven't been all over the map since your signal first went out?" 

My brain was starting to seriously hurt. I'd just spent hours of doing genetics and calculus and biology, and now I had to go back to thinking about the supernatural and just how much I wasn't in the know about?

No, thank you.

"Okay, what signal?" I said flatly. "And don't just give me some bullshit answer, because I'm tired of being kept in the dark."

"I'm sure you are." Tolly sighed heavily, clasping her hands together in her lap. "Believe me, that wasn't our intention. You deserve to know everything. You should know everything. Roman was the only one who was against telling you."

Anger quickly joined the rising bout of emotions I was experiencing. So I hadn't just been imagining the entire thing. Roman really was against telling me anything. What on Earth had I done to him?

"What the hell is that man's problem? Does he think I'm a baby or something? I can handle myself, you know! And I wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for him!"

Tolly threw back her head and laughed again, obviously amused. 

"What? You think this is funny?" I was on my feet, waving the curling iron around like a baton. "Because this isn't funny! Apparently, I'm an Immune, but I barley know what that is! And apparently there's this whole place called the Gloam or whatever that decides what goes on in with the supernatural, and then - "

"Holly! Holly, Holly, Holly." Tolly stood and walked over to me, gripped my shoulders to keep me from pacing around. "Look, I understand that you're frusturated. Really. But I can promise you that we will tell you everything you need to know. We're not going to keep you in the dark."

"Oh, really?" I snorted out a laugh. "And what makes you think I should - wait, who's we?" 

Tolly dropped her hands from my shoulders and brushed back her long brown hair, looking oddly haughty. "Well, I assume we would mean us. Us as in the Gloam."

The curling iron slipped from my grasp and hit the floor with a loud clatter.

"Excuse me?" 

Tolly smirked again, and something about the look on her face made me take a step back.

"Ready to go out, Holly?" 

__________________________________________________________

I really liked writing this chapter, because the excitement is really starting to pick up (at least to me) but the only thing that ended up turning out weird were the names. Holly, and then Tolly. I realized it only after I'd already started writing, and by then it was too late to change it. I liked the name Tolly too much for the character, so therefore, it stays. Hope that isn't too much of a downside. 

So...lemme know what you guys think, please and thanks! :)