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of them. In fact, he looked almost as distraught as Katie.
    “Dude, do you remember what happened last night?” Saxon asked.
    Drake shook his head, his strange expression not fading. Hell, maybe Cort looked the same way.
    This was beyond weird. They’d all blacked out. They all had hangovers. And clearly someone had broken a cardinal rule and crossed one of their human acquaintances. He looked toward Katie, who seemed to be getting paler by the moment.
    Quite possibly, she’d been turned into a vampire against her will.
    He suspected he was becoming as pale as she was.
    This was bad.
    Damn, he couldn’t have been the one who bit her. It went against everything he believed in. But he could admit, at least to himself, he’d wanted Katie enough to think about biting her. He’d thought about having her in every way possible—but all he’d allowed himself to do was think about it. Hell, he hadn’t even asked her out. His vampirism always stopped him.
    But apparently that isn’t a stumbling block anymore, he thought wryly.
    But wow, she was a vampire. What if he had bitten her? No, he just wouldn’t have done that.
    “Well, like I said, I didn’t do it,” Saxon repeated, as if he’d read Cort’s mind. “I’m all about safe sex.” He pulled a condom out of his jeans pocket. “See.”
    Wyatt glared at the youngest band member. “What the hell does a condom have to do with crossing a human over? What, do you put them on your fangs?”
    “No,” Saxon said, making a face like that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. Clearly he didn’t listen to himself. “I have a motto: Keep ’em sheathed.”
    Everyone stared at the dopey keyboard player.
    “Get it? I keep my fangs sheathed and my . . .” Saxon glanced down toward his crotch. “Brown sugar sheathed.”
    Cort grimaced. “What does that even mean?”
    Saxon made his
you’re so dumb
face. “I’m talking about my
penis
.” He whispered the last word.
    “I know that,” Cort said, getting impatient with this whole situation. “But you aren’t black.”
    “You don’t have to be black to have a . . . you know.”
    “Oh for Christ’s sake,” Wyatt growled, “why even bother, Cort?” He stood and strode over to the window. “We need to figure out what happened last night.”
    “And I need to find my damned fang.”
    Now it was Drake’s turn to gain everyone’s attention.
    In response he curled back his lips to reveal a gaping, black hole where his fang should be.
    Cort, Wyatt, and Saxon all gasped. Holy crap. Having one fang was like having one testicle. You could still get the job done, but you didn’t want anyone looking too closely while you did it.
    “That sucks, dude,” Saxon said.
    “It really does,” Wyatt agreed.
    Cort opened his mouth to also agree—fang loss was no laughing matter—but Katie spoke first, her voice high-pitched and bordering on hysterical.
    “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, raising a hand to stop them. “You are all vampires. You’ve all been vampires? As long as I’ve known you?”
    Wyatt nodded as if that should be pretty obvious. Saxon gave her a hang-loose sign—because, well, he was stupid.
    “I’m half the vampire I used to be but, yes,” Drake said.
    Cort gave her a pained, apologetic smile, but nodded.
    “So it must have been one of you that made me this way?” She tilted her head to show them two already healing puncture wounds, then she bared her teeth like Drake had just done to reveal two white, sparkly, and brand-spanking-new fangs.
    “Show-off,” Drake said wryly, but his dry sense of humor was met by a glare from Katie.
    “Perhaps not the best timing for that joke,” he conceded.
    “Maybe it was one of us,” Cort said, only to be cut off by the adamant denials of the others, but he raised a hand to stop them. “But since none of us can remember, it’s hard to say.”
    Katie stared at him for a moment, then said slowly, “So there are more vampires in the Quarter than just