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  I throw open the door and fly out, swords slicing.

  I decapitate one vamp before he even realizes we're coming.

  Brett whistles shrilly and tosses a sword to my uncle, the nearest relative. It gives him the upper hand with the vamp he's struggling with, and he takes it out. We repeat the move until Brett and I have one sword each. We're back-to-back in the middle of the parquet floor, and the vamps keep coming.

  And then someone else joins with a war-cry from the side of the house. A guy about my age with mussed chestnut hair. He fights like a Chaser, but I've never met him before.

  The stranger protects one of my cousins who has fallen near us.

  "Where's Erick?" I ask Brett over my shoulder.

  "By the pool," he grunts.

  Relief surges. My best friend is all right.

  And with the additional fighter helping us, the tide seems to have turned.

  Then everything changes when a gunshot rings out.

  I flinch and swing my sword in a wide arc. The vamp I've been grappling with jumps backward.

  And I see my mom with a smoking .44 clasped in her shaking hands. Slinky party dress and all. There's a vamp at her feet, a vamp she apparently just blew a hole in.

  Then it's all over for them.

  Some of the vamps flee. The rest my family destroys.

  19 - Brett

  I'm exhausted.

  I know a crash is coming on. My adrenaline is still kicking high, but it’ll tank soon enough.

  But we're alive.

  I drop my sword. It clatters to the dance floor, blood splattering off of it.

  Emily does the same and turns toward me. I pull her into my arms and bury my face in her hair that has all fallen out of the fancy 'do.

  I'm not crying, but emotion crashes over me. Latent fear, relief that it's over, gratefulness that she's safe, that we're together.

  She's shaking, or I am, but before I can kiss her and truly celebrate our survival, there's some guy standing beside us, clearing his throat.

  Not Erick, like I might expect. Some dude I've never seen before.

  He's wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans, so not a party-goer. He's ripped, and carrying a sword of his own.

  "You the birthday girl?" he asks.

  "Who's asking?" I respond for her, bristling a little.

  He raises his eyebrows at Emily. "Boyfriend?"

  She looks up at me, still in my loose embrace. "Yeah. I didn't think he was the jealous type."

  I squeeze her waist lightly but glare at the other dude.

  He ignores me.

  "Names Shane Campton. I'm a Chaser, formerly from Indiana but lately from Boston." He waves his sword around, pointing at the carnage around us. "Things are getting worse. Here and in Boston. London, maybe in California, too."

  She looks surprised. "I hadn’t heard..." But then she trails off. I'm guessing with her father dead, they've kept her out of the loop. Maybe at her mom's request.

  "I'm recruiting for an offensive. I've got Maggie Wellington pulling together a team—"

  Her brows wrinkle. "Of the Wellington Wellingtons?" she asks.

  I've never heard the name before, but it obviously means something to Emily.

  "I thought they were all dead,” she says.

  Campton nods. Shakes his head. Looks like he's got indigestion or something. "She... technically died in the 1830's."

  Emily gasps softly. "She's...one of them?"

  "No." His answer is quick and definitive. "She's a Chaser, down to the bone. She's been in hiding all this time, but she's done with that now. She's on our side. There's a bunch of other stuff, but...I need to know if you'll come. Fight with us."

  Erick appears at my elbow, and Emily lets go of me to embrace her cousin. Erick jerks his chin in greeting.

  "Who's this?" he asks.

  "Some Chaser from Boston," I say, like I actually know what's going on.

  "Why me?" Emily asks. She's between me and Erick now. "My uncle is the head of the family. All the fighters in this area will go if he does."

  Shane glances over her shoulder to where the uncle—the first guy who danced with her—is helping someone else off the ground.

  "I've tried," Shane says. "But he's not listening. He thinks things are fine as they are."

  Erick shifts, and I think about him taking the fall for the three of us at that first vampire attack in the parking garage. "My dad won't want to leave. This is his home." But I notice Erick doesn't say it's his home. Are things bad with his dad?

  "I've been talking to another Chaser family in the area," Shane says. "The Reyes family."

  As in Sam Reyes? From the martial arts tournament? It had seemed like Emily knew her. Was being a Chaser the connection?

  "They're going into hiding, unless I can convince them to fight with us."

  Erick shakes his head. "We've only had a few dealings with them. They're not as dedicated as we are."

  "I don't know," Emily says. "Sam might be interested. She's a hothead."

  Shane grins. "A lot of us are. So...are you in?"

  Emily looks away again, and I follow her gaze to her mom, across the yard, trying to clean up.

  Many of the other people have cleared out. I'm assuming some of them had to get medical attention. Some are dragging away the vamp's bodies. I don't want to know what they're going to do with them.

  "I don't know," Emily says. "I need to..." She looks up at me, looks at the Shane guy, looks at Erick. "I've got to talk to my mom." She turns back at me. "Can you stay?"

  "Of course."

  I watch her walk away, and it's not until Erick says something that I realize the other two have been watching as well.

  "You gonna take care of her?" Erick asks.

  I glance at him, and he's totally serious. Deadly serious. "Yeah."

  "Promise?"

  I nod.

  "But not keep her from fighting?" he asks.

  I crack a smile. "Nobody really tells Emily what to do."

  He laughs. Then he turns to the new guy. "I'm in, man," Erick says.

  "You sure?" I ask. "You don't even know him."

  Erick and Shane slap palms, clasp wrists in a handshake. "We're both Chasers," Erick says.

  "It's like a creed," agrees Shane.

  I'm watching Emily with her mom, and the words pop out before I can call them back. "How do I join up?"

  20 - Emily

  When I go to her, my mom is attempting to clean up the three layers of white birthday cake that have been smashed into one corner of the parquet floor.

  "Mom."

  She doesn't seem to hear me the first time, so I call a little louder.

  "Mom. Mom!"

  When she looks up, her eyes are wide and panic-filled. She might be in shock or something, but thankfully, I can see the .44 she used on the vamp earlier sitting harmlessly next to a plate of empanadas. Far enough away that she can’t reach it.

  "We'll clean it up tomorrow," I tell her. I take her by the hand, and she must really be out of it, because she follows me into the house like I'm the grownup and she's a little kid.

  "Uncle Felix will board up the windows. Brett and I will clean up a little before he goes home."

  She “hmms” in what could be agreement, but she’s mostly silent as I pull her upstairs to her bedroom.

  This door has an industrial lock on it—it was sort of like the last hold in my dad's defense plans. I intend to sleep in here with her tonight. For her, not for me.

  "Your party was ruined," she whispers as I push her down to sit on the edge of the bed.

  I can't help the snort of laughter that escapes. "That's my kind of party," I say.

  She has enough gumption to glare at me, so maybe she's just shocked but not in shock, or maybe she's coming out of it.

  "Why did they do that? Attack us here?"

  I shrug. "Maybe they somehow found out that there would be a big group of Chasers here tonight? Or maybe one of them got lucky and spotted one o
f the Chasers coming to the party."

  I go to her chest of drawers and find her pajamas and that favorite robe she's always wearing. I bring them to her.

  "I saw you fighting," she says.

  "Are you okay?" I ask. "Do you want me to call a doctor?"

  She shakes her head, but her eyes are dreamy, far off. "You looked like your father. I saw him fight once. He was fast, like you. And deadly. Like you."

  I sit still, on my knees at her feet. She rarely talks about my dad, and I've never heard her talk about his fighting.

  "It's who we are," I whisper.

  I wish she could understand.

  "I don't want you to die like he did," she whispers back. Her eyes pool with tears.

  And I can't promise her that it won't happen to me, but I hug her waist. She clings to my shoulders. We sit that way for awhile, just hugging.

  It's been a long time since we've been this close, this affectionate.

  "I can't quit fighting," I tell her as I ease back.

  "I know." She's still got tears in her eyes, but she dabs at them with a tissue she got from who-knows-where. Always a lady. "After tonight, I can't ask you to. I’m...proud of you."

  I plop back on my butt, totally shocked. "You are?"

  She nods. "I am. I miss your father, but...we can't let them win. You can't let them win."

  I hug her again. We’re crying, and I’m even laughing a little. She’s proud of me? Wow.

  "Are we having a moment?" I ask. Then, "Am I dreaming?"

  "No, dear. And those bloodstains aren't coming out of that dress."

  I look down at myself, at the brown stains on the pretty taffeta.

  "At least your boyfriend doesn't seem to mind," she says.

  I look up at her, a little surprised that she's brought Brett up. She grins. "He seems good with a weapon too. Someone who can...how do you say it? 'Have your back'?"

  I laugh at my über-uncool mother trying to use a slang phrase.

  Then I stand up. "Let me check on Uncle Felix and clean up downstairs a little, then I'll be back. Will you be okay?"

  She nods. "There's another gun in the nightstand."

  Go mom.

  21 - Emily

  When I get back downstairs, two of my cousins are boarding up the windows. Everyone else is gone.

  Except Brett, who waits in the middle of the deserted outdoor dance floor, one hand in his pocket, the other hanging at his side. He's ditched his suit coat and tie, and the way his broad shoulders fill out the white dress shirt makes me drool, just a little.

  My bare feet hit the parquet floor, and I'm pretty sure I don't make a sound, but he senses me and turns around.

  The intensity on his face stalls me. We stand there, just a few feet between us, under my mom's white twinkling lights.

  "Hey," he says.

  "Hey."

  "Your mom okay?"

  "Surprisingly, yes. Are you? Not in too much pain?"

  "Not yet, but I may need to bunk in one of your guest rooms once my adrenaline crashes. I've got some unfinished business to deal with first."

  He approaches slowly, and I see he's got something in his hand. He holds it out to me. A red rose.

  "It's cheesy, but... Erick told me I had to bring a flower for your last dance."

  I lift it to my nose and sniff the sweet scent. A rose. It’s so…girly, and yet, I love it. I touch the soft petals to my cheek, enjoying their velvety feel.

  He holds out his arms, and I fall into them, linking my hands behind his neck, holding on to my rose.

  He leads me in a very slow dance. Our feet barely move. After everything that happened tonight, it's a little surreal to be dancing on the dance floor we were on an hour earlier, fighting for our lives. I remember the vamps attacking him, and feel a fresh wave of anxiety. I hold him tighter, reassuring myself that he is here, healthy, and safe. Here, because despite the fact that I asked him not to, he came. He brought a flower. He planned to dance with me.

  "I love the flower," I whisper, afraid to break the magic of the moment. "So, you came to dance with me tonight?"

  "Erick said the last dance was supposed to be with the guy who holds your heart."

  There's a fine tremor to his voice as he speaks, so I reassure him with a kiss.

  He keeps it sweet and then brushes a kiss on my forehead.

  Chin at my temple, he says, "Plus, you threw the fight this afternoon so I would come."

  I jerk backward. He doesn't let me out of his arms, but I'm far enough back to look at his face.

  "I did not!"

  "I saw it in your face, that last thirty seconds of the match. You let me win." His accusation echoes mine from last night.

  "No, I didn't." I push against his shoulders, ready to argue my side, but he pulls me close and kisses me.

  I fight back, pinching his side, nipping his bottom lip, but he slides his tongue against my upper lip, and the sensation against that hyper-sensitive place is like nothing I've ever felt before.

  I stop fighting and give in to the kiss.

  "It's okay if you did," he says moments later as we break apart for breath. We're both winded.

  I struggle to remember what we were talking about.

  "But I was going to crash your party anyway," he continues.

  "Why?" My stomach tightens at the intensity in his gaze.

  "You know why," he says quietly. "I can't stay away from you. If you decide to go to Boston, I'm going with you."

  He takes a deep breath. "I'm in love with you. I think I have been since the first time you threw me down on the mats."

  I bite my lip to squelch the happy squeal that wants to escape. Instead I say, "I love you, too." The words rush out of me, like helium leaving a balloon. "I love you," I repeat, and they're much easier to say when I’m watching emotion fill his eyes.

  He kisses me sweetly again, his hand cupping my face. Then he pulls away, reaching into his pocket.

  "Let me give this to you before I get too carried away. Birthday present," he explains.

  My heart thrums once, hard. I check for thorns, then slide the stem of his rose behind my ear. I'll dry and press it later in my room, so I can keep it forever, but for right now I don't want to lose it.

  He hands me a flat, square box, unwrapped. It looks like it could be jewelry, but he wouldn't, would he...?

  I slide the lid off, and the soft lights from above glint on a perfect, silver...

  Throwing star.

  I run my finger over the flat surface—the blades around the edges look as if they could slice me open—before looking up at him.

  "I love it." I

  "I know."

  His cocky statement makes me laugh, but it’s also a reminder of what he's been saying all along.

  He knows me.

  And now he knows everything about me. I'm a Chaser. A warrior.

  And he doesn't want to change me.

  He wants to fight beside me.

  Brett draws me close. I look over his shoulder, past the lights, and up to the stars.

  If my father is up there, watching, he must be happy that I've found Brett, found love, found a partner to fight with.

  But the battle still looms.

  What will we find in Boston?

  Dear Reader:

  Thank you for reading Rival. If you enjoyed this book, would you consider leaving a review? All reviews are appreciated, whether positive or negative.

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  Turn the page for a sneak peek at Shadow Allegiance, available December 15…

  1 - Rachel

  Shane is so gonna kill me.

  Literally.

  My hotheaded brother is a Chaser. We are—I was—fifth generation humans given highly specialized training. Tactical, combat, and weapons. Train
ed from birth to kill vampires.

  And now I'm… I can't even think it.

  I wake just after sundown, curled in a ball between a dumpster and the back of a building. From comatose to completely alert in one nanosecond.

  I remember everything.

  The flight from Boston to Heathrow.

  Searching for the vampire that had attempted to take my little sister hostage six weeks ago. The others in our little band might be content to sit back and wait—they call it preparing—but I'm not. I wasn't.

  I ended up in an industrial part of the city.

  I remember the ambush.

  The turning.

  My turning.

  I'm now a…vampire. My own mortal enemy.

  And my brother will never forgive me. He's spent the last eighteen years, his entire life, working to erase vamps from the face of the earth.

  And Chloe, my sister... She's a Supernatural, though we aren't quite sure how that happened. Both our parents, deceased now, were human.

  As a vampire, I'm a danger to her. Vampires are über-attracted to supernatural blood. I don't even know if I'll be able to resist attacking her, assuming I ever see her again. Have I lost my sister forever? I don’t know how I’ll be able to stand being without her—annoyingly—upbeat attitude and our girls-only secrets.

  My senses are on high alert. My skin is so sensitive, the air around me seems to vibrate. My throat burns… the thirst. Bloodlust.

  I have bloodlust now.

  I want to cry. But I haven't given in to that impulse in years, not since I was a little girl, and I won't now.

  I won't drink, either.

  I don't know how long it will take me to die from starvation, but maybe I've got a few days to find the vampire, Stephen, before I starve or have to stake myself.

  Chasers don't typically have a long lifespan. We're constantly seeking danger as we fight. But dying at sixteen…? I'm not ready.

  Touching my face gives me no answers. It still feels like it always has. I've seen many vamps, and the angular, sharper look of their features. And thanks to my brother, I've been up close and personal with a vamp—his girlfriend, Maggie—and I know there's some way to change from appearing human to becoming all vampire. I've seen her go from a monster with black irises and fangs to a human girl with bright green eyes in a fraction of a second. Of course, Maggie is an anomaly—a vampire who doesn't hunt humans and seems to have a conscience. At this point, I can't be sure that I'm still a good guy.