Mistakes were made. But no one had ever accused Adina of being a perfect vampire. Or a perfect assassin.

The door latched behind her, sealing out the mob’s clamor. They’d been chasing her for two nights now.

The hit was easy. A spoiled count’s son. How did she manage to screw it up so badly?

Seeking refuge in the shadows cast by the hearth’s fire, Adina slumped against the door frame as her leg muscles crumpled. She pulled back her cowl. Her head throbbed, and one arm hung at an unnatural angle. The other grasped at the adobe wall, taking the weight off her trembling knees.

Adina swallowed and licked her lips, a nervous habit from a previous life. She took stock of the one room abode. The wood floor creaked beneath her feet. “Hana? Help.” Her voice, squeezing past her parched throat, whispered through the space. Empty.

Shit-shit-shit.

“Hana!” Adina’s voice echoed around the empty room.

The other woman couldn’t be away. Did she not know what was happening outside?

She whispered, “Hana?”

The flames crackled, indifferent, under Hana’s cauldron.

If she waited, her friend might return, but Adina didn’t have time. Her father was coming.

Adina ground her teeth and silently screamed at the ceiling. She grew tired of never being good enough for her father, of never being wanted. Now that she was finally trying to leave, her father led the mob to assassinate her, and her best friend was nowhere to be found.

If she’d had the strength, she’d smash Hana’s favorite mug against the wall.

As she stumbled to the hearth, a pungent odor assaulted her nose from the sticky-sweet concoction boiling over the flames. Belladonna. Adina waved her hand, sending the smallest tendril of her Talent toward the brew and smiled as the power revealed its contents—the potion contained a few other surprises for the unwary, it seemed. This recipe still needed several days to distill and purify. Hana was the best poison master in the region, as well she should be—the other vampire had perfected her craft over the last two centuries. And she owed Adina a favor.

She glanced around. There had to be something here she could use. On the floor near the fire, a wineskin sat close enough to the flames to stay warm, but far enough away to avoid the flames—not an accidental placement. Snatching the heated bag in her hands, she popped the top open, and inhaled the welcome smell of life itself.

Thank you, Hana. We’re even.

She should never have doubted her friend.

Without hesitation, she drank the blood in deep gulps. From the hot liquid, an accompanying energy wave dampened the pain and strengthened her muscles. The parched feeling in her throat abated. This would give her the strength she needed to escape, though she’d need a lot more to fully heal. Adina cast a suspicious glare at the room’s darkest shadows, but nothing stirred…yet.

A stray desert breeze blew sand against the front door as it passed by, thousands of minuscule claws scratching at the door.

She’d lingered too long. Adina brushed her hair out of her face and looked around the room. This was too obvious a hiding place. She’d be damned if she let him catch her so easily.