Josie screamed, thrashing, but there was nowhere for her to go. The tomb was too narrow for her to squirm away and the massive vampire lay overtop her, effectively holding her down, and he was much too close for her to aim a knee or a kick to his abdomen or groin.

  A sudden idea flashed through her mind, mad and desperate, and she went for it. Managing to free one of her hands, she shoved it down the front of her bustier, grunting with the effort of keeping the giant vamp from sinking his fangs into her jugular. With a shout, she pulled Vette’s symbol from between her breasts and slammed it into the side of the Otherlander’s face.

  He screamed, throwing his head back in a terrible wail that sliced through her ears. He’d pulled back enough for her to get some leverage, and Josie was able to bend her knees and kick forward, sending the vampire soaring through the air.

  Vampires, the loweliest of Otherlander’s, almost always susceptible to Vette’s power.

  Well, at least she’d retained something from her studies.

  Josie launched herself over the side of the stone coffin and scanned the room for Luke, but his body was gone, little more than a smudge of blood to mark where he had been.

  “You’ll pay for that, girl,” growled the vampire. Across the room, he was slowly getting to his feet, his hand pressed against his cheek, the skin of which was slightly smoking.

  Josie smirked. “Add it to my tab.”

  He lumbered towards her, but she’d been waiting for him to move first, and when he got close enough, she twisted her hips in a high, round-house kick that sent him smashing into the opposite wall again.

  The Otherlander was momentarily still, his head lulled, eyes half-closed. Josie’s hectic gaze searched the room for a weapon, something she could stake him with, but a piercing scream sounded from somewhere outside, and she was instantly reminded of the friends she’d left out there, relatively unprotected.

  “It’s your lucky day, asshole,” Josie snarked to the semi-unconscious vampire. Turning on her heel, she sprinted for the open door and towards the sound of the scream.

  Across the deep green lawn, Ramsay was doing an impressive job of fending off two vampires at once, a stake in his right hand wielded like a blade, swinging artfully through the air while Andrew shielded Calliope with his body.

  “Josie!” shouted her red haired friend.

  Josie sprinted towards them, the heels of her boots poking holes in the grass.

  “Ramsay!”

  Ramsay’s head shot up, his gaze darting in Josie’s direction. She didn’t have to give the command – he reached into the waistband of his jeans and threw an extra stake through the air.

  She leapt up, caught it in one hand, but Ramsay’s distraction had cost him – one of the two vampires, a female with a shaggy haircut, punched him in the throat and he stumbled back, nearly knocking into Andrew and Calliope.

  The girl advanced, while the male vampire split and headed in Josie’s direction, a smirk dragging up the corners of his mouth. His nose looked crooked, like Ramsay had managed to get a good punch in, and there was a dark trail of blood down one side of his chin, his lower lip purple and swollen.

  “You really don’t want to do this,” Josie warned.

  “I really do,” contradicted the vampire in a scratchy, raw voice.

  His face changed before her eyes – his face becoming lined by thick ropes of pale skin, his mouth going wide and flat, his nose elongating, turning flat and fleshy as that of a vampire bats.

  Calliope screeched again, the horrified, terrified scream of a mortal seeing what they were never meant to. But Josie couldn’t think about that – she had a job to do.

  The vampire advanced. His hair was black and shiny, his skin as white as a corpse. She spent a moment wondering if he’d been a goth when he was human; just a teenage boy in smudgy eyeliner.

  And then he grabbed for her with a monstrous growl, and she ducked under his sweeping arm, leapt up, and slammed the stake into his chest, where his slow-beating heart resided like a rotting peach. His body disintegrated, exploding into a spray of dirt that splattered, freckling Josie’s face. Calliope was screaming and screaming, but Andrew was silent as he held his friend, his eyes wide and petrified.

  Josie rushed to Ramsay’s side, but he didn’t need her help – no sooner had she lifted her stake for the killing blow than he slammed his own into the female vampire’s chest. Her hands scrabbled at the wound, her panicked screech the last sound before she burst like her friend had.

  With the vampire’s gone, Calliope had fallen silent, but like Andrew, her eyes were wide and fearful, and she’d gone so pale that the freckles on her face stood out in stark relief.

  “Wh-wh-what was that!?” she stammered.

  “Vampires.” said Andrew, looking at Josie with a cold, unreadable expression on his face.

  Josie froze, glancing at Ramsay, but he shook his head minutely – he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t explained. He’d left that for Josie. Which didn’t exactly explain how Andrew knew.

  “Where’s Luke?” Josie asked, bypassing the talk altogether.

  Andrew shook his head. He was still holding onto Calliope, face drawn. “He didn’t come through here.”

  “Oh God!” wailed Calliope, trembling in Andrew’s grasp. “Do you think those–those–those people did something to them!?”

  Those people.

  So, they were still in the denial stage, thought Josie.

  “Fuck.” Josie looked around at her friends – soon to be ex-friends, probably – and at her would-be Guardian, and then she said it again, with more emphasis this time. “Fuck!”

  “We should get inside,” said Ramsay.

  He walked over to her and lay a hand on her shoulder. It was surprisingly gentle, making Josie tense underneath, like she wasn’t sure what to do with such simple affection.

  “We should get them inside,” murmured Ramsay again. “Regroup.”

  He was right. Josie nodded, and turned to follow him when he set off across the cemetery.

  For a moment, Andrew and Calliope didn’t move, and when Josie glanced over her shoulder at them, Andrew’s expression was tight and distrustful. She didn’t blame him.

  Still, she didn’t want to leave them at the mercy of whatever the hell was going down in Sunsweet, so slowed down a little, tossing over her shoulder, “You guys coming? Or were you planning on waiting for more of our bat-faced friends to show up?”

  Calliope squeeked, surging forward to catch up, and Andrew begrudgingly followed, his fingers clasped around Calliope’s delicate wrist, as if afraid to let her out of his sight for too long. Josie looked at where their skin touched and wondered, briefly, if Calliope’s crush wasn’t so one-sided after all.

  Ramsay took them back to the library. Curtains were drawn over the windows, and the string of lights around the room blinked on, filling the space with a warm, comforting glow. Ramsay found a case of water bottles behind the desk and handed them out, though none of them hastened to drink.

  Calliope sat down in one of the mismatched chairs, gripping the water bottle tight for lack of anything else to do, but Andrew wouldn’t sit. He stood not too far behind Calliope, his jaw set.

  Looking at them, at the fear so clearly written on their faces, Josie softened. She remembered the first time she’d seen a vampire, how terrified and full of disbelief she’d been. A trick of the light, she’d thought, hallucinations brought on by fear.

  “What’s going on?” Calliope’s brow puckered. She was still so pale, her green eyes bright against the ghostly pallor of her face. “What–who were those people? What do they want with Luke?”

  Josie didn’t look at Ramsay, too sure she’d see disapproval in his steady gaze when she said, “They were vampires; Andrew was right.”

  If she’d expected to see some kind of relief on Andrew’s face for being right, she’d have been disappointed. His expression didn’t change at all – he stared at Josie without seeming to really see her, his face hard, an almost angry tilt to his brow.

  Calliope shook her head, refusing to believe, as Josie had refused to believe. “We’re talking about vampires here!” she cried. “Like, sleeps-in-a-coffin, deathly-allergic-to-garlic, feeds-on-human-blood vampires! Like, Dracula!”

  “Yes,” said Josie, and then, “Well, not exactly. Actually, like, two out of three of those things are myths.”

  “Like vampires!” Calliope exclaimed. She twisted around to look at Andrew, and finally his gaze broke from focusing on the opposite wall, to looking down into his friend's face, but he didn’t say anything. His expression softened, but there was no argument he was prepared to make. No way to explain what they’d both seen as anything other than supernatural and unbelievable.

  Calliope made a strangled sound in the back of her throat.

  “Look, I’m sorry about this, okay, you guys?” Josie looked from Calliope to Andrew and back again, hoping that whatever emotion was on her face at that moment was convincing of her remorse.

  She was sorry – extraordinarily sorry. She wished that she had time to soften the blow for them. Even better than that wish, she wished that they’d never had to know about vampires or the Under Realm, or anything having to do with Otherlanders in the first place. But time and softness was not a luxury they had. Luke could be dead. Or worse–changed, and the sooner her classmates got with the picture, the sooner she could begin to search for him.

  “I’m sorry this is happening, but I need both of you to get with the reality check, okay? Vampires are real, they exist, and Ramsay and I just killed a bunch of them. Which is good, because – trust me on this – they would have killed you first if given half a chance. They’re predators. Monsters.”

  A silence. Then Calliope shook her head, resolutely declaring, “Nope. I refuse. Vampires aren’t a thing. I’m–I’m dreaming or…” She strayed off and pinched herself, hard, with her small, blunt fingernails. “Ow!”

  Josie shared a look with Ramsay. She’d expected him to have spoken up at some point – most Guardians weren’t keen on mortals knowing anything about the supernatural. But he’d been oddly quiet since they’d arrived.

  Finally, he spoke, his focus solely on Josie. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Do what?” Andrew, also speaking for the first time, his voice cracking from disuse.

  “Yeah,” said Josie, “I think we kind of have to.”

  Ramsay sighed, running a hand through his sandy hair. Then he fixed Josie with a hard, assessing look. It was only a moment, but Josie didn’t like feeling herself being scrutinized. She drew herself up, but Ramsay was already nodding again, turning to face Andrew and Calliope across the room.

  “Sunsweet sits over a Black Portal,” said Ramsay. “A sort of… Doorway to another realm – the Under Realm.”

  “The Under Realm.” Andrew repeated flatly. “So now we’re supposed to believe there are other realms? Are we in a movie?”

  “You aren’t supposed to believe anything,” said Ramsay coolly, “If you hadn't been targeted yourself, tonight, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.” He turned a hard look in Andrew’s direction, “It is against protocol to tell mortals what we are, what we do.”

  Andrew’s jaw snapped shut.

  “Right,” said Ramsay, picking up where he’d left off. “Yes–other realms. Three of them that we know of. Ours…” He moved his arms in a circle to encompass the space they all existed in. “The Earthly realm, where mortals reside, and the Under Realm, where Otherlander’s come from.”

  “Otherlanders…” Calliope repeated in a bewildered whisper.

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  “Vampires, demons,” Josie explained. “Werewolves.”

  “Yes,” Ramsay pointed at her, adding, “Also – seeing as we’re directly over top a Black Portal, those who seek to use magic find this geological location to be especially pliable to their supernatural whims.”

  Calliope was starting to look pale again, and if she had any more questions, they seemed to lose steam before they could reach her lips.

  But not Andrew. “You said there are three other realms.” He crossed his arms over his chest, “What’s the third?”

  Ramsay and Josie exchanged a look. There was only so much life-changing information a mortal could take.

  “The third is unimportant,” said Ramsay dismissively, “There is very little known about it, and it rarely has anything to do with us.”

  Well, that was almost true.

  “So those-those things back there,” Calliope spoke up before Andrew could retort. “They were…?”

  “Vampires,” said Ramsay and Josie at the same time.

  “How do we stop it?” asked Andrew. “The Black Portal–how do we…?” He made a motion with his hands, like pushing something together.

  “Close it?” supplied Josie.

  “We can’t,” answered Ramsay. “That’s why we’re here.” He gestured between himself and Josie.

  Josie didn’t argue, even though she felt old resentments tapping at her skull. She’d been tricked into moving to Sunsweet. She had just been trying to fit in, at last.

  “I’m a Guardian,” Ramsay went on, “My job is to train and guide the Blade, keep her fit to fight Otherlander’s, to protect mortalkind.”

  “And I’m the Blade,” Josie stepped forward, a stubborn, grudging set to her jaw. “Or I was, anyway, a long time ago.”

  “So you’re… you’re both like… Superheroes…?” Calliope’s eyes widened, saucer-big, a breath of awe to her tone as she swapped a look of disbelief for one of curiosity.

  A crooked smile tugged up one side of Ramsay’s mouth, but he shook his head with a chuckle. “Not me; her.” He jabbed his thumb in Josie’s direction. “The Gods gifted Josie with strength and speed, weapons to use against the demons that come crawling up from the Under Realm.”

  Andrew sagged, his arms coming undone to lie at his sides. All the tense anger that’d been filling up his body seemed to have drained in one go.

  “I thought you were just a librarian, Mr. Joseph.”

  “Ramsay,” Ramsay corrected, smiling wryly.

  “But I don’t get it,” said Calliope with a frown. “If there’s a Black Portal underneath Sunsweet, and it’s always been there, then why haven’t we noticed anything… you know…” She made claws with her hands, “ – until now? I mean, sure, sometimes there’s something kind of weird in the news, but not vampire weird! Right?” She looked at Andrew for confirmation, but her friend didn’t say anything.

  “If Otherlander’s were so obvious about their evil deeds, would there be any need for secrecy?” Ramsay pointed out. “Josie called them predators back there, and she was right: vampires are faster than us, stronger in every way. They’re careful when they hunt – most want to avoid detection.”

  “Tonight was weird, though,” Josie couldn’t help but add. “They’re not usually so… brazen.”

  “There might be some significance I’m unaware of,” Ramsay agreed. “Certain astrological events can make rituals, spells, summonings, all the easier.”

  A memory swam to the surface.

  “Aha!”

  Calliope jumped, and Ramsay turned to face her, a question on his face.

  “One of the vampire’s I fought earlier mentioned something…” She snapped her fingers as it returned to her fully, “The Culling! Maybe it has something to do with whatever the hell that is.”

  Ramsay’s brow furrowed, “The Culling?”

  He strode purposefully away, ignoring the three sets of eyes tracking him to the “cage” behind the desk, which he slid open with the sound of grating metal, and ducked inside. Seconds later, Ramsay emerged, holding a large, metal-covered book in his hand. The title was in some demon language Josie didn’t know but probably should have recognized; it just looked like a metal band’s logo. He began to flip through it, saying, “I believe I’ve come across–yes, here it is. The Culling–”

  Ramsay lapsed into silence as he read whatever was on the page, until Josie began to pointedly tap her foot, causing him to pause and shoot her an impatient glare over the top of the book.

  “The Culling is a ritual that uses willing subjects as conduits for power consumption.”

  “In English?” said Josie, brow furrowed irritably.

  Sighing, Ramsay closed the book and tossed it onto the front desk. “Someone–or some thing– is attempting to use willing participants – probably vampires – to harness power gathered from dying souls – mortals of Sunsweet. Usually to perform magic that requires more…” He waved his hand in the air. “Juice.”

  “Oh,” said Josie.

  “Yeah,” piped up Andrew, “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Did the Otherlanders say anything else to you?” Ramsay pressed. “Anything that could tip us off as to what they could be planning, who they serve?”

  But Josie shook her head. “Nothing.” And that wasn’t the worst of it. “They took a boy with them.”

  Ramsay rounded on her, suddenly tense, and Josie recoiled at the look of perturbation on his face.

  “The vampires took a mortal with them!? Why didn’t you say so sooner!?”

  “Well, gee!” Josie shouted back, frustration flaring hot under her skin. “I don’t know! Maybe I had my hands full fighting monsters?”

  She wasn’t even meant to be here, she thought morosely.

  “Your first priority as a Blade should always be the safety of mortalkind!”

  “I guess I forgot to clear that with the monster kicking my ass!” Josie exclaimed. “Or maybe you forgot that I said I’m no good at this shit, and I quit!”

  There was a slam. Josie jumped, spun around. Andrew had slammed his fists into the table Calliope was sitting at with such force that it was still rocking on its legs when Josie looked at them.

  “Sorry to interrupt whatever shitfit this is,” said Andrew, “But the ‘mortal’ you guys are arguing about is my friend Luke, and if he’s in danger–”

  “I’m going to save him,” said Josie, knowing as she made the promise that it was entirely possible she couldn’t keep it. “As soon as I figure out where these vampires are hiding.”

  “There are tunnel systems all throughout Sunsweets underground,” came Ramsay’s voice.

  Josie turned to face him and found that he was rifling around underneath his desk again, a knit to his brow. She knew he was still frustrated with her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care past a vague sting of guilt; after all, hadn’t she warned him that she sucked at the keeping people safe part of the job?

  “Some of them connect to the sewer system,” Ramsay went on.

  He pulled a binder out from somewhere and walked across the room to hand it to Josie. “I had the Guild prepare for me the town diagnostics – we believe many of the vampires in Sunsweet use this system to move around the city undetected.”

  “And safe from sunlight,” Josie murmured in agreement, taking the binder and flipping it open.

  Inside were a few maps, helpfully added notes and highlighter to mark where entrances were and where they led to.

  “There’s an entrance to the underground tunnels in the mausoleum… how strange,” Josie mused as she studied the pages. “That’s probably where Luke went.”

  “So what’s the plan?” asked Andrew. “What should we do?”

  Josie shot Andrew an incredulous look, “There is no ‘we,’ Andrew. I take these things on by myself while you and Calliope stay safe above ground. Got it?”

  “Forget that,” said Andrew. That tense, cold look was on his face again, a muscle ticking in his hard jaw. “Luke is my friend, not yours, and – no offense – but I can’t just sit around while you promise to make it all better.”

  Josie opened her mouth, that old frustration heating her blood again, but Ramsay spoke before she could snap something at Andrew she’d feel bad about later.

  “She’s right, Andrew,” said Ramsay gently, “Josie is the Blade, she can face them in ways we can’t.”

  Relief pooled in Josie’s stomach. In this, at least, they were in agreement.

  “Like hell I’m just sitting on my ass while my friend–” Andrew stopped, abruptly, fisting his hair. Josie’s heart panged, guilt and sympathy making her want to apologize again.

  “We just want to help,” said Calliope softly. She hadn’t spoken in some time, and her face was a mess of worry.

  “You can both stay back and help me here,” said Ramsay. “I’ve got to call the Guild and find out anything I can about any… Unusual activity that’s taken place in Sunsweet over the past few centuries. It’s going to be a lot of research. More hands make less work.”

  Andrew didn’t argue, but he didn’t look happy about it, either, even as Calliope smiled and nodded, eager to be of use in any way that she could.

  Josie shot Ramsay a grateful look, though she couldn’t quite manage a smile. Then she sighed, tossing her pony tail off her shoulder.

  “Well, great. Now that that’s settled–Ramsay, spare stake? The vamp at the cemetery crushed mine.”

  He fished one out from the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt and tossed it through the air to her. She caught it, tucking it into the waistband of her purple leather pants.

  “I’m going to go kill myself some bloodsuckers,” she announced, forcing more bravado than she felt into the statement. “If Luke’s alive, I’ll bring him back.”

  If he hadn’t changed. If she didn’t have to kill him herself.

  No one said anything as she strode towards the door, until her hand was on the lock.

  From behind her, Ramsay said, “Be careful, Josie.”

  She paused, but didn’t say anything, and then she was gone, closing the door tight behind her.

  ***

  Deep underground, the Oldest watched his disciples as they lit candles, consulted old spell books, and argued amongst one another over the best time to perform the ritual, over who were the best candidates to offer him their blood, to take a piece of him into themselves.

  The underground cavern was a deep, dank, dark place; perfect for a vampire, truly, as no sunlight could break through the earthen ceiling. Rough rocks made shelves and alcoves, where candles of varying heights burned, casting long shadows across the rough walls. But he’d been trapped in this underground prison for decades, after the last time he’d attempted to open the Black Portal and claim this realm as his own, back when Sunsweet had been called something else, something that he no longer recalled.

  It had been a different ritual then, one he’d worked on his own under the cover of a black, moonless sky, with the bodies of seven dead witches in a circle at his feet. To say he had a talent with magic would be to lie, and though he’d been sure of himself, the spell he’d worked came apart before it could even begin, rending the city into pieces and burying him in the debris.

  For some time he had entered a long sleep, a hibernation of sorts that rebuilt his strength and sharpened his mind, but when he woke months or years or perhaps decades later, nothing had changed. He was as trapped as ever, unable to study the alignment of the planets and stars, unable to work a spell to free himself, unable, even, to feed.

  Tunnels were built, ways to escape, and for a moment he’d been filled bright with hope, but it was short-lived, for the spell he had tried to work all those years ago had not only come apart, but had backfired, creating a trap he could not escape from. He thought he might die there, forgotten in the rubble of a dead city, but then she had found him.

  Dreya Darby, his sweet disciple, who had discovered his sleeping body in the caverns underground, who had recognized him, knew who he was – what he was – and had brought him humans to feed on and news from above and more followers to carry on in her place as she came and went. They had promised to find a way to free him, but years went by, and the city that had been built over his head thrived, and his followers fed freely while the dark became a second skin and he began to rot within its confines.

  Finally, now, after an eternity, they finally had an idea – a way that could free him, and this time he was not alone to work the magic. Several of his followers filled the cavern, their robed bodies a mass of shadow, their mutterings echoing off the rocky walls. They would offer themselves to him, and through the Culling ritual, he would in turn divide his essence among them, and they would feed. Every soul taken, every mortal drained, would fill him with strength, with power – enough to free him. Enough to open the Black Portal and take what was his, at last.

  An awareness filled the peripheral edges of the Oldest’s mind, a tingle across his bare skull. He turned his head as the vampires in the cavern shuffled to either side of the rocky room, making a hole large enough for Dreya and Michaelangelo to walk through from the open mouths of one of the tunnels that bled into the cavern.

  They marched a boy between their bodies. He was practically a child. The Oldest could smell the sweat on his skin, the fear as it oozed out of him.

  “Is this for me?” He awarded the two of them with a pleased smile.

  “His blood is pure and delicious,” Dreya assured him with a trill of excitement.

  She had been careless in saying such a thing.

  The Oldest cocked his head to one side, his smile slipping. “You have tasted it.”

  He was not pleased. He preferred his meals untouched, pure, ready to be peeled and tasted by him and him alone. If Dreya were not a favorite, he would skin her alive for such a disservice.

  Dreya’s face faltered. She was in her Dark Form, and her purple lipstick was smeared over her fangs.

  “Am I your dog?” The Oldest’s voice was dangerously quiet. He floated towards her, the toes of his boots skimming along the packed ground. “Am I to feed from your scraps, after waiting decades to walk among you again!? Am I but a loyal pet, waiting for you to recall my existence!?”

  As it always did, the Oldest’s rage flared up quickly, without warning, roaring through him. He’d once been a reserved man, able to keep his mood in check with scarcely any trouble at all. But years trapped underground had stripped him of such civilities.

  “I didn’t mean–” Dreya cowered, but she knew better than to recoil from his touch.

  The Oldest reached for her. He wasn’t sure what he would do to punish her. His fingers curved around her jaw, the bruising hold enough to crush bone if she were not what she was.

  “There were others!” Dreya spluttered, her lip trembling. “We had others! But the girl–”

  “A girl?”

  “There was a girl,” Michelangelo confirmed in his rumbling voice. “She fought well, and was incredibly strong for a mortal… And she knew what we were.”

  The Oldest looked at him, noticing for the first time the mark of Vette burned into his cheek.

  “She might be a–”

  Michelangelo didn’t finish, stopping short when the Oldest flashed an amused smirk.

  The Oldest shoved Dreya away from him, and turned his attention instead to Michaelangelo. “A what, disciple? A Blade?”

  He hadn’t heard any hint of a Blade in Sunsweet, not since he’d walked the narrow streets, and though he wasn’t particularly afraid of them, they were not to be underestimated. Having been gifted with superior strength and speed in order to stand a chance against his kind, they were a natural enemy of vampires and all Otherlanders.

  On the other hand, their blood was said to have power in it beyond imagination. Enough power, perhaps, to free him even sooner than they’d planned.

  “A Blade…Indeed? It has been a while…Have you any proof of this Blade’s existence?” The Oldest surveyed his disciples and the cowering boy that stood between them.

  “She fought me and lived,” Michelangelo answered.

  He was a large man in both height and width. “Proof enough,” agreed the Oldest.

  The last time Michelangelo had been bested in a fight was the 1800s, when he’d been asleep and a young Lord had snuck up on him. The Lord had not survived, but Michelangelo had nearly lost an arm in the process and had taken weeks to heal.

  “She cannot be allowed to interfere with our plans,” said the Oldest.

  “That will not happen,” Michelangelo was quick to assure. “She will be eliminated before long.”

  “Not to worry…” The Oldest’s sunken eyes swivelled over to the mortal and he smirked. “I believe the Blade will come to us, for we have something she most certainly desires.”

  The boy had the sense to cower. The Oldest could hear the rapid pounding of his fearful heart, and he reached out to stroke a long, black nail down the boy’s cheek. “Fear not, child. You will live – for now.” His gaze found Michaelangelo and Dreya as he added, “So long as this mortal lives, the Blade will come for him.”

  Michelangelo wrapped a hand around the mortal’s thin, delicate throat. He could crush the boy’s windpipe now if he so desired. Instead, he gave him a little squeeze, hard enough to make the air wheeze in his lungs. “And here I thought you would be but a tasty snack, boy.”