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Jameson quickly says, approaching us with her hands up in surrender. “We’re friends. Please, believe me.”
    “But . . . but they’re vampires,” I say. I look over at Jeff and Michael, who are just as still, just as shocked as I am.
    “Half the town is, yes.”
    George asks for water for the elderly woman, and when it arrives, she quickly begins washing the vampire blood from her mouth. They must know of the Thirst and its dangers. Her actions are a preemptive step. A very good one.
    “Are you—” I begin.
    “I’m human,” Dr. Jameson admits. “I’m the representative for all the humans here at Crimson Sands, while George leads the vampires.”
    “Every house here has two families in it,” George says as he wanders over. “Humans, warm in their beds at night, and vampires, asleep underneath those very same beds during the day.”
    “But George, this morning, we saw you . . .”
    “In the sun? Well, I’m a Day Walker. I know you haven’t heard of us, but—”
    “Believe me, we have,” I interrupt. “We’ve even met your Maker.”
    “And you’re still alive? I’m impressed. Seems like we have some catching up to do, then. Let’s get these raiders taken care of first.”
    Several men make their way over to the bodies of the dead. They carry them off behind a small barn. Not a word is exchanged, just understanding. When the sun rises, more ash will blow through Crimson Sands.
    Someone else gathers the horses and leads them toward a corral. People begin to wander back to their homes as though tonight’s events were familiar and boring. But Victor stays by my side. If Old Family don’t like change, this sudden shift has certainly made him tense.
    When finished with his task, George returns to us.
    “Come,” Dr. Jameson says. “You’ll probably want to hear more about our little town.”
    “That’s an understatement,” Michael says.

Chapter 3
    O nce inside the house, fresh coffee is poured for everyone. The four of us just stare at ours, while George and the doctor take alternating sips.
    “There isn’t much to tell, really,” George says. “Vampires, Lessers to be specific, living together with humans. Peacefully.”
    “How many Day Walkers?” I ask.
    “I’m the only one.”
    “That’s why he’s such a good leader,” Dr. Jameson says. “He can walk between both worlds, as it were. A lot like you, Dawn.”
    My heart stops. Does she know? Does she know about Sin and the Montgomerys? Does she know that I’m a vampire?
    “As a former delegate,” she says, after a moment’s pause. “You know both worlds. Right?”
    “Yeah,” I say a little too quickly, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I know the rules of each.”
    “The difference is that in those walled cities,” George says, “the blood is taken under threat. I know it’s always called a donation, but it’s pulled out of the veins by fear, nothing else.”
    “And here?”
    “It’s also a donation,” Dr. Jameson says. “But here, the people willingly give it.”
    “Why?” Michael asks. To him, with his hatred of all things fanged, this must sound very strange.
    “Because we recognize the value of our vampire friends,” she says. “They protect us at night from the Lessers who would do us harm. In return, we protect them during the day from hunters and scavengers trying to make a quick profit off some vampire fangs.”
    It’s a simple, beautiful system. But . . .
    “Blood quota?” I ask, as though a delegate check sheet were right in front of me.
    “Never needed it.”
    “Current blood supply?”
    “Overflowing,” Dr. Jameson says. “We have more than we need. I have to turn people away.”
    I think about Denver and its massive infrastructure, the blood banks, the initiatives, the propaganda posters, the thousands of citizens. All of that and we can’t come up with enough blood. Yet here, they have plenty.
    “We’ve never had a shortage,” George says. “And we’ve never had an incident of a