Table of Contents
Praise for Chloe Neills Chicagoland Vampires Novels
With her wonderfully compelling reluctant vampire heroine and her careful world building, I was drawn into Some Girls Bite from page one, and kept reading far into the night.
Julie Kenner, USA Today bestselling author of The Good Ghouls Guide to Getting Even
Id so hang out with Merit the vampire. Some Girls Bite is smart... and delightful. A must-read.
Candace Havens, author of The Demon King and I
HALL PASS
I flicked on my flashlight and swung the beam into the dark, the arc of light barely penetrating the blackness, even as I squinted to get a better look.
And then I saw themScout and Jason behind her, both in uniform and both running toward me as if they were running for their lives. I dropped the beam of the flashlight to the floor to keep from blinding them.
Scout? I tried to call out, but fear had frozen my throat. I tried again, and this time managed sound. Scout!
They were still far awaythe corridor was a deep onebut they were running at sprinter speed... and there was something behind them.
Chasing after them was the blonde wed seen outside on Mondaythe girl with the hoodie who had watched us in the memorial garden. She was in jeans, running shoes, and a T-shirt this time, and she ran full-bore after Scout and Jason. But even as she sprinted through the corridor, her expression was somehow vacant, a strange gleam in her eyes the only real sign of life. Her hair was long and wavy, and it flew out behind her as she ran, arms pumping, toward us.
Suddenly she pulled back her hand, then shot it forward as if to throw something at the two of them. The air and ground rumbled, and this time the rumble was strong enough to knock me off my feet. I hit the ground on my knees, palms out in front of me.
By the time I glanced up again, Scout and Jason had reached me. I saw the look of horror on Scouts face. Get up, Lily! she implored. Run!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A special thanks to the Putzy and Murphy families for their hospitality (and patience) during the editing process, and to the always entertaining folks at my online forum (go Team Eel!) for their enthusiasm, humor, and support.
This one is dedicated to Nate.
(He knows why.)
For more information on Chloe or the Novels of the Dark Elite, visit: http://chloeneill.com.
Chicagoa city where they are always rubbing a lamp, and fetching up the genii, and contriving and achieving new impossibilities.
Mark Twain
They were gathered around a conference table in a high-rise, eight men and women, no one under the age of sixty-five, all of them wealthy beyond measure. And they were here, in the middle of Manhattan, to decide my fate.
I was not quite sixteen and only one month out of my sophomore year of high school. My parents, philosophy professors, had been offered a two-year-long academic sabbatical at a university in Munich, Germany. Thats righttwo years out of the country, which only really mattered because they decided Id be better off staying in the United States.
Theyd passed along that little nugget one Saturday in June. Id been preparing to head to my best friend Ashleys house when my parents came into my room and sat down on my bed.
Lily, Mom said, we need to talk.
I dont think Im ruining the surprise by pointing out that nothing good happens when someone starts a speech like that.
My first thought was that something horrible had happened to Ashley. Turned out she was fine; the trauma hit a little closer to home. My parents told me theyd been accepted into the sabbatical program, and that the chance to work in Germany for two years was an amazing opportunity for them.
Then they got quiet and exchanged one of those long, meaningful looks that really didnt bode well for me. They said they didnt want to drag me to Germany with them, that theyd be busy while they were there, and that they wanted me to stay in an American school to have the best chance of going to a great college here. So theyd decided that while they were away, Id be staying in the States.
I was equal parts bummed and thrilled. Bummed, of course, because theyd be an ocean away while I passed all the big milestonesSAT prep, college visits, prom, completing my vinyl collection of every Smashing Pumpkins track ever released.
Thrilled, because I figured Id get to stay with Ashley and her parents.
Unfortunately, I was only right about the first part.
My parents had decided it would be best for me to finish high school in Chicago, in a boarding school stuck in the middle of high-rise buildings and concretenot in Sagamore, my hometown in Upstate New York; not in our tree-lined neighborhood, with my friends and the people and places I knew.
I protested with every argument I could think of.
Flash forward two weeks and 240 miles to the conference table where I sat in a button-up cardigan and pencil skirt Id never have worn under normal circumstances, the members of the Board of Trustees of St. Sophias School for Girls staring back at me. They interviewed every girl who wanted to walk their hallowed hallsafter all, heaven forbid they let in a girl who didnt meet their standards. But that they traveled to New York to see me seemed a little out of the ordinary.
I hope youre aware, said one of them, a silver-haired man with tiny round glasses, that St. Sophias is a famed academic institution. The school itself has a long and storied history in Chicago, and the Ivy Leagues recruit from its halls.
A woman with a pile of hair atop her head looked at me and said slowly, as if talking to a child, Youll have any secondary institution in this country or beyond at your feet, Lily, if youre accepted at St. Sophias. If you become a St. Sophias girl.
Okay, but what if I didnt want to be a St. Sophias girl? What if I wanted to stay home in Sagamore with my friends, not a thousand miles away in some freezing Midwestern city, surrounded by private-school girls who dressed the same, talked the same, bragged about their money?
I didnt want to be a St. Sophias girl. I wanted to be me, Lily Parker, of the dark hair and eyeliner and fabulous fashion sense.
The powers that be of St. Sophias were apparently less hesitant. Two weeks after the interview, I got the letter in the mail.
Congratulations, it said. We are pleased to inform you that the members of the board of trustees have voted favorably regarding your admission to St. Sophias School for Girls.
I was less than pleased, but short of running away, which wasnt my style, I was out of options. So two months later, my parents and I trekked to Albany International.
Mom had booked us on the same airline, so we sat in the concourse together, with me between the two of them. Mom wore a shirt and trim trousers, her long dark hair in a low ponytail. My father wore a button- up shirt and khakis, his auburn hair waving over the glasses on his nose. They were heading to JFK to connect to their international flight; I was heading to OHare.
We sat silently until they called my plane. Too nervous for tears, I stood and put on my messenger bag. My parents stood, as well, and my mom reached out to put a hand on my cheek. We love you, Lil. You know that? And that this is whats best?
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