“Like what Marise did to me, you mean.”

“Yes.” He nods.

“That still doesn’t explain how vampires can be born,” I tell him. Part of me feels like I’m going to drown with all this new information, and part of me is kind of like…huh, okay. No big deal.

I guess after making the leap to accept that all these creatures exist, how they came to exist isn’t nearly as shocking.

“Like other things, vampirism is a genetic mutation. Rare, exceptionally rare, but a genetic mutation nonetheless. The first documented cases happened a few thousand years ago, but since then, many more have happened.”

“Wait a minute. You have documented cases of vampires from thousands of years ago? How is that possible? I mean, how can you prove it?”

“Because they’re still alive, Grace.”

“Oh. Right.” Something else I didn’t see coming, though I probably should have. “Because vampires don’t die.”

“They do die, just much more slowly than the rest of us, because their cells develop differently than ours.”

Of course they do. Otherwise there wouldn’t be so much bloodsucking and who knows what else. “And Jaxon is one of these vampires? One of the old ones?” The thought turns the butterflies into vultures. Which is strange. I mean, I’m totally willing to accept the vampire thing, so why does the old thing totally freak me out?

“Jaxon was born into the most ancient vampire family. But no, he’s not four thousand years old, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Oh, thank God. “So these families are the only ones who can give birth to vampires? I mean, vampires can’t just be born from anyone, right?”

“It’s a genetic mutation, so yes, vampires can be born to anyone. Usually, they aren’t. Usually, born vampires come from one of the six ancient families, but other born vampires do happen. They’re usually the ones you read about in stories, because they don’t have any knowledge of who or what they are, so they…”

“Run rampant killing everyone in sight?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” he tells me with an exasperated look. “But yes. They are the ones who tend to make other vampires, because they don’t know any better. Or because they’re lonely and want to create a family. Or for several other reasons, as well. The older families aren’t like that, though.”

“What does that mean? They don’t kill people?” I have to admit that’s a huge relief.

At least until my uncle laughs and says, “Let’s not get carried away.”

“Oh, well, then. Jaxon has…”

“I’m not in the habit of talking about students with other students, Grace. And this conversation has gone far afield from where I intended it to go.”

True, but I’ve learned a lot, so I’m more than okay with where the conversation has gone. Though the laugh that accompanied his let’s not get carried away line was more than a little chilling. “I don’t want to go back to San Diego, Uncle Finn.”

It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. The first time I’ve really even thought it and believed it. But as the words come out of my mouth, I know they’re true. No matter how much I miss the beach and the warmth and the life I used to have with my parents, going back there isn’t what I want. My parents are gone forever, and nothing else that San Diego has holds as much appeal as Jaxon.

Nothing.

“Grace, I’m glad you like it at Katmere Academy. I am. But I don’t know if it’s safe. I thought I could protect you here, but obviously being a regular person in a school meant for paranormals is dangerous.”

Considering my week, that seems like an understatement. But still… “Isn’t it my decision to make?”

“It is. But you can’t make it over a boy.”

“I’m not making it because of Jaxon. Or at least, not just because of Jaxon.” This, too, is true. “I’m making it because of Macy. And you. And even Flint. I’m making it because I miss San Diego and my life there, but that life is over. My parents are dead, and if I stay there, if I go back to the same school and the same life I had—minus them—it’s going to be a slap in the face. A reminder, every day, of what I lost.

“And I don’t think I can do that, Uncle Finn. I don’t think I can heal there, driving by my old house on the way to school every day. Going to all the places my parents and I used to go—” My voice breaks, and I look away, embarrassed by the tears in my eyes. Embarrassed by how weak I feel every time I think about my mom and dad.

“Okay.” This time, when he reaches across the desk, he takes both my hands in his. “Okay, Grace. If that’s how you feel, you know you can stay. You’re always welcome wherever Macy and I are. But we have to do something about all these near misses, because I am not okay with something happening to you on my watch. The day you were born, I promised your father I’d take care of you if anything ever happened to him, and I am not about to let him down.”

“That sounds perfect, because, honestly, I’m not a big fan of all the near misses, either.”

He laughs. “I bet. So what—?”

He’s interrupted by the buzzing of the intercom on his desk. “Headmaster Foster, your nine o’clock call is on line three.”

“Oh, right. Thanks, Gladys.” He looks at me. “Unfortunately, I’ve got to take this. Why don’t you head back to your room and relax for the rest of the day? I’ll think about how we’re going to keep you safe and come by around lunchtime to talk to you and Macy about it. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.” I scoop my backpack off the ground and head for the door. Once I’ve got it open, though, I turn back to my uncle. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t come up with any ideas.”

“No, I mean, thank you for coming to San Diego to get me. Thank you for taking me in. Thank you for—”

“Being your family?” He shakes his head. “You never have to thank me for that, Grace. I love you. Macy loves you. And you’ll have a place with us for as long as you want it. Okay?”

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “Okay.” Then I book it out the door before I turn into a blubbering mess for the second time in as many days.

But I’ve barely closed the door and made it three steps down the hall before the floor beneath my feet starts to shake. Again.

   45

I Always Knew