Theresa felt something weird at that, an inner twinge, and she unconsciously placed a hand over the spot where her heart no longer beat. Dane had never told her anything about something called a Slayer. Her existence, the existence of her kind, was common knowledge to someone who could kill her?

She flashed back on Dane's dying screams, the way he'd burned. Had that been a Slayer's doing? She'd thought they were just someone who'd been pissed off by something he'd done, but what if she was wrong? She was very young for one of the undead and hadn't had enough time with her sire for him to teach her everything.

Her reverie was broken when she saw the expression on Holly's face, and cool hands came to rest on the mortal's shoulders. She didn't do the comfort thing, didn't do a lot of touching at all unless it was sexual, but her hands were gentler than they could have been.

"Hey. Hey. Stay with me. I'm your friend." It was an exaggeration, but Theresa didn't feel like splitting hairs. Not when somebody might have killed her sire over something other than a grudge. He'd been kind of a moron, but he'd made her.

"I'm your friend."