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Copyright 2012 Cover illustration Herbert Derpington All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systemsexcept in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviewswithout permission in writing from its publisher. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Published by Publishers Inc., an imprint of Ink Inc. P.O. Box 555, New Yark, NY 60567-4410 (800) 961-3900 Fax: (800) 961-2168 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is on file with the publisher. First Edition: 2012

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To R.B., may you always take the best seat in Heaven.

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PREFACE 1. FAMILY MEETING 2. THINGS THAT DIDNT GO WELL 3. RESTAURANT 4. DEAD WAITRESS 5. WANTED BY POLICE 6. CAR CHASE 7. WAREHOUSE HIDEOUT 8. RATS WITH GUNS 9. SURPRISING NEW ALLIES 10. TOO MUCH CHEESE 11. NEVER TRUST MAMMALS 12. SLAVES OF MICE 13. FIGHT TO THE DEATH 14. VAMPIRE FUNERAL 15. SEWER ESCAPE 16. SUDDENLY, VOLTURI 17. PREGNANT AGAIN 18. SWEET BABY EDCOBARLISLE 19. UNEXPECTED ISSUES 20. BLOOD EVERYWHERE 21. WEREWOLF FUNERAL 22. REALIZATION 23. REVOLUTION 24. MIKE NEWTON RETURNS EPILOGUE CLEANUP ON AISLE 4

CONTENTS -3 45 67 78 82 101 134 144 159 200 267 300 324 370 384 385 451 490 511 525 539 576 600 608 651

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MONDAY

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TUESDAY

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WEDNESDAY

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THURSDAY

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FRIDAY

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PREFACE
AN UNRELENTING TICK INVADED MY SUBCONSCIOUS MIST. 6:58 6:59 7 AM. I awoke. The blissful echoes of my dreams were immediately overtaken by a sharp smell drifting down the hall. Oats, I detected, with corn and grains alongside the sweet aroma of honey, all flattened into a flake. And was that Thiamin Mononitrate, too? I breathed them in deeply, like a lumberjack tasting the freshest breezes of Forks, Washington. Scarcely eight months ago, I might never have noticed the subtle scents of cereal. Eight months ago, when I was still human. A mild glow permeated our bedroom through silky curtains, casting a tender yellow light across my face and the furniture -10 -

scattered against the walls. When the hypnotic drifts from the kitchen became too much for me to resist any longer, I swung my ivory-white legs from the bed and carried myself to the stairs, aged mahogany floors creaking beneath my steps. What is today, even? I wondered. Hadnt yesterday been Thursday? Today is? I couldnt remember. It was all a moot point in the end: days and weeks and months meant nothing when you had forever. I had more important things to think about now. Or rather, more important people. One such person materialized in the doorway of our petite kitchen, sweeping me into his arms and lifting me up from the floor in the process. Did that insidious clock awaken Sleeping Beauty another morning? he said, spinning me in circles, and yet somehow with dazzling skill balancing a teetering bowl of cereal atop his left bicep. Its Friday, I told him, as we continued to spin. Dizziness was never a concern anymore, as our bodies now contained no liquids of any kind, and certainly no endolymph fluid in our vestibular systems. Even our dance was in defiance of who I had once been. Ah, the weekend, he said wistfully. It would be the falsest of lies to say that Im not looking forward to He stopped. Suddenly I was deposited onto the floor, feet slamming unceremoniously against the chilling concrete. I opened my mouth to protest this coarse treatment, but the terror on his face made my words stop against my tongue. His gaze was locked on something hed seen over my shoulder. The color behind his eyes emitted a petrified horror a panic so strong that it seeped through him and into me. -11 -

I turned my head to look, every muscle in my neck tightening. Across the room, a black-haired girl stared at us: her face bearing the unmistakable features of Jacobs sister. I was startled at first, then horrifiedfor in her hand was a knife, dripping with crimson blood. Rebecca! I gasped, too startled to move. She was wrapped in dingy clothing, her gray shirtsleeves ripped to tatters and her face slashed with oozing cuts. Her eyes were empty, staring blankly ahead at us like she didnt even see us there, the vacant depth of a standing corpse. She said nothing. What are you doing here? I insisted. She blinked, hands stained with the same liquid that marked the knife and the front of her clothing. Then, tears of panic welling up in her eyes, she parted her lips painfully. Its Friday, she whispered. Friday is Die Day. And before any of us could say another word, she fell forward and hit the floor.

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