Seventeen-(or one hundred and seventeen)-year-old Whitney Silver has been roaming Dractown at night for a century. Being in the un-dead club may seem like a privilege to some, but Whitney's always had to keep her guard up, even if she's the baddest girl in town. And when people start showing up dead, all stakes point at her. Being a vampire sucks.

Beep........ "We are losing her!" One of the nurses yells. The doctor comes rushing into the room, grabbing the defibrillator. He rubs the two sparks together before placing them on Emma's chest. Her body jerks, but there is still nothing. The doctor tries again but still nothing. He tries for the last and final time. "Please work." I whisper to myself. . . . . . Nothing. All I hear is the ongoing beeping. The doctor put down the defibrillator and faces me. He gave me a heartfelt apologetic look before saying.... "I am sorry for your loss."