the voice answered. Miranda recognized the voice. “Tabitha? Is that you? It’s me, Miranda.” “Are you doing this to me? Are you—” “No, I’m in here, too.” She inhaled. “A dirty vamp, one that was at the Eiffel Tower, he grabbed me, brought me here, and tossed me in.” “Me, too.” Her voice shook as if she’d been crying. Miranda didn’t take any points off for that. Her cheeks were still damp with her own tears. “Where are we, do you know?” “I think it’s a dungeon,” Tabitha said. Miranda slowly started inching toward the voice. “Keep talking so I can find you.” “It looked like a castle from above,” her half-sister said. “Yeah, I saw that, too.” Miranda’s foot hit something. Something that didn’t feel like a rock. She knelt down and touched the object, quickly recognizing it as a foot. With a boot on it. Had Tabitha been wearing boots? “Is that you?” Miranda asked. “Is what me?” Tabitha’s words send a wave of panic through Miranda and she bolted back, tripped over her own feet, and landed on her butt.
