As a twin, I always loved my sister Ajla, and our bond was as natural as breathing. Matka said when all else fell away, we would always have each other. I believed that too, because when our parents died in a random terrorist bombing, Ajla and I, well, we were all each other, had left.

Checo Kovka's the name, and despite our troubled past, Ajla and I had the same dream, and we weren't stopping until we made it big. With our kind of dedication, it was only a matter of time before we'd find ourselves dancing on the stage of the Pinnacle Opera, the most prestigious Opera house in the world.

It was entering the holiday season when we finally thought we caught our break, the same time that things went awry. The dream we once had started to crumble, and as strange occurrences surmounted, to my horror, Ajla's sanity became suspect too. If it weren't for a secret admirer, who communicated by parchment and quill soaked with Cabernet, I'd have already given up.

I needed to figure out what was happening to us, and quickly, or for the second time in my life, I feared death was coming to claim us. Only this time, he might have a name, one spoken only in the deepest hours of the night, when the sun no longer protected the living, and the undead began to rise.