Charity’s heart pounded as she clutched the knife. She was alone in a house full of vampires. Her back was to them but she heard even little Tommy move toward her.

Hurriedly she put the knife down, not thinking that it might be her only weapon, and pressed a paper towel hard against the cut. Then, flinching, she faced around.

Three shapes crept from the living room into the small kitchen, hunger glinting in their red eyes.

But the man who had spoken about Annadel State Park, a handsome black man with sad eyes, pushed the three irritatedly back without looking at them. “Wife and I used to take a Sunday hike there,” he continued his thought, then looked confused.

Like the optical illusion where you can see a grandmother or a young woman, he had emerged as a man but now sank back. She could practically see the movie-vampire illusion gather like a cloak. His eyes drifted to her cut finger.

Then Tommy said, “Show us! Da sequet entwance!” And with a nearly audible whoosh, like a bird flapping trembling wings to get out of a still pocket, the man tumbled back into humanity. “Won’t be the same without Jean but yeah, yeah, I’ll take you there.”

She smiled timidly at him, cradling her throbbing finger.

From behind her came the shump, shump, shump of onions being quietly chopped.

♦

Jesse set out tea, coffee and snacks. The sun was just setting; nobody else would come.

Charla Thorpe and her husband sat stiffly on wooden chairs; the tension between them was palpable. Malcolm Donald sprawled his long-boned form on the sofa, glad to be released from his self-imposed “home” in the plaza for a night. Sally and Lavinia held hands beside him. Walter was in the comfy chair.

Jesse looked for a moment at his beloved. With Sally to inspire him, he had spoken his fears. Walter had held him and reassured him and Jesse felt at peace.

If he had lost Walter this time, it would have been his own stupidity. Twice before he’d nearly lost him. In the early days a rebellious Walter had left for a two-week-long orgy of strange men. Shortly after he’d become a vampire, still only half human, Walter had disappeared into the night for a week. Jesse didn’t like to think about either time. Walter had returned from his sexual rampage ready to make a monogamous commitment. And he had returned from his time in the streets with the human kindness to hold a Sally Yan or a Charity Claire when they needed it.

Or to offer all the money he and Jesse had saved over the years (not much after monthly mortgage on a house in San Francisco) to send Sally and Lavinia to the Black Forest. Jesse hoped others would pitch in.

Walter had wanted Charity Claire to come and Jesse himself had called Amanda Malreaux and Jeremy Paxton, even though Jeremy gave Walter the creeps. But Charity had said a shy no, Jeremy seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth and the woman at the convent had said in a worried voice that Sister Amanda was not available. Jesse hoped she wasn’t walking the vampire-crowded streets; he didn’t quite have her touching faith that she was at home wherever she was with God. And he, having heard Jeremy’s tragic story from the nun, he sadly wished the young man well.

Malcolm, used to being in charge, said, “Alright, Jesse. We could have planned tomorrow’s event by video conference. I assume you have some reason for gathering us in person after dark so that we’ve got to sleep here, me on this old sofa. The show is yours.” He acted as if he’d been pulled away from a hot bath and a comfortable dinner.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Jesse said defiantly, “Well, there are two things. One is something I want you to see, and you too,” he added to Charla. He motioned toward the back door and right on cue the nightly visitors entered.

Charla, Tomás and Malcolm were thunder clapped by the vampires who drifted in like veils of smoke and became as comfortable as furniture. They were here to plan an event to tell people about inviting vampires in but they were shocked by the reality of it. Charla half snarled and Malcolm edged away as the plump slinky vampire settled on the end of the sofa.

Jesse gave them several minutes to get used to the visitors before he introduced the main topic, the dead man in the Black Forest who Sally, Lavinia and Walter (and Tommy too, if they had known it) had all seen.

As he talked, Sally glanced at Charla, who sat as if she were made of blunt rock. This was the first time Sally had seen her since Lavinia’s revelation. Did she subconsciously want Sally because, as a “gorgeous young babe” with an older woman, she must be “available?” Tomás sat with his hands folded in his lap like a little boy, withdrawn and small; had Charla been ignoring or insulting him because of Sally?

It wasn’t fair that if Sally said, get out of this house, Lavinia would have to go while this mean, messed-up person could remain.

Charla suddenly turned machine gun eyes on Sally and Sally, mortified, looked away and focused on Jesse. “They need to get to Germany and find him,” Jesse was concluding, “but they don’t have the money. Walter and I can chip in something.”

“I’d go,” said Walter, “but I can’t find that place and Lavinia can. So, who else can give…?”

“Question.” Charla’s flat voice. “Why does anybody have to go anywhere? If you’ve all had this vision, can’t you widen your field of view, just a skosh? And see what’s going on without a free trip to Europe?”

“It’s a fair question,” said Walter, seeming unmoved by Charla’s implication, though Sally burned. “Tonight, let’s each of us focus on having a dream about that place. Maybe we can find out what we need.”

Sally felt in her bones that this wouldn’t work, but she nodded, jaw tight.

“So, I believe the question is,” said Malcolm, used to summing up and pushing for a decision, “assuming it’s necessary to go to Germany, who should go and how much can each of us chip in?”

The conversation wallowed into logistics. Sally stole another reluctant, fascinated glance at Charla and found her looking straight at Sally with that speculative look she’d seen once or twice before. Charla instantly looked away.

It looked like Lavinia was right. Lavinia had an annoying habit of being right. Sally quickly suppressed her annoyance for fear it would push Lavinia out of the house?

And what should she do about Charla? Even if she had found Charla attractive, even if Charla had been everything she wanted in a lover, she wouldn’t have felt desire. She was bisexual only in the sense that when her mate radar was on, it responded to both genders and more strongly to her own. But she was with her beloved and her mate radar was off. It had always been that way for her.

She wished they could just kick Charla back to her little town in the Midwest. But now she was being helpful (in a condescending way). “So put out an appeal online! Get all the felching dough you need. Shit, start a blog for the trip. Post updates, check in each place you go. If you feel you’ve gotta do this, you don’t have to do it like headless chickens.”

Sally knew in her heart that she and Lavinia would tackle this alone in the end. But she made herself say (in a voice which came out fawning), “Thanks, Charla. That’s a good idea.”

Charla glared as if she found Sally too disgusting for words. Sally’s face got hot. Jesse noticed, and sent her a sympathetic smile, which upset and comforted her at the same time. He and Walter touched each other a lot this evening. Whatever had been wrong between them was better now. She was glad for that at least.

Sally stood up to end the discussion. “I think it needs to be just me and Lavinia, but I’ll try for a dream. I’m ready for bed.” Charla quivered and Tomás burrowed further into himself; yep, Lavinia had called it. Well Charla could play with herself all the god damned night if she wanted. Sally was still enraged as she turned to ask Lavinia pointedly to come to bed with her (and stroke my naked body, she was tempted to add) – when her eye caught a white face out in the street.

KerriAnne.

Of course.

The hungry face vanished down the hill the next instant but Sally couldn’t pretend anymore. Her leech sister, her dear one, was alive – or at least, undestroyed. All the roaring mass of guilt and tiredness and pain she’d pushed down boiled to the surface in a swell that nearly made her faint.

She shrieked her sister’s name, stormed from the living room and clattered down Jesse and Walter’s front steps.