Charla peered between the pallid faces that smothered the window over the sink.

They blocked what she needed to see.

Vampires can’t poke a nose hair into your house unless you invite them (…invite me… hissed a face as she squinted).  But vampires meant no trips to the corner for forgotten milk, no ordering late-night pizza. And yes, she finally saw it.  Behind the dim shapes creeping across the darkened lawn, there they were: trash cans not at the curb. “Aw, toss my felchin’ salad!”

The faces watched Charla with hungry longing as she checked Sundroid. Sunrise was at 7:14:04, the app told her, so she set a “Put out trash” alarm for 7:15. What a pain.

As she pulled the shades their nails clawed an annoyingly creepy skritch. She didn’t even bother flipping them off but they irritated her like the noise from the freeway a lousy half block away (it was quiet now of course because no sane person drove at night).  The vamps drove you from outer rooms just like freeway noise did.

Her brow wrinkled. An idea fluttered around the edges of her thoughts.

“You’re brooding,” Tomás called from the doorway of the inner sanctum.  “Come eat instead?”

“I miss camping,” she said as she walked through the living room, hoping the idea would solidify. “Sure, a tent’s your ‘home.’   But what fun’s camping if you can’t sit around the campfire and roast wieners?”  What was it, what? she thought, not looking at Tomás as he quietly led her to the sound-proofed door.

“Come on,” he urged.  “Nice music and just wait’ll you taste this lasagna.”

Dozens of vampires called after them as they walked into the center of the house, away from voices and claws.  Charla gave up trying to grab the elusive idea; it would just have to come on its own.

Quiet string music filled the inner sanctum. The garlicky lasagna gleamed in the candles’ glow.  Here you could pretend that vampires were not crawling on the roof or pressed like moths against every inch of outer wall.

Charla lifted her glass; even though she was a Big-Mac-and-fries kind of person, this high-class stuff was how Tomás created a home. “Tomie, to health and long life in a world infested with felching pests.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“Language!” he teased shyly, ready to apologize if she took offense.

Right then fists pounded on the front door, audible even through the soundproofing.  Tomás winced.  Desperate voices screamed “Help, please!”  But nobody fell for that trick anymore.

Charla slammed a fist on the table.  Silverware rattled.  Tomás froze with a piece of lasagna just over her plate.

“This is an invasion!” she snarled.  “They’re worse than advertising!”  Carefully Tomás nodded, his sensitive face neutral, waiting.

Charla froze.  Her eyes gleamed. She had it, she had it!

“Tomie,” she said slowly, “Their noise is an invasion of our home, isn’t it?”

He put the lasagna on her plate, alarm bells ringing. “Yeah, invasion.  But what are you going to do about it?”

She stood slowly, eyes blazing. “Get your smart phone ready. This’ll either work or it won’t.”

Tomás gripped her arm, winced as her arm jerked. “Charlie!  What are you about to do?!”

“Follow me and see what I’m going to do!” she cried. “And roll that camcorder.” She ran toward the front door.  Tomás followed her, filled with foreboding, cursing as he started the calc app instead of the camcorder.

The door shook with the pounding. Seven evil faces pressed against the glass. As they saw her, they grinned hungrily.

And then Charla ripped open the front door!

Tomás gasped. A deadly silence slammed down, broken only by soft hissing.  Charla glared at the night creatures crowding her doorstep, pressing up to the invisible line where the door had been.

“Now hear this,” she yelled at the vampires. “You’re invading my home with your noise!”

The hissing stopped.

A single voice started to say, “Come out to us then --” but cut off with a high whistle.  When she slammed the door, it was quiet. They pressed like dogs against every window but could only stare.

Only then did she see Tomás trembling, sweat beading his white face. “You took a horrible chance!” he gasped, eyes glassy.  “You could have been killed, ripped apart!”

“Ah, you worry too much,” she said, flapping a hand.  Then more intensely, “You got the video?”

He held up the phone in a trembling hand.

She smiled. “Upload that sucker.”  She turned to face the vampires and shouted, “Viral by 9:00!”  She made her lips into an “O” and moved her tongue in and out, making slurping sounds.

She dragged stuffed chairs to the former reading nook window and they ate side by side, Tomás still shaking but not knowing how to ask for comfort.  Hungry faces watched them.  This time Charla didn’t even go through the drama and thrill of ripping open the door.  She just said quietly, “The sanctity of our home includes our effing view.”  Disappointed, the faces melted away, leaving the moonlit garden visible for the first time in ages.

It didn’t matter that every shadow held five vampires.  Until morning, the world would be as peaceful as a grave. Charla lifted her glass and delivered her final thought.

“I wish,” she said wistfully, “that the damn freeway noise was as easy to get rid of.”