Korey whimpered on the bed. It was the sound of her having a nightmare that Patricia had heard so many times before, and in sympathy she made the same sound back. She went to her daughter and examined the wound on her inner thigh. It looked swollen and infected, and it wasn’t the only one. All around it were overlapping bruises, overlapping punctures, all their edges torn and ragged. Patricia realized this had happened before. Many times.

Her head was full of bats, shrieking and bumping into each other, tearing all coherent thought to tatters. Patricia didn’t even know how she found the camera or took the pictures, how she got to the bathroom, how she stood in front of the sink running warm water onto a washcloth, how she bathed Korey’s wound and put on bacitracin. She wanted to bandage it, but she couldn’t, not without letting Korey know she’d seen this obscene thing. She couldn’t cross that line with her daughter. Not yet.

Everything seemed too normal. She expected the house to explode, the backyard to fall into the harbor, Blue to walk out the door with a suitcase to move to Australia, but Korey’s room was as messy as usual, and when she went downstairs the sailboat lamp burned on the front hall table like normal, and Ragtag raised his head from where he napped on the den couch, tags jingling, like normal, and the porch lights clicked off when she flipped the switch like normal.

She went into her bathroom and washed her face, hard, with a washcloth, scrubbing and scouring, and she tried not to look in the mirror. She scrubbed until it was red and raw. She scrubbed until it hurt. Good. She reached up and pinched her left ear until it hurt, twisting it, and that felt good, too. She got into bed and lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, knowing she would never sleep.

It was all her fault. It was all her fault. It was all her fault.

Guilt, and betrayal, and nausea churned in her gut and she barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up.

* * *

—

She made every effort not to treat Korey differently the next morning, and Korey seemed no different than she was every morning: sullen and uncommunicative. Patricia’s hands felt numb as she packed Korey and Blue off to school, and then she sat by the phone and waited.

The first call came at nine, and she couldn’t bring herself to pick up. The machine took it.

“Patricia,” James Harris’s voice said. “Are you there? We need to talk. I have to explain what’s going on here.”

It was a cloudless, sunny October day. The bright blue sky protected her. But he could still call. The phone rang again.

“Patricia,” he said to the machine. “You have to understand what’s happening.”

He called three more times, and on the third, she picked up.

“How long?” she asked.

“Come down and listen to me,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“How long?” she repeated.

“Patricia,” he said. “I want you to be able to see my eyes, so you know I’m being honest with you.”

“Just tell me how long?” she asked, and to her own surprise her voice broke and her forehead cramped and she felt tears in the hinge of her jaw. She couldn’t close her mouth; there was a howl inside that wanted to get out.

“I’m glad you finally know,” he said. “I’m so tired of hiding. This doesn’t change anything I said last night.”

“What?”

“I value you,” he said. “I value your family. I’m still your friend.”

“What have you done to my daughter?” she managed.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said. “I know you must be confused and frightened but it’s no different than my eyes—it’s just a condition I have. Some of my organs don’t work properly and from time to time I need to borrow someone’s circulatory system and filter my blood through theirs. I’m not a vampire, I don’t drink it, it’s not any different than using a dialysis machine, except it’s more natural. And I promise you there’s no pain. In fact, from what I can tell it feels good to them. You have to understand, I would never do anything to hurt Korey. She agreed to do this. I want you to know that. After I told her about my condition she came to me and volunteered to help. You have to believe I would never make her do something against her will.”

“What are you?” she asked.

“I’m alone,” he said. “I’ve been alone for a very long time.”

Patricia realized it wasn’t repentance in his voice, it was self-pity. She’d heard Carter feeling sorry for himself too often to mistake it for anything else.

“What do you want from us?”

“I care for you,” he said. “I care for your family. I see how Carter treats you and it makes me furious. He throws away what I would treasure. Blue thinks the world of me already, and Korey has already done so much to help me that she has my eternal gratitude. I’d like to think we could come to an understanding.”

He wanted her family. It came to her in an instant. He wanted to replace Carter. This man was a vampire, or as close to one as she would ever see. She remembered Miss Mary talking in the dark all those years ago.

They have a hunger on them. They never stop taking. They mortgaged their souls away and now they eat and eat and eat and never know how to stop.

He’d found a place where he fit in, with a nearby source of food, and he’d become a respected member of the community, and now he wanted to have a family because he didn’t know how to stop. He always wanted more. That knowledge opened a door inside her mind and the bats flew out in a ragged black stream, leaving her skull empty and quiet and clear.

He had wanted old Mrs. Savage’s house, so he took it from her. Miss Mary had endangered him with her photograph, and he’d destroyed her. He had attacked Slick to protect himself. He would say anything to get what he wanted. He had no limits. And she knew that the moment he suspected she knew what he wanted, her children would be in danger.

“Patricia?” he asked in the silence.

She took a shuddering breath.

“I need time to think,” she said. If she got off the phone fast he wouldn’t hear the change in her voice.

“Let me come there,” he said, his tone sharper. “Tonight. I want to apologize in person.”

“No,” she said, and gripped the phone in her suddenly sweaty hand. She forced her throat to relax. “I need time.”

“Promise you forgive me,” he said.

She had to get off the phone. With a thrill of joy she realized she had to call the police right away. They would go to his house and find the license and search his attic and this would all be over by sundown.

“I promise,” she said.

“I’m trusting you, Patricia,” he said. “You know I wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“I know,” she said.

“I want you to know all about me,” he said. “When you’re ready, I want to spend a lot of time with you.”

She was proud of the way she kept her voice calm and steady.

“Me, too,” she said.

“Oh,” he said. “Before I go, the damnedest thing happened this morning.”

“What?” she asked, numb.

“I found Francine Chapman’s driver’s license in my car,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “Remember Francine? Who used to clean for me? I don’t know how it got there, but I took care of it. Strange, right?”

She wanted to dig her nails into her face, and rake them down, and rip off her skin. She was a fool.

“That is strange,” she said, no life left in her voice.

“Well,” he said. “Lucky I found it. That could have been hard to explain.”

“Yes,” she said.

“I’ll wait to hear from you,” he said. “But don’t make me wait too long.”

He hung up.

Her one job as a parent was to protect her children from monsters. The ones under the bed, the ones in the closet, the ones hiding in the dark. Instead, she’d invited the monster into her home and been too weak to stop it from taking whatever it wanted. The monster had killed her mother-in-law, seduced her husband, taken her daughter, and her son.

She was too weak to stop him alone, but he had to be stopped. There weren’t many people left she could turn to.

She picked up the phone and called Mrs. Greene.

“Yes?” Mrs. Greene said.

“Mrs. Greene,” Patricia said, and cleared her throat. “Can you make it downtown Monday night?”

“Why?” Mrs. Greene asked.

“I need you to come to my book club.”

CHAPTER 36

On Monday, temperatures plunged around noon and dark clouds started piling up overhead. Leaves skimmed the Old Village’s empty streets. On the bridge, sudden gusts blew cars sideways, forcing them to abruptly shift lanes. It got dark by four, and windows rattled in their frames, doors blew open suddenly, and the wind tore limbs from live oaks and smashed them down in the middle of the street.

The black wind pushed hard on the windows in Slick’s hospital room and the glass creaked, while inside, the air felt as cold as the inside of a refrigerator.

“Is this going to take long?” Maryellen asked. “Monica has a Latin project due tomorrow and I need to help her build a Parthenon out of toilet paper tubes.”