The road was nearly empty of cars. It was still early; people weren't yet heading home from

their Easter festivities. It would be a late night for a lot of families, as they enjoyed barbecues

and family time.

Sweeping her hair back from her face, her gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. A sole car

followed behind her. Biting her bottom lip, she drew her bag a little closer to her. The

possessions shoved in her bag were all she owned in this world. She felt fragile and afraid.

You're a vampire, the professor's voice taunted.

Her tongue slid over her teeth for the hundredth time. The sharp teeth she had felt earlier were

now gone. Maybe they only came out when she was hungry.

The steady hum of the road was soothing to her frayed nerves. She resisted the urge to turn on

the radio. The wind pouring in through the rolled-down windows tossed her hair into disarray

around her face but was effectively blow-drying her tresses.

The car tailing her flipped a turn signal on and disappeared down a side road. The road was

barren and dark behind the truck.

The night was so dark. She couldn't remember it being this foreboding before, but maybe she

was just working herself up again. Now that she thought about it, she could see very well. In fact,

she could see perfectly into the velvet darkness surrounding her, but at the same time, the world

seemed-

“More ominous,” she decided.

It's him. He makes it like this. So horribly dark and wrong.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have given in to him like that? Now her

life was gone, and just like those students at the frat house, she was dead, too. Nothing she had

worked for mattered anymore. Her hard work, her sacrifices, her triumphs, her failures,

everything she had ever done, was now wiped out. Years of saving for college swept away. The

years she spent working at crap jobs, with hardly any pay and bosses' roving hands, were for

nothing. The time sitting at her sister’s side, nursing and loving her as she slowly faded from the

world didn’t seem worth it anymore. And her friends, having gone off to get married and have

children, seemed like a cruel joke. She had sacrificed her own happiness, but for what?

“He owes me,” she hissed.

She realized as soon as the words left her lips that she was talking about her father. Not

Professor Sumner.

He had guilt-tripped her into going home from Austin when her sister had been diagnosed

with cancer. Her brave little sister had actually insisted that Amaliya stay in Austin and finish her

schooling. Despite her sister's urgings to remain in school, Amaliya had been so devastated by

her father's berating that she had come home.

What had followed was three years of sheer hell. She watched her sister struggle to win a

battle that she seemed destined to lose from the moment she was diagnosed. It had been the

hardest thing Amaliya had ever done. Throughout the ordeal, she had told herself that she would

return to the University of Texas and complete her degree in psychology, but her sister's illness

hung on and her scholarship expired.

Amaliya had stayed out of love for her sister, but also because her father had made it damn

clear that it was her responsibility to take care of her sister. After losing his first wife to cancer,

Samuel had wanted nothing to do with his youngest daughter's treatment. He had staunchly

avoided even dealing with the illness and rarely visited his sick daughter. In the end, little Rachel

had died wondering if her father loved her.

Wiping a tear away and letting out an angry noise, Amaliya set her jaw. She would go home,

tell him to sign over the truck, tell him not to say he had seen her if the police asked, then

instruct him to forget she existed.

Cold tears flowed down her cheeks. It had always been like this with her family. Tense and

coarse. They both had little or no tolerance for each other and lived in an uneasy truce. She

believed he loved her but hated who she was. She had always been different from everyone else

in the family. It wasn't just because she was the only girl until her sister Rachel had been born;

her entire being just seemed at odds with her family's culture.

“Spic blood,” someone had once said to her father. “It just made her lazy and weird.”

Amaliya hadn't understood what the neighbor had meant. It wasn't until her teen years that she

finally understood that her grandmother's Hispanic heritage was blamed for a lot of what was

wrong with her. Her beloved mother was revered, but Amaliya was considered ‘off’. What no

one seemed to realize was that it was Marlena who had encouraged her daughter to embrace her

uniqueness. Her mother had sacrificed her own dreams to marry the man she loved. She spent

her whole life playing the role he had determined for her. It wasn't until her death that Amaliya

had understood how her mother had subjugated her hopes and dreams to her handsome, East

Texan husband.

That lesson had stayed with Amaliya. It had spurred her to aspire to an education and take

risks in her life.

Maybe too many risks, she thought.

She had been enthralled with her secret date with Professor Sumner, but now her life was

over.

The highway began to fill up as other cars turned off country roads as people made their way

home to the bigger towns and Houston. The landscape, even at night, was familiar. It made her

weary. Going home was never a pleasant experience for her.

Her slim fingers found the turn signal. She flipped it upwards. The familiar clicking seemed

abnormally loud when she maneuvered the vehicle off the highway and down a long country

road. The old Wilson house listing in an overgrown field brought back so many memories. She

slightly smiled as she remembered tearing across the field after her brothers had tried to lock her

in the “haunted house.” She had been so terrified; her fear had infected them. They had all run

home screaming. Her mother had tanned their behinds something fierce, then spent a half-hour

on the phone laughing with the neighbor over it.

A burned-out blue trailer was her next childhood landmark. It had been the home of her best

friend until the fried chicken cooking on the old stove had started a grease fire. Luckily,

everyone had survived, but her best friend, Leslie, had moved far away to the big city of

Houston.

She took a right and the truck barreled down the narrow lane that led to her family's property.

The Vezoraks had lived in East Texas for years since they had come over from Europe. A

twenty-acre piece of land was now whittled down to five. The old farmhouse met its end after the

elements had worn it down and a strong wind finished it off. Her dad's new place was a doublewide trailer with multiple additions built onto it. The smell of barbecue smoke and wet earth

filled the truck when she turned down the drive.

Her brother, Damon, was standing near the “Y” in the drive. His manufactured home was well

lit. Behind him, a few of his kids were running around with sparklers, playing happily. Up near

her dad's home, the lights were dim where she suspected things were winding down. Her dad

was an early-to-bed type.

Waving to Damon, she drove past him. Her brother's fierce, hawkish face looked solemn. He

barely nodded in acknowledgment. His look said it all.

She was in deep shit.

A fence separated her father’s homestead from the rest of the property. A few of his cars sat to

one side in various stages of disrepair or repair, depending on how you looked at it. The big

porch was empty of people. The big barrel next to the steps was loaded with used paper plates

and cups. The party was over.

She parked near the fence and took a deep breath. Curious, she did it again, feeling her lungs

expand, then contract. She sat in silence, letting her body decide what to do next. Her lungs

stayed still, but she didn't feel as though she was suffocating.

“Yep, dead,” she whispered.

The porch light flicked on. She reached over to snag her cowboy hat. It was a bit battered, but

she liked it. Tucking it onto her head, she dared to look toward the screen door.

Samuel Vezorak stood on the front steps, arms folded, his face hidden in shadow.

“Hey, Dad,” she said, feeling all her desire to tell him off flow away from her like a fast

current. Tears stung her eyes. To her surprise, she just wanted him to hug her and tell her it

would be all right. Dragging her bag out behind her, she slid out of the truck and landed with a

heavy thunk!

“Finally decided to show up,” his thickly accented voice boomed.

“I...something went wrong,” she said.

“Always does,” he answered, and turned back into the house. The screen door slammed shut

behind him as its tight spring popped it into place. He left the inner door open.

Shouldering her bag, she walked over the sandy driveway to the front porch. Two old dogs

were lying near the stairs, chewing on bones. When she approached, they both looked up,

startled.

“Hey, Codger and Shithead,” she said softly.

Shithead whimpered and Codger growled.

Tears blinded her as she realized they knew what she was and were threatened by her

presence.

“It's okay. It's okay.”

With a yelp, they both dashed off, leaving their chewed-up bones behind.

“What did you do to my dogs?” her aunt's fierce voice demanded.

Amaliya turned to see her aunt/step-grandmother in the doorway. A wisp of a woman, Mae

was not to be trifled with. She had a fierce temper and was one of the worst control freaks

Amaliya had ever encountered. Dressed in a faded pink housedress and slippers, Mae shoved the

screen door open.

“They just ran off,” Amaliya answered, feeling even more depressed and intimidated.

“Right. I'm sure they did,” Mae snapped. She didn't have but three teeth left and her dentures

were definitely not in. No one spoke about it, but it was pretty well known that Amaliya's long

dead uncle had busted them out with a baseball bat. Evidently, Mae had burned his dinner. The

lack of teeth made her mouth tiny, where it pinched under her long nose and intense gaze. “Your

Grandmama already left for West Texas with your cousin Felipe. You're late, girl, and screwing

things up as usual. ”

“Nice to see you, too,” Amaliya muttered, but did feel bad about her grandmother already

being gone. It was a long trip for her to come out this far and see them. Most likely, they'd be

staying over in Dallas.

Mae automatically smacked her arm as her niece passed by her. “None of your lip.”

The living room was dimly lit by the TV and a lamp on one battered end table. The furniture

was rather nice, but the wear and tear of grandkids coming in and out was showing. The big

leather sofa had an ugly afghan tossed over the back where her dad sat on one end. Her

cousin/stepmother sat on the lounger, busily knitting. She was always knitting. Amaliya was sure

it was some sort of weird addiction. She was also sure it couldn't compare to her stepmother's

well-known addiction to Jack Daniels. Yarn and liquor. Nice combination. That was probably

what was responsible for the ugly afghan.

“Kelly Ann, look who's here,” Mae said. She shuffled over to sit in a big pink recliner she had

insisted on being in the living room.

Her cousin-turned-stepmother glanced up with feigned interest. “Oh, hey, girl,” she said. She

immediately went back to studying her stitches and listening to the news.

“What's yer excuse this time?” her dad asked in a low voice. His lean form was sprawled on

the sofa, a beer in one hand, and the remote in the other.

Dropping the bag at her feet, she placed her hands on her hips and took a breath. “Dad, some

shit went down at school.”

“You doing drugs?”

“No! No. Nothing like that.”

“Cops involved?”

Tears filled her eyes once more, but she didn't dare shed them. They would be filled with

blood. The blood of the people she killed. “Probably soon.”

Her Dad finally took his gaze from the TV. “What the hell does that mean?”

Fidgeting, she glanced at the TV, then back at him. “This professor there, he...he did

something bad...”

Her father's face became even sterner. “He did what?”

“What the hell did you do girl?” Mae's voice was shrill.

“I didn't do anything, but have coffee with him!” Her voice was harsh and full of emotion.

“He did something horrible to me. He's dangerous. Evil! I had to run.”

“Are you pregnant? Did you fuck your teacher and get pregnant?” Mae's voice was full of

venom. It always was when she talked to Amaliya.

“Why do you always think the worst of me?” Amaliya exclaimed with frustration.

“Are you?” her dad's firm voice asked.

The TV went abruptly silent.

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “No, Dad. No. But I'm in bad trouble and I gotta leave

school and I gotta-”

“It's drugs,” Mae decided.

“Sounds like it,” Kelly Ann agreed but kept on knitting.

“Is it drugs?” Samuel asked in his cold, unwavering voice.

“No. No. It's not drugs. He did something...” Her voice faltered. How could she explain?

What would she say? Hey, Dad, I'm a vampire? That was not going to work. “I need the truck,”

she said instead.

“We had an agreement.” Her father set his beer down and leaned forward, resting his elbows

on his bony knees.

“This is all a scam to get the truck,” Mae decided.

“Sounds like it,” her stepmother agreed. She studied her work before beginning to knit again.

“Dad, please.”

“What the hell did you do?” Damon asked from behind her. The screen door screeched as he

opened it, then slammed hard behind him.

“She's pulling a scam to get the truck,” Mae answered.

“Figures.” Damon moved around Amaliya. “In trouble again?”

“I don't get into trouble all the time like you make it sound.” She felt cornered and angry.

“What happened with this professor? Why do you need my truck?” Samuel regarded her from

beneath his salt and pepper brows. His keen eyes were studying her with a familiar and

intimidating intensity.

Swallowing hard, Amaliya tried to focus her thoughts. She felt her hands trembling at her

sides. All she wanted was to find comfort with her family, for them to tell her it would all be

better, but she had been foolish. Her role in her family was the outcast. The failure. The

disappointment.

“I need the truck. I need to get away. Something bad went down and I can't stay in school and

I can't stay here. I wish for once you would listen to me and believe me.” As she finished

speaking, she looked at her father.

His expression was thoughtful but grim. “I do listen to you,” he finally answered. “I listen to

you, but you never make any damn sense!”

“You're such a fuck up,” Damon snickered, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Damn, girl.”

“She's always been like her mother and her mother got the bad genes in my family,” Mae

declared. “Always talking nonsense and daydreaming-”

“Never had any sense,” Kelly Ann agreed.

It hurt Amaliya to no end to see her father nod. “I tried to raise you right, but you never have

your head screwed on right. What did you do this time? Did you sleep with this here professor

and get expelled? Is that it?”

No, he killed me, she thought angrily. But she could not say those words. “Can I have the

truck?”

“Don't let her have the truck. She'll just run off and do something stupid with it,” Damon said.

He popped another bottle of beer open on his belt buckle.

“Shut up,” Amaliya growled. “This isn't your business.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah! You have no idea at all what I've been through!”

“You whored around and got thrown out of school. Big fucking whoopee do! I always knew

you would end up pregnant and living on welfare. Traveling the world my ass.”

She hit Damon before she realized what she was doing. It was more of a shove than an actual

punch. She hit him hard on the shoulder and sent him smacking into the wall five feet behind

him. He hit it so hard that the entire trailer, and all its added on rooms, shivered. Damon slid over

onto his side, his eyes slightly open, and blood trickled out of his mouth.

“What the hell are you on?” her father's voice roared as he moved quickly to tower over her.

Mae and Kelly Ann scrambled across the room to Damon, hurling insults at Amaliya as they

passed her. She was too horrified by her own actions to even respond. She gazed up at her father.

She wished one last time he would understand that she needed him and for once be there for her.

The back of his dry, warm hand impacted with her cheekbone and all hope drained out of her.

“What have you done? What the hell are you on?”

His voice rang accusations down on her as Mae and Kelly Ann managed to rouse Damon. Her

brother came to and began swearing under his breath as he spit blood. Her gaze swept from her

brother to her father. She took in his enraged countenance as his words pushed hard and deep

into the core of her. They laid waste to her dream of one day finding comfort in his arms.

“I’m not on anything,” she hissed at him. “I didn't do anything wrong!” Well, she had killed a

roomful of people, but she had no choice. “Why can't you for once believe me?”

“Because you're a fuck up, Amal. And you'll always be a fuck up.”

This time, she knew what she was doing as she did it. Amaliya pushed her tall, imposing

father as hard as she could. She felt his body resist for a second before hurtling across the length

of the living room, crashing into the flimsy bedroom door.

“I'm your fucking daughter, you asshole! I came here for help because you're my Dad!”

Flinging the keys at her cowering father as hard she could, she felt satisfied when he ducked and

they lodged in the wall. “Here are your goddamn truck keys. Fuck you! Fuck all of you!”

“You no-good little whore-”

“Shut up, you toothless old bag!” She whirled on Mae, her eyes flashing red fire. She had no

idea her eyes had burned red for a moment, so when her three family members shrank away in

terror, confusion swept over her. “You made my life a living hell when my mama—your sister—

died. How could you hate her so much that you have to try to ruin my life?”

Mae's mouth opened, but Kelly Ann screamed at Amaliya, “Leave my mama alone, you

whore.”

“At least I didn't sleep with my dying aunt's husband.”

The room fell into silence as the truth spewed out of Amaliya.

“You bitch!” Kelly Ann screamed at her.

A deep moan from her father drew her attention to him as he tried to get to his knees. “You

ain't got no right to say that.”

“You slept with my eighteen-year-old cousin and I saw you, Dad. I saw you!”

“Is that why you hate me?”

His voice sounded so broken, it startled her. Her anger faded, but her hurt pulsed through her

like lava.

“No,” she said softly. “I don't hate you. I just wanted you to love me.”

“Fat chance of that, you crazy bitch,” Damon slurred as he wiped blood from his face.

The sight of blood made her body tremble. She felt an ache in her teeth and a deep need

unfurl inside of her. She took a step toward her brother, as her gaze grew deadly. All she wanted

to do was run her tongue over his wound and taste the exquisite elixir seeping from it.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Mae whispered in horror.

What Amaliya did not know was that her eyes had turned completely red as she drew near her

huddled kinfolk.

“Amaliya!” her father shouted.

She whirled toward him and hissed.

“What the hell happened to you?” her father exclaimed, his expression of horror widening his

eyes.

Overwhelmed, she grabbed her bag up in her arms and stood trembling before them.

“What the hell are you? Possessed by the devil?” Kelly Ann gasped.

With a soft sob, Amaliya shook her head. “I don't know.”

“Get out.” Samuel's voice was low and hard. “Get out of my house!”

Bloody tears running down her face, Amaliya slowly backed toward the door.

“You're not wanted here anymore! Get out!”

As though shoved by an invisible hand, Amaliya suddenly lost her footing and slid right out

of the door with a terrified shout. Thrown onto the porch, she lay there gasping.

“Get the shotgun!” Mae screamed.

Scrambling to her feet, Amaliya grabbed her bag and leaped off the porch. She landed a good

fifteen feet from the house. She whirled around to see her Dad rushing out the door, a rifle in his

hand.

“Daddy, please!” she cried.

“Get out of here, you whore of the devil!”

“He raped me and killed me! He did this to me!” Her voice was a shriek of anger and fear that

tore through the night.

“Get out!”

He fired once over her head and that was enough.

She fled.