Amaliya felt relieved when Dallas finally faded away into the horizon. The bus felt warm

despite the cold air from the air conditioning vent that brushed over her arm. She sat close to the

window watching the terrain slide into the pitch blackness of the night.

Sweeping her hair back with one hand, she looked over at the young man snoring loudly on

the seats across from her. There were not that many passengers on their way to Abilene, so the

bus was relatively empty. Her feet tucked up on the armrest, she was nestled down in her seat,

her back against the window, gazing off over her shoulder at the darkened landscape.

After leaving the motel the night before, she had found her way to another one and settled in

for the day. She had picked up a roll of duct tape at a convenience store and used it to tape the

curtains shut. Like before, she barricaded the door. She had slept soundly for most of the day.

Only when her dreams turned dark and disturbing had Amaliya forced herself awake. Sliding

off the bed, she had curled up in the corner covered with the comforter, terrified of the sunlight

pressing under the crack of the door. She had felt vulnerable and lost. She did not feel safe again

until the sunlight slowly faded away and night had come.

Sliding her fingers through her hair, Amaliya tried not to think of the nightmares. They were

more memory than nightmare, and she knew it. In the dream, she had been pressed up against the

outside wall of the dorm building. The professor savagely bit and pulled at her throat as she

struggled. She had fought him valiantly, but he had kept her pinned easily as her blood flowed in

a warm gush over her chest. The pain she had endured and her terror still lingered in her

consciousness.

She rubbed her eyes and pressed her lips tightly together. Tonight she felt more...human.

Tonight her head felt clearer and she felt more connected to the world around her. Maybe it was

being on the bus surrounded by other people trying to get home, but she felt more like herself.

And she felt more vulnerable.

The bloodlust from the previous night seemed like a dim memory. In fact, the whole night

seemed like a surreal blur. But it had happened. She remembered every moment with a hazy sort

of recollection. And she remembered how much she had enjoyed her last kill of the night. Hell,

she remembered how much she enjoyed the killings in the dorm back at the college.

I could kill them all, she thought, looking around at the other passengers. If I wanted to, they

would die at my hands and none of them would be able to stop me.

Finding no solace in that thought, she looked away from the moonlight-drenched trees to the

tips of her scuffed boots. Rubbing the side of her nose, she sighed, then started to fiddle with the

stud tucked into her nostril.

Amaliya seriously hated what she had done at the frat house, but she was having trouble

feeling guilt. It did bother her that she could be causing the same pain to others that Professor

Sumner had caused her. Yet, she liked the feeling that she could take down someone as huge as

Rob and not feel an ounce of remorse.

“Seriously fucked up,” she muttered.

The newspaper was tucked under her legs. It had nothing about Rob's death, but a lot about

the slaughter at the campus out East. The rumors of Satanists were getting even wilder. She

noted that Professor Sumner was listed as one of the six missing people. She was also classified

as missing. The media had printed her driver's license picture where she was twenty pounds

heavier with her natural blond hair. It looked nothing like her. For once her aversion to getting

her picture taken seemed to have worked for her.

As far as she could tell, she wasn't being searched for as a living person. They thought she

was dead. Even her father had said he felt she was dead and gone. Obviously, he was lying

through his teeth. She supposed after she tossed him and her brother around, he had figured out

she wasn't alive. The final leap from the house had probably confirmed it.

The newspaper had a description of her open grave and described her dorm room as being

riddled with mud and blood. The police finally had come out and said they believed she had been

murdered and that her body had been taken with the killers. They couldn't explain her empty

grave, but they were convinced the Satanists had carted off her dead body.

What her Grandmama and cousin thought of this, she had no clue. But she had a feeling

Sergio was convinced she was running from the Satanists. He had probably reassured her

grandmother that she was fine and on her way to see her. Of course, what was really happening

was even more absurd. She was a vampire running from her killer and creator.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the symphony of the wind rushing over the bus, the

passengers breathing heavily or snoring as they slept, and the rumble of the bus' engine. In the

old days, before she had been killed, she would have been munching on chips and drinking a diet

soda. But she hadn't had food in days now and drinks had little or no appeal to her. She was

starting to miss food. The texture, the taste, the satisfaction from consuming something delicious.

But food was too easily supplanted by blood now. It was warm, thick liquid that tasted divine as

it filled her and renewed her. The memory of the taste of the food was beginning to fade from

her. It made her sad.

The sound of the air brakes stirred her from her reverie. She looked up to see the station

coming into view as the bus slowed down. With remarkable ease and talent, the bus driver

maneuvered the lumbering vehicle up into the station in Eastland. As the lights came on and the

brakes whooshed, people stirred awake and started moving around.

Amaliya grabbed up her bag and headed down the narrow aisle as fast as she could before she

ended up at the end of the line. She easily beat out everyone disembarking. The bus driver sat

silently in his chair rubbing his eyes as the passengers departed. She wondered briefly what it felt

like to be tired. She didn't feel physically tired anymore.

As she came down the high steps, she caught sight of her very tall cousin. Whereas her

mother and Mae had married men of good old German and Polish stock, the third sister, Sergio's

mom Susan, had married Ruben Guerra. Sergio was tall, stockily built, with dark skin and curly

black hair, but with striking Germanic facial features and green eyes. He stood looking very

solemn, with his arms folded over his chest, until he saw her, then he smiled with relief.

Rushing to him, she knew he would sweep her up and hug her. And he did, crushing her tight,

and kissing her cheek. She held tight to him for several seconds, then drew back, trying not to

cry her blood tears.

“You okay?” he asked softly and grabbed her bag.

“Yeah, I am now.”

“You're dead, you know,” he whispered. He slung his arm over her shoulder and guided her

toward his big Ford truck.

“I saw that in the paper,” Amaliya confessed.

“Gawdawful picture of you,” Sergio mused. “Which I guess is a good thing. No one has

recognized you?”

She shook her head and was relieved when he unlocked the truck and opened the door. “Does

Grandmama know?”

“No, no. I kept her entertained all evening making an enormous feast for us. I even lied and

told her Cynthia and the munchkins might join us,” Sergio said, referring to his wife and

children. “Anything to keep her away from the TV until the late shows come on.” He slammed

the door shut once she was inside, cutting the conversation short. He walked around the truck

and climbed in on the other side. Starting it up, he said in a low voice, “What happened?”

Amaliya rubbed her face and shook her head. “I don't want to talk about it. I'll just tell

Grandmama that I have to go away for a while and not go into details.”

“Something really bad happened to you,” Sergio said in a grim voice. He was just a year or

two older than her, but his maturity pressed down on her. He had a dad vibe that she didn't know

how to take. “I think I deserve to know what.”

Shrugging slightly, she looked out the window, then decided to tell him the abbreviated truth.

“I was attacked. And the person who did it buried me in the forest and I got out.”

“Shit,” Sergio exclaimed in shock. “Shit! You were buried alive?”

“I went back to the dorm room, packed and left,” she continued, leaving a whole huge chunk

of the truth out. Like the fact that she was really dead.

“Does your Dad know?”

“I went straight to him to ask him for the truck so I could just disappear for a while. So, yeah,

he knows,” she sighed.

“He didn't give you the truck, huh?”

“Nope. Aunt Mae had to get her two cents in.”

Sergio shook his head and turned out onto the highway. “I thought it was bad enough when I

heard that Pete Talbert had a heart attack, but this beats all.”

Amaliya quirked an eyebrow. “Pete had a heart attack?”

“Yep. They found him in a hotel room. He was pretty close to death, but he's okay now. At

least they think it was a heart attack. Who knows.” Sergio drove with his arm propped up on the

edge of the window, his strong fingers gripping the wheel tightly. “They called Felipe to let him

know since they were old buddies since we were all kids. I remember how bad a crush Pete had

on you. We used to tease him about it all the time whenever we visited y'all out there.”

Amaliya sighed guiltily. “I didn't know.”

“Enough about Pete. Who the hell attacked you? Did you see them?”

Amaliya thought of the Professor and his charming smile. “Yeah. But I don't want to talk

about it.”

“Amal, seriously, you gotta go to the police. I know you're scared and just want to run away,

but you gotta-”

“I can't,” she said firmly. “I can't. Okay?”

Sergio shook his head. “You're so damn bullheaded.”

“Yeah, so? It's a family trait.”

With a sharp, nervous laugh, Sergio nodded. “True. True.”

The drive to her grandmother's home was not too long. The old family homestead was nestled

close to DeLeon. The house was at least one hundred years old. Grandmama's family had come

from a small town on the border and moved North when she was a little girl. Amaliya's

grandfather was from Abilene and he had fallen for her grandmother at first sight, or so the story

went. Her mother's family had been suspicious of the German immigrant at first, but finally let

them marry in what Grandmama called a “big Mexican Catholic wedding.” Together they had

Mae, Susan, and Marlena, Amaliya's mother. Susan was Sergio's mother and she had died young,

too. Only Mae seemed to have their grandmother's longevity built into her DNA.

Sadly, Amaliya wondered how long she would have lived if not for being killed.

The house was immaculate and most of the windows were lit up. The light pouring out of the

windows illuminated the well-tended yard full of statues and beautiful flowerbeds. Behind the

house was a garden full of vegetables and some fruit trees. Her grandmother's huge statue of the

Virgin Mary standing near the fence made Amaliya's eyes burn and she turned away sharply.

Shit!

She had not considered how very Catholic her grandmother was.

“So, we just tell Grandmama that you were upset by what happened at the campus and that

you are heading out on the road to recover, right?”

“Yeah. But I'm sure the cops will make it out here eventually or at least call to question her,

don't you think?”

“No clue. They haven't talked to me. Evidently, they just talked to your Dad and our cousinwhore.”

“He likes to forget that Mom's side of the family exists, except for Mae and Kelly Ann.”

“That's cause he's an ass.”

Sergio drove the truck up the driveway. He parked it under the carport that had been added to

the old house twenty years before. Their grandmother's Lincoln was tucked away in the garage

that was built off to the side. She rarely drove it anymore. Their tiny little grandmother could

barely see over the steering wheel, let alone maneuver a car as big as a boat. She still kept it

gassed up, the registration current, got it inspected yearly and did all the regular maintenance on

it right on time. Which was ironic, considering she never drove it except to back it out of the

driveway, then pull right back in. To keep the engine fresh, she said.

A blue light in the front window showed that she was still up and watching her late night

shows. Probably with a bowl of popcorn sprinkled with chili powder with a dash of lime juice

spritzed on top, and an ice tea, decaf of course, at her side on an end table loaded down with

photos, mementos, and little knickknacks.

Sliding out of the truck, Amaliya watched Sergio get her bag out of the back. She wanted to

tell him the whole truth, but even she was having trouble believing it herself. Ignoring the Virgin

statue with all her might, she prepared herself for what lay inside the house.

Sergio unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “Grandmama, Amaliya is here!”

“I can hear you. I'm not deaf,” came her grandmother's accented voice.

Amaliya suddenly wanted to cry.

Stepping onto the front porch, she steeled herself. She moved forward and found she couldn't

enter the house. Startled, she tried to step over the threshold, but could not push her way in. It

was as if an invisible wall was in front of her.

“Come on,” Sergio said.

“Come in, come in,” her grandmother said, waving to her from her lounge chair in the living

room.

The unseen wall was gone abruptly and Amaliya stepped into the house, feeling a little

shaken.

Struggling to get out of her chair, Grandmama slapped away Sergio's attempt to help her up.

“Come here and hug me.”

Amaliya deftly avoided the shrine to the Holy Trinity and the Virgin Mary in the front hall

and rushed to her grandmother. Her skin was pricking and she felt nauseous for the split second

she was within a few feet of the holy relics. Reaching her grandmother, she flung her arms

around the tiny little woman with the keen hazel eyes and the black hair shot through with silver.

Squeezing her tight, her grandmother gave her several hard kisses on the cheek, then drew

back to look at her.

“You're too thin,” she decided. “And I don't like your hair black. I liked it blond.”

Sergio laughed and set the bag down on a chair. “Nice welcome, Grandmama.”

“Shut up, you,” the old woman said with a twinkle in her eye, then drew Amaliya down to

kiss her cheek again. “Are you sick? You're very cold.”

“I had food poisoning,” Amaliya lied quickly as she remembered what Sergio said about her

grandmother preparing food.

“Ugh. It's that horrible fast food.” Grandmama headed toward the brightly lit kitchen. She was

clad in jeans and a t-shirt with the Texas flag on it. “I made good food. Good healthy food.”

“Tamales aren't healthy, Grandmama,” Sergio corrected her.

“Who told you to lip off?” came the sharp reply.

Amaliya and Sergio looked at each other and giggled.

Following the old woman into the very clean and tidy kitchen, Amaliya sighed at the delicious

smells in the room.

“I got spicy chicken tacos, pork tamales, the rice is ready and the beans almost are.”

Amaliya grinned as she watched her grandmother at the stove, stirring the big pot of beans,

and trying to reach to the back to pick up the skillet full of Mexican rice.

“I'll get that,” Sergio offered quickly.

“Okay, nieto,” she answered, surprising her grandchildren. She usually denied help. She

pointed to the counter. “Right there.” Throwing down a trivet for Sergio to set the hot skillet on,

she turned and uncovered a bowl with fresh tortilla dough in it.

“You'll eat this and feel much better,” her Grandmama assured her.

Amaliya sighed and wished desperately that she could eat.

With utter sadness shot through with a strange joy, she watched her grandmother's tiny hand

roll, pound, and flatten out a fresh tortilla before throwing it onto the griddle to cook.

A weird sort of silence filled the room as Amaliya and Sergio watched the old lady deftly

make tortillas. Her wrinkled fingers easily plucked the tortillas up off the griddle and flipped

them until they were perfectly done. Soon a whole stack of the fluffy white tortillas was wrapped

in a fresh kitchen towel and put on the table.

This was the way it had always been when she visited her grandmother. She would sit in

silence as her grandmother putzed around cooking a feast for her, then as soon as the elder

woman sat down, the conversation would start as they ate.

Showing how well trained he was, Sergio pulled out a couple of glass bottles of soda from the

refrigerator and popped them open. Her grandmother had a fetish for the Coca-Cola from across

the border and Sergio or Felipe would bring her milk cartons full of the refillable glass bottles.

They also brought other exotic flavors that Amaliya was never particularly fond of.

“They still make it with real sugar. Not corn syrup like here,” Sergio said, handing Amaliya a

bottle.

“I didn't know that.” She took a small swig and nodded to him. “Good.”

A large photo of their German immigrant grandfather and his tiny Mexican bride loomed over

the table and it made Amaliya feel watched over. She felt relatively safe and comfortable at last

except for one thing. It was hard to feel better when her skin was crawling because of the

religious artifacts strewn around the house. It made her feel like there were ants under her skin.

Sliding into the chair across from her, Sergio nursed his own soda. Their grandmother

finished warming up all the food and began to carry it to the table.

“Okay, now you eat and feel better.”

A huge plate filled with food was set down before Amaliya. The smell was amazing, but she

didn't feel hunger. She wasn't even sure if she could eat it. She picked up a fork and poked

gingerly at the steaming pile of ranchero beans. Across from her, Sergio ate with relish.

Carefully sitting down, favoring her arthritic hip, her grandmother gave her a thoughtful look.

“Eat.”

Amaliya hesitated and raised the fork, one bean stuck firmly to the tines.

“Grandmama, this is good,” Sergio said, scooping up a bunch of rice and beans and part of a

piece of chicken with a bit of tortilla. He shoved the whole thing into his mouth with relish.

Her grandmother's eyes were quite intent as they gazed at her granddaughter. “Amaliya, eat.

You look pale and your skin feels cold. You need nourishment.”

Hesitantly, Amaliya pushed the fork into her mouth, and the bean settled onto her tongue.

Very slowly, she shifted it between her teeth and chewed.

Her grandmother smiled with satisfaction. “You need to eat.”

Amaliya nodded and swallowed. At least she tried to. The bean refused to go down. The more

she tried to swallow, the more she gagged. Finally, she gulped as hard as she could and

immediately began to cough. The chewed bean hurtled out of her throat and hit the wall.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

Her grandmother looked at the spot of bean slowly sliding down her clean wall and looked

back at Amaliya sadly.

“So you are dead,” she said with strange satisfaction.

“Grandmama!” Sergio said in surprise. “I told you not to watch the news.”

“Oh, like that is going to stop me,” Grandmama responded.

Amaliya was so shocked she couldn't move. She pressed her hand against her throat as she

stared aghast at her grandmother.

“On TV they said she was dead. Your Uncle Samuel told me the same thing last night. And

now she sits here, pale as a ghost, not able to eat, and as cold as the grave.”

“If she's dead, you are taking this really well,” Sergio joked and shoved half a tortilla in his

mouth.

“Unfinished business,” his grandmother assured him. “I watch TV. Touched by an Angel,

Medium and The Ghost Whisperer. She has unfinished business.”

Slowly, Amaliya put down her fork. Her mind overwhelmed by her grandmother's words, she

didn't know what to say.

Sergio rolled his eyes. “C'mon, Grandmama. She's sitting right across from us.”

“Did the bad Satanist kill you?” her grandmother asked in a soft voice. “Do you want us to

tell the police who they are so you can go into the light.”

Amaliya opened her mouth to answer, then shut it, still not sure what to say.

“She's not dead,” Sergio said again.

“Yes, she is,” his grandmother answered, and looked very sad. “All my girls die young.”

“Mae is still alive,” Sergio pointed out. “And Kelly Ann.”

“Mae is too mean to die and Kelly Ann is too stupid,” their grandmother decided and crossed

her arms over her ample chest.

“You do realize that is your daughter and granddaughter you're talking about,” Sergio said

with a smirk.

“Stop being a smarty,” Grandmama said and smacked his arm. Leaning toward the completely

stunned Amaliya, she said once more, “Do you want us to tell the police who killed you?”

“Uh. No.”

Looking disappointed, her grandmother sat back. “Why not?”

“Uh.” Amaliya sat with her mouth hanging open, then shut it firmly. “I am not dead.”

“Exactly. She has a pulse.” Sergio leaned over and gripped Amaliya's wrist firmly. “See,

Grandmama, she has a...” He hesitated, then looked at Amaliya with shock. “Where is your

pulse?”

Amaliya stood up sharply and put her hands on her hips. She opened her mouth to talk, then

closed it again.

“You need to go to the light,” her grandmother finally said.

“I can't,” Amaliya answered automatically.

“You're really dead,” Sergio said softly. “No way. We talked on the phone. I picked you up

off the bus.”

“Maybe she thinks she's alive, so she acts alive,” Grandmama considered.

“I'm not....dead. Not like that kinda dead.”

“But you're dead?” Sergio finally stopped eating. “No way.”

“Oh, shit, this wasn't the way I planned this to go down.”

“Don't swear,” her grandmother said automatically, pointing an accusing finger at her.

Pacing back and forth in the kitchen, Amaliya ran a hand through her hair. The holy relics

were starting to make her want to run away. They weren't right next to her, but she could feel

their power pushing on her. “This was supposed to be our tearful and emotional loving farewell.”

“Well, you still need to go to the light,” her grandmother said firmly.

“There is no light!”

Sergio looked terrified. “You mean the Pope was wrong?”

That earned him a firm slap on the cheek. “Don't blaspheme.”

“I'm not!”

“Look! There was no light! Professor Sumner killed me and buried me in the forest! I woke

up three days later and...and...”

“Your professor killed you?” Sergio looked ready to fall over. “What do you mean he killed

you?”

“This is the part where she tells us what happened, then disappears,” their grandmother said

confidently.

“He killed me! He....” she made slicing motions across her throat. “-killed me! And buried

me! But I woke up in the grave, crawled out and...and...it all went to hell-sorry, Grandmama-it

went to hell from there.”

Sergio took a long swig from his coke. “I don't believe it.”

Amaliya hesitated, then darted across the room, and grabbed his coke from his hand before he

could set it down. The world had strangely stood still as she had willed herself to move faster

than her family could see. By their sudden look of terror, she knew she had moved too fast for

them to track. Both Sergio and her grandmother jumped to their feet.

Setting down the coke, Amaliya tucked her hair back from her face and looked at them

sorrowfully.

They stared at her for a moment, and then they both ran out of the kitchen down the long hall

to the living room.

“Oh, crap.”

* * *

Amaliya tentatively crept down the hallway to the living room, past photos of her two aunts

and her mother as children, of all the grandchildren, and the great-grandchildren. As she stepped

into the living room, she found her grandmother and cousin standing in the middle of the room,

Sergio clutching an enormous crucifix from off the mantel over the fireplace.

Wincing when she felt smacked by invisible white fire, she stepped back into the shadows of

the hall. Her voice quivered when she said, “I'm not going to hurt you.”

“Well, you kinda scared us shitless,” Sergio answered, and that was followed by the sound of

their grandmother smacking him.

“I was just trying to show you that I'm not what I was,” Amaliya snapped. “You think I'm

dead. Well, I am. But I'm not a ghost. I'm something else and it’s not any fun! I hate it!” She

burst into tears and her sobs filled the narrow hallway. The pictures of her family, the living and

the dead, bore her no comfort. “I hate it! Okay! I hate it! And I...I...”

“Put the cross away,” her grandmother's voice said softly. “She's family.”

“What if...we can't trust her,” Sergio said in a stricken voice from the living room.

“Just put it away,” Grandmama repeated. “If she wanted to hurt us, she would have killed you

when she had you alone and already offed me when she got here.”

Sliding down the wall, Amaliya covered her face with her hands and felt her body quivering.

Her heart was sluggish and she would have to leave soon. The great need would come and she

would have to feed.

“I don't want to kill anyone! All I wanted to do was say goodbye,” she wailed softly. “To say

I'm sorry for not being a better granddaughter.”

Tender, gnarled hands patted her hair gently. “You've been a good girl, Amal. You have. I'm

so sorry you are...what you are.”

“What is she?” Sergio whispered, and got smacked again.

Amaliya slowly raised her head to look up at them. Her pale face was streaked with blood

tears. “I think I'm a vampire.”

Sergio and Grandmama both took a step back, gripping each other’s hands. The fear in their

eyes made Amaliya miserable and she sighed.

“I won't hurt you. I promise. I was a little fucked up, sorry, Grandmama, the last two nights,

but tonight I'm much better,” she said, trying to calm them.

Sergio raised one finger. “Define a little fucked up.” He oofed as he got nailed in the stomach

with an elbow.

“Remember Pete?”

“Yeah? What about hi-Oh,” Sergio said, his eyes widening. He thought this over, then said

slowly, “Well, at least you didn't kill him.”

Amaliya stood up and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I just wanted to come and

tell you that I love you and I don't understand what is going on.”

“Professor Sumner made you?” Her grandmother was clutching what looked like a rosary

tight to her chest. It made Amaliya's head hurt.

“Yeah. He did. And then he just left. Told me to figure it out. So, I plan to go to Austin and

try to find someone like me. And if that doesn't work, New Orleans, and maybe New York. I

have to find out how to deal with this. I'm not even sure of what all I can or can't do.”

“How are you going to get there?” Sergio asked.

“I guess the bus,” Amaliya said and looked down at her hands stained red from her tears. “I

better go. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here.”

“No, no! You should come here!” Her grandmother grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her

into the kitchen. “We are your family and we love you even if you are…is Dracula real?”

Amaliya laughed, then shook her head. “I don't know. I don't know anything!” She flung up

her hands, then collapsed onto a kitchen chair. “That is the problem! I don't know anything! It's

all been by instinct.”

“So, maybe you can get fixed!” Her grandmother rushed over to the kitchen counter and

fussed with the flour jar. “You can go talk to another vampiro and ask them how to get back to

normal.”

“Grandmama, I don't think it's that easy. He killed her! And all those people in the frat

house.”

Amaliya looked at her nails and tried not to look guilty.

“Look at her! He did this to her. Killed her and left her for dead. She just happened to come

back as a...hey, can I see your teeth?”

“No,” Amaliya said firmly and shook her head. Sighing, she covered her face with one hand.

This was not going the way she expected, but when did things ever go the way she planned? Her

luck was notoriously bad. The last few days had proved that over and over again.

Sergio looked a little hurt by her refusal, but, by the way, his body was tensed to flee, it was

obvious his fear was still his overriding emotion.

“Here, take this.” Grandmama thrust a wad of cash into her hands. “It will help you. Buy food

—um...whatever you need. And take this.” She grabbed a cellphone from the counter and

unplugged the charger as well. “You buy minutes to put on it with a card and I don't think the

policia can track it.”

Amaliya took the cash and the phone with a stricken look on her face. “Grandmama, I can't.”

“Hey, I gave you that phone,” Sergio protested.

“I never use it,” Grandmama said, dismissing his comment with a wave of her hand. “Take it,

Amal, and call me when you find out something.”

“Here, keep the money,” Amaliya said. She tried to hand it back to her grandmother but was

quickly rebuffed.

“Look, nieta, I know that something bad happened to you. I am sad that you aren't a ghost

because I think we could have fixed this a lot easier. But you are right. You need to go find

answers and get this curse taken off of you so you can be at peace.”

“I don't know if it can be fixed,” Sergio said softly. “All the movies and the books—”

“I never watched those movies!” Amaliya shook her head with frustration. “I was terrified of

vampires growing up, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I remember that Felipe and I scared the crap out of you by wearing big plastic

fangs that one time,” Sergio said with a laugh, then saw her expression and stopped. “Sorry.”

“So you go to Austin and you find a vampiro. Make them tell you everything, and then fix it.

And if that doesn't work, maybe you should go to the Catholic church.”

“They might stake her.”

“Would that kill me?” Amaliya looked horrified.

“A stake through the heart would kill anyone,” Sergio responded.

“No one stakes no one, okay? So you take my car and you go to Austin and you find a

vampiro to help you.” Grandmama shoved her car keys into Amaliya's hand. “You go find a way

to find peace.”

“I can't just take your car and your money and go to Austin!”

“Why not?”

“It's not like she did it when she was sixteen,” Sergio muttered under his breath.

“Hey, I wanted to see Ozzy in concert! And I was stupid. And your brother is the one who

talked me into it!”

“Look, it doesn't matter. You go and find answers. Then you call me and tell me you are

okay.”

Though they looked quite calm, Amaliya could feel the tension in her family members. They

were both watching her like a hawk. She didn't blame them, not after the things she had done.

Standing up slowly, she tucked the money into her jeans. Amaliya looked sadly at her tiny

grandmother. “I'm sorry I screwed up.”

“He killed you. And made you into a vampiro. You didn't ask for that. And, I have hope for

you. You're not killing people left and right and doing bad. You're good in your heart.” Her

grandmother made a step toward her, then hesitated. Seeing the hurt expression in Amaliya's

eyes, she gave up caution and hugged her granddaughter tightly. “You go now. You go and take

care of yourself.”

Amaliya clutched her grandmother to her and relished the soft, warm, comforting feel of her

little body. Kissing her grandmother's cheek firmly, she let out a soft sob, then drew back.

Sergio hesitated, then flung his arms around her and held her close. “Take care of

yourself...and don't bite me.”

Laughing softly, Amaliya kissed his cheek, then drew back. “I love you, you know. Both of

you.”

Her grandmother was still holding her rosary tightly and Amaliya realized it was glowing

around her fingers. It sobered her considerably to see that. She had never considered the

condition of her soul or the hereafter before, but, suddenly, she felt afraid.

“I need my bag,” she said softly.

“I'll get it,” Sergio said quickly, and rushed down the hall.

“Grandmama,” Amaliya whispered softly. “I am trying very hard not to do anything bad.”

“I know, baby.” Her grandmother was looking down at her rosary. “You always were a good

girl, just lost.”

“I don't know how I always get into trouble,” she confessed.

“You don't think. You just do,” Sergio commented, as he reappeared with her bag.

“Do not.”

“Yeah, you do. You never think anything out. We used to have so much fun suggesting

random stuff just to see you go along with it. Amal, let's go jump off the roof. Amal, let's go grab

the mule's tail. Amal, go stick your hand in—”

“Okay, okay,” she said with a pout. “Maybe I'm not too good at the whole plan type thing.”

“Going to Austin is a good plan,” Sergio said. “Just, you know, don't just...”

“Fuck up,” their grandmother said.

They both started and looked at her in shock.

“Well, other people screw up. Amaliya fucks up. I'm sorry, but it's true. She takes after her

grandfather. Poor man was a sucker and fell for all the scams in the world. Now, you need to go.

You need to get to Austin and find shelter before sunrise.”

Realizing the late hour, Amaliya knew this was true. Sadly, she kissed her grandmother once

more on the cheek, then headed for the back door with her bag in her hand.

“Call me.”

“I will. And if the police call—”

“I never saw you,” her grandmother answered sadly.

Sergio walked out after Amaliya. His expression was one of worry and he rubbed his chin as

she headed to the garage.

“Amal,” he said softly. He looked back to the window their grandmother was watching them

through.

She turned and looked at him, her hand on the latch that would open the doors.

“I don't think this is going to be easy for you. I don't think there is any turning back.”

“I know.” She unlatched the door and swung it open, revealing the black Lincoln tucked

inside. It was from the 1970's and huge.

“If you...if you...change...any more than you have now, don't come back here.”

She looked at him, startled.

“I don't want you to hurt anyone I love,” he said softly.

Pressing her lips together tightly, the sting of his words brought instant tears to her eyes. She

fought them back knowing she shouldn't lose any more of her precious blood. The hunger would

come that much sooner.

“Okay.”

She opened the second door and walked into the darkness dwelling in the garage. Her vision

adapted quickly. She unlocked the driver's door and swung it open. Tossing her bag in, she

looked back at her cousin. His expression was agonized and his posture tense.

“I love my family. I won't do anything to hurt any of you. I'd rather die than do that.”

“I know, Amal. I know. But all the vampires in the stories always end up...twisted.” He

sighed. “I believe in you, but I don't know what might happen to you.”

Nodding, she had to agree. She had no clue what would happen next. Silently, she slid into the

car and turned it on. The highly-maintained engine caught immediately and purred loudly.

Slamming the door shut, she switched gears and slowly backed out.

Her cousin moved to one side, his expression pained and somber as he watched her. Rolling

down the window, she waved to him. He gave her a short wave back.

Driving down the long driveway to the road, Amaliya took one last look at her grandmother's

house. Chances were, she would never come back and she knew it. Sighing, she turned the

wheel, and the car pulled onto the road.

* * *

Tilting his head, The Summoner watched his newest creation speed away in the wellpreserved Lincoln. He was impressed so far with her resourcefulness and luck. She hadn't

floundered as badly as some of his offspring had. She was a bit messy and definitely working on

instinct, but so far she had survived and not been revealed.

Returning his gaze to the house her cousin was disappearing into, he considered entering and

destroying her support system. But even from where he stood under the peach tree, he could feel

the power of the holy relics within. It repulsed him that he could not destroy the tiny old woman

and her lumbering grandson, but even he had limits when it came to faith.

Tucking his hands behind his back, he somberly started off into the darkness.