Running With the Shadows of the Night, Chapter 9

How are you this evening, little one?

Not feeling too good.

I’m so sorry. The nausea?

Yeah. I haven’t been able to eat anything without puking it back up.

That’s no fun.

No. See that new bag there? They’re feeding me with that stuff now.

You look very cool without your hair. Like a ninja warrior.

Or a space alien. I don’t mind it, though. I was wondering. If you decide to become a ghost when you die, you’re stuck wearing whatever you die in, right?

That’s what I’ve seen.

I put on my favorite pajamas today, just in case I die and decide to stick around.

You’re planning carefully, it seems.

I figured it couldn’t hurt.

No. Sometimes it helps to plan when there’s a lot of uncertainty.

That’s what I thought.

Little one, do you want me just to sit with you this evening?

You mean and not tell the story?

Yes.

I’d like to hear the story.

Alright, if you feel well enough for it.

I do. I want to know how it turns out.

Okay. Here we go.

Dawn was breaking as they arrived back at the lighthouse. Senka felt a weariness that she hadn’t experienced since she was alive. “I don’t get it,” she remarked to Silas. “I don’t have a body, but I feel like my heart is breaking. My bones hurt. My eyes are throbbing.”

Silas wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to him. His presence was a balm, like the scent of jasmine on a warm breeze. With his cheek resting against the top of her head, he said, “When we’re alive, we give our experiences corporeal descriptions. We say, ‘There’s a hole in my heart’ or ‘I’m walking on a cloud.’ The truth is that it’s our spirit that is wounded or gladdened. Without a body, without a heartbeat, our spirits still respond. We still feel grief. We still feel love.”

Senka looked up at Silas. “You must have seen so many deaths in all your years. I mean, the deaths of people you cared about.”

“Yes. Many.”

“Does it get easier?”

“To lose someone you love? No. But over time, the immediacy of the pain turns to the tenderness of a bruise; we’re only conscious of it when it’s pressed.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier just not to love someone who’s going to die?”

“If emptiness is easier, then perhaps. For me, the cost of loving someone mortal has been less than the price of a cold and barren existence.”

Senka resettled her cheek against Silas’ chest. “Yes, I see that. I’m glad I loved Stan. I’m glad he was part of my life. It would have been a lot less interesting without him.”

Silas gave her a squeeze and stepped back. “And now, we need to think about the day. Our cottage is open for tours.”

“Oh, shoot,” Senka groaned. “I don’t have it in me to play the friendly, neighborhood ghost right now.”

“No. I suggest we both slip up to the attic until the place is quiet again.”

“That sounds much better.”

He turned to Luna. “Would you like to come with us or would you prefer to spend the day outside?”

“Mrr-owp! Meow-row,” Luna responded.

“I’ll take that as a preference for the outside.”

Luna jumped down from the table on which Senka had deposited him and trotted toward the open door. “Be careful!” Senka called after him. “The road is busy during the day.” Luna flicked his tail as he rounded the corner into the hallway and out of sight.

“Senka.” Silas reached out and touched her arm. “I think what you need is rest. ‘Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care.’”

“The Scottish play,” Senka said automatically. “Do you think I can sleep? I’ve never needed to.”

“I think it’s worth a try.”

Senka nodded, and together they climbed up to the top of the cottage. In the parlor, the sun had begun to shine brightly through the filtering curtains, but here, the light was dim. The room smelled of dust and aged wooden beams. The slanted roof was low enough that Silas had to stoop to avoid hitting his head. In the corner farthest away from the small dormer windows, deep in the shadows, was a thin, bare mattress. Not wanting to be far apart, Senka and Silas both folded themselves onto it, arranging themselves to fit together on the patch of foam rubber.

“You know my favorite thing about this cottage?” Senka whispered.

“What?”

“No freakin’ mice.” She felt, rather than heard, Silas laugh. He wrapped an arm around her, and she closed her eyes. She didn’t think she could fall asleep, but some instinct took over, and when she opened her eyes again, the angle of the light had shifted significantly and she was alone on the mattress. She lay still, trying to retain the dream she had been having.

She had been standing on the bank of the Hudson, far upriver from Manhattan. All around her, the trees were radiant with fall foliage. A mist was rising from the river, softening the outlines of the hills in front of her, paling the sunlight of the fall day. Out on the river, a rowboat was cutting its way toward her. As she watched it, she saw that two people sat side-by-side on the stern seat while a third, his back to her, ferried them from the bow. As the boat came nearer, she recognized the two passengers as Stan and Peter, and she flung her arms above her head, waving wildly, laughing and calling to them. They spotted her and waved so enthusiastically that they almost tipped the boat. Stan beckoned her towards them. She took a step into the river, noticing that she didn’t sink but stayed on top of the water. She was about to run to them when she felt a pull from the bank. She stepped back onto dry land. The boat turned parallel to the shore. Stan and Peter watched her, then raised their arms to wave goodbye. Senka brought both hands to her mouth, then flung them outwards, blowing her friends a mighty kiss at the same time that she wept for her loss.

Even as she replayed it in her mind, the dream’s images began to fade. She turned over on the mattress and saw Silas sitting against the opposite wall, deep in contemplation. He looked up when she stirred and smiled at her. She smiled back and sat up. “Are the tours over?” she asked.

“Not quite but soon, I think.” He got up and came back to the little mattress, sitting with his back tucked against the outside wall. Senka shifted her position and joined him. “How are you feeling?” he asked her, bumping her arm with his.

“Calmer. More at peace. Like I can think a little straighter.” She turned to him and scrutinized his face. “You looked like you were deep in thought.”

“I was.” He paused. “This plan—”

“Silas, wait. Before you say anything else, I realized something—I don’t know, maybe in my sleep. I was pretty cavalier about insisting on this one idea. The thing is, you’re the only one in danger here. I want you to be free of Harou. I know you want to be free of Harou more than anybody. But I shouldn’t have been so insistent about it. If you think it’s too dangerous, we’ll come up with something better.”

“I was about to say that I think it could work.”

“You were?”

“With a few more details besides lure him, surprise him, stake him, yes. For one thing, we’ll need help. Do you think your new friends in the graveyard would be willing to lend us a hand?”

“I can’t speak for them, but I’m guessing they would.” She laughed. “I bet Ms. Wang will think it’s all great fun. I’ll ask them tonight.”

“Good. The next thing is that I imagine we’ll both have to take some blows.” He said it without emotion, but his face showed concern.

Senka frowned and picked at a ragged hole in the foam rubber. “I’m not sure I like that. I mean, I assumed I’d fight him, and at first, I’d have to make him think I hadn’t improved any since our last encounter. That means I’ll have to let him hit me. But why do you have to face him? That’s so dangerous, Silas.”

“This is Harou we’re talking about, Senka. He’s ancient, wily, powerful, and unimaginably cruel. Even you are not a match for him alone. You know I can’t fight him, but I can distract him. I’m starting to believe that together we have a chance where neither of us would succeed alone.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” She dug her finger into the hole she’d created in the mattress.

He took her hand in his. “You are destroying our bed.” He smiled, but almost instantly grew serious. “I have been hurt. I’ll be hurt again; it’s inevitable. We can’t guarantee each other’s safety.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. “Thank you for wanting to try, but we’ll have to risk this together.”

“I don’t like it, but I get it. What else do we need?”

“Something to stake him with.”

“Oh, good thought.” Reflexively, Senka looked around the empty attic. “Does it have to be made of anything in particular?”

“Just something sharp at one end.”

“So, the whole wooden stake thing….” She waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal.

“A fable. Though wooden stakes are often plentiful in the country, so it’s understandable how that superstition came about.”

“Speaking of fables, I’ve noticed you have no problem walking into buildings without an invitation. Here, the hospital. I thought vampires couldn’t cross thresholds without someone inviting them in.”

“That’s another understandable misconception. We older vampires just happen to be very polite about some things. In my younger years, the first couple hundred of them, it was considered in very bad taste to enter without an express invitation. These days, when exigencies demand it, I’m happy to forego the formalities. Younger vampires never had a hesitation.”

“I’m guessing Harou wouldn’t stand on ceremony, right?”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Silas stood and pulled the attic door open a crack. He listened for a moment, then said, “It sounds like everyone’s gone. Do you want to check so that I don’t terrify the docent?”

Senka made herself insubstantial and climbed down into the main cottage. Finding it empty, she called up to Silas with the all-clear. “So, a stake,” she said as Silas came into the room. They scanned the parlor noting and dismissing the fireplace poker as too cumbersome. It didn’t take them long to search the rest of the little cottage and come up empty-handed. “Who doesn’t have a nice pointy object lying around their museum?” Senka exclaimed. “We’ll have to look someplace else.”

They sat together in the parlor discussing aspects of the plan, spending the most time on when to put it into motion. Silas preferred to start at once, that night, though Senka thought it wiser to wait until they had more of the plan in place. The sun settled toward the horizon, lengthening the shadows in the room. Just before sunset, Luna padded in and announced his return with a high-pitched “Mew!”

“There you are!” Senka exclaimed as Luna hopped onto her lap and started to knead her thigh. “I was getting worried about you.” He regarded her somberly for a moment, then yawned hugely, showing his tiny teeth and making a noise like “Kheck.” With an ungainly flop, he turned onto his back and stretched his arms long over his head, exposing his full belly. His back toes pressed against Silas and a mighty purring rumbled from deep within him. He closed his eyes, and his head gradually drifted backwards until it rested on the loveseat. “How can you sleep in that position?” Senka asked him.

“I should go find something to eat,” Silas said, rising.

“Well, I obviously can’t go anywhere.” Senka gestured at Luna stretched across her lap. “I’m a cat bed. I’ll think about our staking problem while you’re out,” she said.

For a time after Silas left, Senka watched Luna sleep. She stroked his elongated body from the pointy chin to the fluffy fur of his tummy. He was warm and solid and vibrantly alive. Now and then, his paws twitched as he dreamed of running or hunting or climbing or whatever it is that cats dream about. A fly, let in by the open door during tour hours, buzzed around the living room, occasionally threatening to land on one of Luna’s upturned paws. Senka shooed it away protectively, trying not to wiggle as she did and jostle the cat awake. It was peaceful to sit quietly with no other responsibility than to cradle Luna as he slept.

Far sooner than she would have liked, Luna woke and gathered himself into an upright position. He stretched, yawned, and settled down, making a perfect circle in a corner of the loveseat. “Ah, well,” Senka said, “all things must pass away.” She stood and started to dust the cat hair off of herself, then paused. Instead, she made herself incorporeal and watched as the hairs drifted to the ground. With a satisfied smile, she left the cottage.

The wind off the ocean was cool and clean. It carried with it tumbling, swirling wisps of fog. The lighthouse beam illuminated a sweeping tunnel of grey as it reflected off the minuscule droplets of vapor that hung in the air. Senka rose up, joining the fog. It flowed through and around her, cold, wet, and cleansing. An eddy of fog caught her eye, and she spiraled with it, somersaulting, then swooping low over the keeper’s cottage. She spun a circuit around the lighthouse and chased the yellow beam out towards the bay. A startled seagull did a doubletake as she overtook it. It opened its beak and squawked raucously before veering away to join its pals. Feeling free and wild, a part of the wind and the fog, Senka joined a squadron of pelicans, their wingtips skimming the crests of the waves. Wind-borne spray beaded on the great birds’ wings and passed through Senka as they would a cloud. She broke away from the long skein of pelicans and flew back over the line of sand, over the lighthouse, and into the cemetery. She came to rest in a treetop, draping herself across its branches as the fog did, crowning it with a silky silver gauze. The flight left her exhilarated, renewed. She felt a part of everything around her. After so many seasons of loneliness, she belonged to this place, to the beings around her.

She allowed herself to sink slowly through the tree’s branches until her feet found the earth. Over by the old part of the cemetery, a glimmering figure reflected the moonlight. Senka made her way toward it. As she came closer, she saw that it was Ms. Wang dancing to the accompaniment of her own humming. “Hello, Ms. Wang,” she called out.

“Hello, dear!” Ms. Wang cried, spreading her arms in welcome. “Do you know how to foxtrot?”

“Of course I do! Every self-respecting actor knows how.” She bowed low and swept into position. “I’ll lead, okay?” They started off simply, Ms. Wang singing, “Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars. Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.” Senka twirled the old ghost who laughed with delight. When they came to the end of the song, Senka dipped her with a flourish.

“Oh, my dear! That was such fun,” she said when Senka had righted her. “My husband and I used to go out dancing every Saturday night for, oh my goodness, it must have been until he was in his eighties.” She leaned into Senka, “I’ve always loved the foxtrot best, you know, though his favorite was the tango. Too much drama for me.” She laughed again. “Oh, my, It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?” She sat on her wall and patted the stone next to her. Senka joined her. “It is,” she answered. “I’ve just been flying out over the ocean. The wind and the fog feel so good.”

“You’ve taken to flying like a fish to water. Like a flying fish to water.” She laughed at her own joke, which made Senka smile. Ms. Wang went on. “There was a funeral here today,” she said in a gossipy tone. “In the newer part of the cemetery.” She turned and pointed behind them toward an open, grassy area. “It was very nice. Just the family. Very intimate, you know. But then,” she started to giggle. “But then, someone on the fairway just there,” she pointed beyond where she had indicated before. “They must have hooked their ball because it came flying over and landed—thunk!—right on the coffin. It made a terrific noise. It bounced off and fell into the grave!” Ms. Wang dissolved in giggles. Her laughter was always contagious, and Senka couldn’t help but join in, though she exclaimed, “Ms. Wang! That’s terrible! Were the family upset?”

“I thought they took it very well,” Ms. Wang responded, collecting herself. “One of the workmen kindly came over and got the ball out of the grave.” She leaned into Senka and, in a tone that suggested she was scandalized, said, “Frankly, I think the golfer was terribly lazy. If it had been me, I would have insisted that he play it where it lay.” She looked at Senka, her eyes twinkling, and the two burst into giggles all over again.

When they had pulled themselves together once more, Senka said, “Your jokes are kinda edgy, Ms. Wang.”

“I take that as a compliment, dear.” She smiled and patted Senka’s hand. They sat in contented silence for several minutes, gazing out toward the bay. At last, Senka said, “My best friend died last night.”

Ms. Wang turned, her serious eyes alight in the moonshine. “That’s terribly hard, dear. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve never been with someone as they died before.”

“How did it feel?”

“Like it was the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“Yes. I can understand that.”

“I miss him.”

“You always will, dear. Someone who is precious to us doesn’t stop being precious just because they’ve died. But the pain will lessen with time.”

“That’s what Silas said, too.” They sat in silence again, watching the fog make rings around the moon. “Ms. Wang? May I ask for your help again?”

“Of course, dear. I can’t promise I’ll give it, but you can ask.” She smiled and winked.

“Fair enough. You see, my ‘young man’ as you call him, well, he’s…he’s a vampire.”

“Ah,” said Ms. Wang, “I thought as much.”

“You did?”

“Well, you know, I’ve seen him with the deer.”

“Oh! I see.”

“He and your Luna often come through the cemetery. He’s very good-looking, isn’t he?”

“I think so.”

“Yes.” Ms. Wang smiled. “You know, dear, he’s terribly kind with them. He treats them with such respect.” Senka was fascinated, realizing that she had never imagined what Silas was like when he hunted. She waited for Ms. Wang to go on. “He gathers them around himself in a circle and thanks each of them.” She paused, her head cocked to the side like a bird’s.

“What does he do then?”

“Oh, well, then he bites their throats, dear. He takes just a few sips from each one, so as not to weaken them, I suppose. He thanks them again and releases them. Such a gentleman. He reminds me a bit of my husband. If my husband had been a vampire, of course.” She sounded almost wistful. It was the first time that Senka had seen Ms. Wang look sad. She wrapped an arm around the older ghost’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. Ms. Wang turned to her with a rueful smile. “Thank you, dear. Just a moment of melancholy. Now, tell me what you need from me. Of course I want to help you and your lovely young—lovely vampire.”

“Thank you, Ms. Wang. I appreciate that. Well, you see, every vampire has a Maker.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yes. And there’s a certain connection between them that’s part familial, part twisted subservience. Silas didn’t like what Harou, his Maker, was doing—this was, like, over a hundred years ago—so he objected.”

“What was this Maker doing?”

“He was killing children.”

“Oh, dear.” Ms. Wang glanced in the direction of the children’s cemetery. “And Silas stopped him?”

“Well, he stopped him from killing one child, anyway. That made his Maker furious and since that time, he’s been trying to end Silas.”

“Well, we certainly don’t want him to do that, do we?” She looked surprisingly fired up for such a good-humored ghost.

“No, we don’t. The only way to stop him is to end him before he can end Silas.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

Senka gratefully noted her friend’s use of the word “we” and responded, “The plan is to lure him to the cemetery, a place we know better than he does, take him unaware, and stake him. He can’t hurt any of us, any ghosts, so no one here will be in danger. What would help a lot is if you would keep an eye out for him and let us know when he comes, probably sometime in the next week. Would you be willing to do that?”

“Of course I would, dear. Honestly, I would have helped you right off the bat. Anyone who would foxtrot with an old biddy like me deserves all the help I can give.” She patted Senka fondly on the arm. “And besides,” she added, frowning, “this Maker sounds like a bully, and I just hate bullies! I always have.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Wang. I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Would you mind asking Signore Peluso and Bink to watch for Harou, also? And anyone else you think would be useful?”

“A team of co-conspirators! I’m sure they’ll be agreeable.”

“Um, there’s one more thing you should know. To lure Harou here, Silas has to leave some evidence. That means he’s going to have to kill some deer. And it’s going to have to be messy, as if a wild animal had killed them.”

“I see.” Ms. Wang sat for a moment in silence. “It’s a shame for the deer. And I have the sense that it will be very hard for Silas, won’t it?”

“He hasn’t said anything about it, but I think it will. It’s just that this is the only way he knows to attract Harou’s attention.”

“He’ll be on the lookout for signs of vampire activity, is that it? Or at least, what he expects vampire activity to look like.”

“Exactly. Silas is pretty sure he monitors local news feeds. He thinks it’ll take Harou a week or so to notice.”

“Well, we will be on patrol.”

“Thank you again, Ms. Wang. This would never work without your help.” She said goodnight and walked back to the keeper’s cottage, feeling hopeful and relishing the sensation of the springy grass beneath her feet. Silas was back when she returned, peering at the laptop screen. Luna was on the table next to him, apparently dozing but strategically draping his tail across the keyboard. They both looked up as Senka came in. She enjoyed a moment of taking in the scene, the pleasure of seeing these two beings who had transformed her existence and made it immeasurably better. She went to Silas and smoothed his tousled hair, so dark it was almost blue in the light of the monitor. He smiled up at her. A look of uncomplicated happiness suffused his face. Senka thought, With everything going on, grief and danger and plots of revenge, right here there is peace and joy. Aloud she said, “Ms. Wang is with us, and she’ll talk to the others.”

“Excellent. Look what I’ve found.” He swiped the laptop and Kenny’s face filled the screen. “He’s on Facebook, and he posts regularly. With everything he’s done, you’d think he’d be more careful with his privacy settings.” He scrolled down the page. Kenny at the beach. Kenny mugging from a barstool. Kenny in a variety of exotic locations, each clearly identified. Kenny pointing to himself in front of a house marked “Sold.” Reposted memes in questionable taste. Kenny at a restaurant cheek-to-cheek with the young woman they’d seen him with on the street.

“He’s not making himself hard to track down, is he?” Senka commented. “Either he’s still working for his oligarch or he’s settled his account somehow.”

“I think it’s that, the latter.” Silas continued to scroll. “Look how regularly he posts. He doesn’t have time to be working for the oligarch.”

An image flashed by as Silas scrolled. “Wait, go back. Stop! That one.” It was a selfie of Kenny and the young woman taken in what looked like a living room. In the background, hanging on a wall, was a framed poster: the image of Sarah Sommers, at the ready with a sharpened wooden stake. The text announced the air date of season eight, the season that had died with Sarah. “That fucking….” She couldn’t think of a word bad enough to describe him. “Do you think….Silas, he’s using my death, my so-called disappearance, for the pity points.” All the rage she had felt after her death was rekindled.

Silas stared at the photo, his eyes smoldering. “I’d say this answers one of your questions. That girl he’s with doesn’t know what he is.”

“No. He’s white-washed himself.” She sat down next to Silas. “You know, I was actually starting to think of letting him off the hook. If he’d reformed, I mean. If he felt remorse. It just seemed like there’d be no point in doing anything to him if he’d already gone through some kind of reckoning. But he hasn’t changed at all. He doesn’t regret killing me. It’s like he’s bragging about it with that poster.”

“Are you sure you want to wait? Maybe he should be our first priority.”

“No.” Senka shook her head emphatically. “He’ll keep. Harou comes first.”

“If I am ended, you’ll be on your own. I won’t be here to be your second.”

Silas’ use of the dueling term sounded right in Senka’s ears, though she hated the implication of the words. She shook her head as if to dislodge the idea. “Harou comes first,” she said again. “That reminds me.” She closed the laptop to rid them of Kenny’s presence. “When I was at the cemetery earlier, I noticed that one of the graves has a couple of flower vases by the headstone. They each have long spikes on the bottom to hold them in the ground. I think they’d be effective to use as stakes. A little top-heavy, maybe, but convenient; they’re right there.”

“Good. We have our scouts, we have our battle plan, and we have our weapons.” He slapped the table with conviction. “We need to start now, tonight.”

“What?” Senka stood, alarmed. “Now? Are we prepared enough? Shouldn’t we do a few dry runs?”

“We’ll have time to practice our plan. We can use the week or more that it will take for the report to reach Harou.” He rose from the table. “This won’t take long. Ideally, I’ll find a deer in the cemetery rather than having to hunt one up and carry it back there.”

“Just so you know, Ms. Wang thinks you’re very kind to the deer.”

“She’s seen me?”

“Yes, and I warned her that you’ll need to kill some.”

“I wonder if I’ll ever become inured to the idea that I can’t detect the presence of a ghost.”

“For all you know, you’ve been watched by ghosts for the last two hundred years.”

“That’s terribly disconcerting.”

Senka spent the first few minutes after Silas left trying not to think about the deer that was about to lose its life for their plan. She decided to distract herself by seeing if she could find anything that would tell her more about Kenny’s oligarch. She shifted Luna off the laptop where he was lounging (he protested with an undignified squeak), opened it, and googled “Russian oligarchs.” The first page of the seven million results held articles from sources as diverse as Wikipedia, the Washington Post, and the United States government. She tried again, this time including Kenny’s name plus Russian oligarch. Nothing useful. “You can’t google rumors, I guess,” she told Luna.

She shifted her focus to Kenny’s disbarment, typing into the search box, “How to learn if a lawyer has been disbarred.” A memory popped into her head. She and Kenny had been sitting at their kitchen island one morning when a bantering dispute had driven them to Google. She had typed, “When was the movie the Pink Panther made?”

“Oh, my god, babe!” he had said, trying to pretend he wasn’t annoyed. “You don’t need all those words. Google doesn’t care about verbs and articles. Just say, 'Pink Panther.' At the most 'Pink Panther movie.'”

“But I like talking to it like a person,” she had said. “It seems like a conversation then.” He had walked away, abandoning the discussion, and been distant and passive-aggressive for the rest of the day. Why had she not seen such immature behavior as a red flag? I’ll scold myself for that later, she thought. She refocused on the results and saw that it was surprisingly easy to find out if a lawyer had been disciplined and for what reason. She clicked over to the State Bar of California website and searched Kenny’s name. The dark red entry came up immediately: “Disbarred for misappropriating funds, misrepresentations, issuance of non-sufficient funds checks, and other violations.” It added Los Angeles County and the effective date, just over eight months before he had murdered her. “Kenny, you idiot,” she said. “You really made a mess of things.”

Clicking back to the Facebook tab, Senka scrolled a bit further, then opened the search box for his page and typed in the year of her death. She had never paid attention to Kenny’s social media accounts. She was surprised to see her face come up over and over. He had shared every post her production company made. Now and then he had added pictures of the two of them out somewhere, including several from magazines. He’d gone silent for a time after he murdered her, then his posts were about her disappearance and how badly he wanted to find her. She stopped scrolling at one image. It was another selfie, obviously taken at one of Stan and Peter’s rallies. She could make out a tiny figure on a stage in the distance, arms raised, exhorting the crowd. Stanley. What interested her more were the two people directly behind Kenny. One was a man, stocky and thuggish, his square head turned away from the camera, looking at the stage. The other was a woman, her hand hooked in squarehead’s arm. She was looking over Kenny’s shoulder straight into the camera, an enigmatic smile on her face. She was exactly the same build as Sarah Sommers. Same height, same weight, same coloring. She could have easily been hired as Sarah’s body double. Senka would have bet she was the same shoe size. “Is that how you did it?” she whispered to the picture of Kenny. “Is that how you made those footprints?” Someone seeing a woman in a car or at a distance could easily have thought she was Sarah.

She heard Silas come through the back door and closed the laptop. Rather than walking directly to the parlor, he went into the kitchen. She heard water running. When he did come in, he was freshly scrubbed and his sweater was gone. He sat in one of the rockers. She walked around to see his face. “Watson,” he said, “the game’s afoot.” He smiled, and she felt a flutter of excitement mixed with fear.

“Where did you leave it?”

“In the corner near the golf course there’s a wood pile.”

“I’ve seen it.”

“I left it there. I thought it would seem less flamboyant than somewhere more conspicuous.”

“Sounds smart. We have some time until sunrise,” she said. “Let’s go walk the cemetery and decide where this execution is gonna go down.”

Silas smiled. “I read a review of your television show. The reviewer said you were ‘badass.’ I see what she meant.”

The graveyard was uncharacteristically empty when they got there. Senka pointed out Ms. Wang’s and Signore Peluso’s graves, realizing she didn’t know where Bink was buried. She, Silas, and Luna walked up and down the tree-lined alleys that marked the oldest section, taking note of low curbs that demarcated separate plots, of broken cement that could make impromptu weapons, stands of trees that could be used as hiding places, of bushes, and old gravestones covered with lichen and weatherbeaten from a century in sea air. Senka showed Silas the empty vases, spiked on the bottom.

“Let’s practice getting them out of the ground smoothly,” Silas suggested. Senka loosened both of them from the grip of the grass that had grown up around them. She pulled up one, then the other. Easy, she thought. As a final test, she stood several feet away, made a run for a vase, snatched it up, spun, and rammed it into a tree trunk. “I think that could work,” she said as she tugged it out of the tree and put it back in its place.

Senka wanted to practice fading and becoming solid under pressure, so Silas chased her around, through, and over the gravestones, trees, and bushes. There was a delay each time he caught her because he had to celebrate his victory with a kiss that often turned into several more.

Not long before sunrise, she rose up into the treetops and hovered with the fog. “Can you see me?” she called down.

“Not at all. I see nothing but mist. Hold on!” With a speed that startled and alarmed Senka, Silas clambered straight up the trunk of the Monterey Pine in which she was hiding. In seconds he was at her level. “I see you now,” he said.

“How did you do that?” she gasped.

“It’s another vampire talent. Harou will be far faster than I. What would you do if I were he?”

The first thing that came to Senka’s mind was to get out of there as fast as possible, but she challenged herself to come up with other options. “I might be able to go solid, grab a branch, and stake him.”

“You’d never get beyond going solid. He’d knock you out of the tree.”

“I could force him to go higher until the branches wouldn’t support his weight.”

“That might work, though it would only lead to a stalemate, I think. There are occasions when gaining time in a battle is all you can hope for.”

“Yes. It was a pretty standard trick in the show for me to feign injury or defeat and then come back extra strong.”

“I can see the first rays of sunshine from up here. Shall we go back?”

They returned to the ground and called Luna, who was sitting patiently by a gopher hole. He turned and, with tail uplifted, led the way back home.

They spent the day drawing a map of the graveyard and discussing the pros and cons of fighting in each area. They made a list of the tactics they wanted to rehearse during the coming night. At intervals, they’d pause to see if there had been any reports about the deer. The sun had begun its descent when they were rewarded with a brief article on the local television news website.

MOUNTAIN LION ATTACK SUSPECTED

It’s not often that we have mountain lion attacks in the area, but when one is suspected, it’s best to be on the alert. Wildlife specialist Kim Johnson called the station today to report that a deer found near the PG golf links was likely the victim of a mountain lion. “It may have been driven into a populated area due to the drought or to recent wildfires,” Johnson said. “And of course, there’s abundant food for it around here with our large deer population.”

Be on the lookout if you are running or walking near the golf course. Take evasive measures if you see a mountain lion.

“Do you think he’ll even notice something like that?” Senka asked.

“Not the first one, no. But if reports like this continue, he’ll notice.”

“We’ll just have to make sure that reports like that continue.”

Silas nodded. “I’ll kill another one tonight. The hunting practices of vampires and cougars are nothing alike, but humans rarely notice. They don’t allow themselves to imagine the unimaginable. Where, for example, is the lost blood? Why did the cougar kill but not eat? They will develop any number of theories except the correct one.”

“I get that. I was in a show about vampires, and it never crossed my mind they might be real.”

They went back to work planning, considering what Harou might do, practicing what they could in the small space of the keeper’s cottage. When the sun had settled beneath the horizon, Silas stood. “I should have gone shopping for a change of clothes,” he said. “Although, how many blood-soaked articles of clothing can I dispose of before someone starts to wonder? I’ll just have to wash out what I’m wearing.” He turned to Luna. “Are you coming?” The kitten stood, stretched with a thoroughness that seemed unnecessary, and stalked to the door, turning to wait for Silas. “I’ll return soon, then we can go over together and practice techniques.”

Left to herself, Senka worked on rapid transitions from solid to incorporeal. She practiced hovering, plunging to the ground, and somersaulting through the rocking chairs and loveseat. She was beginning to feel confident. After all, she hadn’t broken any of the furniture. She was getting ready to try a more elaborate combination of moves when Bink burst through the roof and landed in a heap in front of her. He was speaking before he had recovered. “Dude! You know that guy you wanted us to keep a lookout for?”

“Harou? The vampire?”

“Yeah, that guy. Well, he’s here. I just saw him on the golf course.”

“What? That’s impossible! He can’t be here already. There’s only been one news report.”

“I don’t know about any reports, but he’s here, dude. I saw him with my own eyes. He’s hella scary-looking. And, Senka, he’s not alone. There’s this other thing? I don’t know what it is. But as soon as it saw Silas, it just attacked him, man.”

I’m going to stop there for tonight. The next part of the story needs to have its own time.

You’re going to stop with Silas being attacked?

Yes. You need to rest.

Will Silas be okay?

The story—

I know, the story tells itself.

Right.

I’m not sure I can go to sleep with Silas in danger like that.

I bet if you close your eyes, you will.

Like when Senka was sad?

Yes.

Senka and Silas were a good team, huh?

Very true.

It helps to go through something scary with someone you care about.

Yes, I think so, too.

I’m glad you’ve been here.

Are you?

Yeah.

Thank you.

Mm-hm.

It’s time to close your eyes and get some sleep.

I know.

Goodnight, little one.

__________

Go to chapter 10