Caleb, Angelina, and Scott stood over the skeletonized corpse of Philip Gyrich. Nobody at Denny's had noticed him and his ptop in his booth before. None of the patrons, and none of the staff of the diner seemed to be curious about what was happening now.

  Heh, Caleb thought. Even in death, Philip knew how not to draw attention. Poor bastard.

  Caleb took out his cellphone and called Pantessa via Signal.

  "Caleb, this is Tessa. What's going on?"

  "Is my mom with you and Stelian?"

  "Yeah, do you want me to put her on the phone?"

  "Put it on speaker. I need to talk to all three of you."

  "Hold on." Pantessa gathered the three of them around the phone in Joshua's house "You're on speaker. Go ahead."

  "Cal, that you?" said Helen.

  "Yeah Mom. Remember when I said, 'Don't come to Vegas because you're in danger?'"

  "Yes?"

  "You're in danger. Elvis-Renfield's killed Philip."

  Helen’s breath caught, her voice trembling. "No, that’s not possible. Philip… he was such a good man. He didn’t deserve this."

  "Cardi is missing too. As is Diane, Scott's friend. He's likely going to come after you next."

  Pantessa and Stelian gasped at that. Helen, though, just got determined. “Well, I didn’t come all this way for the buffets, Cal. What’s next?”

  "Hold on one second. Scott and Angie are here. Scott's a vampire hunter."

  "What?" said Tessa.

  Caleb slow-burned his hand across his face. "Tess, sometimes life as a vampire gets complicated. Sometimes downright convoluted. Hell, maybe even a little contrived. But if you're gonna make it in this world, you're gonna have learn to roll with it."

  Caleb turned to Scott. "You okay with following my lead on this one?"

  “I came here to back my friend in a poker game. Now I’m standing over a skeleton, working with a vampire, and listening to a family crisis unfold in real-time. So no, I am not okay, but fine -- lead the way," said Scott.

  "Angelina?" Caleb asked.

  "I think you've got this, Cal."

  Caleb then went back to the phone. "Mom, you and Pantessa get in a car. Just drive, don't tell me where you're going. Get a hotel two hours before sunrise if you're still on the road, and Tess, you know the bathroom trick, right?"

  "I do," said Pantessa.

  "Alright, Mom drives. Tess, you armed with something? A knife, maybe a tire-iron?"

  Over the phone, Caleb heard the distinctive chk-chk of a pump action shotgun.

  "The more I get to know you, the more I like you, Tess," said Caleb.

  "Same, asshole," said Pantessa.

  "Hold on. If he's going after family members, should I be warning my mom?" asked Stelian, shifting uncomfortably.

  Caleb looked at Angelina and Scott. They shrugged.

  "I don't think so, but better safe than sorry. Call your mom, make sure she gets to safety. But I need you here. Quickly. If Philip saw something in his st moments, I need to know. Time's of the essence. Diane's human, and Cardi's not exactly a powerhouse."

  ***

  Cardi, at that moment, was lugging a woman twice her size down what she presumed to be US-93, hoping that someone would stop and help her. Already several cars had driven by without a second thought. Probably because instead of thinking that Diane was in need of medical attention, they probably thought the unconscious woman slung over the shoulder of the smaller one was a little too drunk.

  Technically, that was the exact case.

  But eventually someone, a middle-aged woman driving a grey Kia Rio, did slow down and pull over. She didn't get out of the car, but she rolled down her window.

  "Do you need me to call 911?"

  "Please," said Cardi. "Diane's anemic. And dehydrated. She needs to get to a hospital. Can you call for an ambunce?"

  "Do you need me to call the police too?"

  "No police. Just an ambunce."

  "Are you sure? It looks like she might have been attacked."

  "She was, but the police can't help her. Please. Just an ambunce?"

  The woman frowned but pulled out her phone. "Alright. I'll call 911."

  "Diane, if you can hear me, you'll be alright. You have to be alright," said Cardi.

  By the time the ambunce arrived, they only found Diane, leaned up against the guardrail, unresponsive.

  "The call said there were two women," said the first medic.

  "I only see the one. Maybe the second one is further down the road?" said the second, helping Diane into a stretcher and loading her into the back of the ambunce.

  Cardi had already snuck onboard, the hum of the engine masking her footfalls, the sharp scent of antiseptic stinging her nose. She pressed herself into the shadows and didn’t dare breathe. Not that she needed to.

  It was killing her not to reach out and hold Diane's hand.

  ***

  Stelian showed up about a half an hour ter, and immediately parked next to Caleb's Camry.

  He got out and immediately froze when he looked at Philip's skeletonized body.

  Caleb waved him over. He headed over to Caleb, Angelina, and... the poker pro from st night? That Scott?

  "Stelian. You know Scott. Turns out, he's a vampire hunter, but... for now, he's on our side," said Caleb.

  "I hope so," said Stelian, carefully eyeing Scott. "He's got a fre gun tucked into his belt!"

  "I didn't do this," said Scott, regret in his voice.

  Left unsaid: He absolutely would have.

  "Shut up, Scott." Angelina was in no mood.

  Stelian kneeled down in front of Philip's body.

  "Is it... Should I?" His voice shook as he motioned to the severed skull.

  "If you can, Stelian. Any information we can get might be valuable."

  "What's he doing?" whispered Scott to Angelina.

  "Seeing if Philip left a message for us," said Angelina.

  Stelian knelt down and picked up Philip's severed skull. "I'm sorry, Philip. But we'll get the bastard soon, I promise." Then he concentrated and focused, parting the veil. Looking at the st moments of life through the first moments of death.

  It was only a glimpse. The mad eyes of Renfield, staring back at him. It shook Stelian so badly, he shivered and nearly dropped the skull, breaking the connection.

  Caleb knelt down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  "Thanks. Yeah. It was Renfield. Dressed as Elvis. Caleb?"

  "Yeah?"

  "There's... something I've been practicing. It's... difficult. I don't know if I can do it. And it's... scary. You have to promise me, you'll shake me out of it if things go wrong."

  "What is it. What have you been practicing?" Caleb asked, concerned.

  "Dark stuff. Don't worry, you'll know when-- if it works. But I don't know... if I can snap out of it easily. It's scary."

  "You're being extremely enigmatic right now, Stelian," Caleb said, raising an eyebrow.

  "And creepy," added Scott.

  "I don't want to give you false hope if it doesn't work. Have you got my back, Caleb?"

  "Always."

  "Me too, Stelian," said Angelina, taking position on Stelian's other shoulder.

  Stelian gulped. "Then here goes nothing."

  Once again, Stelian fixed his eyes on Philip's skull and reached between life and death. But this time, Stelian dared to reach further, extending his soul across the abyss. He pushed further and further beyond the veil... until... suddenly, he found he no longer needed to push, and something was pulling at him.

  A sensation of freezing cold, darkness. Emptiness. He gritted his teeth, and pushed through his fear, extending his soul as far as it would go. Stretching. Reaching. Dangerously far from shore, and caught in the undertow.

  Until finally, something grasped him.

  He hoped it was... well, he hoped it was. And not... something that shouldn't.

  It wasn't explictly in the "guidelines," but "do not call up what you can't put down" was just common sense.

  A storm! A bst of something like wind, a squall of intense lightning.

  And Stelian hung on, quite literally, for dear life… or for whatever life still lingered.

  ---

  "Caleb? Angie?" said Stelian, in a voice that wasn't his. "What happened? Last thing I remember, I think Elvis was sawing my head off."

  "Holy shit," said Angelina. "Philip?"

  "Yeah, who else would I--" Stelian's body looked down at Philip's corpse.

  "Oh. Well, that makes sense," said Philip. "I was wondering how the hell I got out of that one. Turns out I didn't."

  Philip looked over to his friends, using Stelian's arms to bring them into a hug.

  "I'm sorry this happened, Philip," said Caleb. "I got you mixed up in this."

  "Not your fault. But -- just a hunch here, but I don't think we have a lot of time for reunions. You need to know. Something Elvis -- Renfield, I'm guessing -- said to me before he sawed off my head. I think he's still feeding off of your misery, Caleb."

  "What?"

  "He's trying to make you bitter. Trying to drive you... to... just despair, to just give up, to not care about other people. He feeds on cruelty. Specifically he feeds on the cruelty that he and his descendants inflict on other people. He's trying to make you like him. Trying to make you cruel."

  "Philip... I..."

  "It's why he killed me, Caleb. We weren't always bosom buddies, but we've looked out for each other. He wanted to take that away from you. Knock out your support. Reduce you to nothing but a monster. Look, I'm all for you avenging my death, but don't let this make you cruel. Let it make you determined. I know it's a fine line. But you have to walk it, Caleb."

  Philip, in Stelian, then turned to Angelina. "And Angie, since I won't get a chance to say it ter, you've held us all together for so long. And you never got cynical, even in the darkest times. You two are good for each other. You are. Stick together. If you want to win this, stick together."

  "Also, since I literally don't have any other time to say it, I had such a crush on you, Angie."

  "What?" said Angelina, ftly.

  Philip used Stelian's eye to wink.

  And then nothing. Stelian's body went limp. Unresponsive. His eyes rolled back in his head.

  "Philip? Philip? Stelian?" Caleb gently tapped Stelian's body on the cheek. "Come on. Somebody. Somebody in there wake up! Stelian! STELIAN!"

  And just like that, Caleb's heart fell. He had lost not just one, but two of his best friends this ni--

  GASP!!!

  Stelian suddenly sat up, cwing at the air, breathing heavily.

  A collective "AAH!" arose from the three of them. Even Scott jumped a little bit.

  Stelian looked around. The Denny’s parking lot. Vegas. Right where he’d started. And yet, a moment ago, he’d been nowhere at all.

  "Angelina? Caleb?"

  Caleb asked, more a question than anything: "Stelian?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. I, uh... let's never do that again. Never, ever ever. And I mean ever."

  Stelian shivered, still feeling the effects of the... whatever it was... chilling his body. Caleb and Angie took the cue, and held him tightly. Whatever had just happened, it was over. He was with his friends now.

  "Not right away," said Scott. "But soon. Someone please expin to me what the fuck just happened."

  Stelian looked up at Scott. "I'm a vampire, Scott. Half living, half dead. And... I think... my thing? I'm just a bit... flexible with those percentages. I think I just went 99% dead. And I'm 100% never doing that again."

  Stelian shivered. "Help me up? God... I wish I could drink coffee right now."

  Caleb looked at the Eye of Strigoi.

  "That... might be doable," he said.

  ***

  "One Berry-Stuffed French Toast," said the waitress, "with diet coke. One Bourbon Chicken Skillet, extra-extra garlic--," she said, giving Caleb the side eye, "--with sweet tea, one sirloin steak and eggs with unsweet tea, and one Moons Over My Hammy with coffee, bring sugar and cream. That all?"

  "Yeah," said Caleb. Then pointed at Scott. "And he gets the check."

  "What?" said Scott.

  Caleb shifted in his seat, squirming. The heavy, plodding feeling that was so alien to him was still strange, but when it was no longer a life-or-death situation, it was much more bearable. "Scott," he said. "You're a multi-millionaire poker pro. Stelian lives with his mom, I squat in an abandoned industrial park, and Angelina lives in a storage locker. You're picking up the check. Also, you tried to kill me."

  "I only threatened to kill you," said Scott.

  "I'm talking about st night," said Caleb.

  Scott hesitated. Then, "You're still not over that?"

  "Wait, what? Scott tried to kill you st night?" said Angelina. "Why didn't I get a bat-signal?"

  "Bat-signal?" asked Scott.

  "Same reason, if I'm right, we're going to sit down and eat a nice meal."

  "Shouldn't we be out looking for Diane?" Scott pushed.

  "And Cardi," added Angelina.

  "And Cardi," acknowledged Scott.

  "Do you have any idea where to look?" asked Caleb.

  Scott just looked away, a tacit admission he didn't.

  Stelian, for what it was worth, was rapidly starting to feel better. If the dip into the deep end of the deadpool had hurled him further away from life, the Eye's humanizing effects helped bance that out. His hands were still shaking a little. Enough that Angelina had to help him with the sugar and cream when it came.

  Stelian felt the warmth in his fingertips as he held the cup. He blew on it, feeling the air leave his lungs.

  He hesitated. He wasn't entirely sure he remembered how to sip coffee. But, when he finally did, it warmed him. Not in the same way as live blood. Not nearly the same. Not nearly as good. But still good. He felt the little jolt in his heart from the caffeine. It was... nostalgic. Like a memory he could literally taste.

  "I still don't understand why I have to pick up the check," Scott compined, folding his arms. "And did you have to order the bourbon chicken?"

  "C'mon, Scott. For you, this is dinner. For us, this is the first real meal we've had in decades."

  "If it works."

  "Admittedly, yes, if it works."

  "You said the Eye was made by Dracu and Romanian Scientologists?" said Scott.

  "They're not actually Scientologists. I just couldn't remember the name. Samanca, I think? Like the guy in Breaking Bad."

  "Do you mean the ?oloman???" Scott asked. "That's just a myth. A fairy tale. Like Dracu, for that matter."

  "We've met, actually," Stelian said, slowly coming out of his funk. "Nice guy. Funny. You wouldn’t expect him to be funny, but he was."

  Angelina raised an eyebrow. "It’s weird that you just know random bits of Romanian folklore."

  "Yeah, well, I also literally wrote the book on how to py deuce-to-seven," Scott said. "I've got a lot of interests."

  The waitress finally brought over the food, and Caleb took it as a good sign that he wasn’t immediately gagging from the garlic powder it was covered in. In fact, it smelled… nice. It smelled like… food.

  Food hadn’t smelled like food in years. It usually smelled like-- well, like the food your food eats, to borrow Nick Offerman’s take on sads.

  He took a tentative bite. And suddenly, the familiar, overwhelming fvor of a warm meal seasoned within an inch of its life with the one magical pnt that made everything taste just that much better hit him all at once.

  A little moan slipped out.

  "So good. Angelina, Stelian, you have to try this."

  By this time, everyone was in their own ptes, with plenty of swapping back and forth between the vampires.

  Scott's phone rang while they were eating.

  "This is Scott Lupescu," he said.

  "Scott?" It was Diane's voice.

  "Diane!" Scott shot to his feet so fast he bumped the table. The whole group fell silent. "Where are you?"

  "I’m okay. I’m in the hospital. Dignity Health North Campus. Scott, I could tell you what happened to me, but there’s no way you’d believe me."

  "You were kidnapped by Elvis, who was actually a vampire in disguise?"

  A pause.

  "That’s a hell of a guess, Scott. Wow. Yeah. Spot on. And you remember the cute lesbian I was flirting with st night?"

  Scott clenched his jaw. "I remember. Did she hurt you?"

  "Well. Yes and no. She did bite me and take a little too much, but she also broke me out of whatever prison that was and then carried me on her back down the road until I could get an ambunce. So... she endangered my life once, but saved it twice? So, two out of three isn’t bad?"

  "Tell Caleb I’m sorry and I should’ve listened to him," Cardi called in the background.

  Scott stiffened. "Is that her?"

  "Yeah. Cardi."

  "The one with the alpaca?" asked Scott.

  "Not anymore," said Cardi, and looked down at her feet.

  Scott sat back down.

  "You're safe? No more vampires after you?"

  "I’m safe. Cardi’s safe. Only thing I’m worried about is the medical bill. I’m so gd I got insurance for this trip. God, how do Americans live like this?"

  "I don’t know," Cardi said, taking Diane’s rhetorical question literally. "I mean, I don’t."

  Scott exhaled. "Right. Well. I’m just gd you’re safe. We’ll come by as soon as we can."

  "We? Who's 'we', Scott?"

  "Angelina from the tournament and a couple of her friends. Didn't want to get you involved in this but it looks like you are anyway, so I'll have them expin. Probably better than I can."

  Angelina motioned to Scott, indicating that she wanted to talk.

  "Hold on, Diane. Angelina wants to say something."

  Scott handed Angelina the phone.

  "Diane! I'm so sorry you got involved in this mess. Um, so, you know about... the... the big secret, hunh?"

  "Yeah. Cardi had to tell me in order to break us out."

  "Is Cardi there?"

  "Yeah."

  "Put her on please?"

  "Sure."

  Diane handed the phone to Cardi. "Hey," she said, guiltily.

  "Cardi, you okay?"

  "Not really, I lost my alpaca," she said.

  "But you're unhurt otherwise?"

  "So far as I know," said Cardi.

  "I'm going to call up Trey and Jack. You want them to pick you up, take you back to South Point?"

  "Sure, but, I think I should stay with Diane until Scott gets here. She's been through a lot."

  "Alright. I have to give the phone back to Scott. You can put Diana on the phone, okay?"

  "Okay."

  Cardi handed the phone back to Diana, and Angelina handed the phone back to Scott.

  "Diana, again... I'll see if there's an early flight I can book you on for Toronto. I'm sorry all this happened."

  "Not your fault, Scott. Detained by immigration? That was the risk I was worried about. I should have realized the real threat was Elvis impersonators."

  "Stay safe, okay?" said Scott.

  "I will. Elbows up."

  "Elbows up."

  Scott hung up the phone.

  Caleb sighed. "Human food was fun while it sted," he said, looking at his half-finished chicken dinner. He felt full. A desire he had long since forgotten he ever had was now satiated.

  He took a long, slow lingering gnce at the booth where Philip usually sat.

  "We should get going," he finally said.

  ***

  Pantessa was looking around the highway, nervously. Okay, yes, brave independent woman who-don't-need-no-man, but at first she was following Caleb around, and then she was with Angelina, who was guiding her around, and then she was with Stelian, and like any new love, they were pretty much inseparable.

  This was the first time she was the only vampire on the scene. And Caleb had trusted her to keep his mother safe.

  It’s easy to follow people around, she thought. Being in charge of someone's safety? Not so much.

  She was hoping she could have kept the training fangs on a little while longer.

  At least she had Joshua's shotgun. She had decided the night that Dracu attacked (what a 'wacky misunderstanding') that she was going to be a gun vampire. She didn't know if "gun vampire" was even a thing outside of that "Hellsing" anime. But she had to agree with it on one point: "bitches love cannons."

  (She had watched the abridged version.)

  "So," she asked Helen. "Where exactly are we going?"

  "Don't know. Los Angeles, I think."

  "Los Angeles?"

  "You'll love it. Venice Beach, especially. Michael and I used to vacation there and watch the sun come-- oh. Sorry."

  "It's okay. I'm still new. I don't really miss the sun yet," said Pantessa. She frowned, brow furrowed.

  Are you already lying to yourself, 'Pantessa?' You'll make a good vampire after all.

  "Ugh," she said. "Stupid intrusive thoughts."

  "Still. I'm sorry," said Helen. "Maybe we should take a break. You drive, I man the shotgun?"

  "Do you think that's a good idea?" she said, looking at the dark expanse of highway. "We shouldn't stop here. This is--"

  No, Tessa. Don't say it.

  "--bat country."

  There was a terrible thud coming from the roof overhead, and the car shook. Dead silence as the two hoped it was just nothing.

  Let's not kid ourselves, Tess.

  A scraping of rhinestone and cws on gss as Renfield, still in his Elvis suit, cwed at the windshield.

  Helen smmed her foot on the accelerator.

  "Oh, for God's sake," she muttered, trying to shake the elder vampire off.

  Pantessa whipped around with the shotgun, eyes wide. She didn't know if she'd hit him or just make the situation worse. A bst rang out. A headshot. Luck, she thought. Blood, gss, and sideburns flew everywhere.

  Two heavy bumps. Mrs. Trent mentally calcuted the cost of the windshield, praying she hadn’t just totaled the car. The radiator better be intact... right? She'd never hear the end of it from Michael if she ruined the damn thing.

  "Go! Go! Go!" as Pantessa uttered the three most unnecessary words ever spoken. Helen was flooring it.

  On the highway, Renfield shook the cobwebs... and some literal buckshot... out of his head, and started taking off in pursuit. On foot at first, Renfield gained on them with supernatural speed, his feet pounding against the asphalt. Then, with a violent burst, he shot into the air -- a blur of motion that somehow made him look even more monstrous than before.

  Pantessa looked into the side rearview mirror. Despite Helen's car hitting top speed, he was still gaining on them.

  And the little message written on the mirror was ominous: Objects In Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear.

  Despite everything, Renfield had pulled alongside of them. Renfield’s cws dug into the window frame, pulling the gss free as if it were paper. His fingers curled toward Helen, and she could feel the raw power of his grip, the force enough to rip the car apart.

  This was it, thought Helen. She was done for.

  And then came the sizzling of meat, the unmistakable smell of burning flesh. Renfield yanked his hand away with a scream, smoke rising from his palm. And there, embedded in the burn-- the shape of Helen’s crucifix. The one she wore around her neck.

  Thinking quickly, Helen wrenched the wheel right, smming into Renfield. He spiraled back, a blur furiously cwing at the air.

  Pantessa felt something twist inside her-- relief, maybe? Or just the shock of seeing Renfield finally recoil? They might survive this. Maybe.

  “That’s right, you little shit!" yelled Helen. "I’ve dealt with menopause mood swings that could tear you apart!”

  "Give me your crucifix!" said Pantessa.

  Helen quickly took it off and Pantessa wrapped the chain around her fist, letting the cross itself dangle over her knuckles.

  Once again, a thud on the roof. But this time, Pantessa was ready for the son of a bitch, pulled back, and punched Renfield right in the jaw. A searing brand mark burned into his chin. She grabbed Renfield by his oversized Elvis colr, nding another blow, before Helen rapidly swerved off the highway and Pantessa lost her grip.

  A sickening SCREECH as Renfield tried to hold onto the car by digging his cws across the side, but eventually was shaken off.

  An odd sense of surrealistic existentialism washed over Pantessa as she realized that she just punched an evil, ancient vampire in the face with a cross, and that somehow, this was her life now.

  A week ago, her greatest ambition was to be a bckjack dealer.

  "Helen, what was that?"

  "Look," Helen said, pointing to a small church up ahead. She headed for it, hitting the brakes hard, skidding to a stop right in front of the church steps. They scrambled out of the car, Pantessa taking off at full speed, only to look back behind her and see that 'running' was not exactly one of the 78-year-old Helen's best skills, and that 'charging at them like a demon straight from hell' was absolutely one of Renfield's.

  Without thinking, she scooped up Mrs. Trent and barreled into the church doors.

  Renfield's cws raked across Pantessa’s back, the sharp sting of them just barely grazing her skin... but once again, the smell of burning flesh, and a howl of pain from Renfield.

  They had crossed the threshold of the church. Helen was out of breath, Pantessa holding onto her and the shotgun for dear life. Though her hands shook, she aimed the gun once more at Renfield, who was pacing furiously, gring at them.

  "Want another rhinopsty?" said Pantessa. Her voice was shaking, but still determined, a she leveled the shotgun up to Renfield's face.

  Renfield hissed.

  Helen gave him the finger. "Suck my seventy eight year old dick!"

  He flew off.

  Pantessa lowered the shotgun with a deep breath, feeling the tension leave her body.

  "I would be proud to call you my grandma," she said.

  "C'mere," she said, and brought Pantessa in for a hug.

  "I think we got very lucky," said Pantessa.

  And then, a noise behind them.

  "Uhh..."

  A priest, dressed in full vestments, was staring at them.

  Dead silence for a long moment... then finally, Helen broke it.

  "Do you have time to take a couple of confessions, father?"

  The priest looked at the two of them. Like a small child, Pantessa tried to hide the shotgun behind her back, long after the priest had seen it.

  "I have the feeling that these are the sort of confessions that will require me to have a stiff drink," he said.

  ***

  "You’re both alive, right?" Caleb asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.

  "We're okay, Cal," said Helen. "But it was close. You should be proud of your kid. She handed that Elvis impersonator a full-blown Hunka-Hunka-Burning-Whoop-Ass."

  "Caleb?" said Pantessa. "Did you hear from Cardi?"

  "Cardi is okay. She's safe. So's Diane."

  Helen and Pantessa were relieved.

  Caleb’s stomach twisted, the remnants of the garlic-covered Denny’s chicken churning uncomfortably. He hoped it was just bad food, not a sign of the dread creeping up his spine.

  "Mom, I love you. And I know you love me. But you're a target here in Vegas. Stay in that church until morning. Then rent a car, and get back to Reno. Tessa, I'll send someone to pick you up. Probably Tom."

  "Sure, Caleb. I nearly died once tonight, what's another life-threatening road trip?"

  "That's the spirit," said Caleb, cheerfully.

  "What do you need me to do?" asked a voice Caleb was unfamiliar with.

  "Who the hell is that?" said Caleb.

  "Father Galgher," said Helen.

  "Ah, Father Galgher,” Caleb said, with a tone that suggested he’d just learned that his favorite coffee shop had run out of soy milk. "Father?"

  "Yes, my son?"

  "How much did my mom and my... daughter... expin to you about what's going on?"

  "Just the basics. Chased by a demon who takes the form of Elvis Presley for some reason."

  Well, so long as the v-word didn't come up, Caleb thought.

  "Right. Father, I think the best way you can help is by arming my family with whatever religious accoutrements you can spare, and then forgetting this whole thing ever happened."

  "I was hoping you'd say that. The 'forgetting the whole thing ever happened' part, specifically," said the priest.

  "You're doing the Lord's work, padre."

  "Yes," he said. "That is literally my job description."

  Caleb hung up the phone, and looked around Scott's hotel suite. Everyone was there who wasn't either in the hospital or holed up in a church. Scott had, after some convincing, let them in, using it as a new base of operations -- obviously they weren't going to return to Little White Lie.

  In a moment of irritation, Caleb realized the sadistic irony that Renfield would make his haven there, of all pces, in a deconsecrated church, pretending to be everyone's friend, with a bullshit backstory about redemption. And he had the gall to name it "Little White Lie."

  "I need to talk with you all," he said to the room. "One on one. Because Renfield is pying us like a fiddle. I’m done reacting. I'm done pying his game."

  Caleb sighed.

  "I’ve got a pn," Caleb said, the weight of his words settling into the room. "Tomorrow night, one way or another, this ends. Either Renfield dies... or I do. There’s no other py to make," Caleb said, his eyes darkened with resolve. "I’m putting it all on the line. It’s him or me. I’m not walking away from this."

  He looked sorrowfully at Angelina.

  "And if it's me, I want to make sure I say goodbye to you all properly."

  Angelina’s chest tightened, a cold knot in her stomach. She knew him too well -- could read him better than any man, alive or dead. The long years between them, the endless cycles of push and pull, had given her an uncanny sense of Caleb’s resolve. He was about to make a move that could kill him. And there was no doubt in her mind.

  He wasn’t bluffing.