"I just got off the phone with Dad. He... understands what's at stake. He's in. So is Joshua. So now, it's just you, Scott."

  Scott and Caleb were speaking one-on-one in the bedroom of a very expensive penthouse suite that he had rented just for the Venetian DeepStack Extravaganza series, which, at least for the night, turned into vampire HQ.

  Scott poured himself a drink from the minibar. Which was saying something.

  Scott didn’t drink. Ever. Not even beer.

  Tonight, he needed a drink.

  He swirled the whiskey in the gss, stared at it for a second too long, then knocked it back with a grimace.

  "What you're asking me to do, Caleb, is murder."

  Caleb raised an eyebrow. "Yes. You suddenly have a problem with that now?"

  "What?"

  "I don't see the difference," said Caleb, "to what you said to me that night up on the roof when you were pointing a stake at my heart. 'It's really a kindness,' you said. 'You're saving the lives of everyone I'd go on to kill,' you said. Even back then I was telling you it was fwless logic. You're just making the hard decision to pull the lever on the trolley problem. One vampire dies, many humans live. Well, now, there are human beings on both tracks. A couple of humans die. Generations of humans live."

  "I don't kill people!" he said. "I hunt vampires."

  "Oh," said Caleb. "So... that's really what makes the difference, no? We're not people."

  Scott smmed the empty gss down on the counter.

  "No!" he said. And then after a pause. "Maybe. I don't know."

  "Oh, Scott," said Caleb. "Yeah, yeah, it does, doesn't it? Or it did. But it's harder now. It's harder to pull that lever when the people on the tracks have faces you recognize. It's harder now that you've met with us. Talked to us. Shared a meal with us. Saw us at our bravest -- I still can't believe Cardi of all people was the one to save Diane -- and our lowest points. Heard our woes, cheered with us, ughed at our jokes. You've even seen us mourn. You can't go back to seeing us as monsters, now, can you? Not... not without lying to yourself. Not without losing the very humanity that you think separates you from us."

  Scott slumped into one of the chairs, head in his hands. His chest felt tight. His pulse hammered in his ears. Because it was true.

  In the past 24 hours, everything had changed. He’d broken bread with his mortal enemy. And now, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t unsee it -- the grief in their eyes, the stubborn streak of hope, the way they clung to each other like family.

  Vampires were dangerous. That hadn’t changed.

  But he had.

  Vampires weren’t just monsters. And he could no longer deny their -- forgive the word -- humanity.

  Caleb came over and pced a hand on Scott's shoulder.

  "If I thought it would be easy for you, I wouldn't trust you to be the one to do it," said Caleb. "Because you're not a remorseless killer, Scott."

  "Neither are you," Scott finally admitted. "Would be so much easier if either of us were."

  "Well, at least one thing is easy. Renfield is a remorseless killer, Scott. And that's why he has to be stopped. Even at... this high a cost."

  "You know, this pn of yours. It's suicidal. Literally suicidal."

  "I know."

  "Have you thought about seeing a therapist?" asked Scott.

  There was a long pause. Then Caleb let out a small, startled snort. And then he broke, doubling over, wheezing with ughter, bracing himself against the minibar like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

  ---

  Caleb invited Stelian in next.

  For them, no words needed to be said at first. Caleb just grabbed the little shiny goober and pulled him into a bear hug.

  "Look, I may not have a whole lot of time to give big brotherly advice, but, you and Tessa. Hold onto that. Retionships are hard and complicated, but it's worth it. And... if I don't make it through this... Tessa's going to need a lot of support. She won't have her sire to show her the ropes. Angelina will help, you know that, but..."

  Caleb shook his head. There was just too much. Too much to say, too little time to say it, his thoughts a jumbled mess of priorities.

  "Right. You're a good man, Stelian." Caleb gave him a sad smile, patting his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

  "Caleb. You're scaring me," said Stelian. "And I have literally looked Death in the eye tonight."

  "Also, I might be into you," Caleb blurted, barely registering what Stelian said. "I didn't want to admit it, even to myself, but the new haircut clinches it. You are one sexy creature of the night. Angelina even joked about starting a polycule with you and Tessa and, I was like... really? But then I was like... hmm... reallyyyy?"

  "You... really like the haircut?" said Stelian. He ran his hand through his hair, taking the opportunity to check it in the mirror behind the minibar.

  "It's really good," said Caleb. "Don't... don't tell Tessa I was telling her boyfriend how sexy he is though. I don't know how she'd take it."

  "What about Angelina?"

  "I think Angelina knows," said Caleb. "Now, for your part in the pn tomorrow night..."

  ---

  "Cardi. Jack. Trey." said Caleb, nodding. "Just... I know you are known as the Counts von Count, but is it possible you... miscounted? You seem to have brought one more with you."

  Diane waved from the chair.

  "Cardi didn't want to leave her alone at the hospital, but she was ready for discharge, so... we thought we'd bring them both here."

  "Diane... you're... cool with all this?"

  "Oh yeah. I can get cool with heavy stuff real fast, I've learned," said Diane, winking at Cardi. "Apparently, I taste like maple syrup, eh?"

  Cardi stuck her tongue out at Diane, and gave her a thumbs up.

  "Right. Right. I'll be right back."

  Caleb peeked his head into the main room. "Scott, can I bother you for some nail clippers and two pstic baggies? And Stelian?"

  "Yeah, Caleb?" he asked.

  "Need your nails again."

  "What are you pnning, Caleb?" asked Pantessa, who had since arrived with Tom.

  "Something stupid," said Caleb.

  "That tracks," said Pantessa.

  Caleb clipped his nails into pstic bag number one, then passed the clipper to Stelian to bag number two. When Stelian was finished, he wrote his and Stelian's names on the bags.

  "Right. Need this for the bit with the Counts," said Caleb. "Be right back."

  He walked back into the bedroom.

  ---

  A few moments ter, the Counts, and Diane, who, luckily enough, had a day job as an electrical engineer, were in heated discussion over the feasibility of Caleb's pn. Already the mirror behind the minibar was marked up with math and physics equations.

  "Let's just forget about security for a moment, eh?" said Diane. "Let's assume that we somehow pull off some weird trick or something. There is a small army of vampires in the other room, someone's got to have something that'll help get us into pce. Let's focus on the science."

  "But that's just it," said Trey. "It wouldn't work. They're low pressure gas discharge tubes, the whole way," said Trey.

  "Maybe not," said Jack. "I mean, what if it's an older system, running on mercury vapor instead? That could be rigged up."

  "Even if that was the case, the phosphorous coating on them would prevent leakage" said Trey. "You'd have to find a way to strip the coating. We’d need a proper b, a bunch of protective gear, and a permit from the government to pull this off, and we're definitely not doing this during daylight hours."

  Diane thought for a moment. "What about a controlled electrical surge? Overload the system, causing the phosphor to burn out or break down, while leaving the gas inside intact? I mean, it's theoretically possible."

  "Okay, so, maybe," said Jack. "But now we're back to the security question we'd need to install some sort of trigger into the main system and--"

  Cardi tugged on Diane's shirt sleeve to get her attention. Diane had almost forgotten Cardi was there.

  "Okay," said Diane. "Forgot about that. I should put a colr and a bell on you."

  Cardi grinned from ear to ear. She seemed to like that idea way too much.

  Caleb peered at the group, still processing the wild-eyed suggestions and the scribbles of numbers on the mirror. His mouth opened as if to speak, then closed again, as the weight of their pn settled in. He couldn’t even pretend to understand half of it. Not the math, not the physics, not the 'controlled surge.'

  "I... okay, I'm not following any of this, but theoretically, there's a chance you can do this?"

  "I mean, maybe, Caleb," said Trey. "Maybe a... I don't know, 33% chance?"

  "Probably closer to 20%," said Jack, "given all the things that could go wrong."

  When it came to numbers, the Counts had never let him down before, but this was different. This pn felt... shaky. And yet, he knew better than to doubt them. They’d made it this far, and maybe -- just maybe -- this st gamble would work. The alternative wasn’t great.

  "If this doesn't work, what could go wrong? What's the worst case scenario?" asked Caleb.

  "Well, the worst case scenario," said Trey, "is that the entire thing is triggered too early."

  "Not if our math is right," said Jack.

  "What happens if your math is wrong?" asked Caleb.

  "Well, the good news is, if our math is wrong, you won't be around long enough to yell at us about it," said Trey.

  Caleb looked at the team. He trusted them, but for some reason he was reminded of the cartoons where a clever pn and all the Acme products in the world just amounted to nothing but a regretful, soot-covered Coyote.

  "Just give it your best effort. I'm just going to trust the four of you have this covered," said Caleb.

  ---

  "Well, I don't know if I'm much of a fighter," said Thomas.

  The man Caleb knew as "Mad Tom" was absolutely a fighter. Fist, sword, or if need be, pistols, Mad Tom would always be ready to throw down to protect the things he treasured, and when he fought, he fought with his whole heart.

  The problem was that Caleb was speaking to Thomas Melton, who carefully drove Pantessa to the meeting after picking her up from the church. Gone was the silly accent, the outndish clothing. In their pce stood a man weighed down by a deep sadness.

  "I don't think any of us are," said Caleb, "until the time comes that we have to be. I'm sorry Thomas. I know you've just had a mental breakthrough of some kind... and I know how important it is for you to work through it. You're fighting so hard to stick to reality in a very, very serious moment."

  "And it's tough, Caleb. But... after what happened with Philip, and what almost happened with Cardi... Cardi's a sweetheart, how could anyone want to hurt her?" Thomas said.

  "I know. But Thomas. Serious times don't always require us to abandon the things that make us happy. They don't require us to sacrifice our sense of... hope, joy, and wonder. Don't get me wrong. Mad Tom is a lot. But he lives life with gusto, and he's the kind of man who would give his friends the shirt off his back when they needed it."

  Thomas gave a sad little half-smile. "He's a character, all right."

  "Thomas. He's you. All the good things about him came from you. That is you. You can be Thomas Melton and still feel the sad things about this world, and be Mad Tom and celebrate the good ones. And it's Mad Tom that I need to help me take down Renfield."

  "Why?"

  "Because there isn't anyone in Vegas better with a cutss. And if you get the opportunity, I want you to slice open Renfield from bow to stern and up through the mizzenmast."

  Mad Tom smiled at Caleb.

  "Aye, mate. That be a task fit for me bde."

  "Right. So, this is going to take some time. Grab your cutss. polish it to a high sheen, then go with Scott - he knows a pce. Leave it there for the entire day, and pick it up first thing after sundown. You and Tessa are my big guns."

  ---

  "Wait," said Pantessa. "I'm one of your big guns?"

  "You're the only one of us to actually hurt Renfield," said Caleb.

  "Okay, but that was like, a technicality. I got lucky," said Pantessa.

  "Then you're in the right city," said Caleb. "And I think I got lucky when I ended up with you as my childe. You're a natural at the whole vampire thing."

  "Is that a compliment?" said Pantessa. "It doesn't necessarily sound like a compliment."

  "Yeah, it is. Because you know what? You don't half-ass anything. I asked you to help me take revenge against your killer, and you fucking shot him in the face. God, I wish I could have seen that."

  "I'm just... some girl."

  "Bullshit. You’re the one I chose to protect what was most precious to me. You're the girl who was told had a month to live, and you said: 'Fuck that! I'm gonna survive!' A week ago you were a bckjack dealer--"

  "--student bckjack dealer--"

  "--student bckjack dealer,” Caleb conceded, then pressed on. “Who went through every woman’s worst nightmare. You fought to live, even when it was hopeless. You died. And you came back. Now look at you -- death on two legs. Femme fatale. Queen of the night. Scion of Dracu. And any man who tries to hurt you again is going to find out what the ass-end of hell looks like."

  Pantessa studied Caleb, thinking about that.

  "You know, you're very convincing, Caleb."

  "I was going to be a wyer," said Caleb. "Always did know how to sell an argument."

  "Fine. But if I'm doing this, I’m getting myself an all-bck leather catsuit. You want me to be Selene from Underworld, I'm gonna fucking look the part."

  Caleb blinked. "I mean, I wasn't gonna say it, but now that you mention it--"

  "Really, Caleb?" she said, disapproving, hands on her hips. "Really?"

  "I mean, I think that can be arranged, and anything that boosts your confidence tomorrow night is worth the expense. Dracu gave you an allowance." Caleb looked to the left and right, conspiratorially. "Don't let Scott know. I'm trying to get him to pay for as much as possible."

  Pantessa squinted at him.

  "What? It's a totally reasonable grudge."

  "Mum's the word," said Tessa. "Hey, I just thought of something. Do you know where I can get shotgun ammo manually reloaded?"

  Caleb raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure someone knows. Maybe ask around? I trust you. Just promise me something."

  "What?"

  "When you get the suit. Make sure Stelian sees it. All of us have dangerous jobs tomorrow night, but his is particurly dangerous. I figure if he sees you in skin-tight leather, he might have a bit more to live for."

  She shook her head. "Fucking men."

  ---

  "I told you, I'm in on the pn, Caleb. Why are you calling me again?" said Joshua.

  Caleb sighed. "I don't know. Making sure. Last minute butterflies. Apologizing to you again for even asking you to consider this?"

  "I killed three innocent women. Four if you count Tessa."

  "She absolutely counts herself, so yeah, four."

  "If Renfield finds a way to control me again... who knows how many people will die? I've made my peace with what needs to be done, Caleb."

  "Look, Dad... dad's in his early 80s. He's... had a long life. You're young, Joshua. What are you, mid twenties?"

  "Mid to te twenties, yeah. But my victims were younger."

  "They weren't your victims, Joshua, they were Renfield's."

  "Caleb, you were controlled by him once. Do you really feel like they weren't your victims?"

  Caleb didn't have an answer for that.

  "The only way I can live with the knowledge of what I did, or what I was made to do, is to know for certain that it will never happen again." Joshua took a deep, mournful sigh. "Not to me, not to anyone. Like I said. I'm in on the pn."

  "I'm sorry, Joshua."

  "Don't be sorry. Get the bastard. Look, maybe there's something -- whenever he'd go into battle, Dracu said that he always listened to the same song. Kinda his theme song. Got him psyched up."

  "Oh? Which song?"

  "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. His tastes run a little old-school."

  "Of course."

  "You should have a theme song, Caleb. Think about it."

  "Hunh. I can't think of one right now. But I can think of one for someone else..."

  ---

  "There isn't any chance I could talk you out of this, is there?" Angelina murmured, her head resting against Caleb's shoulder.

  Caleb exhaled. "Angelina. Absolutely. You could. You’re maybe the only one in the world who could. I’m asking you not to. You know what’s at stake. And sometimes, it’s worth gambling it all to win the game."

  "In a poker tournament, Cal!" Angelina lifted her head, eyes sharp. "Jesus."

  "Tomorrow, you’ve got the hardest job of them all," Caleb said. "You’re the only one who can hold the team together, make sure they’re all working in concert."

  "It’s a bad pn, Caleb. A rotten pn. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad pn."

  "I know."

  "And I hate the idea of losing you."

  "I’m not too crazy about it myself." A small, sad smile. "And yeah. The timing sucks."

  "Yeah. The timing sucks."

  A silence stretched between them -- heavy, unsaid things settling in the space where words failed.

  Then Caleb squeezed her hand. "C’mon. There’s one st thing I need you to do with me."

  He led her to the penthouse’s entertainment center.

  "What was that MP3 pyer app called again? Spoofy?"

  Angelina blinked. "Do you mean Spotify?"

  "That’s the one. Right."

  He made a selection. The opening piano notes of Billy Joel's "New York State of Mind" filled the room.

  He turned to her, offering a hand.

  "Angelina Lay Nuit. Would you do me the honor of a dance?"

  She exhaled, something breaking behind her eyes, but she nodded.

  "Of course, Caleb Tryst. Always."

  ***

  That night, just after sunrise, Caleb snuck out of Angelina's bed, kissed her on the cheek, careful not to wake her, tiptoed out of the storage locker, and met Scott in the hallway.

  "Big day today," said Scott. "You sure you're ready for this?"

  "No. But I've had some time to think. Maybe I'm not ready for this. But Renfield sure as hell isn't ready for what's about to hit him."

  "Right," said Scott. He took off his neckce with the Eye of Strigoi, and pced it around Caleb's neck, saying some words in Romanian.

  Caleb immediately started recognizing that heavy, earthy feeling, that alien beating in his chest of his heart, the adrenaline and cortisol spike that came with being a human being under stress...

  "That's it?" asked Caleb.

  "That's it," said Scott. "We've got twelve hours to work with that Renfield doesn't. Let's make the most of them."

  "Right," said Caleb. He stepped forward, and then Scott opened the door for Caleb.

  Panic! Fear! Danger!

  Caleb immediately jumped back, tried to cover himself as best he could with his denim jacket, hissing in absolute terror.

  "Sorry," said Scott. "Probably should have... eased you into that a bit more." He reached a hand down to the cowering Caleb.

  Caleb, who looked at Scott, rim-lit by sunlight -- sunlight! -- and finally started to realise that he was fine, he had the Eye of Strigoi and it was protecting him.

  "C'mon, Caleb," said Scott, still holding out his hand, waiting for Caleb to take it. "Carpe Diem."

  Caleb took the vampire hunter's hand, a vampire hunter, he noted, who knew exactly what phrase would drop the protection of the eye and fry him to a crisp. He put his life in Scott's hands, and Scott, thankfully, didn't disappoint. So he grabbed Scott's hand and let Scott help him up.

  He then stepped out of the doorway, directly into the new dawn's sunlight.

  "I forgot how different Las Vegas looks during the day," said Caleb. "I might have romanticized it in my memories. Brown. Dry. Barren. Vampires aren’t the only things that shrivel in too much sunlight, huh?"

  "It's not all bad," said Scott. "And it's a dry heat."

  Caleb hopped into the passenger seat of Scott's car, while Scott got in the driver's side.

  "I can't believe that a multi-millionaire poker-pro living the high-roller life in Las Vegas and a double-life as a vampire hunter drives a Volkswagon Golf. Does this have an MP3 pyer with the Spotify thing?"

  "Yes, I have Spotify."

  "There's a song I kinda need to hear. To psych me up. One of my favorites, actually."

  "Just tell the computer what you want to hear," said Caleb, pressing a button on the steering wheel. A friendly chime came from the car speakers.

  "Hello, computer."

  "Pying 'I Love My Computer' by Bad Religion," said the car.

  "No, no, that's not the song..."

  Scott intervened, stopping the pyback. "Maybe you just tell me what song you want to hear, and let me handle the tech bits?"

  "Smashing Pumpkins. 'Ava Adore', from 1998."

  Scott sighed, and told the computer to py it. "That is such a vampire song," he sighed.

  "I'm thinking about making it my theme song, actually," said Caleb, half-smiling.

  "Mine's 'Ahead by a Century.' By the Tragically Hip."

  "You are so Canadian," Caleb ughed.

  "So, where to first?" asked Scott.

  "Anywhere that serves coffee to go. Gonna be a long day, and I didn't get a lot of sleep st night." Caleb winced with some realization. "And, uh... has a restroom. I'm not sure, but I think I need to use one."

  "Please tell me you remember how," said Scott. "I draw the line at potty training."

  "I hope it's like riding a bike. Once you learn, you never forget."

  ***

  The first stop -- after Starbucks -- was U-Haul. They needed the room the moving van provided, because the next stop was to raid Home Depot, where they bought the store's whole supply of portable work mps, several styrofoam boards, some maple lumber to make some emergency stakes, and multiple portable generators.

  Then a stop to Fremont St., where they blended in with the crowds by wearing orange work vests, which let them into a surprising number of pces.

  Even now, Philip’s helping us, Caleb thought, as he set up a generator and a series of work mps in one of Fremont's side alleys.

  They were only challenged with what they were doing once. "Hey, I just work here" didn’t cut it with the security guard. Caleb gnced at the guy, the words coming out before he even realized it: "You didn’t see anything." Scott followed up by pressing a thick stack of hundred dolr bills into the guy’s hand, the exchange smooth and silent.

  Problem solved. Some things about Vegas never change.

  With Fremont St. set up as what they hoped would be an effective vampire kill-zone, there was one st thing to do before the sun set. They returned the van and hopped back into the Golf.

  "Philip was your friend," said Scott. "You should do the honors."

  Caleb took a deep breath, holding the bottle like it was the weight of his entire future. Without a second thought, he tossed it into the Little White Lie chapel. The explosion of fmes felt almost personal.

  Renfield had wanted him to become a monster. This was his answer.

  Careful what you wish for.

  Caleb was not so stupid as to think that Renfield would continue to use it as his day-haven, especially since he knew Caleb was onto him. But burning it sent a message. And as the chapel burned, he felt the fire in his chest, burning away the st remnants of the isoted, cynical man he had been.

  This wasn’t just a message to Renfield. It was a decration of who he was becoming-- a force that would go to the end for his friends. A person who found strength in bringing people together. A man who, when they were threatened, would not back down.

  No more little white lies.

  This was a decration of war.

  ***

  "That's it," said Scott, as the sun finally set, and the two of them stood next to each other, waiting in the dead center of the Fremont Street Experience. "How was it, your first day in twenty seven years?"

  "Eh, it was a nice change of pace," said Caleb. "But honestly, I think you oversold it."

  Caleb handed over the Eye of Strigoi, and Scott dropped it's protections. It was no longer needed.

  The change was instant, like slipping into water after days in the desert. The ache, the sluggishness, the gnawing wrongness that had weighed on him—gone. Repced by stillness, a profound, perfect calm. His senses sharpened, the world snapping into focus with impossible crity. He could hear the faintest shift in the air, the distant hum of electricity, the heartbeat of the city beneath it all. His body, once clumsy and slow, was now light, powerful, precise. Thought and movement flowed together seamlessly, as if there had never been a divide between them.

  Humanity is great, if you like that sort of thing.

  But Caleb? Caleb was a vampire.

  "Right. Can't say I'm looking forward to this part," said Scott.

  "I don't really practice this one all that much," said Caleb, cracking his knuckles. "So it may take a while."

  Caleb let out a low, continuous whistle. And... nothing happened. Nothing that Scott could see, anyway.

  "Uh, was that..."

  "Shh!" said Caleb. He was concentrating, intensely.

  Then, he heard a woman scream. It barely registered over the din of Fremont St, the casinos and the ever-present slot machines, the music pumped into the Fremont Street Experience 24/7. But Caleb had heard it.

  Then another. And another - this one a man. It had started.

  Caleb then looked at Scott and nodded.

  Now, the one vampire power he absolutely hated to use. But there is no other way. He tapped a security guard on the shoulder.

  "Yes?"

  "Look into my eyes."

  It was not a request.

  "You will instruct everyone to evacuate. You will tell them there is a massive sewer leak, that it is unsafe, and that all persons should leave Fremont Street. You will make sure that Fremont Street stays closed off for the rest of the night. If anyone of higher rank challenges you, you will send them to me. Say it back to me."

  The security guard was dazed, responding as if he were half-asleep. "I will instruct everyone to evacuate. I will tell them there is a massive sewer leak, that it is unsafe, and that all persons should leave Fremont Street. I will make sure that Fremont Street stays closed off for the rest of the night. If anyone of higher rank challenges me, I will send them to the man with long brown hair and ugly denim jacket."

  Scott snorted.

  Caleb patted his new thrall on the back. "Close enough. Go."

  By now, the rats Caleb had summoned were visible everywhere, and people were starting to panic a bit.

  "Okay," said Scott. "That's creepy."

  Caleb's thrall and another, rger man, came up to him. "Hey, what's the big idea, ordering my guy around like he works for you? You don't--"

  "Look into my eyes."

  Scott trusted Caleb, he did. But... he double-checked that the Eye of Strigoi was still safely around his neck. Just in case.

  After the security supervisor came the head of security, the officer on patrol, and the precinct captain. They helpfully rounded up the st of the gamblers still glued to their slot machines despite the rapidly worsening rat infestation, then posted signs decring Fremont Street closed to pedestrian traffic due to 'unforeseen circumstances.'

  Technically true. Vampire on a mission of revenge is not something any of them could have possibly foreseen.

  And then Fremont St. was alone, all except for Caleb and Scott. One of the hottest tourist spots of Las Vegas. Completely deserted.

  "Figured it might cost the city a couple million in lost revenue, but on the plus side, it’s a chance to rid Las Vegas of its most grotesque bloodsucking parasite since Sheldon Adelson shuffled off this mortal coil in 2021. So... all in all, a net win," said Caleb.

  "Okay," said Scott, leaping up to slightly higher ground. "So, now that we've got the pce to ourselves... you can send the rats away."

  "I can try."

  "You can try?"

  "Well, summoning an army of rats, and banishing an army of rats are two separate -- though admittedly reted -- skillsets."

  After a few minutes, there were indeed fewer rats.

  "I'm encouraging them to leave," said Caleb. "But, uh… some of them like it here."

  Caleb's phone rang. It was Angelina. He put it on speaker for Scott to hear.

  "Angelina, everything in pce?"

  "Everything is in pce. We took the security team out, we have control of the monitors."

  "Angelina, hi, this is Scott," he said, worried. "Uh, by 'take the security team out' do you mean you used your vampire tricks on them, or do you mean you... disposed of them?"

  "Well, if you consider a tranquilizer dart filled with ketamine to be a vampire trick, then yes, we used our vampire tricks on them," said Angelina, smugly.

  Caleb smiled. "I taught her that one. It's a good trick." He then turned to the phone. "Angie, any news from Diane on the experiment I had her run?"

  "Yeah. There's good news and bad news. The good news is that there was some noticeable damage. The bad news is that they're not sure it's going to be enough," Angelina said, worry in her voice.

  "Yeah, well, there's a couple of ways this could go. And even if it just slows him down, it'll provide an opportunity. You do the final checklist?"

  "Yeah, Caleb. Everyone's in pce."

  "No matter what happens, I love you, Angie."

  "I love you, Cal. Now. Kick Renfield's Ass."

  Right. One more call.

  Renfield was still in Caleb’s Signal contacts as 'Elvis.' Of course, he had long been kicked out of all the groups -- no one was stupid enough to include him in a secure group chat. That's just bad Opsec.

  But Caleb was counting on Renfield taking his call. He was willing to bet his life on it. No chance Renfield wouldn't enjoy rubbing his face in it.

  "Was wondering when you'd call, little Calvin Trent."

  Figures. Can’t even answer the phone like a normal person -- he’s gotta start with the petty mind games

  "You don’t get to call me that," Caleb said, keeping his voice steady.

  "Why not? I was there when you were given it. All your life, I was there. I was there when you were born. I was there when you died. And I'm fairly certain I'm going to be there when you die again. Hell, I can see you right now-- standing out in the middle of Fremont St. Not where I'd choose to die."

  "This has to end, Renfield. Too many innocent, uninvolved people are getting hurt."

  "People getting hurt is the point, Caleb. Or have you not yet figured that out?"

  "Oh, yeah, got it from a reliable source. You don't have a stalker in the family anymore. So the next best thing -- feed off my misery. And, conveniently for you, I'm a vampire, so I'm just surrounded by it, constantly. It's almost clever."

  "It's kept me alive during the lean years, learning to feed off of your pain, Caleb."

  "Yeah, well... not anymore. This ends. Tonight."

  "I don't think so, Caleb. I'm patient, you understand. The virtue of centuries, that you and your little rabble could never fathom. I don't have to stay in Vegas. I could maybe take a trip up to Reno, py with your dear old dad a little while again. Sure, he's not as spry as serial killers tend to be, but he doesn't have to be. Or maybe Joshua down in Albuquerque. Oh, yes, I know where he is, too. And then one night, when little Joshua has his very own baby stalker, and you’ve settled down with your poker-pying girlfriend... and I don't need you anymore, Caleb? That's when I'll come after you. But not before you spend years -- decades -- wondering if tonight is the night. The night I come for you."

  This was Renfield? thought Caleb. The evil boogeyman that he had built up in his head as some sort of vampire mastermind elder?

  "Oh my god," said Caleb. "You're a fucking high school bully."

  "What?"

  "You dissapoint me, you really do. You're a little kid, knocking over sandcastles and throwing tantrums when you don’t get your way. I thought you'd be like, some sort of... I don't know. Doctor Doom."

  "Doctor Doom?"

  "From the comics."

  "Yes, Caleb, I'm aware of Doctor Doom. Get to the point."

  "Right, but you're not. You don't have a master pn. Your entire thing is: 'Hey, let's make people hurt each other!' And when that fails, what do you do? You just go with the backup pn: 'I might as well hurt people directly.' You think that’s going to fix it? You think it did fix anything?"

  Caleb paused, letting the silence hang in the air.

  "That's why you killed Philip. That's why you were going to kill Diane. Why you went after my mother and my childe." He scoffed. "And you failed, of course. You got beat by a seventy-eight year old house-wife and a vampire so fresh out of the grave she's still got dirt in her hair. You’re so fucking incompetent you couldn’t even get a vampire and a vampire hunter to hate each other. You couldn’t even make that work." Caleb's voice grew colder. "And here’s the kicker, Renfield... all you did was get us -- all of us -- to trust each other more. No wonder you're losing this thing."

  "Losing? Ha. You think you're winning?" Renfield’s voice was tight now, tinged with something less amused, more... calcuting. “You think just because you’ve managed to make it this far, it means I’ve lost? You're pying a game you don’t understand, Caleb. One you couldn't understand. You think in terms of nights. I'm pying a game of centuries.”

  Caleb’s voice dropped lower, his words cutting through the air like a sharpened bde. “There are only three people left in your line. Two living people, one vampire. But what happens if your bloodline just... dries up?"

  "What, are you going to kill your own family? And then yourself?"

  "No. I don't think I could do that. Whether it's self-preservation or your stupid bloodline curse."

  "Then you have nothing."

  "I have friends."

  "You're going to tell me you're going to defeat me with the power of friendship?"

  “I have incredibly violent friends. See, maybe I can’t kill myself. Maybe my dad, maybe Joshua can’t either. But they’ve both agreed to let Scott kill them if you can’t be stopped any other way. As for me? Scott’s almost killed me twice. Third time lucky, right?"

  "You'd kill your own family just to get me?"

  "Not my first choice, no. But if I don't stop you, here, now, then how many people over the generations will you kill? Dozens? Hundreds? Over centuries? You've forced my hand, Renfield. What's that against two serial killers willing to die to atone for their sins and a vampire?"

  A pause on the other end of the line.

  “You think I won’t do it?” Caleb’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but full of cold certainty. “You came after my friends. You came after my family. You tried to tear everything I had in my life apart. You killed Philip. You don’t know what I’m willing to do if it means stopping you.”

  "Oh, Caleb. You should have made Angelina make the threats. She's better than you at bluffing." Renfield chuckled, but there was an edge to it. "Doesn't matter. Maybe in a few years, I could clone some more family thralls. All it takes is some DNA, and I’m handy with a shovel."

  "Wow, that’s kind of a long bet to make: human cloning perfected before you starve to death. And st I heard, scientific advancement in just about everything just got cut off at the knees." Caleb's voice dripped with mockery. "But hey, I guess the undead don't need to worry about pesky things like government funded grant programs."

  "Maybe. Maybe I'm willing to make that bet."

  "Now who's bluffing?" Caleb’s voice hardened. "I raise. You know the Eye of Strigoi?"

  "Dracu's little trinket. I'm familiar with it. I can see it hanging around the neck of your new best friend Lupescu."

  "You wear that, you say the right words, you're human, for all intents and purposes. You're worried about your bloodline dying out? You could father an entirely new one."

  A long pause. Caleb had him now. No way could Renfield resist the chance to continue his bloodline. Start entirely new branches. Over and over again. It was too tempting a prize.

  "I could just take it from Scott after he's dead."

  "Really? He might kill you instead. He's very handy. And unlike you, he has a small army of vampires willing to back him up."

  Caleb heard a low growl, a sound that seemed to come from deep within Renfield’s chest, thick with malice. It wasn’t just a sign of anger; it was a predator’s warning. A promise. The kind of growl that made you understand that, even if he couldn’t win this particur round, Renfield would make sure the cost was high.

  "Okay, then," Renfield snarled, voice low and twisted with frustration. "Why haven't you done it yet? Killed yourself? Killed your family? Sent Scott to the ends of the earth? If your pn is so foolproof, why not act on it?"

  "Well, it does have a big downside," Caleb said, voice cool. "See, I don't like the idea of dying. It's a pyrrhic victory. And there's another big problem. I don't get to see your face when you get dragged, screaming, to hell."

  Renfield’s voice was sharp as a whip, filled with disdain: "Life is full of disappointments, Caleb."

  "Well, I’m thinking maybe we can hash it out tonight. You come to Fremont St., we settle this like men. Maybe you kill me, kill Scott, take the Eye for yourself. I don’t know about you, but I prefer a fight where one of us walks away a winner, instead of both of us losing.”

  "You think I’m just going to walk into the obvious trap?" Renfield scoffed, his tone cutting through the air like a bde.

  "You know it's a trap, and you think that makes you safe. But I know that you know that, and I still set it. So what does that tell you?"

  There was a pause, Renfield’s breath audible over the line, a low rumble of tension building. "You think the bait’s too good for me to pass up."

  "Yep. I’m giving you the chance to win, Renfield." Caleb’s voice softened, just enough to make it feel like a dare.

  "You really think you're clever, don't you? But you forget one thing."

  "Oh?" said Caleb, "What's that?"

  "I still think you're bluffing. You're not going to kill yourself. You're not going to kill your family. This is all an eborate bluff, and you have no intention of going through with it."

  Oh shit.

  "Yes, Caleb, I think I shall call your little bet. You would never--"

  But by the time Renfield's words reached Caleb, they were drowned out by the fear in his bones, his mind racing. He was already shutting his eyes, bracing for the pain that he knew was coming next. He squeezed his lids tighter, the air around him growing thick with anticipation, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

  He didn’t want to see Scott’s face, and, to protect Stelian, he wanted the bckness to be the st thing he saw-- the st shred of control he could hold onto before everything came crashing down.

  "I'm sorry, Caleb." said Scott.

  "I forgive you, Scott," Caleb whispered, his voice strained. He grimaced, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. "Do it."

  And then came the searing pain, a sharp stab right in the middle of his chest. His body went sck, colpsing like a sack of bricks. He was aware, but trapped in his own body, unable to move.

  Nothing to do but wait for the end.

  Scott promised it would be quick. For a vampire, anyway.