She’d let Gwyltha handle this. At least for now.
“Are you all right.”
Dixie turned at Christopher’s words. He stood in the doorway, arms folded, eyes dark with worry. “I will be.” She stepped closer and let him wrap her in his arms.
“Sure about that?”
She had to smile. He sounded so concerned. “Yes. I’m sure…Each time I discover the existence of another mythical creature, it gets easier to believe.”
He stroked her head as he held her close. “Oh, Dixie, what did I drag you into?”
She looked up at him. “By my reckoning, there wasn’t much dragging. I was the one chasing across England after you!”
“But you had no idea what you were chasing after.”
“I knew what you were. I knew you were in danger and I loved you.” She kissed him. “That was enough.”
He kissed her back, his lips sure against hers as her mouth opened, his hands, in her hair and against her back, holding her flat against him. Her body responded as always, molding into his as if absorbing his old strength. “I’ll never get enough of you,” he said into her hair.
“Good.” She grinned up at him. “I know Justin needs to feed, and hospitality and all that, but please don’t stay out late.”
He grinned back. “As if I could, with you waiting for me.” His lips touched her forehead with a soft promise of later. “And Dixie…” He paused, smoothing her mussed hair. “Trust Justin in this.”
She would, up to a point. “How different are ghouls from us? How can you tell one by sight?”
“I’ve no idea, Dixie. I’ve never encountered one.”
Not in four hundred years! “But I thought…” What did she think? “I mean surely…”
“Dixie, when would I? Before I met you, I seldom strayed much beyond the colony, other than to make a presence wherever I lived. I never traveled except to change abode and the odd trip to see Tom, wherever he happened to be. We had reunions in Yorkshire every twenty-five years or so, or when a new vampire was created. But contact with other colonies—virtually never. We don’t permit the making of ghouls, so I never saw one.”
“But Justin knew. At least enough to recognize one, or rather two.”
“He’s been around longer than I have.” Right! Well over a millennium more. “You’re still worried about them.” It wasn’t a question. Christopher knew her too darn well.
“I can’t not worry.”
“Mom, please hurry up!”
“I’m hurrying,” Stella replied. Heck, she’d already stabbed herself half-a-dozen times. She couldn’t sew any faster.
“Everyone’s going to be out ahead of me!” Sam hopped from one socked foot to the other. The combination of vampire cape, white face paint, navy tee-shirt and Rugrats underwear was novel to say the least—almost worth a picture, but she doubted he’d cooperate for that one.
“Give me fifteen minutes, Sam. Go set the timer on the microwave and I bet I’ll beat the clock.”
He scampered off, obviously delighted to be the one timing her for a change, and Stella took the chance to sew in peace. She’d shortened the cape last week, but forgotten all about the pants which looked as if they had about four years’ growing room. Still, it was easy to pull in the elastic at the waist, and now she was tacking up the legs against the clock.
It wasn’t the finest sewing job but Stella figured it would outlast the evening. “Come on, Sam,” she called, “want to go out?”
He barreled into the living room, cape flying behind him, and had his pants pulled on in seconds flat. It took only a little longer to pull on his sneakers and snap the velcro tight. “All ready, Mom.” He grabbed up his empty pillowcase. “Let’s go!”
She crammed her disposable camera into her pocket, grabbed her keys and followed Sam out into the evening. She could almost taste the excitement in the air. Knots of children and parents wandered up and down the street, cautiously avoiding the end of the next block. No parent in their right mind took their kids up there. People were still talking about the trouble up there a few nights back. One of the older Day boys, in the middle of trouble as always, insisted a winged devil had attacked the lookouts. The entire neighborhood—including strict fundamentalist Mrs. Briggs—now held a passing admiration for winged devils.
Stella took Sam up both sides of the block and no farther; then she bundled him in the back of the car and insisted he wear his seat belt, as all good vampires did.
She parked in the Giant Eagle car park—they could hardly begrudge her the space given how much she spent on groceries—and she and Sam walked back and forth from Jaeger to Fifth, all the while making their way northward to the little shop on the corner of Jackson. By the time they were in sighting distance, Sam had a pillowcase of loot and Stella half-wondered if it was time to go home. No, she’d promised to stop by. It was just that…
She knew precisely what caused her to drag her feet. Justin! Not that it was his fault. It was all hers. A couple of nights back, Justin had starred in an incredibly vivid and downright erotic dream. She’d woken up panting and wet. Her wild imagination had rounded off the night with a most spectacular daydream, and now she was scared she’d blush when she met Justin face-to-face.
And so she should. The man had been a perfect gentleman and she’d turned him into a sex object! She’d just have to bite the bullet and get a hold of herself. She only hoped she could look him in the eye without imagining how his lips tasted, or how his cool fingertips felt on her…
“Come on, Mom!” Sam ran back to grab her hand. Stella pushed her inappropriate fantasies to the very basement of her mind and let Sam tug her the rest of the way.
Light spilled over the street from the open door. Kit sat by the steps, wearing knee boots and full-sleeved pirate shirt and looking as if his eye patch was part of the outfit. He dared passersby to come in—if they weren’t scared of vampires.
“I’m not scared,” Sam announced.
“Of course not,” Kit agreed. “You’re one yourself. Whoever heard of someone being scared of themselves?” Sam giggled.
“On the other hand,” Kit went on, “what if you scare away all our customers?”
Sam shook his head. “No one’s scared of kids!”
Kit bent close. “Why don’t you go in and find out?”
Sam needed no second invitation. He skipped up the steps into the packed shop. Given the size of the shop, ten was a crowd and Stella figured there were twice that many: kids with parents, a cluster of goth-clad twenty-somethings and a bunch of teenagers, a bit too old for trick-or-treating, but lapping up the atmosphere. And it was some atmosphere. A wispy cobweblike curtain cut off the back of the shop. One by one the teenagers took turns venturing beyond it while the others waited and listened to shrieks and yells. For the less brave, rows of bright, red apples hung from a ceiling beam. As Sam watched, mesmerized, a young woman tried to bite an apple as it swung and dangled just beyond reach.
“Thanks for coming.”
Stella turned to Dixie who was wearing a grown-up version of Sam’s cape. “Thanks for asking us and thanks a million for the costume. I still feel I owe you.”
She shook her head. “Let Sam hang around a while and advertise for us and we’re quits.”
“I think my trouble will be getting him to leave.” Sam was already edging his way over to the cobwebby curtain, scared but fascinated by the shrieks from behind.
Just then two