Author's notes: Had to muscle through the last section of this chapter today, but I managed to finish it just in time! Yay! Also, head colds and allergies suck.


Not once had he seen her touch her plate, or sip from her glass. Not once did those bright lips wrap themselves around a forkful of salad, nor did her smile seem quite so sweet as before. In fact, it looked downright hungry.

"You should eat something," her companion suggested, "the shrimp cocktail is getting warm."

Her laugh was honey on broken glass, while her teeth-yikes!

"My darling, I think I'll have to cut this short," she whispered, shoving the table aside as if it were made of rice paper.

"Don't you want some DESSERT?" Her companion demanded, jumping to his feet and pulling open the powder blue jacket of his leisure suit to reveal a string of garlic about his neck. In one swift motion he tore a bulb free and shoved it in her mouth with a triumphant laugh. Then she was gagging, smoking, and stumbling towards the large curtained window. Too late she realized it was the early morning and he reached for the curtain chord to seal her fate.

"You think garlic really works like that?" Alan asked, shoving a handful of greasy popcorn into his mouth while Edgar hastily scrawled notes in his Masters of the Universe notebook. The words 'garlic', 'bats', and 'Shalimar' were circled and underlined several times. He hardly paid attention to his brother's sloppy eating while the credits rolled on the television screen in front of them.

"That's what all the sources indicate," Edgar finally replied, satisfied with his current list and ready to move on to the next, "garlic, crosses, holy water, sunlight. Not sure about the perfume though. What's up next?"

Alan wiped his fingers off on his camo tank, reaching towards the coffee table to snatch up one of their many well-used rentals and squinting at the side to read the title, "Bloodsucking Brainiacs from Brazil."

"Subtitles?" Ed asked, frowning. He was always frowning.

"Dubbed."

"Pop it in."

These late night cram sessions helped the Frogs hone their techniques. Each new movie or comic they poured through was one more weapon to use against the creatures of the night. It also helped them keep the late hours they'd need to in the future when their business really took off. It would, too. Any day now.

Halfway between the dancing Dracula number, at exactly 12:35, the phone rang. Alan started choking on a fistful of buttered popcorn. The dog in their backyard started gripped his costume jewelry crucifix necklace, and answered the phone.

"You got the Frogs," Edgar ground out, using his well-practiced tone of authority and raw masculinity. Just like Rambo.

"Hello?! Edgar?" It was Sam, in a panicked whisper from what Edgar could gather.

"Bloodsucking Brother try to take a bite out of you again?" He asked, patting Alan on the back half-heartedly as he finally managed to dislodge the popcorn kernels from his throat with a few swigs of RC Cola.

"No, there's someone in my house! It's not Mike, cause I know his footsteps. Grandpa went out and my mom's asleep."

"Maybe vampires walk different," Ed suggested. "Or he's just trying to trick you. Got your stake ready yet? We can pro-rate this advice call if you need us to walk you through-"

"Ed, I'm not killing my brother!" Sam shouted, his whispered fears almost forgotten.

"Okay, so did you get any garlic or non-lethal supplies?" Edgar relented, just as his brother scrambled towards him to shove his face up close in order to share the receiver. They really needed another phone.

"I got garlic. I could tie some pencils together for a cross-"

"Are they sharp?" Alan butted in, covering his mouth for a moment to hold back a cough directly in Edgar's face. "Those could work."

There was silence on the other end, followed by muffled static and a couple of ominous thumps.

"Sam?" Edgar asked, frowning, "Mister Phoenix, you still alive?" Just their luck if their first real client ended up with his throat ripped out and bleeding all over his comic collection. They were just starting to like this guy.

The minute and a half that followed was painful. Endless. "Alan, get off!" Edgar shoved his brother away, rubbing at his neck that he'd been forced to awkwardly angle in order to give Alan some space by the phone.

"Guys!" Sam shouted, which made Edgar's heart leap into his throat.

"You're alive!" He snapped back, and Alan was at his side once more, pressing even closer to Edgar's cheek to hear.

"It's not Mike in there, it's a kid and this girl who blew him off a few days ago. They're just sitting there on his bed whispering! You think they're vampires?" Sam was talking faster and faster, his voice jumping up at least an octave on the last word.

"Probably," Alan replied, offering no helpful advice to follow it up with.

"What do I do? I don't think they saw me, but wouldn't they have like-I mean, wouldn't they already be trying to stick krazy straws in my neck and going to town?" He was slowing down now, but sounded just as distressed, if not confused on top of everything else.

"You can never tell with bloodsuckers," Alan informed him, pulling away from the phone just enough to look at his brother and exchange a wise, knowing look.

Edgar lowered the crucifix at his neck, launching into one of his many prepared speeches, "one minute they're your friends, or your family, or some homeless guy on the street corner with a fake tan begging for change. The next thing you know, the cops find your body under a beach shower stall. Seagulls picking at your eye sockets. Ants swarming your-"

"I get it," Sam interrupted him, "thanks, guys. I'm glad I called." Somehow he didn't sound like he meant it. "Now what do I do?!"

Doing some quick mental math, Edgar tossed his notebook onto the cluttered coffee table in front of them. "This'll cost you extra, but since we're on-call, we can be over in about an hour. Think you can hold the fort until then?"

"Do I have a choice? Sam asked, lowering his voice once more, "I'll figure something out if they try to come into my room, but I need you guys to get here fast!"

"Trust us," Alan stated firmly, yanking the phone away from Edgar, "we're professionals. We know what we're doing."


There was something to be said for a warm meal on the table every night, breakfast bright and early with a time-worn smile, sharing his days with the only person in the world who knew him better than he knew himself. Then again, after his wife had passed and her side of the bed grew achingly cold, there was also something to be said for the widow Johnson's hellcat sheet scratching to keep him occupied. Grandpa Emerson adjusted his rearview mirror with a secretive smile, reminding himself to thank Sam for that aftershave idea. She loved it.

The old man took a gulp of his root beer and whiskey, enjoying the peace and quiet of his beat-up jeep. Probably would've spent a good hour relaxing there before bed, if it weren't for what happened next.

Two scruffy-looking boys about Sam's age appeared on his front lawn, dropping their bicycles in the flower beds before scrambling up towards the front porch. Grandpa Emerson frowned, his mood immediately souring. He didn't like guests and he sure as shit didn't like unexpected guests screwing up his yard.

What were those boys up to? The old man exchanged a look with his dashboard hula squirrel, who looked decidedly vicious despite her miniature grass skirt and lei.

"Rules. What's the point in makin' them if nobody listens?" He grumbled, licking his lips and gulping down the rest of his root beer and whiskey. Grandpa Emerson stifled a burp and pushed open his driver's side door, contemplating whether he'd need to grab the deer rifle from his cab. He pressed his lips together and let out a short chuckle at the idea before he walked around to the back of the jeep and grabbed a good old dented 9 iron instead. Didn't wanna wake Lucy.


Star tilted her head back into the tepid bathwater, letting the tail ends of her curls float around her collarbone like a necklace of black seaweed. It was nice to have a real bath. The scent of perfumed soaps was almost too much to bear, but it was a welcome distraction from her aching hunger.

She settled further into the water, closing her eyes and letting herself float away into a half-dream. For a moment or two. Laddie was safe. They had enough left in the wine bottle to last them three, maybe four more days. As long as they were careful. She would tell Michael tonight. About everything. Except-

Star opened her eyes, looking towards the fogged mirror by the sink and worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. They felt just a little sharper than they should. Which meant she'd need to drink tonight. Michael would have a few days until the hunger was as bad as hers or Laddie's, she wasn't sure she could afford to share the bottle with him too. Maybe, if they were lucky, they could figure out a way to end this before it came to that.

After what happened that morning between them, she didn't expect him to welcome her with open arms, but what other choice did she have?

SPLASH!

"What in the-Sam!"

"Grandpa!"

"That's not the vampire, is it?"

"Shut up, Ed!"

Jerking up, Star hastily reached for the towel she'd set beside the bathtub, doing her best to scramble out of the water as quickly as possible before-

SLAM!

"I've got garlic in my damned eyes!" A grizzled old man rubbing at his face with one free hand while he drug a golfing club behind him in the other kicked open the bathroom door, cussing up a storm.

Star shrieked, wrapping the towel about her as three teenage boys ran in after him.

"Gramps, we thought you were someone else-" Whatever the blonde, more panic-stricken of the three boys was going to say died on his lips when he noticed Star standing there, dripping and reaching for a bottle of lotion on the bathtub lip to defend herself. Against what, she didn't know.

The old man had managed to blink the water from his eyes and wipe away several papery thin skins of garlic from his face with a hand towel on the sink just as Star had begun to shriek, and he quickly waved a threatening club at the boys to lead them from the bathroom, looking back at her with a scowl before shutting the door behind him. The last thing she heard as he left was a mumbled threat at his grandson.

"Dad, what's going on?" A sleepy feminine voice called from outside the bathroom door.

"Get some coffee ready, it's gonna be a long night."


"Somehow," Lucy began, lifting her coffee cup gingerly to her lips and blowing at the steam to cool it before taking a small sip, "I thought moving to the beach would make life easier." She was too tired to be upset right now, but just awake enough to appreciate the humor. At least Sam was making friends.

"So why don't we start with you two?" She directed her attention to the girl and what she could only assume was her little brother, "I take it you're Michael's friend." Lucy directed her question at the girl, who was currently wearing one of Lucy's bathrobes.

"I-" The girl kept her eyes focused on the table, having refused any coffee, "I needed to get away from my family. Michael's the only other person we know here. I didn't know what to do."

"Breaking and entering," Grandpa Emerson grumbled, "ever hear of knocking?"

"I'm sorry," Star whispered, "we can leave-"

"-Was Michael here when you came in?" Lucy inquired, cutting her off. Clearly the girl was in trouble, and Lucy wasn't about to press charges on a couple of kids. She'd see if she could make inquiries about their parents tomorrow, but right now her missing son was a bit more concerning.

Star's eyes darted back up to Lucy's face, hesitating only for an instant, half of a second, "he went for a walk. He couldn't sleep."

Lucy wanted to believe that was true, and it made sense. If Michael had been going on walks or late night rides these last few days just because he couldn't sleep, it was at least a simple answer. Somehow a part of her didn't think Star was telling her everything, but they'd figure out the whole story soon enough.

"Dad, do you still have that extra cot?" Lucy directed her attention to her father, who smelled absolutely terrible right now. Like windex and garlic, if that was even possible. He really did need to improve his bathing habits.

"Yeah," he replied, "guess we can make some room for a couple days." He didn't sound too pleased with the idea, and Lucy couldn't blame him, but it was the only solution they had at the moment.

"Now that we've gotten that taken care of, Sam, I'd like an explanation." She took another sip of her coffee, eyeing the two boys sitting on either side of her youngest. They certainly didn't look like they were prepared for a covert sleepover.

"Mom, I'm not going to lie to you." Same took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to stall for more time, "Ed and Alan have water guns under the table filled with holy water aimed at those two over there," he indicated Star and her little brother, "they're probably bloodsuckers. So's Mike. We need to come up with a plan to-"

"-put you on some damn crazy pills." Grandpa Emerson interrupted, "Lucy, these boys were just having themselves a slumber party and their pranks went a little too far."

"Grandpa, I'm not crazy! It wasn't a slumber party!" Sam protested, standing up and slamming his hands on the table, only to sit down immediately at the stern looks both Lucy and her father directed at him with the full and powerful force of adult disapproval.

"I don't mind if you have friends over, but we're guests here, and I'm sure your grandpa didn't appreciate whatever you did to him. As for you two," she looked back and forth between the boys, "it's too late for you to go home on your own, so I'll drive you, but I'd like to have a little talk with your parents."

"If you don't stake these two now, it's your funeral," one of the boys warned, sweeping back his shoulder length hair, "no offense," he added, belatedly realizing he was talking to Sam's mom.

"Excuse me?" Lucy asked in a soft, weary voice.

"He didn't mean anything, mom," Sam quickly interrupted, "we just read too many comics is all. Maybe we got carried away."

"Maybe?" She repeated, hardly believing what she was hearing, "Sam, we'll talk more about this later. You and your friends can go wait in the car." She looked back at her father, "dad, can you help them set up the cot?"

The old man nodded, eyeing Star and the little boy, "I'll keep my eye on em both."

"If Michael gets home before I do, just tell him to wait in the kitchen," she directed, taking another sip of coffee. She needed all the caffeine she could get. And a lifetime supply of valium when this mess was dealt with.