I woke up to church bells and someone playing with the knocker on the front door. Whoever built Carfax was evidently worried that someone would not hear waiting guests, because that knocker was loud as hell. And the church bells didn't help any. They had a deep, judgmental sound to them, not clear and sweet like real bells.

"I'm coming! Stop playing with the freakin' knocker!"

I tripped out of the coffin I was sleeping in and had to hopscotch over forty-nine others, some open, some closed, while still half-asleep. I think it goes without saying that the act was deeply graceless. However, I managed to get over most of them without doing a face-plant, and I think that was very impressive.

I had thankfully had the foresight to put the caskets in a second (albeit smaller) room on the sides of Carfax's impressive entryway, in case the person at the front door (it was starting to dawn on me that I didn't really know anyone here) wanted to come in. The door was heavy. I shouldered it open.

"Good morning!" chirped Lucy Westenra. It was an actual chirp, too. I am not making that up.

I blinked and sort of looked at her for a few minutes. I was still three-quarters of the way asleep, my shirt was all twisted around, my mouth tasted funny, and it was too bright outside. ". . . Hello."

If Lucy had been shy last night, she was all smiles today. "I didn't get a chance to welcome you properly-" Oh dear, Lucy, what would your fiancé say?- "I thought I'd bring something over today. You like cake, right?"

"Uh, sure." She stuffed something into my hands. I held it, feeling a little dazed.

"How are you settling in?" Dear Lord, she wanted to make conversation. I just wanted to crawl back into my coffin and sleep. It must have been something like eleven in the morning. This was seven or so hours of calm, blissful sleep I was getting cheated out of. I swallowed.

"I only got here last evening, and I've been catching up on my rest."

"Oh. Well, don't sleep the day away! You already missed the Sunday morning service."

That explained the church bells. "I do not attend services. I prefer to talk to God on my own time."

She looked politely surprised. I guess not going to church is something of a scandal here. I hope they don't burn me on a pike. "I suppose that's one way to go about it, but honestly, the services are very uplifting. You should go. I'll come with you."

"I prefer nighttime, thank you." Please, please don't let her offer to come with me at night. Please.

"Well, okay, if that's what suits you. You know, that cake's getting cold."

"Huh?" I looked down. "Oh, yes, that. Thank you. It looks good." I was lying through my teeth here, in case you can't tell.

"It's best with strawberry preserves on it. You don't have those, I assume?"

"I just got here yesterday." Not that I have preserves on hand the rest of the time, either. God, she's so perky. "I have an apple tree out back, though, if that is of any use to you."

Lucy nodded enthusiastically. "Apple slices would go with it well. Can I cut some up?"

I was waking up. When they say opportunity knocks, they must mean it. "By all means. Stay and enjoy some of this, uh, shortcake if you'd like."

"I would! Thank you!"

She stepped over the threshold and into the house, looking around. I stepped fluidly between her and the door and walked toward her; Lucy went absently away in the same direction. I fought the urge to purr.

"You like big and dark, huh?"

"I like history, and this house has a lot of it. I believe it was built in the Middle Ages. Just think, these stones carry more history than, I daresay, most families here."

"Probably," Lucy agreed. "It's an awfully big place for one person. You aren't going to live here alone, are you?" Apparently, I just oozed scandal- didn't go to church, lived alone in a big house.

"Perhaps. It depends on how well I get along here."

"You're not going to stay?"

"I didn't say that, did I? I said whether or not anyone joins me depends on how well I get along here. I intend to stay until I am forced out."

Lucy looked thoroughly confused. I was starting to think she wasn't the brightest flame on the candelabra. "Why would someone force you out? You seem perfectly respectable."

"Just a figure of speech."

"Oh."

"While we're on the subject of family matters, who is the lucky man?"

"What?"

I pointed at her hand. She looked down at the small, polished diamond as if she had forgotten it was there. "Oh, him. His name is Arthur Holmnwood. He's a nice man, respectable. He will be a Lord soon, you know. I shall have a very comfortable life with him." The words sound happy when read, but I assure you, they were not. She was looking at the ring with a beaten expression and speaking with a low, melancholy voice that was the perfect perpendicular to what I'd heard of her so far.

"You don't want to get married?"

Lucy turned her bitter expression from her hand to me. "Not at all." She laughed a little pitifully. "Is it that obvious? I managed to put off getting engaged this long, but I got three suitors in one day. I'm sure they were all respectful gentlemen. There was Dr. Seward . . . but he's so stiff, and Mr. Morris. He's an American." Pause. "Don't get me wrong! Being American has nothing to do with it. But, all the same, he is him. And then Arthur asked me, and he was so sweet and everyone was telling me what a good husband he would be and how much he loved me. How am I to deter that?"

"You can't be expected to."

"I wish I could have."

"Have you told anyone this?"

"Well, no," said Lucy pensively. "Just you, and to be honest, I don't know why I am. No offense, but I can't believe I'm saying all this to someone I met last night. But it's nice to tell someone."

"What about Mina? If she's such a good friend of yours- ?"

Lucy snorted. "I couldn't possibly. You don't understand- you haven't met her." I had every intention of meeting Mina (and preferably berating her on her choice of boyfriend) but I said nothing. Lucy kept on. "Mina's so good. She is everything I'm supposed to be but aren't. She happily engaged, she wouldn't know. She'd listen, but she wouldn't know."

"Oh." I was thinking again. "I think I could help you."

She raised her eyebrows. "And how's that?"

"Ask no questions, and I'll tell you no lies." I started toward the back door. "Come on, I'll show you the apple tree. It's a little too sweet, if you ask me," A lot too sweet. "But it'll get us by. Follow, please." Lucy gave me a funny look, but she followed.

"What a pretty tree!" Lucy sighed when she saw it. Being outside had brought back the bubbly, cheerful Lucy, but that didn't make me forget what she had said earlier. If luck was on my side, I could help Lucy. It would take tact, though. "It's so pink in bloom. I've always wanted one of these in my yard."

She tried to reach the lowest apple- big, round, and blood-colored- but couldn't. She leapt and fingers missed it by centimeters. Lucy tried again, and again. It was depressing, because she was never going to reach that apple, and this is a hardcore pessimist talking.

"Miss Westenra, do you want help with that?"

She was panting. "That would be nice."

Tall as I was, I didn't have to strain any to reach the apple. Once it was plucked, I tossed it into her hands. "Here. Have fun with it."

Lucy shook her head. "Men, honestly. You're not around girls much, are you?"

I didn't really know what to say to that, so I said nothing.

"You can't just say 'Here, take it," if you're giving something to a girl. You have to pretend to care, you know."

"Okay, fine." I took the fruit back (damn fruit) and got down on one knee. "Lucy Westenra, a seraph unto us all, would you do this humble fruit the honor of your touch and allow me the pride that it was I who gave it to you?"

Lucy giggled. "Not quite, Mr. Dracula. Give it another go."

"Okay . . ." I took a deep breath and summoned up my acting skills. "Miss Lucy Westenra, will you do the honor of taking this apple from me?" I asked softly, seriously.

Even though this was the third time giving her the same apple, it had the same effect as if I had done this on my first try. Blood rushed to her cheeks and her eyes flickered downward. Shyness in girls was disconcerting; it went against most of- okay, all- of my experience.

This was going to be easy.

"Wow, that was- that was good. You have, um, potential." Lucy let out her breath in a whoosh.

"I have a good teacher." I stuffed the apple into her hand. "Come along. The shortcake's getting cold."

After she left, I had to go upstairs and let my gag reflex do its work and throw up that awful shortcake before going back to bed.