Agatha's comes to a frightening realization, after seeing two of her sick Sisters.

"Dracula…" she said out loud. "Agatha, it was him. I know it now. You know him, don't you? He has made you his wife."

Agatha turned to look at the others, who were startled and attentive to the sickly nun's words. She did not say a thing, lest her words disturb the younger nun's sudden epiphany.

"Tall, red eyes and…But I didn't…I didn't invite him in, I swear. It wasn't me; he was already there," she continued desperately, tears welling up as if her life depended on Agatha believing her.

Agatha sighed, her breath shaky and caught in her throat.

"Tell me anything else you remember."

"Nothing. I swear it's the truth, Sister Agatha, it wasn't me. I remember what you told us all, what we didn't believe-We believe you more than you think. But it wasn't me. He was there...Standing over me…and…"

The emotions of her newfound memories seemed to cut her like a knife, and Sister Emily was unable to say anymore, feeling weaker again by the second.

"Why didn't anyone tell me about this earlier?" Agatha said, her words sharp and harsh as she looked at the others.

"She hadn't said anything until now when you touched her. And we didn't know until today about her condition. Mother Superior sought out my help when Emily started to get worse…," said Maria. "I told her we would need your expertise in the area. It seems she hid it from us, probably thinking we would make up something ridiculous about it."

"Well, now that the ridiculous is in progress, we can only attempt to reverse the damage."

Agatha thought for a moment.

"Florence, go to my study, and retrieve the second pouch of blood from the cabinet. Same one which I retrieved blood from last time," she said. She already memorized all the scents; it was a natural distinction. "The second pouch. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sister Agatha."

"We must secure the convent, Agatha. Make it safe," said Stefan. "And keep watch over her."

"Yes."

"There's another," said Lily finally. "Sister Alma; she's in her bedroom. Much better off and still healthy, but she has the same marks. I'd like you to see her…Detective, why don't you wait in the guest room, as you will no doubt be spotted if you try to go to one of our bedrooms."

"Of course. Agatha, I'll wait for you."

Upon visiting Alma in her room, Agatha noticed she did appear healthy at first glance, rosy cheeks even. But upon closer inspection and speaking to the nun she noticed she looked to be slightly aged, and her speech was beginning to waver, as was her energy. Her soul beginning to be drained of her own self. Agatha could sense it, even smell it.

There were bright marks on Alma's neck—as if fed from recently. Red centers, whitened skin around the marks. Alma insisted she didn't remember anything, except a tall dark figure. She hadn't invited anyone in the convent at all, only kept awakening with marks the past few nights this week.

As they walked out of the room, Agatha questioned Lily.

"If it's him-"

"Count Dracula, you mean…"

"Yes—"

"You doubt it?"

"No, I—I don't," she wished she did. But Emily seemed so sure in her moment of clarity. And the Count would be clever enough to have gotten away with it for this long.

"He…It," she corrected, "Will be back for Sister Alma; as she has the freshest blood. We need to take precautions, remove Alma from her room and surround all bedrooms with pages from our Bible."

"We are going to tear out pages from a Bible? But Agatha, that seems a bit wrong?"

"Lily," said Agatha, growing frustrated. "Please trust me on this. I think God will forgive it given our circumstances."

"…Ok, if it works. I will tell the others then…"

"We have to figure out who is inviting him in. And why."

"But—it isn't any of them, Agatha. I'm sure they can't be lying about that."

"Maybe they don't remember. But we all lie sometimes. And Dracula is…persuasive," she admitted.

"Well, consider for a moment the possibility that neither of the two are lying," Lily said. "It could be someone else doing the inviting."

"But no one else has been victimized?"

"Not to our knowledge…I would assume Mother Superior would have told us by now…You're sure that it's a fact?- That a vampire would need the invitation?"

"Yes. I've seen it…" she said, remembering her first night with the vampire. "He wouldn't be able to come in without someone willingly allowing it…."

"Who would do such a thing?" Lily laughed nervously. "Who is next, if…"

Agatha sighed, trying to think as Lily continued talking, something she did a LOT of when anxious.

"No one would invite a…a man in here just like that…Nuns allowing a vampire into their beds, no less…That is…" Lily laughed again.

At her Sister's words, an idea struck Agatha's mind. A theory. It was urgent, clear, frightening. Something that sounded mad, but that made a complete sort of sense at least.

"Sister Agatha, what is it?"

"It's me."

"You?" she gasped. "You mean you're the one doing the—the feed—"

"NO, no Lily, I would have recalled that," she insisted. "Slow down or Sister Florence might proceed to stake me. I mean to say I think I've been the one doing the inviting."

"What?"

"I've think I've invited him in. I have allowed him to be here, after all."

"How…? You mean when you're…?

"Dreaming. Yes...It might give him the opportunity to come into the convent, at least for some time. My consent."

"A window of opportunity," said Lily. "Oh, Agatha…It's definitely something to consider."

"It's clever," Agatha admitted. "I invite him inside without the awareness it is even occurring…" she said. It was both insane and brilliant. Maddening. Agatha was…infuriated. For a brief moment there was silence. Lily could see Agatha processing her well-hidden emotions.

"What will we tell the Detective?"

"Nothing else, he is alarmed enough and determined to find Count Dracula, even more so after this, I'm sure. I have something else in mind."

"So, what do we do?" asked Lily.

"What we should've done in the first place. We kill the vampire."