I hugged my mom. I hadn’t realized until that moment I was worried I would be in trouble with her again. I really didn’t want that.
“We’re still waiting for the reveal,” said Dad. “There’s something dramatic Abby wants to share with all of us.”
Mr. Christopher came up the stairs from the basement, dabbing at his lips with a dark towel. Wouldn’t want to gross out the guests, with, you know, a blood mustache.
“Good evening,” I said. I exaggerated the syllables so I sounded like Bela Lugosi from the first Dracula film. Nosferatu does not count. Vampire does not equal Count Dracula.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” His voice was deep, like a bass bell at a church. “I thought there were no more aspirations toward monster hunting?”
“You don’t go looking for it,” I said. “’Certainly not at thirteen!’” Mom did not seem to appreciate my imitation of her voice. I moved on. “Today, I am the perfect daughter. I have detected supernatural activity, and have not gone off to kill it.” I wouldn’t tell Mom or Dad about the not-so-veiled threats I had made. Coral had torqued me off. No one likes to see her best friend mind-controlled.
Mr. Christopher pulled out the cookie jar. There were spice cookies, just for me. I grabbed one. “I should have realized Mom and Dad knew you were a vampire. They would have noticed how you don’t age much.”
“Since I was converted in my early forties, you’d be surprised at how much you can get away with in aging. A little stage makeup can work wonders too.”
“For other reasons, besides aging,” said Mom.
I nodded. “Being dead isn’t easy to hide.”
“Undead,” Dad corrected.
I munched on the cookie. Holding half a cookie in my mouth, I hiked my backpack up on a chair. “So, today, we learned something in science. Do you remember our conversation from when I was a kid, Mr. Christopher? How I couldn’t figure out your reflection, and the pictures?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Impossible vampire tricks,” I said. “Like taking pictures, not showing up in mirrors, starring in films. You’re still not going to tell me how you do that?”
“No,” he said. “Some things a savvy monster hunter has to figure out for herself.”
“That’s why I’m here. It’s silver, isn’t it? Old-fashioned mirrors are backed in silver. Newer ones are backed in aluminum. Old film used silver nitrate. New film doesn’t. That’s it. It’s not the mirrors or the film exactly. It’s what they were made of.”
Dad’s jaw dropped. “Well done.” Mom puffed up like a pigeon with parental pride. Her little girl, making inductions about vampires, in a logical scientific way.
I blew on my knuckles and buffed them on my shirt. “Piece of cake. We Wolcroft girls, we know things like that. But it must make it hard to be a monster hunter in the modern age, right? Because vampires could figure out cheats, or work arounds?” I opened my notebook, cocked my pencil and sat down at the table.
“That’s right,” said Mr. Christopher.
“Like,” I floundered about thinking for a good possibility. “Sunscreen?”
Dad snorted. “Do you really think so?”
“No, wait Reginald.” Mom leaned in closer. “Is that what you think is going on with Coral?”
“We’ll find out. I’m going to ask for an expert opinion.” I returned my attention to Mr. Christopher. “Sunscreen?”
“Younger vampires are closer to life and don’t have as much trouble with it as we vampires of a certain age. If a vampire is relatively new, yes, sunscreen. The SPF must be very high.”
“Wouldn’t it come off when the vampire sweats?” I asked.
“Abby,” said Dad. “Vampires don’t sweat.”
“Right. Duh.” I tapped my teeth with a pencil. “What about eating?”
“I’ve got that one,” said Dad. “You can eat all sorts of things you can’t use or digest. Why not a vampire?”
“Eat a vampire?” Mom smiled.
I rolled my eyes. “No.”
“Could you eat something like food?” I asked Mr. Christopher.
“Again, it’s easier for the more recently dead. Of course, they would probably throw it up, or get rid of it some other way. We metabolize blood. All vampires react to blood. The younger ones have a harder time resisting it,” said
Mr. Christopher.
I scribbled. “Fangs? What if you didn’t want to have fangs?”
“Tooth caps,” said Dad. “Makeup.”
“Interesting. There are some things that would be harder to fake,” I said. “The grains of rice thing.”
“Your kind do get obsessive compulsive about that,” said Mom to Mr. Christopher.
“The running water thing,” I continued.
“We all have a serious allergy to rowan,” said Mr. Christopher.
“Religious symbols?” asked Mom. “Can a vampire not react to a religious symbol?” That was an important question for Mom. Dad had told me it was one of her go to responses in the case of vampire attack.
“Modern film would have you believe so,” Dad said. “That’s more complicated. For truly religious people, unquestionably it has effect.”
“Like Vince at the mall.” My illustrating example. “If you attach deep spiritual significance to any object, it can be used as a religious foil against vampires.” I glanced down the pages of my notebook. “A lot of my questions about how Coral was doing what she was doing now make sense. Dad’s right. She’s a vampire.”
I tapped the page of my notebook as I made each point.
“Body temperature is cold. Unusual speed. Beautiful and charismatic. Flashing eyes.”
“She could have been the vampire at the mall,” Mom said.
“Her or William. I haven’t tested William out.”
“We can get a look at William this weekend,” said Dad.
“Reginald, is that safe?”
“We have no idea about William or his intentions yet,” said Dad. “I’ll be there, Lee will be there. No one will be in danger. If William and Coral are vampires, perhaps all they will require is a reminder from the
