"I want to do this for you," said Caleb, who sat with Angelina while she waited for a spot on the 2/5 table at the Orleans to open up.

  Angelina rolled her eyes.

  "Dammit, do you think some stupid grand romantic gesture will win me back?"

  Caleb paused.

  "Would it?" Caleb asked, a rare sincerity creeping into his voice.

  Angelina sighed. "Yeah, well, probably, you asshole, but you still shouldn't. You have a job to do."

  "Do I?" Caleb scratched his head. "I mean, no one is paying me to take on Renfield. Last I checked, avenging victims and getting personal revenge wasn’t a lucrative career."

  "See, that's your first problem. The first thing I learned from my time on Wall Street -- if you're good at something, never do it for free."

  "What if you're hiriously incompetent at it?"

  "Charge extra," Angelina said with a wry grin. "That's the second thing I learned from working on Wall Street."

  "I'll ask Dracu if there's a bounty on Renfield's head, but for now, just having fewer dead bodies than strictly necessary is my primary motivation. But that's obligation. Something I feel I have to do. Because of... because of who I've been in the past. But this? This I want to do for you. You've wanted to do a tournament for years, Angie."

  "And you know why I can't."

  "No, I know why you couldn't. But... what if we could get you to the Venetian poker room in the middle of the day, use Greg's money to buy in, have Trey coach you on that ICBM theory--"

  "ICM. Independent chip model. In a cash game, every chip has equal value; in a tournament, chips at the bottom of your stack have greater value than chips at the top."

  "Right. So whatever that is, Trey can do the math for it, and I'm sure he'd be happy to help." Caleb pulled out a brochure for the Venetian and flipped to the map of the second floor.

  "What if we stashed you here?" Caleb pointed to block 291 on the tourist map of the Venetian. "Then, when it’s time, you just walk across the hall to the poker room—block 330, here?"

  "Isn't that a little on the nose?" said Angelina.

  "How so?"

  "Block 291. That's the Dead Forever Experience," said Angelina. "You know, the Grateful Dead interactive museum?"

  "Hmm," said Caleb. "Surprisingly apropos."

  "Plus, you note that big block right there that says 'the waterfall atrium' between the Dead Forever Experience and the poker room?"

  "Yeah?" said Caleb.

  "It's an atrium, Caleb. It probably has a skylight. I'd be fsh-fried skeletonized before I even got past Burberry."

  "No, no, I checked it out. It looks like it's outside, but it's all artificial lighting," insisted Caleb. "And it's perfect. The Dead Forever Experience is trippy and just weird enough that no one would bat an eye if you were just lying around. Dress like a hippie and tourists might even think you're a wax figurine of a groupie," said Caleb.

  "That's insane," said Angelina. "Yeah, it might work, but it's not perfect. Someone might see something, or notice something... besides, groupies don't lie down and take naps, they scream and jump."

  "Some lie down and take naps. Maybe if we put you next to a wax figurine of Jerry Garcia, like you've just--"

  "Continue that sentence, Caleb. I dare you to continue that sentence," said Angelina, eyes gring.

  "Look, okay, there are... fws in the pn. But... if I can figure out a way to make this work -- and you get final approval on the pn -- do you want to be in the tournament?"

  "I mean, sure, it just seems so... risky," said Angelina. "And I say that as a professional gambler and former day trader."

  "We'll work out the details ter. And we won't do anything unless the pn is 100% air-tight," Caleb assured her. "In the meantime, I need to figure out what I'm going to do about Mom."

  "Why, what's wrong with Mom?"

  "Nothing," said Caleb. "Except that she's about an hour away from here and I'm supposed to meet her at WinCo. Then we'll try to figure out where she can stay. Don't worry though, I'm sure we'll get all the details down pat before the big... heist isn't the right word."

  "Scheme?" offered Ange.

  "I like it. The big scheme," said Caleb.

  ***

  Caleb parked his Camry at WinCo - the 24 hour Vegas supermarket. Employee owned and operated. And, unsurprisingly, one of the only supermarkets that kept prices down during the post-COVID "inftion" spree that pgued most major chains.

  He had been the one to suggest it. It wasn’t anywhere he was known to hang out, nor any of the other vampires (as far as he knew). It was open 24/7, had decent security, and, if his mother was going to come to a city that doubled as the ir of an ancient vampire, this seemed like the least terrible option.

  "Gee, Mom, sorry I semi-faked my death and you haven't seen me in twenty-seven years," Caleb muttered to himself in the car. "But -- have you seen these bulk goods?"

  He got out, leaning against the wall by the entrance, closing his eyes, running through what he was going to say.

  "Cal?"

  The voice was right next to him.

  Caleb opened his eyes. There she was. Older. Eyes brimming with tears. His mother.

  And just like that, all the words he’d practiced vanished. His throat tightened.

  "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry."

  She pulled him into a hug. The first in twenty-seven years.

  Finally, she pulled back, searching his face. "You're so cold, Cal. Are you feeling alright?"

  "Well, there's a reason for that."

  "Oh right, the whole v-- Oh my god! I forgot to take it off!" Helen gasped, breaking the hug to reach for her neckce.

  "Take what off?"

  "My crucifix pendant. I forgot to..."

  Caleb smiled, pcing a hand on her shoulder. "Mom, it's okay. I'm not affected by crosses."

  "Oh, that's good. Is there anything that..."

  "Garlic. I can't stand garlic, but that's just me. Every vampire's a little bit different. I got the garlic thing."

  Her face fell. "You used to love garlic," Mom frowned.

  "I know, Mom."

  Her voice cracked. "It was one of your favorites. I used to make spaghetti bolognese, and you’d pile on so much garlic I swore you were going to sprout cloves out of your ears." She sniffled, her composure crumbling.

  Caleb didn’t say anything. He just pulled her back into a hug.

  "We have so much to catch up on."

  ***

  In Vegas, like in many cities in America, there is a pce where a light is always left on for the weary, the troubled, and those haunted by their own ghosts. A pce where life slows to a crawl, where old friends and estranged family members can sit down, share a meal, and let time soften the edges of past wounds. A pce where people can step in from the cold desert night and bask in warmth—the air thick with the smells of diner coffee, sizzling bacon, and the quiet hum of human camaraderie.

  Caleb took his mom to Denny’s… and, for the first time, it wasn’t the portal to hell he once believed it to be.

  He was changing.

  That thought reassured him -- and unnerved him in equal measure.

  Perspective could shift in an instant. The mind could reshape reality, mood could shape the world as much as the world shaped mood. A vampire’s body was static, frozen in time, but the mind? The mind was still terrifyingly, beautifully, human.

  Of course, when Caleb entered with his mother, Philip took notice.

  They sat down at a booth.

  "Hold on, Mom. I'm going to talk to a... friend of mine. This is kind of his... pce, and it'd be rude if I didn't say hi," said Caleb. "Meantime, order whatever you want... you must be starving."

  "Okay, Cal."

  His mother watched as Caleb headed over to a man in a booth that she swore she didn't notice before, and watched as the two bickered over something. Finally, the man in the booth got up and headed back to the booth with Caleb.

  "Hello, Mrs. Tryst. My name is Philip. I'm an acquaintance of your..." Philip rolled his eyes. "...son."

  "Thank you. Nice to meet you Philip. Though I'm Mrs. Trent, not Mrs. Tryst. You can call me Helen."

  "Pleased to meet you, Helen. Actually, no. Caleb’s being reckless, and your presence here is a liability. But under other circumstances, I'm sure I'd be happy to meet you," said Philip.

  "Philip... she's my mom," said Caleb.

  "Exactly, Caleb! She--" Philip looked around circumspect, made sure no one was watching, then sat in the booth and spoke in a hushed voice. "--what the hell are you doing bringing family into this? You're the one that made the guidelines in the first pce! 'Contacting people from your old life -- and letting them in on the big secret -- pces them and us in danger, so don't do it,' remember?"

  "I didn't bring my family into this. Renfield did. Also, I tried to tell her to stay away, and she wouldn't."

  "And why'd you come to Denny's? My Denny's," admonished Philip.

  "The rooty-tooty-fresh-and-fruity pancakes," said Helen Trent.

  Philip just stared at Helen.

  Caleb shrugged. "The woman wants rooty-tooty-fresh-and-fruity pancakes. I'm not going to deny my mother rooty-tooty-fresh-and-fruity pancakes."

  "It's not about the rooty-tooty-fre—" Philip cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "Did you not expin to her that if Renfield finds her, she could be in serious danger? That without Joshua, he’s going to need another killer in the family?"

  "Oh, no, I didn’t inherit the whole bloodline curse thing. I just married into it."

  "Maybe. But vampires may be immune to direct possession, sure -- but what if Renfield takes you hostage? You think Caleb wouldn’t start killing again if Renfield put a knife to your throat?"

  "Good point. Cal, if I get kidnapped, maybe don’t go on a murder spree."

  Caleb winced. "I did try to expin all this on the phone. She just... didn’t listen."

  "Philip, I’ve held out hope for twenty-seven years that my son was alive. And now, to find out he’s here, alive and well—for a vampire, I mean..." She exhaled sharply, gripping a napkin and twisting it in her hands. "I couldn't wait. Not one more day."

  Philip sighed, rubbing his temple. "I see where Caleb gets his stubbornness from." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Helen, you need to understand -- there are forces at work here beyond mortal ken."

  "Beyond mortal ken?" said Caleb. "Who are you, the Cryptkeeper's speechwriter?"

  "You named yourself 'Caleb Tryst,'" said Philip. "You don't get to judge my vocabury."

  "Touché," said Caleb.

  "It is kind of a silly name," said Helen.

  "Right. Philip. I didn't just come here because Mom wanted rooty-tooty-fresh-and-fruity pancakes," said Caleb. "Though that was the main reason. I also want to ask you if you could help Angelina out."

  "Depends on what she needs help with. But generally, sure," said Philip. "Angelina's nice, always happy to help."

  "And I'm not nice?" said Caleb.

  Philip just fixed Caleb a gre.

  "Okay, yes. But, you know, I’m trying," said Caleb.

  "Cal, you're not nice?" asked Helen.

  "It's been... a hard couple of decades," said Caleb. "But I'm working on it."

  "We raised you to be nice, Cal," admonished his mother.

  "It's hard to be nice when you're a monster," said Caleb.

  "Nonsense. What about lovable, furry ol' Grover?" said Helen, making an exaggerated shrug. "He’s a monster. And he’s nice."

  "That is an entirely different type of monster," said Caleb.

  "Sesame Street does have a vampire," needled Philip. "And he's nice."

  Caleb’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he wished he could curse. But his mom was right there -- he could hear her clucking her tongue already.

  ---

  After Philip headed back to the other booth, Caleb and his mother did their best to catch up on twenty-seven years. The lonely first couple of years -- figuring out what he was and how to survive. The search for his sire, who, as it turned out, was the Dracu. ("He's nice, Mom, you'd like him." "No matter his intentions, he took my baby from me, Cal, there's no way I'm going to like him.") The creation of Angelina and their on-again, off-again romance -- hopefully soon to be on-again. How he gathered up the straggling vampire community and, almost by default, became the 'eldest' of the Vegas vampires. How he made ends meet. (Crime, mostly.)

  If Caleb had killed as a vampire. (Yes, but fewer than you'd think, and never on purpose.) About Stelian and the Glittergang. ("Wait, you're telling me the books and movies came first?") And about Pantessa, the newest arrival. ("Well, I always wanted grandchildren...")

  And Caleb's mom talked about how life quieted down since moving to Reno, especially for Caleb's dad, and what it was like in retirement, and all the aunts, uncles, and cousins that had their own, normal lives, and how they held a memorial service for "Calvin" after three years, and how tough that was for her and the rest of the family.

  ---

  "I wish you had come to us for help," said Helen Trent. "We would have helped you, you know."

  "I know, but, I thought I was keeping you safe. Not just... the whole vampire thing, but also, I mean, I thought I was a horrible person. I mean, I might be a horrible person--"

  "Never, Cal. Never."

  "I mean, maybe within acceptable parameters now," Caleb said. "But if we hadn’t found this family connection to this whole 'bloodline-curse' thing, I don’t think I ever would have talked to you or Dad again."

  "You were trying to keep us safe. I understand. I really do," she said. "Now... don't do it again!"

  "Alright."

  "Promise?"

  "I promise, Mom."

  "Good. Now. I didn't just drive all this way from Reno to catch up," Helen said. "This Renfield man tortured my husband of fifty-five years. He tortured you. And because of him, I lost you for almost three decades." She cupped Caleb’s face, brushing her thumb along his cheek. "Now. I’m here. Your mother is here. So tell me -- how can I help you kill this bastard?"

  "Mom, you're pushing eighty."

  "Exactly. If I get killed, I haven’t missed much." She took his hand, squeezing it tight. "Calvi-- Caleb. Look at me."

  He did.

  "Tell me how to kill a vampire."

  "Ah. Well, that's the thing," said Caleb. "Other than sunlight, I... don't actually know. And... not every vampire is killed by sunlight."

  Helen tilted her head, considering this. Then, she fshed a wicked grin.

  "Well, we better figure something out, kiddo. Because your momma is gonna wreck a bitch."

  ***

  Angelina got a secure Signal text on her phone from Caleb. "Mom wants to meet you. Are you free?" it said.

  "I'm free. Where?"

  "I can pick you up. She also wants to meet Pantessa too. Should I invite her?"

  "Why not? Why not meet the whole fam?" Angelina texted back.

  ---

  "You want me to meet your mother?" texted Pantessa.

  "Yes. Well, more accurately, she wants to meet you. I kind of don't want you to meet her, because I've been absolutely horrible to you, and that's not the kind of thing you want your mother to know about, but also, I've kind of completely earned the guilt,"

  "I am all for making you feel guilty, Caleb, so absolutely, bring her over. I'm housesitting at Joshua's pce. Stelian's already here, does she know about glitterboys?"

  "I told her. She'll be thrilled to meet you both."

  A few minutes ter, Caleb sent another text.

  "I know I don't really have to say this, but she's my mom and... don't eat her? Please?"

  Pantessa replied with the middle-finger emoji.

  ---

  Angelina, sporting cat-eye gsses, a hoodie, and leggings—looking every bit the part of a high-roller fresh off the tables—left the Orleans, cash in her purse, and headed to Caleb’s Camry. She immediately recognized Caleb’s mother, especially standing next to him with that strong family resembnce, and went in for a hug.

  "You must be Mrs. Try-- Mrs. Trent!" said Angelina, smiling. "I'm Angelina. Former day-trader, professional gambler. I'm Caleb's first childe, ex-girlfriend, current friend."

  "Future re-girlfriend?" teased Helen.

  Angelina whispered something in Helen's ear, so that Caleb couldn't hear. "If he pys his cards right."

  "That accent. New York City?" smiled Helen.

  "Best city in the world, baby!" Angelina smiled. "Raised on Staten Isnd, moved to Manhattan once I could afford it. Came here for a little vacation in te 2001 and Caleb... well, he accidently turned me into a vampire. I've lived here ever since."

  "Accidentally?" her mother said. "How do you accidentally turn someone into a vampire?"

  "She bit me," said Caleb.

  "You bit me first!"

  "Yes, but I was the vampire. I was supposed to bite you. You were the maiden! You weren't supposed to bite back!" said Caleb.

  "The maiden?" Angelina smirked. "Oh, is that all I was to you? Just some snack? Some naive waif who fell into the clutches of the seductive evil?"

  "I was there. You were pretty seductive yourself, if you recall."

  "Of course I was. I always am."

  Helen burst into ughter. "You two are already married, you just don't know it yet!"

  ***

  When they finally reached Joshua's house, Pantessa and Stelian greeted them at the door.

  "You must be Pantessa!" said Helen warmly, extending a hand.

  "Let me guess? Mrs. Tryst?" Pantessa replied, shaking it.

  "Trent, actually. Cal changed his st name," Helen leaned in and stage whispered. "I'll be honest. I don't like it. I'm Helen."

  "Come on in. I'm housesitting for the serial killer that murdered me," said Pantessa. "This is Stelian, my boyfriend," she added.

  “Heyo,” Stelian waved, casually leaning against the doorframe.

  “Nice to meet you," Helen said, eyeing Stelian’s cowboy hat. "Do you always wear that in the house?”

  “I do now,” Stelian shrugged. “I got turned with a bad haircut, now I’m stuck with it for all eternity.”

  Helen ughed, then took a closer look. "Oh, come on, it can't be that bad. Let me just take a look--”

  Helen’s face froze as she lifted the Stetson off Stelian’s head, revealing the ugliest haircut she'd ever seen. Silence hung in the air as she stood there, wide-eyed.

  Caleb, with his usual deadpan expression, said, “I told her about the whole ‘son-turned-vampire’ thing, and that her husband and son were psychically maniputed serial killers, and about the Vegas Erotic Heritage Museum, but that's the first time I’ve seen her speechless.”

  Stelian gently recimed his hat, a bit embarrassed, and pced it back on his head. “Pantessa is going to try cutting it with silver scissors.”

  Caleb raised an eyebrow. “Would that actually work?”

  Pantessa shrugged. “No idea. But it’s worth a shot. Just need to save up for the scissors first. Maybe get a pair of stainless steel scissors silver-pted." She looked around. "So, Mrs. Trent, how much do you know about me?"

  "Not much. Other than that Caleb told me that you were one of Joshua's victims -- Renfield by proxy, I guess. And that you were very new to being a vampire," said Mrs. Trent.

  "Did he also tell you that he promised to kill me?" said Pantessa.

  Helen slowly turned to Caleb, her face bnk at first, as if her brain had stalled on the words. She blinked once. Then twice. Then, with the slow horror of someone realizing they’d just stepped in something awful, she whispered, “You what?”

  Caleb shifted uncomfortably. “It’s true, Mom. I did. But when I said I promised to kill her, I didn’t mean it like a threat. I meant it like… I don’t want her to end up a bloodsucking creature of the night, and I’d feel responsible for all the people she’d eventually kill, so I promised to kill her quickly and painlessly.”

  "You said you’d smash a frying pan over my head and leave me in the desert," Pantessa added helpfully.

  "I said if it came to that. It was Angelina's hypothetical, and--"

  Helen turned back to Caleb, her mouth dropping open. A sound started in the back of her throat, a word that never quite formed. She raised a finger at him, lowered it, then opened her mouth again. Nothing.

  Finally, after a long, painful pause, she managed, "Caleb. That was -- very mean."

  “I agree. It was… unthinkingly cruel and selfish,” said Caleb, looking properly chastised.

  Helen crossed her arms. “I’m not too old, and you’re not too undead, to bend you over my knee, Calvi--" She caught herself and corrected, "Caleb.”

  Pantessa burst out ughing at that. Stelian did too. Even Angelina couldn't fully stifle the snicker.

  It was how incredibly guilty that Caleb looked that made Pantessa decide it was time to give the poor bastard an out.

  "On the other hand," she said, rolling her shoulders, "if it wasn't for Caleb, I'd be completely dead, not just... whatever I am now. And my killer would still be out there, murdering girls, not applying for restaurant jobs in New Mexico. So, yeah. I guess I should thank him for that."

  She looked down at her hands, flexing them. "But he also had a valid point. I'm a monster. The first time I really fed -- really fed -- I knew. I knew I'd kill for it if I had to. I know that hunger’s inside me, just waiting for an excuse. A weak moment. A rationalization." She let out a slow breath. "So, I get it. Caleb wasn’t wrong to be afraid of me. I am something to be afraid of."

  She looked back at Helen. "We all are. We're monsters. And yeah, he’s responsible for bringing another one into the world. But he’s going to have to learn to live with that. Just like I’m going to have to learn to live with being one."

  The humor had drained from the room. Stelian shifted awkwardly, and even Angelina looked uncharacteristically solemn.

  Caleb, to his credit, didn’t argue. He just nodded, as if finally accepting something he hadn’t wanted to face.

  Helen let out a breath. “Jesus,” she muttered. “This is a hell of a conversation to have at one in the morning.” She hesitated, then pced a gentle hand on Pantessa’s shoulder. “But listen to me. You may be monsters. You may all be monsters. But you’re also family.”

  “Um, Pantessa and I just started dating,” Stelian said, immediately ruining the moment. “But, uh… can I still be family?”

  Caleb rolled his eyes, and was about to say something mean and cutting, but before he did, he caught Stelian's face, and it was clear he was serious. He... actually wanted this. Sure, Stelian never lost contact with his mom, the way Caleb did. He had a family. But he wanted to belong. And he had done nothing but been helpful and kind. Helping track down Joshua's van. Helping crack open the box he thought Caleb was in. Even Dracu admitted the kid had jumped on his back to save Pantessa -- reckless, stupid, brave as hell. There was no doubt, not even in Caleb's cynical mind, that the kid had earned it, and if he wanted to call this little group his family? He couldn't think of a person he would rather have as a brother.

  An annoying. Pesky. Dweeby. Sparkly little brother.

  "Yes, Stelian. I'm proud to have you in my family." Caleb sighed, then smirked. "And I'm sure Mom would agree. Now come in for a group hug, you shiny son-of-a-bitch."

  The two vampire men embraced, followed by Helen, Angelina, and Pantessa. And when they finally broke, Helen asked Angelina to lean down so she could whisper something in her ear.

  "You know," she whispered, with a gleam in her eye, "his dad is a little bisexual too!"

  ---

  It wasn't long before Mrs. Trent had to turn in on the semi-repaired broken bed, and the four vampires sat down and had a quiet conversation among themselves about next steps at the dining room table.

  "I've been thinking about things. And I'm actually gd I can get in touch with you all tonight," said Caleb. "Beyond meeting my mother, I mean. There's something -- well, two things, I want to discuss with all of you. Specifically with the three of you in this room."

  "Go ahead, Caleb. We're listening," said Pantessa. Angelina and Stelian also nodded.

  "First, I really want to help Angelina figure out a way to py in that tournament she wanted. It'd be difficult, but Pantessa, Stelian, can I ask for your help?"

  "Caleb, it's not that important," Angelina protested.

  "It's important to you, so it's important," said Caleb. "Yeah, Renfield is out there but I'm not going to let him stop us from living our lives. Or reasonable facsimiles thereof."

  "I mean, yeah," said Pantessa. "I'm the only one here who can be said to speak for his victims, and fuck him. I'm in."

  "Where Pantessa goes, I go," offered Stelian. "And honestly, Angelina, you're the nicest 'griller' I know. I mean, it used to be Cardi, but one time I sent her a FaceBook meme about a math problem and she nearly came to blows with me over it, talking about 'ambiguous order of operations' or something."

  "Yeah," said Caleb. "That girl takes her math seriously."

  "Just to be clear," Pantessa said. "We're 99% doing this for Angelina. Maybe 1% doing it for you."

  "Perfectly fair. I'll Signal you the details of the pn so far. We can brainstorm some ideas," said Caleb. "Now..." Caleb leaned forward, tense, pursing his lips. "The second thing. And this cannot leave this table."

  "Go on, Caleb," said Angelina, hand on his shoulder. "What is it?"

  "I've been thinking about that night in South Point. We know it was Renfield who put the bible verses on the victim's body in order to lure me to South Point to seek out the Counts von Count. But that meant that whoever Renfield is, he would have had to know about the Counts, that they operate out of South Point, and that I would know about the Counts and where they operated. That means Renfield knows us. Knows us well enough to predict what we would do, who our confidants are."

  Stelian nodded, trying to process the information. "Right, so he's, like, been watching us, knows our weaknesses--"

  "Wait a minute," said Pantessa, staring off into space for a second, processing. "Oh my God!" she said.

  She pced a hand on Stelian's chest to silence him and quickly scanned the room, the realization sinking in.

  "Oh my God! Renfield's a local. He's one of the vampires we know. Hiding in pin sight. It could be any one of them!"

  There was a heavy pause, as Stelian furrowed his brow, not quite following.

  "Wait," he said, frowning. "You're saying he could be like... any one of us? Even--"

  "Yes! Yes!" said Pantessa, cutting him off in exasperation. "He could be any one of us!"

  Caleb had to smile. He lucked into siring a smart one, and couldn't help but feel proud of his newest progeny.

  "Exactly. We know he's in Vegas. And... given the legends about vampires who can change shape and impersonate people, we can't rule out anyone," he expined.

  "My god," said Stelian. "He could be you! He could be me! Or, hell, even Mrs. Trent could be—"

  Caleb rolled his eyes. "I think we can rule out my mom. She's... not a vampire. And there are reasons it couldn't be any one of us in this room right now. That I know for sure."

  "How?" asked Pantessa.

  "I know you're not Renfield, because, quite frankly, I was there when you were turned," said Caleb. "Stelian isn't Renfield in disguise. We know Renfield predates the sp-- glittergang, so he can't go out during the day, and Stelian, you recently did exactly that when you tried to out-stalk the stalker. And failed hiriously. A+ for effort, though."

  (So what if Stelian was part of his new-found found-family? That wasn’t going to stop Caleb from giving the kid some good-natured teasing.)

  Caleb then turned to Angelina, taking her hand, looking into her eyes. "And Angelina and I... know each other too well. It's the little things. Even if Renfield might be able to impersonate you, he wouldn't know all the details. He might know you're a gambler from New York City, but 'former day trader' from 'Staten Isnd?' That's too much specific detail. And I've even been testing you a little bit, just in case. Remember when I called it 'ICBM' and you corrected me? I threw that in on purpose. I needed to be sure. And I don't think Renfield would have caught that if he was just pretending to be you."

  "Wait..." said Angelina, "So you..."

  "I know what ICM is. I know your favorite pyer is Scott 'Baby Shark' Lupescu. I know you wish there were more mixed games at the small stakes. I know you never limp preflop, and you never cold-call a 3-bet—you 4-bet or fold. And maybe I can't py poker like you can, but I know that you're passionate about it, Angelina. And I've spent a lot of time with you."

  "I know without a doubt," said Caleb, looking straight into Angelina's eyes, "the person in front of me right now is Angelina Lay Nuit, the woman who chose her middle and st name because they're the Hebrew and French words for 'night', and I would know you anywhere."

  That was the moment Angelina knew, without a doubt, that she was pying this hand with Caleb to the river.

  AnnouncementI think I've made a decision.

  I think I'm going to try to trad-pub this book. If nothing else, I'll see if I can make more of a success through trad-pub than I can through self-pub. Or vice versa.

  Which means I'll probably have to eventually take it down from Scribblehub when I start pitching it to various publishers.

  BUT... you who have been reading along, giving comments? You deserve to not have to pay for it. E-mail [email protected] with the subject line: "Remember to send me STOV." That way, when I *DO* take it down from Scribblehub, I'll be sure to send you a copy in epub and PDF formats.

  In the meantime, stay tuned for the next chapter: "Chapter 14: The Vampire Horse."