The nearly transparent wysper stopped, chest heaving, face bruised and bloodied. She dropped the sword to her side, and her eyes filled with tears.

‘What happened? Where’s Maris?’

Velimai’s free hand began moving in the complex rhythm of signing, when suddenly she went solid, pulled Chrysabelle into the house by her shirt, and brandished the weapon again.

Mal stood just beyond the threshold. His eyes flared slightly when he realized what Velimai was.

Weapon pointed in defense, the wysper opened her mouth. An eerie howl screeched out of her, a sound like nails on gypsum. A crack snaked through one of the massive Oriental vases. Mal staggered back, clamping his hands to his ears.

‘No!’ Chrysabelle spun, her heart racing. ‘No, Velimai.’

The wysper’s cry ceased, but her mouth stayed open.

‘He’s a … ’ Chrysabelle couldn’t bring herself to say ‘friend.’ ‘He’s helping me. He’s not here to hurt you. Or me. I promise. He’s protecting me.’

Velimai snorted, but thankfully shut her mouth.

Chrysabelle glared at the wysper, who glared right back at her before returning her sooty gaze to the vampire scowling beyond the door. She didn’t look one bit convinced Mal wasn’t the enemy, but Chrysabelle didn’t have time to smooth wysper– vampire relations.

‘Mal.’ She tried to get Mal’s attention, but he was staring at Velimai as hard as she was staring at him. ‘Mal.’ He looked at her quickly, then back at the creature who’d almost destroyed him with her voice.

‘I heard you the first time.’

Doc and Fi walked up behind him, trying to see into the house. She ignored them for the moment. ‘Try to cross the threshold.’

Without taking his eyes off Velimai, he stepped forward and met a sheer wall of resistance. ‘Your aunt is alive.’

Relief flooded Chrysabelle.

Fi’s brow scrunched. ‘How do you know that?’

Mal stepped back. ‘A vampire may not enter a human’s home without permission. Only if Chrysabelle’s aunt were dead could I enter unhindered.’

Chrysabelle nodded. ‘And since you can’t come in, will you check the grounds?’ She knew she didn’t have to explain what to look for. Mal was probably as capable as she was in a situation like this. ‘Doc, Fi, come help me in here.’

She turned back to Velimai and guided her into the living room. Doc and Fi filed in behind her.

‘Man, this place is tight,’ Doc said. ‘Or was.’

Judging by the pieces of the glass coffee table covering nearly every surface, Velimai had done her best to stop whatever had happened. Magazines spilled across the rug, their electronic covers flickering. A little farther back, Maris’s iBot stood empty. Without Maris at the helm it seemed more like a useless sculpture. ‘What happened?’

Velimai pointed at Doc and Fi, lifting her bruised chin in question. Both of them looked as curious about the wysper. The chance they’d come in contact with one before was slim.

‘They’re friends of the vampire.’ She pointed at Doc. ‘He’s varcolai.’ As though Velimai couldn’t tell. Then she wiggled her finger at Fi. ‘She’s … sort of attached to the vampire. Or was. It’s a long story. Anyway, she’s human.’

Velimai nodded and dismissed them with a blink of her eyes. She brushed glass from the leather sofa before sinking down on it and cradling her head in her hands. Her shoulders began to rock gently, her body flickering like a candle flame. Chrysabelle half-expected her to go to mist. For all her strangeness, Velimai’s obvious distress over whatever had happened to Maris touched Chrysabelle. Perhaps the wysper wasn’t such a fearsome creature after all. Unless you were a vampire.

She glanced toward the still-open door. No sign of Mal. Fi lifted her hands, a silent, ‘What next?’

‘Fi,’ Chrysabelle said softly, in a voice she hoped would make it clear now was not the time for snappy comebacks.

‘Yeah?’

Chrysabelle notched her head to the right. ‘There’s a bathroom down that hall, second door. Would you get a damp washcloth?’

‘No problem.’ With a sympathetic look at Velimai, Fi exited toward the bath.

‘Doc, maybe you could fix some tea?’

Doc raised one brow and made a face that clearly implied she was crazy for asking.

‘If you can make spaghetti, you can make tea.’ Velimai wept in great shudders now, her small body more sheer than solid. Chrysabelle pursed her mouth. Tea wasn’t that hard. ‘Kitchen’s behind me. Teapot’s on the stove, tea and sugar in the canisters on the counter, and cups in the cabinet left of the range.’

Scowling slightly, he disappeared into the kitchen as Fi returned with the damp washcloth.

‘Thank you.’ Chrysabelle moved to sit beside Velimai. The sound of cabinets being opened and closed and things being moved around came out of the room behind them. ‘Doc’s in the kitchen, trying to make tea. Can you help him?’

‘Sure.’ Fi left, seemingly happy to have a new task.

‘Here.’ Chrysabelle nudged the washcloth toward Velimai’s hands. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve been hurt, but I need to know what’s happened to my aunt.’

The flickering stopped as Velimai solidified and took the cloth, pressing it against her skin then wiping her eyes. She folded it neatly and laid it on her knees, then began to sign. Her hands flew.