“Bitty?” he said.

The little young, who was stretched out on her tummy and surrounded by open containers of tempera paint, looked up and smiled. “Hi, Uncle Trez.”

Walking over to Rhage and Mary’s daughter, he got down on his haunches. “Wow. This is some kind of work.”

“I’m doing Christmas cards for everybody.” She rinsed her paintbrush in a glass full of murky water. “It’s a human tradition.”

“So I’ve heard.”

As he inspected her work, he thought of her hard start in life. She had lost so much, been hurt so badly. But now she was on the far side of that, having been adopted by a father and mahmen who loved her like nothing else. She had a good ending, and it was nice to feel like he was with her in that.

Her lovely soft face became very serious. “My mom and Auntie Beth told me all about how humans do it. You get cards for the people you love this time of year and then everyone puts them on their mantelpiece so they can look at them every night. I saved up my babysitting money, and I went to Hannaford’s with my dad, but none of the cards for sale really fit any of us.”

Trez smiled. “Well, vampires and all. Some things don’t translate as well. But I know I would rather get a handmade card from you than a store-bought one.” He put his palm up. “Not that I’m taking for granted that I’m on your list.”

“But you are, Uncle Trez. Of course you are.” Except then her eyes grew sad. “I mean, both of you are.”

“iAm?” Trez nodded. “You know, it’s more efficient to give us both one—”

“No. He gets a separate one.” She hesitated. Then she sat up and leaned across her masterpieces. Picking one up, she offered it to him. “Here, this is for you. I’m sorry if it’s… not good.”

Without even looking at the artwork, Trez frowned and put his hand on her tiny shoulder. “Bitty. How can I not love what you’ve made me?”

She just indicated the card, so he focused on it.

As he went to take what she had made for him, his hand started to shake ever so slightly. The 8½-by-11 sheet was split in two, clearly with the intention that it was to be folded in half down the middle. Turning it around, he blinked hard. There was a pair of figures depicted, and they were holding hands, a gold star above where they were linked. On the right, the larger of the pair had dark skin, super-short hair, a green sweater, and red pants. On the left, the smaller of the pair was wearing a red blouse and a green skirt, and had long, dark hair. But instead of being flesh-colored, the arms and legs and face of the female were silver.

“I wanted Selena to be on your card.” Bitty reached across her collection and pulled another page over. “So I made her like I made my mahmen. See? And my younger brother. They are all silver because they are not here on earth, but they are still with us.”

Trez took the card she had made for her mahmen. There was a figure like the one that represented Selena, silver-skinned with a red-and-green dress, and in her arms, in a little red-and-green swaddling blanket, was a silver-faced young. Next to the pair, depicted with flesh-colored skin, was how Bitty saw herself, slim and in red pants and a green shirt. Bitty was not smiling, but she was holding her mahmen’s hand.

“I have another card, though.” Bitty brought a third sheet over. “I have this one, too.”

On the third one, there were three figures in the foreground, a huuuuge blond-haired one in black clothes with a red-and-green scarf, a small one that had short brown hair and green pants and a red shirt, and then the same depiction of Bitty that was on her mahmen’s card.

In this card, Bitty was smiling. Everyone was smiling.

Rhage was standing with his big arms over Mary’s and Bitty’s shoulders, and the two females were holding hands across his torso. Over their heads, there was another gold star, as well as two silver figures in white robes, their arms outstretched, smiles on their faces, trails from their flying done in sparkles that fell like snow from the sky to form the ground line the little family was standing on.

“That’s my mahmen and my brother,” the girl pointed out. “Up above.”

“Watching from the Fade.” He looked at Bitty. “I think these are all really beautiful.”

Bitty took the two cards she had done for herself back and tested the paint gently with her fingertip.

“It’s dry.” She carefully folded the piece of paper down the center. “See, this is how they are supposed to look.”

She repeated the bend-and-flatten routine with the other, and then lined the pair up. Sitting back on her heels, she frowned.

“I don’t know whether I should have done one for Mahmen and Charlie separately.” She glanced over. “I was to have a brother, you see. He came to me in a dream. So I know he’d have been a boy if he lived, and he didn’t have a name, so I gave him Charlie. At least in my own head.”

Bitty touched both cards, linking them as the figures were linked by hands and arms. “It felt wrong not to do a card for them. But it was a sad card. Then…” She pointed to the other. “Then I did this one, and I realized I could fit us all in. And this is a happy card, even if they’re not with us. Because they’re with us.”

Grave thirteen-year-old eyes locked on his own. “When I went to do your card, I thought maybe I would put Selena up over you, but… I just felt like she was on the same line. Next to you.”

Goose bumps ran up the back of his neck. “You have no idea how right you are. May I keep this?”

“Let me fold it so it’s right.”

“Of course,” he murmured as he gave her artwork back.

Bitty lined up the corners precisely and then, with care to rival a brain surgeon’s, drew her fingertips downward, creating a perfect crease. She made as though she were going to give it to him, but then she took the card back.

“I was supposed to write something on the inside. But I don’t have the pens I was going to use. They are up in my room. I didn’t expect to do the lettering yet.”

Trez looked at the silver figure and the image of himself. “You know, it was made with love and I love what you’ve painted. So I’m not sure it needs words.”

“Okay, you can have it like it is.”

As he accepted the gift, the little girl threw her arms around him and squeezed. With a lump in his throat, Trez returned the hug lightly. She was such a tiny little thing, but her heart and spirit were fierce. She had more than proven that.

“Thank you, Bitty. I will treasure this always.”

“I love you, Uncle Trez.” Bitty pulled back. “And I don’t want you to be sad anymore.”

“I’m better now,” he whispered. “Honest.”

The sound of approaching boot falls brought Trez’s head around. Rhage was striding into the billiards room, a turkey leg in one hand, a chocolate milkshake that was half finished in the other. The Brother smiled.

“Hey, Trez, what’s doing?” He looked at Bitty. “And young lady, it’s time for dinner. I gave you an extra ten minutes, but that’s turned into twenty. You can always come back here soon as you’re done.”

“Okay, Dad,” she said as she stood up.