Silence followed for a moment. “OK, that description does sound like a you-know-what.”

“Vampire.”

“Yes. Ray, my cherub of delight, that is indeed a bottle of olive oil, but it’s Greek, not Italian, and I will not put Greek olive oil in spaghetti. Would you mind . . . Thanks, love. Mwah.” Magda was silent for a moment as faint sounds of footsteps fading away were audible even on the phone. “All right, he’s gone again. Pia, you’re going to have to let the vamp in.”

“I don’t want to,” I said stubbornly, turning my back on the window, glaring suspiciously at the bedroom. I knew full well that Kristoff wasn’t going to walk out of there, as he had in the dream, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking. “My life is going really well right now. Kind of. Somewhat. Oh, hell, it’s a nightmare, but that’s only going to be made worse by involvement with the Moravian Council, or whatever it is the vamps call themselves.”

“From what I remember of them, you’re not going to have a choice. They seemed kind of pushy.”

The knocking at my front door got even louder. Obviously the messenger was getting tired of waiting. “I don’t care. I have to get rid of this guy. What is it vamps don’t like? Garlic and holy water? I don’t have any of the latter, but I have garlic bread. You think that will work?”

“Pia, sweetie . . .” Magda’s voice took on a frustrated tinge as I marched out into the kitchen and dug through a bag until I found a loaf of garlic bread. “I really don’t think pretending none of this exists is the answer.”

The vamp on my doorstep stopped knocking and was outright pounding on my door now. “Wish me luck,” I said, setting down the phone in order to peel back the wrapper on the garlic bread. I wielded it like a club as I swung open the door.

Madga’s voice was faint but audible from the phone. “Pia? Pia? What are you . . . Oh, she is so silly sometimes. . . .”

“I have garlic and I’m not afraid to use it!” I shouted at the vampire, shaking the bread in his face.