night. He sat, watching solemnly—a shadowy green form on the little table next to the bed that Tati and I shared.

“Did you see that strange young man?” my sister asked. “The one in the black coat?”

“Mmm-hm. I thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“I wonder who he was,” Tati mused, yawning.

Once the water dish was ordered to Gogu’s liking, I got into bed. The warmth of the goose-feather quilt was bliss over my tired legs. In the quiet of the chamber I could hear little splashing sounds.

“One of them, ” I said, my eyelids drooping with tiredness.

“Night People. You know what people say about them. They’re dangerous—evil. Dead and alive at the same time, somehow.

They can only come out after dark, and they need human blood to survive. I hope Ileana doesn’t let them stay. Did you speak to one of them? I saw Ileana introducing you. What were they like?”

“Cold,” Tati said. “Terribly cold.”

There was a silence, and I thought she had fallen asleep.

Then her voice came, a whisper in the shadowy chamber. “I thought the young man looked sad. Sad and . . . interesting.”

“If you asked Florica,” I said, “she’d tell you that the only thing Night People find ‘interesting’ is sinking their teeth into your neck.”

But my sister was asleep. As the light brightened and birds began a chirping chorus outside, I lay awake, thinking about the winter to come and whether I had been foolish to assure Father that we could cope. After a while, Gogu hopped out of his 28

bath and came to nestle on the pillow by my face, making a big wet patch on the linen. I’m here. Your friend is here. I was still awake when the sun pierced the horizon, somewhere beyond the forest, and down in the kitchen Florica began clattering pots and pans in preparation for breakfast.