Part One

Chuck

I was in the kitchen, eating a Twinkie and watching Mom prepare something or other. I don't know why she doesn't set herself up a brewing station in the basement. There's plenty of room. Dad has offered more than once to fix up a place on one side of his lab. I asked her why she didn't let him, since they could spend more time together that way. She pinched my cheek and said something like, "I began my brewing in a kitchen, and it just wouldn't be the same in a sterile laboratory." Milla later told me, 'It's because a woman needs some time to herself, you goof.'

I finished the Twinkie, but there were a few spots of cream on the wrapper. I made sure that Mom was occupied with measuring something, and started to lick the cellophane clean. Not turning around she said, "Chuck, do not lick that wrapper."

I stopped. "Some day I'm going to wait till you're asleep, back comb your hair, and find that extra set of eyes."

"Foolish boy. I have only the extra sense that The Powers give all mothers. And besides--cellophane crinkles, and I know my little boy." She poured a cup of stuff that looked like lavender sand into the bowl, then reached for a bottle. "And if you try any tricks while I am asleep, I will chastise you severely, no matter how big you are." She looked over her shoulder at me, and there was a twinkle in her eye. "Don't forget--I do not sleep as soundly as your sister."

I stuffed the wrapper in the trash. "Ah, you two are never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"No, dear."

I came over and put my chin on her shoulder (I can do that now that I'm not a shrimp any more), and peered into the bowl. "What's this? Weight loss potion? Love attraction?" Those are her two biggest sellers. She doesn't do potions for financial success--says that for those to be really effective it takes rituals and possibly a summoning. She hasn't got time for that, and she's not about to let some amateur do it without supervision. She held the bottle under my nose, and I sniffed. "Lavender?"

"I'm making bath salts for Christmas presents. I can't work all the time, silly." There was a knock on the door, and she said, "Ah, that will be Carmilla's friend. I don't think she'll be ready for another few minutes."

"I'll get it, Mom."

"Very well." I started out the door. "And Chuck? Don't pull any of your intimidation tricks. The last one you growled at never called again."

"Small loss. I happen to know that he doesn't take no from his dates."

"You're not going to suggest that Carmilla can't protect herself?"

"I'm going to suggest that she shouldn't have to."

Mom shook her head, but she wasn't going to say any more to me about that issue. That's Carmilla's main gripe about all of us--our protectiveness. She's sort of the pot calling the kettle black on that account.

The dude waiting on the doorstep was almost as tall as I am. The first look was kind of surprising. He was blond--shiny blond. Carmilla doesn't usually go for shiny. He gave me a smile. No fangs, but that doesn't mean anything. Carmilla doesn't show hers unless she's surprised, or she wants to--or she's really pissed. I knew he wasn't a fellow lycanthrope from the scent--or rather the lack of scent, and I figured he wasn't a witch because when I'm around one of those I don't know, my hackles usually stand up. I didn't know what he was: I just figured he wasn't an ordinary mortal because Carmilla doesn't invite those home--she usually just picks one up somewhere, snacks on him, and sends him on his way with a hell of a hickey and a gap in his memory.

He said, "Hello. You must be Chuck."

"Yeah, I must be." Okay, so I'm a smart ass. Mom keeps wondering where it comes from, since neither her, nor Dad are. I tell her that we don't know the history of all of Dad, so who can say? Mom's too well bred to react to that like she wants, so Carmilla usually whacks me upside the head, or throws something at me. It's worth it.

He offered his hand. "I'm here for Carmilla. I'm...." I reached to shake... and my hand passed right through his. "Oh. I'm sorry about that. I keep forgetting I need to concentrate really hard to make physical contact. Knocking on stuff is easy, but actually gripping..."

Okay, that explained it--he was a ghost. "No problem. C'mon in." I shut the door after him. "And you've already won points for not just walking through it uninvited."

"If I did that, my Mama would commit suicide, just so she could be on my plane of existence, and give me a good behind whooping."

I had to laugh. "Have a seat. Carmilla's putting on her war paint, and she may be a few minutes." He settled on the sofa, and I took a chair near him. "I was going to offer you a drink, but I don't guess there'd be much point."

He shook his head. "I haven't been gone long enough to really miss it, but I suppose I will." He sighed. "I used to really enjoy a good Margarita."

"I'm curious. What do a vampire and ghost do on a date? I mean, dinner and drinks is pretty much out."

"We're going to the movies. Carmilla wants to see that new Harry Potter movie. She says she's in the mood for a good farce."

"Yeah. You should hear her and Mom laughing over some of the things that Rowlings woman has come up with." I snorted. "Wands. So how are you going to..." I mimed pulling out a wallet and opening it.

He looked a little pained. "Well, there's no problem with me, of course. I just won't manifest till we're inside. I'm afraid Carmilla is going to have to go Dutch treat. I hate that. It just doesn't seem like a date."

"So, what's your name, how long have you known her, where did you two meet, and what are your intentions?"

"Chuck!"

I winced. "She's standing right behind me, isn't she?"

"She certainly is."

Carmilla whacked me on the back of the head. "Are you sure you want to go out with her? You can see that she's violently inclined. You might end up in a rough domestic situation."

He looked amused. "I'm dead--it doesn't get too much rougher."

She came around the chair. "Hi, Trey. I'm ready, if you are." As Trey stood up, Carmilla said, "I'd apologize for Chuck, but it would get to be a habit."

"Oh, that's all right." Trey smiled at me. "He's not much different than I was with my little sister. He's just doing what brothers do. See you around, Chuck." They left. I kind of hope I do see him around. Milla hasn't got a really big dating pool, and so far Trey seems like a pretty good option.

I went back in the kitchen. Mom was using a funnel to pour what she'd made into little glass bottles. "Are they gone already? Drat. I wanted to meet him."

"He seems like a nice enough fella." I reached in the pantry for another pack of Twinkies.

"Chuck."

"Darn it, Mom, you know my metabolism burns it off."

"There's a full moon in two days, and you're hyper enough as it is."

"Oh, all right." I took an apple instead. Mom's right. I really need to avoid excessive caffeine and sugar right before my change.

She nodded her approval. "What's he like?"

"Blond. Really, really blond. Teutonic, Swedish, Aryan sorta blond. And dead."

"Hm?" She was putting corks in the bottles. "Vampire, zombie, ghost, or like your father?"

"There's no one else like Dad. Ghost."

"Oh. Poor thing. I wonder what's keeping him on earth?"

"I didn't ask."

She came over and ruffled my hair. "Dear, dear. You're becoming civilized."

"I just asked what he planned to do with Milla."

"I was wrong."

"Hey, he didn't mind. He said that he did the same sort of thing with his sister."

"Drove her crazy?"

"Okay, so I was messing with him a little--just a little. But it worries me when she goes out with guys we know nothing about."

Mom kissed me on the forehead. "I know, cheri. I'm glad that you two are so close."

I sniffed. "Close?" I rubbed the back of my head pointedly. "You didn't hear that smack she gave me?"

"Dear, when you are as old as I you will realize that love is not always soft words and warm looks. Sometimes love is teasing, or a smack. I have known families who give all the appearances of harmony--and would cheerfully sell each other as human sacrifices. Carmilla knows that even when you are at your most aggravating," she hugged me, "and you can be aggravating, ma petit garcon. Even at your worst, she knows that you love her." She tugged at my hair. "Even that time you crept into her room with those cosmetics..."

I groaned and let my head thump down on the table. They say that if you do something stupid, your family will never let you forget it. Well, considering how long-lived my family is, that may be literally true...

It was--let me see... 1995, I think. Yeah, 1995 because I was seven, and I'd just started public school. I know most kids start when they're six (or even younger these days), but due to my condition, Mom had home schooled me the first year. She took me to a lot of parks, malls, and fast food places to make sure I could handle being around ordinary people without getting over excited and going wolfy. She'd have rather kept me out another couple of years, but there was too much of a chance of Big Brother taking an interest in the family. Since Dad occasionally worked on 'sensitive' stuff, we already got more attention than they were comfortable with.

Anyway, I hadn't been around other kids too much since the biting incident in daycare when I was two. I had friends and playmates, sure--Mom and Dad didn't keep me locked up, or anything. But all my friends were going to regular public school, and I envied them. *snort* Live and learn, right? Eh, I say that, but I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I needed to be in a group. After all, wolves are pack animals, right?

When I finally got to go to school, I was so excited that if it had been during my phase, I'd have been chasing my own tail. The night before I got up after everyone was in bed and unpacked the backpack my Mom had fixed for me, gloating over the absolutely new pencils, crayons, and tablets. When Mom went to put my lunch in it the next morning (it had a separate, reinforced section for that), the contents must've been sort of jumbled, but she never said anything to me about it.

School was three blocks away, and since our neighborhood is quiet, I was going to be allowed to walk there by myself. Well, not really by myself. The neighbor's kid was twelve, and looked about sixteen, and he'd agreed to walk me to-and-from school in return for Dad helping him out with his science courses. I'd been afraid that Mom or Dad was going to personally hand me over to the teacher, complete with a list of do's and don'ts. I probably wouldn't have died of embarrassment, but there's no telling. I found out later that it was our family car I spotted on the way. Dad followed us to school for the first week, creeping along about a block and a half behind. He's lucky that there weren't any cops in the area looking to fill a quota, or he'd have been ticketed for obstructing traffic. Anyway, we got to school safely, and my escort deigned to help me find my class, rather than just dumping me and running off with his friends.

I'd been looking forward to having my own desk, but sometime between when Carmilla went to school and I arrived, they'd done away with that, at least for the younger students. We had tables, with personal bins on a shelf along the back wall for our supplies. That wasn't so bad, since our first project was to make labels for them.

The teacher had our names stenciled on the papers, and we were supposed to just color them in, but we could do it any way we liked, and, 'If inspiration strikes, you can draw something on it that means something to you.' I drew a bat, a wolf, a pentagram, and a steaming laboratory flask. The teacher was going around, commenting encouragingly on everyone's work. When she came to me, she said, "Oo, someone can't wait for Halloween! That's a scary bat."

I shrugged. Carmilla doesn't turn into a bat very often--she says it's a pain in the butt--but I like drawing bats better than coffins. Then she said, "And what's this? Is that your dog?"

It was a self-portrait, of course, but I knew better than to say that. Mom and Dad had drilled it into me that most of the world just don't understand our kind, and while if I said anything about turning into a wolf they'd probably chalk it up to childish imagination, someone might suggest that I needed to see a therapist. "No, ma'am. That's just a wolf."

"You're very talented." Then her eyes got kind of sharp, and all of a sudden I knew she was trying to sound casual. "What's this? Is that a beer bottle?"

A beer bottle? It didn't look like any beer bottle I'd ever seen. "No, ma'am. My daddy does 'speriments, and that's something he made. My daddy's a scientist."

"Oh, like Mister Wizard?" Now I was really confused. A wizard? Mom was the spell caster in the family. "Never mind, dear. I keep forgetting that he's before your time." She laughed. "He's almost before my time. And then there's a pretty star, so I see that you're looking forward to Christmas as well as Halloween. Very well done."

She moved on to the next student while I studied the paper, wondering why she hadn't recognized the pentagram. Then I realized that I'd forgotten something very, very important--something that Mom would never forget when casting a spell. I very carefully drew a circle around the star, making sure that it was complete and unbroken. That was better. Things went pretty smoothly after that.

Mom and Dad had encouraged me to make friends, and not just with 'our kind'. "After all, ma cheri," Mom had said, "we live among them, and they are so, " she sighed, "numerous." They warned me that I wouldn't be able to have any sleep over at my house, and that anyone invited over after school would have to be restricted to my bedroom, and the living room and kitchen--our 'public' rooms. But once they had met and approved the parents, as long as I made sure to get permission first, and it wasn't too close to my phase, I could visit, just like any other kid.

One of the first friends I made was Tod Coombs. He was a skinny, hyper little kid, one of the few who could keep up with me for extended periods of time. I started to spend a lot of time with him.

We were both small for our age, and that seemed to make us targets for some of the older, less civilized students. Tod and I had been acquaintances for a couple of weeks when an over sized third grader tried to take the Mars Bar Tod had hoarded from his lunch to eat on the way home from school. The thug had snatched the candy, but that wasn't enough for him. Some of the other kids had noticed, and now he was showing off, playing keep-away while Tod tried to grab the candy back. The kid was several inches taller than Tod, and just held it out of his reach, laughing at him.

That burned me up. I asked my escort to carry my backpack for a little while, then I sprinted toward the couple. When I got close to them, I yelled, "Move!" Tod spotted me and jumped out of the way. I leaped, still going full tilt, and body slammed the thug. I also managed to get my hand on the candy bar, and it jarred loose out of his hand when we fell down, with me on top. Then I scrambled up, babbling real fast about how I was sorry, and didn't he hear me yell to get out of the way, because I couldn't stop? I think he was going to make an issue of it, but one of the teachers had come out of the building by then, so he just picked himself up, dusted himself off, and left. I handed the candy bar to Tod, and he gave me half. We were officially friends.

Almost every day one of us was over at the other's house after school. Tod lived with his mom, who said that Tod's dad was on a permanent vacation in Cozumel, with his hygienist, and it was good thing for him that they could live cheap down there, what with the alimony and child support he had to pay. Sometimes I'm grateful my parents are an old fashioned married couple. He also lived with his older sister, but more about her later.

Tod met Mom and Dad, but he was never around the house after dark, so I'd told him about Carmilla, but he'd never seen her--not till the night of the Halloween Carnival. Halloween fell on a Tuesday that year, so we had the carnival on the 28th, the Saturday before. If you came in costume, you didn't have to spend a dollar for an entrance ticket. I went as Lon Chaney's Wolfman. Stop laughing--it was one of the coolest costumes there. I wore my pajamas, and Carmilla took a pair of angora socks and sewed bits of black plastic on the end for claws. She did almost laugh herself sick when she saw the set of plastic fangs Dad had bought me at Wal-Mart. Then Mom used spirit gum to stick patches of fake hair to my hands and face, and connected my eyebrows with an eyeliner pencil. No, they didn't start growing together till I hit puberty. I've been a religious plucker ever since then.

We didn't have, like, rides--the school system actually spent funds more on real education. But each room was set up as some sort of 'booth'. They had a Fish For Treasure, Cake Walk, Pop-the-Balloon--stuff like that, where you could win cheap, dime store prizes. Also they ladies who always supplied the bake sales had brought out a hefty supply of the usual cookies, cakes, and brownies, but with Halloween themed decorations.

I met Tod at the front door when Dad dropped me off at about six, with strict instructions to be waiting for him there at eight, and not to go wandering off anywhere. Tod's Dad had sent him twenty bucks, and an invitation for Tod and his sister to spend Christmas vacation with him and his girlfriend. I asked if he was going to, and Tod said according to his Mom maybe--if Hell froze over between now and then.

Dad had given me a double allowance, and Carmilla had slipped me five dollars, so we were both flush, and we spent like drunken sailors. By the time it was getting close to eight I was carrying a plastic dinosaur, a book of fake tattoos, a sack holding popcorn balls for the family, a one layer cake decorated with candy corn and Mellocream pumpkins, and I was wearing a pair of sunglasses that had neon pink plastic frames. I was also wearing a liberal smear of orange icing around my mouth, and some pale blue cotton candy stuck on the fake hair on my cheeks. I'd had a blast.

Dad was supposed to take Tod home, too, so we were waiting for him on the front steps of the school, watching the other kids and parents come and go. The carnival was going till nine, so there was still plenty of traffic. I saw our car pull up, and I stood, starting to try to gather all my stuff. I heard, "Wait! You're going to drop it all, doofus," and Carmilla got out of the car and started toward us.

The jerk who'd tried to rob Tod (I'd found out his name was Jason--wouldn't you know it?) was just coming out behind us, and he snickered, "You know Vampirella?"

I turned around and glared at him, but I managed not to snarl. "That's my sister!"

"Yeah? She looks like she makes her face up with flour, and what's with the black lips? Has she been eating licorice?" I think I did growl, then, because Jason looked a little surprised, and he said, "I'm not saying she's ugly. If she fixed her face like the other girls, I bet she'd be pretty." Then he went inside quickly.

Carmilla had reached us by then, and she said, "Man, Chuck, you look like you hit the mother load. I'll take the cake for you, okay? If you try to carry it, it'll probably end up as upside-down cake, whether they meant it to, or not." Tod was staring at her. "Hi, kid. You must be Chuck's friend, Tod. I'm his sister, Carmilla, since he doesn't seem to want to introduce us." Tod just nodded. "I know that Dad was supposed to bring you home, but he got on a roll with... With one of his home projects, so I said I'd come instead."

Tod said, "I like your costume."

Carmilla looked down at herself. She was going out to a club later, so she was a little dressed up--for her. She was wearing a black body stocking and a gauzy, almost see-through black skirt, with a ragged, floaty hem. Her make-up was also as usual--dead white, with black lipstick and dark smudges around her eyes. She lifted an eyebrow at me, but said, "Thanks, Tod. I try. Cool shades, Chuck, but a little big for you, aren't they?"

"They didn't have my size left." I took them off and offered them to her. "You can have them, if you want."

Now, I know that adults often make a big fuss over anything a kid wants to give them, right down to limp bunches of dandelions and half-eaten cookies, but Carmilla looked genuinely pleased. "Thanks, bro!" She took the sunglasses and put them on, then smiled. "How do I look?"

Tod's mouth was hanging open. "You look like you should be in that Lost Boys movie."

This time both her eyebrows went up. "Really now? Your parents let you see R rated movies?"

"Shawndee rented it."

"Shawndee? Is that really her name, or just what she wants to be called?" He looked blank. "Does your sister, perchance, dance exotically for a living?"

"Mom wanted her to take ballet or tap, since Daddy would pay for it, but Shawndee said that was too nerdy for words. I think Mom was mad that she let me watch it, cause she took the phone out of her room for the weekend."

"Oo, serious stuff. Anyway," she fluffed her hair, "thanks again, Chuck. I am definitely the sunglasses at night sort. C'mon, kiddos--let's get you home."

We all rode in the front seat, and Carmilla kept asking Tod questions about school, and the carnival. She's always been really good at talking to kids. She says that when they're little, most of them haven't had a chance to develop into assholes, so she gets along better with them. I was kind of quiet during the ride, and she gave me looks occasionally. Quiet has never been my style, so she must have suspected that something was bothering me, but she wasn't going to try to get it out of me in front of my friend. I realized that, so after we dropped Tod off I started chewing her ear off about what I'd done at the carnival, and she quit worrying. She helped me carry my loot inside, then gave me a hard kiss on the forehead before she left. She said, "Bleh! Yak hair. It's a good thing Mom's going to help you clean that crap off, because now you have a black kissy mark, too."

I told Mom about the carnival while she helped me get cleaned up. Looking back, I don't know why I didn't just make a tape recording, since I was going to end up telling Dad exactly the same stuff. I think Mom was kind of surprised when I didn't beg her to let me stay up late and watch some of the all night horror movies they were going to be running on one of the channels, especially since I'd been lobbying to be allowed to stay up for the midnight showing of Friday the 13th. I just didn't want to watch anything featuring someone named Jason.

I laid in bed, thinking. I was beginning to wish that I'd bitten Jason. Not hard, mind you--not enough to break the skin. I knew better than that, even at that young age. But I was really mad at him. Where did he get off, making fun of my sister? Carmilla was one of the coolest people on earth. I didn't need anyone to tell me that--I just took it as a given. And there he was, making fun of the way she looked. *Not exactly the way she looks,* I thought, *But the way she puts on make-up. She does do it different from everyone else.*

I knew this because I kept my eyes open. Carmilla didn't look like any of the ladies I saw on television, or in magazines, and she sure didn't look like the mothers or sisters of my friends. She didn't even look like Mom. Mom only wore lip-gloss, I think. She used a lot of her own lotions and creams, and Dad said that somewhere in the world there was a baby with a rough bottom, because Mom had stolen the smoothness.

I knew Carmilla was beautiful, but no, she didn't look like everyone else. And contrary to what a lot of people seem to think about little kids, they do not often favor the unique--they like things that are every day, ordinary, and 'just like everyone else'. I've grown to appreciate the special, but back then I wasn't any different from the others--I was a closet conformist. That was the night that I started to plot how I could help Carmilla look more 'regular'. Carmilla has occasionally wondered why, since we're such a supernaturally inclined lot, there wasn't some sort of well defined omen to warn the rest of the family...