Christopher Golden - The Nimble Man

"A repast fit for a king," Squire said, flipping another omelet on the burner beside the first.

"If it's anything like that goulash you tried to pawn off on us last fall…" Eve chimed in, drawing a glass of water from the tap.

"That was no fault of mine," Squire protested. "I was assured by the butcher that the meat was of the finest quality." He broke one of the omelets in half with the spatula, flipped it onto a plate and handed it to Clay. "How was I to know that dog meat was considered a delicacy in his particular dimension?"

Clay sniffed the food on his plate suspiciously and wrinkled his nose as if smelling something foul. Danny burst out laughing beside his mother and she jumped. Laughter had become a foreign sound in this household of late, and she had almost forgotten it existed.

"Are you partaking?" Squire asked, turning to offer Eve a fresh omelet on a plate.

The woman threw up her hands to ward him off. "I'll pass." She leaned her head forward and sniffed around the offering. "Is that.. is that garlic I smell?" She asked him.

The ugly little man smiled mischievously. "Chopped up nice and fine, just how you like it."

"Asshole," Eve spat, and Squire cackled.

Julia didn't understand the joke, unless it was simply that Eve didn't care for garlic. After she'd stubbed out her cigarette in a coffee mug, Squire brought plates for her and Danny and she thanked him, but could not bring herself to eat. Her son on the other hand, ate his own portion and then helped himself to hers as well.

"How long do we give Conan Doyle to find us?" Clay asked as he brought his empty plate to the sink for Squire to wash. The little man now stood atop a chair and was cleaning up, the sink full of hot soapy water.

Eve leaned in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, drinking her water. Danny could not take his eyes from the attractive woman, Julia noticed, and in a way, she could not blame her son. Eve was one of the most strikingly beautiful women she had ever seen, with the body and the fashion sense of a supermodel. In an ordinary woman, it might've made Julia envious. Yet there was something about Eve that made the hair on the back of Julia's neck stand on end. She wondered what her story was, what bizarre secret she kept in order to be associated with the likes of Squire, Clay, and Mr. Doyle.

"We give him as long as it takes," Eve said, a dangerous edge in her voice. It was clear in her tone that she neither expected, nor would accept, an argument. "I'm sure he's figured out what's going on by now. We wait for him. Then we'll make a plan."

Clay stood on the other side of the island across from her and folded his muscular arms. "And if he doesn't come back? If this Morrigan woman who's taken over the house gets the better of him?"

"I forgot what a bundle of joy you could be." Eve scowled at him.

"Conan Doyle will come back, don't you worry," Squire said as he scrubbed a plate clean with a sponge and placed in the strainer to dry. "It'll take more than that nasty Faerie bitch to put him down for the count." He turned atop the chair at the sink to look at Julia. "Pardon my French."

She was about to tell him that it was all right when there was a thump on the front door. Julia jumped, placing a hand against her chest. She could feel her heart racing.

Eve was the first to react, moving into living room and toward the door.

"Could it be Mr. Doyle?" Julia asked, hoping it was. She had met the man, and whether or not she had to think about their claims about his true age and identity, his presence would be welcome. At least he seemed human enough. But she wasn't sure if she could stand another bizarre stranger the likes of her current guests.

"It's possible," Squire said, jumping down off the chair, drying his hands with a dishtowel.

Clay remained very quiet and still, positioning himself so that he could watch Eve as she went to the door. None of them moved out of the kitchen, however. Not yet. It took Julia only a moment to realize that Clay and Squire had remained where they were as protection for her and Danny. Yet for some reason, this made her even more frightened.

There came another thump, only this one was much more violent, as if someone or. Heaven forbid, some thing was trying to get inside.

"If it's the Jehovahs, tell 'em to screw!" Squire yelled, and Eve slowly turned to fix him in a menacing stare.

"She doesn't like you very much, does she?" Danny said to the little man.

"It's all a show," Squire told him. "She'd be lost without me."

They all watched as Eve took hold of the knob, slowly turned it, and pulled open the door. Something growled at her from within the shifting red mist outside.

Then it erupted from the bloodstained night, bursting through the doorway.

The vampire lurched into the Ferrick house, arms pinwheeling, trying to regain its balance. It seemed more like the leech had been thrown into the house than any focused attack. Not that Eve cared. The thing was filth. She grabbed hold of the slavering, mad-eyed bloodbag and threw it to the floor, then dropped upon it, placing one knee in the small of its back. She grabbed a handful of filthy hair, yanking its head back toward her.

"Hey Julia, ever seen this asshole before?" she asked as the leech screamed and thrashed beneath her.

The Ferrick woman emerged from the kitchen practically hiding behind Clay. Squire and the demon boy came out after them. Julia shook her head, staring wide-eyed at the vampire. She kept shaking, like at any minute she was going to lose it completely.

"Watch her," Eve said, eyes narrowed, gesturing to Clay. He nodded.

Eve focused on the leech again. Its stink filled her nostrils.

"Goddamned vermin," she muttered as she twisted its head around so she could look it in the eye. "So nobody invited you inside. Must be hurting you pretty bad to be in here," she whispered in its ear, leaning in close. "Breaking the rules and all." Eve felt the bone structure within her hand begin to shift and change, fingers lengthening, nails elongating. She didn't need a wooden stake to slay the vampires of the world. Everything she required was at her fingertips.

Her fingers became long talons, their tips like razors. With a flick of her wrist her claws could end a vampire's existence with dreadful swiftness. Just one of the perks of being mother to them all.

Eve sliced a single talon across the leech's parchment-white throat, slitting the skin and teasing out a slowly descending curtain of blood that slid down its neck. She was careful not to get it on her clothes. This whole crisis had already ruined one outfit, and though she didn't care much about her pants, the top was nice. Expensive. And she'd never be able to get bloodstains out of it.

"Mother's going to put you out of your misery," she whispered.

The vampire shrieked and bucked with such force that Eve was thrown from its back. She rolled to her feet, snarling and cussing, but it was already up and fleeing toward the still open door. Eve started after it. Its speed was unnatural, but she was faster. Impossibly fast.

She stopped three feet from the door.

The filthy leech was trapped on the threshold of the house. It was lifted off the ground by invisible hands and dangled there, hissing and lashing out. But Eve could see the terror in its eyes. She arched an eyebrow in curiosity, for it was not her that the leech was afraid of.

Beyond the door there was only the crimson fog, yet the vampire hung there, several inches off of the floor, feet kicking as though it actually needed to breathe. Slowly, a figure began to coalesce on the front stoop of the Ferrick house. The eyes were first, dark and mysterious, like tarnished copper pennies. Then handsome, angular features, and muscular arms. A hand, clutching the vampire's throat.