The dim foggy light through the small doorway was mystic as Sally woke feeling small and crushed by ancient grief.

The last time she had slept without Lavinia spooned holding her was that awful night in the plaza, and even then she’d had Jesse and Walter. (Could gentle Walter possibly be the vampire who had killed Jeremy’s brother?).

She turned over to cuddle against Lavinia, and found that Lavinia was gone.

“No, no, no!!!” she screamed, pounding the stones. I want this shit out of my life!

“What, what babe?” Lavinia’s concerned voice came from just outside the doorway. Sally was instantly mortified that she hadn’t simply said, “Hey baby, where are you?”

Lavinia’s head appeared. “I just came outside to check – hey, tiger, what’s wrong?” Because Sally couldn’t stop crying. She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth but it was no good. I almost said it again.

Cold arms held her against a cold body. Lavinia’s touch was repulsive but Sally forced herself to uncurl and be held. Everything was going wrong. She had confronted Charla; she should have confronted Walter too. If he was evil, she could have fought him. She was younger and stronger and she could have asked the others to help.

She’d snatched at the chance to get away from the complexities and be on her own with Lavinia but now they were halfway around the world without the help they could have had, and Lavinia had tried to kill her.

Lavinia stroked her hair and murmured soothing words. Gradually, a comforting thought filtered through: Lavinia had woken up rational. However far she had slipped back last evening, she hadn’t woken up an animal. “Sorry, baby,” she said at last, when she could talk, against Lavinia’s jacket.

“Naw, naw, don’t be. It’s all good.” Lavinia stroked her for a few moments more. “So, you ready to hear the weather report?”

“Huh?” Lavinia didn’t usually speak in metaphors. If she said weather, she probably meant weather, not ‘emotional status.’ But why would she care about the – oh, Jesus.

Lavinia nodded. “No flying off this island for a while. It’s completely socked in. Sun’s not quite up yet, with luck it’s just some kind of fog, ‘ll burn off. But we’re stuck here for now.”

Sally sagged. Of course there would be weather to deal with. They’d flown over clouds half the day yesterday, how could she have dreamed it would automatically be sunny when day broke?

Lavinia’s touch still felt cold and nasty; she wanted to scream “get out” but stopped herself again. She felt like the character in that Poe story, the one who found himself near the edge of a cliff and had to fight the urge to jump, to just do it and have it done. The shock of Lavinia’s face savage and cold with hunger filled her mind.

Lavinia fell on Sally, pressed Sally’s aching head painfully between her belly and her lap.

Just like she’d done in the camper that other morning, Sally sprang into exhausted action. She shoved Lavinia off and wrestled to get at the stake under her heavy jacket, feeling like she was scratching a swollen scabby sore for the hundredth time.

Lavinia stayed crouched over, not moving. Holding the stake (she’d have to practice getting it quickly with a heavy jacket on), she asked harshly, “Are you vampire again?”

“Never…stopped, but no, not… any worse’n before…” Lavinia gasped weakly.

“What the fuck are you – oh. Oh shit.” Whatever had happened last night had undone all the sun magic and left her paralyzed by the day once more. “Oh fucking shit!”

“I’m… very p’litely keeping… panic… at bay,” Lavinia got out. “Could you at least… lay me… down?”

“Of course, of course baby, Jesus.” Sally hurried forward and with gentle, trembling hands, lifted Lavinia’s heavy torso.

“Baby Jesus… got nothin’… t’do with this,” Lavinia gasped as Sally laid her flat on her back. Sally was too tired to respond.

A ripple of terror, sternly suppressed, passed through Lavinia’s dead weight. “Sumpin’… under my…”

Sally quickly reached under Lavinia and pulled out a small rock. Realizing that Lavinia was also laying on the slot between two flat stones, she pulled her to the left. “Is that better?”

“Yup.”

Sally sat back, watching Lavinia, and tried to think what to do. Her head throbbed.

In the midst of her despair and confusion, into the middle of this horror and craziness – her phone rang.

Barbara Sukowa’s voice said, in a haunting near-whisper, “Mitternacht…” A small rumble of thunder. Her ring tone.

Nobody had called Sally in so long she had nearly forgotten that the device could be used for phone calls. The German voice chanted on.