THE THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT . . .

ARE PROBABLY REGISTERED VOTERS

IN COOK COUNTY.

Having avoided my granddaughterly duty for two days, when I rose at sunset the next evening to an empty house, I showered, dressed in jeans and a fitted T-shirt that bore the image of a ninja (and certainly would have embarrassed Ethan), and drove to the West Side to my grandfather's house.

Unfortunately, even fight-happy Vampire Merit feared rejection, so I'd been standing on his narrow front stoop, unable to make myself knock, when the door opened with a creak. My grandfather peered out through the aluminum screen door. "You weren't going to come by and talk to your pop?"

Tears - of doubt, of relief, of love - immediately spilled over. I shrugged sheepishly at him.

"Ah, jeez, baby girl. Don't start that." He pulled open the screen door, held it open with his foot, and opened his arms. I moved into them, clenched him in a fierce hug. He coughed. "Easy now. You've got a little more push in those muscles than the last time we did this."

I released him and wiped the tears from my face. "Sorry, Grandpa."

He cupped my face in his bear-paw hands and kissed my forehead. "No worries. Come on in." I moved into the house and heard the closing of both doors behind me.

My grandfather's house - once my grandparents' house - hadn't changed in all the years I remembered it. The furniture was simple and homey, the walls adorned with family pictures of my aunts and uncles - my father's brother and two sisters and their families. My aunts and uncles had endured their upbringing with significantly more grace than my own father, and I envied their easy relationships with their children and my grandfather. No family was perfect, I knew, but I'd take imperfection over the farce of my social-climbing parents any day.

"Have a seat, honey. You want some cookies? I've got Oreos."

I grinned at him and sat down on the floral sofa. "No, thanks, Grandpa. I'm fine."

He sat on an ancient recliner positioned kitty-corner to the sofa and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Your father called me when the House called him." He paused. "You were attacked? Bitten?"

I nodded.

He looked me over. "And everything's okay now? You're okay?"

"I guess. I mean, I feel okay. I feel the same, except for the vampire part."

He chuckled, but his expression sobered fast enough. "Do you know about the attack on Jennifer Porter? That it was similar to your attack?"

I nodded again. "Mallory and I saw the press conference on television."

"Sure, sure." My grandfather started to speak, but seemed to think better of it. He was silent for a moment, the ticking of the wall clock the only sound in the house. He finally raised concerned eyes to mine. "Your father has asked that the police not be involved in your attack. But your name was in the paper, so the city will know that you were changed. That you're a vampire now."

"I know," I told him. "I've already gotten calls from reporters."

My grandfather nodded. "Of course. I would have expected that given your father's notoriety. Frankly, Merit, I'm not going to hinder a police investigation, not for crimes of this magnitude. I can't in good conscience do that, not when a killer is still out there.

But I have enough pull to keep the nature of your transition under wraps but for a select few detectives.

If we can limit access to that information, keep it on a need-to-know basis, you won't be called out as a potential victim of this killer.

We can keep the press from hounding you about it, and you can learn to live as a vampire, not just as an attack victim. Okay?"