The wood is damp. The night is cold. And yet, the flames shoot up as high as the peak of the house as soon as Bernadette puts a torch to the kindling. The valley is bright with light, both yellow and flickering, and the still, cold light of the solstice moon.

Our cozy group doesn’t look like much. We’re not the strong and intimidating vampires that gathered to raid the lab. We wear puffy jackets, fluffy hats, and woolen mittens. My mom sits in an overstuffed chair, covered ...