Low, authoritative voices murmur downstairs. A heated discussion. I squeeze my mother’s hand and adjust her quilt before meeting whatever new drama is erupting below. Exhaustion eats at my bones as I make my way down the farmhouse steps.

I freeze once I see the entrance. The vampire companions are gathered around three men in black, perfectly tailored suits. They have badges. My heart sinks. My hand strokes the bracelets on my wrist.

Then another group with ...