Southern California.

The police officers told Kat that her dad was dead on a Monday night, on Tuesday they told her that his body had gone missing from the morgue, and that Friday? He was standing outside her bedroom window, asking her to invite him in.

“Kathleen,” Dad said. “Please.”

This had to be a miracle—Dad is alive.

Wait.

No.

That couldn’t be possible.

He had died.

Mom identified the body herself.

Kat froze in place, her heart slamming against her chest.

This monster wasn’t her dad. His skin was too pale and tight, his eyes too sunken, and he never, ever called her Kathleen. She wanted so badly to believe he was alive. But whatever stood outside her house wasn’t him.

“…Peter?”

Kat turned to see her mom standing in the doorway of her bedroom. Mom’s eyes were wide with shock.

“Sweetheart,” her dad put his hand on the glass. “I’m hungry. Come to me.”

Her eyes glazed over and she walked out of Kat’s room.

“Mom, no! Wait!” Kat grabbed her arm. “It’s not him. Look at him! This is some sort of trick. Dad is gone.”

Her mom kept moving, ignoring Kat and walking down the hall to the main entryway of the house—a big area that opened to the living room. Kat couldn’t stop her as Mom yanked the front door open and walked into her husband’s arms.

Helpless, Kat watched as her dad’s irises turned from brown to red, and fingers formed into sharp claws. Moonlight flashed off his terrifying fangs as they sunk deep into her mom’s neck.

The loud thrumming of her own heartbeat filled Kat’s ears.

Move.

But her body didn’t want to work.

Mom has a gun.

Side table.

Go.

Now.

She forced her legs to move, one after the other, backing away, then turning and bolting for her parents’ room. She grabbed her mom’s loaded .22 from the side table. Her hand shook so hard she nearly dropped the gun as she dashed back to the entryway. Imposter-Dad stood outside the threshold of the front door, his eyes closed, blood covering his mouth, lost in some sort of bliss. Mom lay crumpled at his feet. Unmoving. Her neck ripped open.

Kat screamed and unloaded the bullets into her dad’s torso, pulling the trigger until the gun emptied.

Looking at his chest, the imposter-dad touched the holes seeping blood. He laughed, and the wounds began to close.

Against the full moon, a swarm of bats descended from the sky and formed into the shape of a man—tall and so ghostly pale he seemed to glow. He wore an old-fashioned suit complete with a cape that shifted around unnaturally when he put a hand on Imposter-Dad’s shoulder.

“You are doing well, child. It will be over soon,” the Pale Man whispered into his ear. “Compel her to invite you in.”

“Kathleen,” the imposter-dad said, looking directly into her eyes. “Invite me in.”

Kat’s thoughts slowed, and darkness pressed in at the edges of her vision. She struggled against the command, but it didn’t matter as she said: “Come in, Dad.”

The moment the words left her mouth, the haze lifted and reason returned. Along with confusion. What the heck had he done to her? The imposter smiled and stalked towards her, entering the house. Panic turned her insides cold, and she squeezed the trigger on the empty gun one more time. Other than a click nothing happened. Desperate, she ran. The creature followed.

Before he made it to her, green flashes of light filled the entryway. The air sizzled, and a strong hand grabbed Kat’s shoulder, pushing her to the floor. Chaos erupted. Six people had appeared out of nowhere, wearing leather armor and holding swords and crossbows.

Their heavy boots stomped all over the living room carpet, getting dirt everywhere. Mom would hate that.

The imposter-dad tried to run, but with a green flash of light, a female materialized in front of him, blocking his exit. She plunged a wooden stake into Imposter-Dad’s chest. The monster dropped to the ground.

An ear-splitting screech came from the doorway. The Pale Man slammed against some invisible force at the front door, trying to get into the house. Full of rage, he looked down at Kat. “Invite m—” he started to say, but a gloved leather hand covered her eyes, preventing that thing from messing with her head.

The Pale Man shrieked again. Kat heard a scuffle. Fighting. Then everything went still, and several moments passed before the gloved hand finally released her.

Out the open door, Kat watched a cloud of hundreds of bats flee across the night sky.

“Hell’s fire. Y’all get after him,” the man who had covered her eyes said. His voice had a slight drawl. A green glow surrounded the other five, and they vanished into thin air. She looked at the man crouched beside her, his hand still on her shoulder.

Like the others, he wore leather, except he looked like something out of the Old West, with a black duster, cowboy boots with silver spurs, and a Stetson. There were two guns holstered at his hips…or maybe not. When Kat looked a little closer she noticed their bulk—it took her a moment to realize they were crossbows that looked like six-shooters. On his belt were wooden stakes and small glass vials filled with different colored liquids.

“Dispatch,” he said, raising his wrist to his mouth, “this is Lock. My team’s tracking a vamp lord. South OC. Residential. We have the lord’s fledgling staked. Send a team to bag him.”

Kat looked at her mom’s unmoving body stretched on the front porch. “Mom.”

She surged forward, trying to get to her mom but the firm hand tightened on her shoulder, not letting her stand.

“I’m real sorry, darlin’, she’s gone. You don’t need to see it up close right now.”

She stopped struggling, and her brain went blank.

Lock glanced over his shoulder at the staked creature, then looked to the gun Kat held. “Can you tell me why you shot it?” Still in shock and unable to take her eyes off her mom, Kat said nothing. “Honey, look at me.” Lock carefully tilted her head up. He was younger than her dad, maybe in his late thirties, but his eyes seemed old somehow. “Can you tell me why you shot your father?”

She looked over at the creature. “That thing is not my dad.”

“You knew the moment you saw it, didn’t ya? That’s why you fought it?”

She nodded. “They’re both dead now, aren’t they?”

Lock squeezed her shoulder. “How old are you, darlin’?”

“Fifteen.”

A flicker of concern crossed his face then disappeared.

Kat swallowed hard. “My dad…he was turned into a vampire?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re real? Not just stories?”

“They’re real.”

“And you’re a vampire hunter?”

“I am.”

“And my mom is dead for sure?”

“She is. I’m sorry.” He squeezed her shoulder again.

Hot tears ran down her face. The two of them sat in silence, Lock’s touch like a life preserver that kept her from drowning. He seemed to be in no rush.

Finally, she spoke. “I lost them both this week.”

“Do you have extended family? Preferably on the East Coast.”

“My grandma. She lives here in SoCal. That pale creature…he did that to my dad? Killed him? Turned him? Or however it works.”

“Yes.”

Her heart flooded with pain, confusion, and anger. She sobbed, and her muscles shook. “I want to kill him.”

The corners of Lock’s mouth threatened to turn upwards as if pleased by her words. “I know you do, darlin’.”

The hunter-cowboy wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his shoulder. She cried and cried until he retrieved a glass vial from his belt. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Kat downed the blue liquid he offered, not even questioning it. A warm sensation pooled in her belly and spread across her limbs. Her body became heavy; tired. The world around her faded until she could feel nothing.

Lock’s deep voice was the last thing she heard before darkness engulfed her: “I’m sorry, kid, but I can’t let you remember any of this.”