For her, she was surprised to see. He came to her at once, nuzzled her neck, and then retreated to his stool.

“You forgot your yarn,” Jessica said after a long moment in which it appeared someone had to break the silence.

“Not in the mood,” he replied.

Betsy started poking through the mail, squealing with glee when she saw the red Netflix envelopes. She ripped them open, and Jessica groaned when she showed them the discs.

“Why did you get Gone With the Wind again, dumb-ass? You own the damned movie!”

“Yes, but this is the new special edition with two new deleted scenes.”

“There’s one born every minute,” Sinclair commented.

“You hush up. Where’s Tina? She might want to watch it with me.”

“She’s out.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t you have to do some hunting, too?” Antonia asked her.

“No.”

“Elizabeth is unique among us.” Sinclair was giving the queen a look that was positively sappy. “Among other things, she doesn’t have to feed as often.”

“Like you,” Betsy told her. “Unique among the fuzzies.”

Antonia groaned. “Please don’t call us that.”

Jessica had been looking at Garrett during most of the conversation, then back at Antonia, then at Garrett. Antonia could smell the woman was stressed and waited for her to say something.

Finally: “Garrett, do you remember, uh, how you became a vampire?”

“Yes.”

They all waited. Betsy, also obviously curious, asked, “Do you mind telling us how?”

Garrett shrugged.

Antonia said sharply, “He doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t think he cares either way,” Sinclair replied, looking Garrett up and down with a critical eye.

“Forget it, Garr. You don’t have to say shit.”

Sinclair raised a knowing eyebrow. “Protective little thing, aren’t you?”

“You wanna go, king of the dead guys? Because we’ll go.”

“Don’t fight,” Betsy snapped. “Let’s just drop the whole—”

“I was acting. An actor. For Tarzan.”

An enthralled silence, broken by Jessica’s breathless “Annnnnnnd?”

Garrett tugged his long hair. “Grew it out. For Tarzan. Picture folded. Felt bad.”

“So you got fired, okay, and then what?”

“Producer tried to cheer me up. Had to get haircut…couldn’t walk around like that.”

“With long hair?” Antonia asked, mystified.

“Took me to barber. Late. After sets closed. Producer was Nostro. Had barber cut my throat and drank.”

“Jesus Christ!” Betsy practically screamed.

Antonia was on her feet. She didn’t remember getting up from the stool, and who cared? “Where’s the barber? Is he around here? I’m going to pull his lungs out and eat them while he watches.”

“Who was making the movie?” Sinclair asked sharply.

Garrett pointed to the Gone With the Wind disc.

“You mean…Warner Brothers?”

Antonia had an awful thought, so awful she could hardly get it out; it was clogging her throat like vomit. “That’s—that’s an old movie.”

“Nineteen thirty-nine,” Betsy said quietly.