I forced myself to sit still. The effort burned some alcohol and the view didn’t seem as blurry.

In the yard several smaller creatures waited impatiently as the large one finished his squirrel.

“It’s hard for you, isn’t it?” the upir said softly. “It’s hard to sit next to me like this. You want to scream and run, run as fast as you can across the grass, never looking back, knowing that you can’t escape but running still because it’s better to die with your back to me. Do you know why that is? Because your body knows that you are food, to be used, eaten, and discarded.”

I brought the bottle to my lips and took a small sip. “How many cheesy novels did you have to read to come up with that one?”

He leaned, lowering himself until he lay on his side, his head supported by the arm bent at his elbow. “Laugh, Kate. It’s the last opportunity you’ll have.”

I shrugged. In the yard the squirrel hunter took a swipe at a smaller, hideous thing that darted to nip at the tuff of fur in his hand. The smaller creature yelped, readied for another pass, and froze, its short, nearly translucent tail quivering, gripped by an invisible hand. It stood stiff, thick legs far apart. The quivering spread up its spine, until its neck trembled. The phantom hand squeezed hard one last time and released it. The creature jerked and collapsed. Shaking, it gained its feet and stumbled away, whining softly, its tail between its legs.

“Children misbehave sometimes,” Bono said. “They need to be punished. If you’re wondering, I can do it to my women, too.”

He stared at the big creature and it walked toward us. “Let’s get the introductions out of the way,” the upir said. “This is my eldest son at the moment. I call him Arag. Arag, this is a future dinner. Future dinner, this is Arag.”

Arag’s human eyes, sunken deep into his deformed skull, teared up.

“What the hell did you . . .”

“Baboon.” The upir shook his head. “Strong, cruel, aggressive. Unfortunately, he got a little more from me than from his mother. He can speak. Say something for Kate, Arag.”

The monster looked down at his hands. He shifted from foot to foot, unsure, and emitted a long distorted screech, like nails scraping against chalkboard. “Bloood,” he shrieked.

“Sad, isn’t it?” Bono smiled. “He walks the Earth, a pitiful, wretched creature, uttering words at random, longing for something—he himself doesn’t know what—and hating everyone and everything. I tried ripping out his vocal cords, but the damn things just grow back.”

“Blooood.” Arag sighed.

The upir waved him away. “Go on.”

Arag returned to his post in the yard. The upir sighed. “I’m thinking of killing him when we’re done here. You think I should?”

I swallowed more wine.