The twins appeared at his side, then moved past him, reaching for me.

“Charlie?”

“Are you okay—”

“I’m sorry, I have to go!”

I leaned away, even though all I wanted to do was fall into their outstretched arms. If I worked fast enough, with any luck, there might still be time for that later. But I needed to move.

I hauled myself up over the float’s back railing and climbed down to the street.

“Where are you going?”

“What’s happening?”

“Is this about New York?”

My feet hit the road, but my fairy wing was caught on the rail. I ripped the wings from my shoulders, leaving them dangling from the back of the float, beneath the concerned faces of my friends.

“I have to go,” I said again.

I turned and ran straight into Dexter.

“Found you guys!” he said. “Been looking every— Whoa, Charlie, what’s—”

I stood on tiptoes, grabbed his face, and planted a kiss on his lips before he could finish the question.

Then I raced away, hoping there was time for what needed to be done. Time to even figure out what needed to be done—what it would take to stop a vampire invasion and the mass memory wipe of an entire community of colorful, kind, not-at-all-boring people. I had no idea if it could be done, but I knew I couldn’t do it alone.

I needed my brother, a slayer, and a certain white picket fence.

Thirty-Three

Over My Dead Body

The trip from town to the cottage went by in a blur—not the kind of blur I used to experience running at immortal speed, but the kind where you are so focused on the thing in front of you, all the rest just fades away. And soon, the thing in front of me was the cottage gate. I flew right through it, barely registering as it banged open against the rest of the wooden fence.

“Careful, there!” Sal called from the front porch.

I hadn’t noticed him slouched down in his favorite porch chair, whittling knife in hand, working away at the mysterious wooden block.

No, “block” wasn’t the right word. It was looking more like a box.

“You almost knocked down my fence,” he said.

“It’ll be down soon enough,” I panted.

His hands paused. “Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“And who, exactly, is tearing down my fence?”

“We are. You and me. And Reg too.”

Sal looked up from his work, messy gray eyebrows so high they were almost in his hairline. “And why would we do that?”

“Because we need weapons.”

He set his box and knife to the side.

“Well, now, that is interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” Reg emerged from the cabin, still in costume.