Stiles pulled Billie to his chest and turned her so that they both faced the parlor window. He hoped to find a red dot dancing on the back of her head, but there was nothing yet. “Sounds like you’ve been a busy boy with all this thinking and planning,” he replied. “And I hate to disappoint you. But we won’t be able to stick around for your games.” He pulled Billie even closer, tensed himself for the impact, and hoped Bean was a good shot. “Okay, Charlie . . . do it!”

There was no report. After a moment he opened his eyes and looked to the window. The lights were still on but, from this distance, he couldn’t see anyone. “Charlie!” he called. “Do us now!”

“The deputy can’t help you. But maybe I can.” It was Danner’s voice, but not from where Nathan stood. It issued instead from the front porch of the house, and it had aged nearly a century in transit. Stiles had never realized until that moment how much the old man and his eternal twin sounded alike.

George Bailey was just slipping through the ruined doorway and out into the moonlight. He looked bad. His skin was as pale as Ida’s, his features drawn, his posture slouched and unsteady. His limbs shook, either from infirmity or abject terror or both, and he must have been sweating fiercely since his hair was plastered to his forehead and his clothes were drenched and clung to his scarecrow frame. He leaned against one of the porch’s pillars for support while the vampires just stared, not knowing quite what to make of him. He motioned to Stiles and Billie. “Let them go.”

Nathan nodded imperceptibly, and in answer two of the vampires came slowly up onto the porch after Bailey. But when they drew within reach Bailey suddenly thrust out the big rosewood cross that had hung on his bedroom wall. The creatures immediately retreated, hissing and holding their eyes. “There’s still a little fight in me, Nathan,” he said, buoyed by that small victory. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Nathan’s expression changed from one of mild annoyance to genuine curiosity. “Do I know you, old man?”

Bailey held out the cross. All of the vampires took a step back. Even Nathan flinched. “Don’t you remember this, Nathan? It was my wife’s. It had been her mother’s.”

The vampire leader gaped. “Sebastian . . .”

The old man’s voice grew hot with anger. “And do you remember the last time you saw it? The night I put Lynn Anne to rest, again, after what you’d done to her? It’s the same cross I used to track you down and burn that mark into your cheek that won’t go away.”