“Liar,” he says, and I hate him a little more. His eyes still on me, he backs away and whispers something to Vervain, and she brightens, motioning the others to follow her. They gather in a circle around the door they just dismantled, and even from here, I can tell it’s built of wood. Walnut probably, or maybe redwood. Either way, they know what to do with it. At least a few of them have seen the movies. After all, these days, everybody knows how to kill a vampire.

With their bare hands, they tear the door apart, plucking the splintered pieces from the wreckage, weapons they can use against me. As they work, frenzied and determined, Dracula beams at them like a proud father. He knows this won’t vanquish me for good, but that doesn’t matter. He so dearly loves to watch me die.

Except he won’t get the satisfaction. Bee’s at the patio door, flipping the latch, wrenching it open, the night breeze whispering in.

“Lucy, this way,” she calls out before darting into the darkness.

I sprint across the room after her, but when I reach the door, I turn back. As the others start toward me, their makeshift stakes in hand, Dracula takes hold of Bellflower, his arm looped around her waist, their bodies pressed together. They sway across the stone floor, dancing to music no one else can hear. She lolls back in his embrace, under his thrall already, and he guides her to the bed, his gaze flitting up at me.

He wants me to see this part.

His mouth on her throat, that look of ecstasy on her face. That expression will fade soon enough, once she realizes what he’s really doing, how deep the pain can go, how long it can last. How she’ll never be able to return to this moment and reverse it. How many times she’ll relive it anyhow.

“Don’t,” I wheeze, but Bee reaches through the open door and grasps my hand, pulling me out into the night.

Together, we dash past the edge of the electric-blue pool, taking the same sinuous path around the house we did last night. The others are right behind us, their footfalls heavy, their laughter like venom.

Bee and I get all the way to the bottom of the driveway, all the way to the Buick, before we realize it.

The car key. We lost it inside.

I turn, ready to run back to the house for it, but they’re coming faster now, a sea of wooden stakes quivering in their calloused hands. Just how many times are they planning to kill me?

Bee climbs inside the car and sags against the steering wheel, her fingers fumbling with the ignition, trying to will the engine to life. Trembling, I put one hand on her arm.

“Leave it,” I say, and the words ache inside me.