My eyes were squeezed shut. I could feel the tears running down my face. “Don’t let me die, please, please, don’t let me die. Not now, not like this, not in this body! Help me!”

A small hand touched me, struggling to slip into mine, and then it was done, holding tight to me, tender and warm. Ah, so soft. So very little. And you know whose hand it is, you know, but you’re too scared to open your eyes.

If she’s there, then you are really dying. I can’t open my eyes. I’m afraid, oh, so afraid. Shivering and sobbing, I held her little hand so tight that surely I was crushing it, but I wouldn’t open my eyes.

Louis, she’s here. She’s come for me. Help me, Louis, please. I can’t look at her. I won’t. I can’t get my hand loose from her! And where are you? Asleep in the earth, deep beneath your wild and neglected garden, with the winter sun pouring down on the flowers, asleep until the night comes again.

“Marius, help me. Pandora, wherever you are, help me. Khayman, come and help me. Armand, no hatred between us now. I need you! Jesse, don’t let this happen to me.”

Oh, the low and sorry murmur of a demon’s prayer beneath the wailing of the siren. Don’t open your eyes. Don’t look at her. If you do, it’s finished.

Did you call out for help in the last moments, Claudia? Were you afraid? Did you see the light like the fire of hell filling the air well, or was it the great and beautiful light filling the entire world with love?

We stood in the graveyard together, in the warm fragrant evening, full of distant stars and soft purple light. Yes, all the many colors of darkness. Look at her shining skin, the dark blood bruise of her lips, and deep color of her eyes. She was holding her bouquet of yellow and white chrysanthemums. I shall never forget that fragrance.

“Is my mother buried here?”

“I don’t know, petite chérie. I never even knew her name.” She was all rotted and stinking when I came upon her, the ants were crawling all over her eyes and into her open mouth.

“You should have found out her name. You should have done that for me. I would like to know where she is buried.”

“That was half a century ago, chérie. Hate me for the larger things. Hate me, if you will, because you don’t lie now at her side. Would she keep you warm if you did? Blood is warm, chérie. Come with me, and drink blood, as you and I know how to do. We can drink blood together unto the end of the world.”

“Ah, you have an answer for everything.” How cold her smile. In these shadows one can almost see the woman in her, defying the permanent stamp of child sweetness, with the inevitable enticement to kiss, to hold, to love.