“I am glad you are not going to waste away. But me?” Ante waved the cup.

  “Right. Well, not everyone in Iwapkuti is humanity-challenged. Quite a few of them are Homo sapiens who hooked up with supernatural creatures. Or I don’t know, maybe some of ’em just like the vibe there. Anyway, three of them offered to donate for you.”

  Ante stared at him. “But I am a vampire.”

  “Duh. Why else would you need blood?”

  “But… they do not even know me.”

  “No, but they’re eager to meet you. I told them we’d come after sundown.” Having demolished the pancakes, Peter attacked an oversized cup of cola.

  “I did not expect them to accept us so readily. Accept me, that is.”

  “They’ve got a bigfoot there, Ante. An honest-to-God Sasquatch. And some lady with glowy green eyes and big antlers, and these little guys that look like knee-high spiders but sound like they’re from India. And giants. And a man with red horns and a red tail, like a cartoon devil! Compared to most of them, you are incredibly boring and run-of-the-mill.” Peter grinned widely.

  It was, Ante decided, difficult to remain entirely gloomy and pessimistic in Peter’s presence.

  After eating, they both napped for a few hours, Peter’s body sweet and soft against Ante’s. By the time they woke up, shortly before sunset, Ante’s wounds had healed considerably if not completely. Peter gobbled some pie, and they got dressed.

  “This is the last set of clothes I bought for you,” said Peter, eyeing Ante in jeans and a lightweight blue sweater.

  “Usually one is enough.”

  “If we survive, I get to dress you up like a Ken doll. I will fill our closet with stuff for you.”

  “That sounds expensive.”

  “Your wine will make us lots of money.”

  Ante took their belongings to the car while Peter went to the office and checked out. Then Ante followed Peter’s directions, driving through Guerneville before turning away from the river, heading uphill into the woods. The narrow road was paved well enough, but there was something secretive about it, something Ante couldn’t put a finger on. He believed the road did not want to be noticed or remembered.

  Whatever the road’s feelings on the matter, it took them faithfully up the steep slope, sometimes hugging a narrow shelf between a cliff and a sharp, tree-studded drop-off. Ante crept along slowly. The branch cover was heavy enough that he probably could have traversed safely even during the day.

  “I’m really glad you have bat vision,” Peter said. “This wasn’t exactly a picnic even during the daytime, and now I can’t see a damn thing.”

  “Trees. Ferns. A few big rocks.”

  “You make an outstanding nature guide.”

  After about five miles, they crested the hill, but the forest was too thick to allow much of a view. Now the road descended with careful switchbacks. It looked as if they were going to enter a narrow valley, with even steeper slopes beyond.

  “I’d hate to be on this and meet a car going the other way,” Peter said.

  Ante nodded as he concentrated on driving. He’d already wrecked one car with Peter inside and wasn’t eager to repeat the event.

  As they continued to descend, Ante thought he glimpsed twinkles of light at the valley bottom, flashing teasingly between the trees. But he couldn’t begin to assess their source or how many of them there were. He was relieved when the road finally flattened and followed a small stream burbling over stones on the valley floor. When they swung around a curve, the trees on the lower slopes gave way to pastures and small farms. Ante smiled when he spied a tiny vineyard.

  And then the road widened and simply stopped. They parked among two-dozen other vehicles, most of them pickups or SUVs.

  Peter opened his door and turned to face Ante. “Come on. They won’t bite.” He winked.

  Ante wouldn’t have admitted it, but he was grateful to have Peter take his hand. They walked side by side along the stream for several yards and then… there was a village. One minute it wasn’t there and the next it was, as if a giant unseen wizard had yanked away a curtain.

  The village had other unusual aspects in addition to its sudden appearance. It encompassed perhaps thirty houses in all, laid out without any apparent plan and connected by meandering footpaths. Some of the houses looked like what he’d expect in this region—chalet-like cabins of wood and stone. A few resembled suburban ranch houses. A couple were obviously manufactured homes. There were round houses made of bundled twigs and reeds, earthen mounds, three tents of varying designs, one house on tall stilts with an elaborately gabled roof, and one flat-roofed adobe structure. He noticed several other architectural styles, but the one that made him swallow loudly was a two-story house of stone and wood with a clay-tile roof.

  “What’s the matter?” Peter whispered.

  “My house looked a little like that. In Krapina.”

  Peter gave his hand a hard squeeze.

  Just when Ante was wondering where the residents of Iwapkuti were, he and Peter rounded a log house and ended up in what appeared to be the town square, a grassy open area in which everyone seemed to be waiting for them.

  Everyone. As Peter had said, the sanctuary inhabitants represented a dizzying array of species, most of which Ante couldn’t identify. He saw the bigfoot all right, and a man and woman who must have topped nine feet tall, and… a lot of other people. None of them were vampires. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,” he muttered.

  But although the crowd appeared slightly apprehensive, they weren’t hostile. None of them were brandishing wooden stakes.

  “Hi!” Peter said brightly. “This is Ante.”

  All eyes turned toward Ante, who was now apparently expected to address them. He swallowed and reflected briefly on the fact that he would rather have been shot again than forced to speak in public. Yet here he was.

  “Hello.” He shifted his feet, then took a deep breath. “Thank you very much for giving me your blood today. I know it was an unusual request and, er, somewhat extreme. I am grateful. You have helped me heal.” Although he wasn’t positive, he thought that the crowd relaxed a bit. At least he hadn’t put his foot in his mouth yet.

  He glanced at Peter, who nodded encouragingly.

  “I also thank you for allowing us to come to your home and address you. I am deeply sorry to bring trouble to your doorsteps. I would not do so if I knew of other options.”

  A woman stepped away from the other residents and approached Ante and Peter. She had very dark skin and heavy brows, she wore a long red tunic with yellow stylized flowers and a matching shawl, and her jet-colored hair was wrapped in a gauzy white scarf. Her eyes were very bright, and she smelled of hot coals. “Welcome to Iwapkuti,” she said in a thick accent. “I’ve been chosen to speak for the village tonight. I am called Rajiya.”

  Some sort of greeting seemed to be in order and a handshake didn’t seem right, so Ante executed a sincere but awkward bow. “I am pleased to meet you.”

  “You have come to this place from afar, yes? I have as well. Many of us have.” She waved at her neighbors.

  “Yes.”

  Her smile was gentle, sympathetic. “How long has it been since you were home, Ante?”

  “Over a hundred and fifty years.”

  “Ah. And Peter, you have never had a home at all.”

  Peter shook his head.

  “Long ago,” she said, “I wandered from place to place, a nomad on the sands, but always I took my home with me.” She reached into the folds of her shawl and produced a copper oil lamp.

  Ante nearly choked. “You are—”

  “Jinn, yes. And today I live in a split-level house with a great room and two fireplaces. But still I carry my lamp.” Her eyes sparkled with humor, then softened. “But my point is that being without a home is a terrible thing. I am sorry you have had to bear it.”

  This wasn’t at all how Ante had imagined the evening’s encounter would proceed. He felt knocked off-balance, although Peter’s hand was a steadying influence. “Peter and I would very much like to make a home. Together, I think.” Peter nodded vigorously, and Ante continued, “But we cannot. Not as long as the Shadows pursue us.”

  When he mentioned the Shadows, a buzz reverberated among the onlookers. They didn’t sound happy. Not that Ante blamed them.

  “What do you ask of us?” Rajiya asked.

  “We would beg for sanctuary here. We would beg to be allowed to reside among you. But the Shadows will follow us here. They are perhaps very close already. And they will not leave until Peter and I are captured or destroyed.”

  Rajiya nodded slowly. “I understand. We have ways to keep them out. Nobody enters Iwapkuti without our blessing—that has been the way here since long before your time. So you would be safe within our boundaries. But you would be besieged.”

  Peter decided to join the conversation. “We’ve been in that situation already. Patricia Long said we could stay at her place, but the same problem there—we’d never be able to leave. That’s no good. I want a home, not a prison.”

  “Yes,” Rajiya said. “I understand this as well. So what you are truly asking of us is to fight these Shadows. To defeat them.”

  The crowd waited silently for Ante to answer. “Yes. We ask this of you.”

  Everyone sighed at once, a gusty exhalation.

  Ante waited a second or two before continuing. “If you are unwilling, I will not argue with you. Your homes are here, your families. My fight is not yours. We will leave.”

  Rajiya regarded him closely. “And if we join your fight and we win, what will you do then?”

  The odds of getting to that point seemed so small that Ante hesitated before answering. Peter jumped in, though. “Ante wants to grow grapes and make wine. I want to keep house and bake things.”

  The crowd erupted into laughter, but there was nothing cruel about it. Instead their audience seemed delighted. Rajiya laughed too. “Have you made wine before, Ante?”

  “When I was human. Even then, I loved how one could taste the earth and the sun in every drop. It was like drinking my land, making it a part of me.” He wasn’t usually this poetic. Maybe a jinn had that kind of influence. He soldiered on. “Now I do not drink anything but blood, yet my sense of smell is excellent, and I think I could make very fine wine indeed. I would… like the chance to work the soil again.” His voice almost broke.

  “Most of us here appreciate a good glass now and then,” she said. Some of the residents made approving noises—the bigfoot was the most enthusiastic. “And many of us enjoy sweets as well. If you two were to join us, you could make a worthy contribution. And how much blood do you require?”

  “When I am not being burned or shot or stabbed? A pint a week.”

  “We can provide that easily.”

  “You work on the barter system?” asked Peter, always curious about the details.

  “Often. Some of us have more mainstream sources of income. For example, I own a shop in Guerneville where I sell crystals, jewelry, and prayer flags.”

  Peter grinned. “Sounds like the kind of place my mama would have loved.”

  That seemed to please Rajiya. “Several members of our community run an artists’ cooperative in town, two own an auto repair shop, one of us has a bookshop. And those who do not have monetary income contribute in other ways.”

  “Don’t the people in Guerneville, uh, notice that—”

  “That we are unusual? Perhaps. But it is a tolerant little town.” She clasped her hands. “Very well. We understand your request. Please allow us a short time to discuss it.”

  Before Ante could ask where she wanted them to go, a man left the assembled ranks to approach them. He looked, Ante thought, like a middle-school math teacher—balding, glasses, a polo shirt and khakis. But when he got near enough, Ante caught a good whiff of him. Ah. Canine.

  “You guys can hang out in my place while you wait,” said the werewolf.

  Ante gave him a slight bow. “Thank you.”

  The werewolf lived in a tidy little cabin with a lot of animal heads mounted on the walls. “I, uh, hunt,” he explained somewhat sheepishly. “And it seems a shame to waste the trophy, so I took up taxidermy too.” He settled Ante and Peter in matching easy chairs and brought Peter a bag of potato chips and a plastic bottle of Pepsi. After telling them to make themselves at home, he left to join the conversation with his neighbors.

  “Congratulations,” Ante said while Peter munched away.

  “What?”

  “Because of you, I have had more excitement and surprises in one week than in the previous century.”

  Peter nodded thoughtfully, his mouth full. After swallowing, he said, “A couple days ago, when we were in that skanky motel, you said every extra hour of life was worthwhile. I didn’t really believe you. I don’t think you believed you either.” He gave Ante a piercing look.

  Ante dry-wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Perhaps not,” he admitted.

  “Well, what are your thoughts on the matter now, wise guy?”

  “I am grateful for every minute we have had together.”

  “Even the ones when you were bleeding or burning?”

  With a preternaturally fast move, Ante leaped from his chair and straddled Peter’s lap, putting them face-to-face. “Even those,” Ante rumbled. In this kiss, he tasted salt as well as sugar, and that was especially fine. Peter moaned into the kiss and clutched Ante’s ass, and they might have started on each other’s clothing if Ante hadn’t moved back a few inches.

  “I want you to know something,” Peter announced gravely.

  “Yes?”

  “You are a good man.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You. Are a good. Man. Don’t give me a fucking argument about this, Ante. I don’t have a clue what happens to any of us after we croak, but I’ll tell you one thing for sure—you’re not going to Hell. Or if you are, it’s gonna be Patricia’s kind of hell, with the ridiculous beds and the orgy bathrooms and the obscene artwork.”

  Ante leaned his forehead against Peter’s. “Thank you. And there is something I must tell you.”

  “You’re gay?”

  Ante snorted. “You are valuable.”

  “Sure. I can sort of read minds and I can—”

  “Not what I mean. If your powers disappeared this second, you would still be valuable as a person. Because you are funny and smart and brave, and you are curious and strong. And you, Peter, are also a good man.”

  Blood rushed delectably to Peter’s cheeks, and for once he was speechless. Although Ante still saw no reflection of himself when he looked into Peter’s dark eyes, what he did see was better. He hoped he wasn’t mistaken. He thought he saw love.

  “My heart has been silent for a hundred and fifty years, and yet….”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you have any use for a dead, shriveled heart? Because if so, it is yours.”

  Now Peter’s eyes glittered with tears. “That’s romantic. Slightly creepy, but really romantic.”

  “Moje srce je tvoje. Tvoj sam. Ako imamo samo jedan dan, ja sam tvoje zauvijek.” My heart is yours. I am yours. Even if we have only one day, I am yours forever.

  “We better survive long enough for me to learn Croatian so I know what the hell you’re saying.”

  “I am saying that we have crushed your potato chips.”

  Smiling gently, Peter traced his fingers along Ante’s jawline. “Do you really know how to cook Croatian stuff?”

  “A bit. My mother sometimes had me help her when I was young. It was peasant food, though.”

  “Teach me. We’re going to get through this, and…. God, you must have so much info stored up here.” He caressed Ante’s skull. “Teach me everything.”

  They were still sitting like that, Ante on Peter’s lap, each touching the other in ways that were more tender than sexual, when the werewolf returned. He didn’t seem rattled or upset to find them in such an intimate position. In fact he grinned somewhat… well, wolfishly. “We’ve reached a decision,” he said. “And everyone agrees, because we do things by consensus around here.”

  “Yes?” Ante asked.

  “Gentlemen, it looks like we’re going to war.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  WHEN Ante and Peter rejoined the Iwapkuti residents, Ante was afraid he’d be expected to make some kind of thank-you speech. But Rajiya and the others were apparently eager to begin preparations, and as soon as Ante was within earshot, they began peppering him with questions about vampires in general and the Shadows specifically. The interrogation lasted a long time, but it was preferable to speechifying. By the time the crowd was satisfied, they’d amassed a sizable catalog of vampire strengths and weakness.

  At some point one of the humans—a young woman with an enormous Afro—quietly opened a vein and collected a mugful of her blood, which she gave to Ante. He and Peter were sitting on a felled log, most of the discussion having turned away from them.

  “Thank you,” he said as he took the cup. The lettering on the side said “Coffee makes me poop,” which Peter thought was hilarious.

  She sat next to Ante. “I used to donate all the time ’cause I’ve got O negative. It’s not convenient for me to do that anymore, now that I’m way out here. So I can donate to you instead. Oh, and I’m Chloe, by the way.”

  “I am sorry you had to hurt yourself.” He nodded at the bandage on her arm.

  “Don’t worry about it. My wife? She’s a healer. She’ll have me back to a hundred percent in no time.” She pointed at a large woman who was currently deep in conversation with the werewolf and one of the giants.

  Ante took a sip.

  “Taste all right?” Chloe asked, as if it were a matter of genuine concern.

  “Very good. You are extremely healthy.”

  “You can tell that just from drinking my blood?”

  “To some extent, yes.”

  She looked impressed. “Well, that’s pretty cool. You know, if you’d be willing to screen some of us, that’d be handy. Especially for the ones who can’t exactly sign up with an HMO. Can you do nonhuman blood?”