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I swallowed hard and looked at the other vampire, the one who had been dead longer. She lowered her head in assent.

Sarah said, “We’ll let you go.”

Go where? I thought, as they escorted me back to my dormitory room, and watched as I climbed into bed. To the streets, to starve?

Did I have a choice?

I drew the sheets up. The two vampires stepped into the hall, and closed the door. There was still light in the room: through two high, arched windows, the dawn was coming.

I saw then the statue of the Blessed Mother at the far end of the room. I hadn’t noticed it before. She looked very young. I had been taught that the Virgin gave birth to Jesus when she was fourteen.

I was fourteen.

The Blessed Mother’s world had been filled with turmoil—her people were slaves under Roman rule; she had nearly been stoned to death when her pregnancy became apparent. She was unmarried. Her husband had spoken for her, telling the rabble and the priests of a dream, a holy vision.

My mind raced; my heart thundered. I rolled on my side to face the statue and clasped my hands in prayer, sliding them beneath my pillow. I tried to pray, but mostly, I cried.

My fingertips brushed something beneath the pillow. I jerked my hands away, then sat up and lifted it up.

In the hollow sat a folded piece of paper. On it was written: BESS (THE NEW GIRL).

I unfolded it, and read.

Dear Bess,

Im sorry I took yor fox stole. I aint had much and i thought it would be better hear at Our Lady but its not. Its just as hard. So I was mad when you come cause its hard as it is without new girls. But it would be easier if we was friends instead of enemys. Will you be my friend?

Sorry agin,

Maria

Maria, who was dead. I could never tell her now that yes, I would be her friend. Yes, it would be easier. I remembered the nameless Irish woman who had also died. My father used to talk about the Irish problem—too many immigrants, taking the jobs of the “real” Americans. Stealing the wages of men who’d been there first.

Vampires.

I looked at the statue of the Blessed Mother. I looked at the drugged girls, who were as hungry and frightened as I was.

I reread the note from Maria, and kissed her name.

Then slowly, unsteady as a lamb, I stood on my bed and turned around. I stared at my wooden crucifix. I remembered that Father Mark and Mother Mary Patrick had covered the one over Maria’s bed so that the vampires could approach. That they had shied away from the cross over my bed as they’d dragged me into the graveyard.

I took a deep breath, and laid my hand on the cross. I took it off the wall.

We can make a garden, I thought, looking at the sleeping girls. We can grow our own food. We can work together. We can be sisters. And I’ll find my mother and Our Lady of the Vampires, and they can live here, too.

Then I broke the cross in two, as if I were making a wish on the turkey wishbone at Thanksgiving. The edges were very jagged.

Two pieces.

Two stakes.

We’ll learn how to kill them. To fight them.

To take care of ourselves.

I slipped them under my pillow.

My decision, my bargain, was made.

When darkness fell, I would lead these girls out of the land of the vampires.

We would have a table—ours—in the presence of our enemies.

And the world would call us blessed.

BEST FRIENDS

Lilith Saintcrow

“You can’t be serious.” I pushed my bangs back fretfully, I hadn’t had a trim in ages. I wanted to wriggle out of my damp bikini top, but I hadn’t brought a T-shirt. “He’s just your stepfather. Or going to be, anyway, since your mom’s . . . well.”

Kate sighed, a sound of sharp metal frustration. “Look, do you think I’d be telling you if I wasn’t sure? I’m not crazy, Becca.”

I eyed her for a long critical moment, sucking on the straw. Finished my chocolate milkshake, set the paper cup down, and slid my shades down the bridge of my nose. We both smelled like chlorine and sunscreen, because you can’t ever wash pool-smell out of your hair in the showers at the Y. Kate’s blond