Olivia’s foot tapped against the manor floor, the only sound louder than her heart hammering in her chest.

Everyone was out, at this time of day. Kara had run off with a skip in her step, Daisy was over at piano lessons--taught by a werewolf, apparently, because the poor girl couldn’t pass as human--and Angelus was picking up their package at the blood bank.

“He’s born for that job,” Rosalyn had said with a laugh. “Loves to count things, so we never get any less than we ask for.”

Olivia stood outside the matriarch’s study now, wringing her hands together and praying for an answer. She’d knocked once already, to no response.

Just as she raised a fist to knock again, the door flew open. Rosalyn sat at her desk, hands steepled and gaze aimed dead ahead. Not at Olivia, but through her.

“Did you open that with your mind?” Olivia asked.

“A magician never tells,” Rosalyn replied breezily. “Is something the matter? Must be the case, because people don’t come here otherwise.”

That was true: no one liked to be in Rosalyn’s study. The windows were all boarded up--more than the average Manor window was, which was saying something--and covered with mounted rugs, leaving only an ancient, candlelit chandelier to banish the darkness. While Olivia had no trouble seeing in the dark, the effect was uncanny, like walking into a gothic horror film. Of course, for Rosalyn, it was a necessary measure: her vampirism was of the burns to dust in sunlight flavour.

“I was just wondering,” Olivia began, straining to keep her head up and gaze steady, “if I could visit a relative. My grandmother. She lives at the edge of town, and I’ve only been able to phone her…” Her voice petered out as Rosalyn stood.

“Is this that abuela you’re always talking to?” she asked with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “The one you lived with before joining us?”

Olivia nodded. “I just… miss her. And everyone else is either on the other side of the country, or in Mexico, so--”

“Do you know why you live with us, Olivia?” Rosalyn interrupted.

“Because you guys have a deal with the blood bank?”

She strode over, resting an icy hand on Olivia’s shoulder. The cold seeped through her sweater, straight to the bone.

“I must have failed you,” she murmured. “See, it’s deeper than that.”

Olivia raised a brow. “How so?”

“This may surprise you, but people don’t like us very much,” Rosalyn said. She spun on her heel, ambling back over to her desk. “Especially one party in particular. You and the other Freakspotters are a nosy lot, so I’m sure you’ve heard about the Children of the Lone Angel?”

Oh, shit. Olivia swallowed her nerves. “You mean the cult?” Maybe she could play dumb. Convince Rosalyn she hadn't spent hours reading about their antics over the past few years.

“Yes, the cult.” Rosalyn sighed. “We’ve gotten word they’re active again, recruiting and the like. In fact, some of our peers claim they’re being watched. It makes sense: as I implied, the Children of the Lone Angel don’t like us.”

“Why not?” Olivia asked. “Shouldn’t we all get along, freaks of nature that we are?”

Rosalyn cracked a smile at that. “You’d think so, but I’m afraid we have some... ideological differences.”

“Such as?”

“While we want coexistence with humanity, the Children of the Lone Angel wish to take over entirely.”

“Oh,” Olivia said, because really, there are only so many responses to that kind of thing. “And why's any of this relevant, if I may ask?”

Rosalyn’s eyes rested on her boarded-up window. “They see us as obstacles to their goal. Because of that, they target us and the humans we associate with.”

“Target as in…” Olivia trailed off, drawing a finger across her neck.

Without looking her way, Rosalyn nodded. “They keep track of magical folk, and any human we’re seen with may be murdered at best.”

“Not my idea of best,” Olivia muttered.

“It’s a mercy, I promise.” Rosalyn fiddled with one of the several rings on her fingers. “If you’re killed, it’s because they couldn’t break you. And if they can break you, your pieces become part of their grand machine.”

“For wiping out humanity as we know it.” Olivia stroked her chin. “So, they’re a whole group of magic-wielding beings who want to kill us and our loved ones?”

“Oh, most of them are perfectly human,” Rosalyn assured her. “The problem is in the gods they worship. Has anyone told you about the Witchlands yet?”

The name rang a bell. “Please elaborate.”

“Well, there’s a reason the population of magical beings on Earth is so low,” Rosalyn said. “Long ago, most of us left for another land, a parallel world, to create a society only for magical beings: the Witchlands. Of course, the lack of human presence there was a bit of a drawback for some folks, notably us.”

“Supernatural creatures still bleed, don’t they?”

Rosalyn scoffed. “In the Witchlands, vampires are seen as a strain of witchcraft gone wrong. We don't have legal agreements for a safe supply of blood, so feeding straight from the source is our only option. Tell me: would you rather get blood from a blood bank, or try feeding from someone who could set you on fire with a thought?”

“Fair enough,” Olivia muttered, a blush crawling up her cheeks. “But where does the cult come in?”

“I don’t know how exactly, but they found out about the Witchlands, and specifically, some religion once practiced there,” Rosalyn explained. “To my knowledge, they’re hoping to somehow summon the gods of those beliefs and recreate the world in their image…”

“By defeating humanity,” Olivia finished. “Because these are gods from a world without humans.”

Rosalyn threw her hands up. “Insane, isn’t it? And they talk about rewards, for realizing this vision. Power, wealth, immortality. All they know is their want.”

“And that’s why I can’t visit my family.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Olivia fought the urge to stomp her feet, pull her hair, cry her eyes out. “But everyone living with their parents--”

“We're working on that.” Her voice stayed even, but there was a cold undercurrent to it. “I know this isn’t what you want, but it’s for everyone’s safety. And come now, I think we’ve been quite welcoming.”

“Oh, yeah, I feel super welcome in a house where almost all the windows are boarded up,” Olivia retorted. “And where I can’t visit my family. And where half the time, we’re doing perimeter and making sure no one’s broken in to kill us. I almost never see my housemates, and when I do, we never talk, because we’re just here to get the blood we drink to live!"

Rosalyn stared at her, unflinching. “You realize only so much of this is within my control, right?”

“But I’m still allowed to be frustrated. I mean…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “This is pointless. I’m going out.”

“You can’t--”

“With Rachel,” Olivia interrupted. “I need to talk to someone I don’t live with.”

Before Rosalyn could get another word in, Olivia stormed off. The office door slammed shut behind her.

“Stupid house,” she grumbled, practically tearing her phone out of her sweater pocket. “Stupid vampirism. Stupid cult. Stupid everything.”

She hammered in a text to Rachel, acrylics clacking against the screen. It was the only sound, save for the house settling around her. Old places like this, they were always settling.

Kind of like the people living in them, she thought. She’d had to walk Kara and Angelus through sending texts, and Rosalyn dressed like a depressed 1950s housewife, all long dresses and pearl necklaces. Olivia was waiting for her to pull out a fucking poodle skirt. At least the others dressed like proper vampires--Angelus in his old suits, Kara always toeing the line between grunge and goth, even Daisy seemingly stealing her wardrobe from creepy porcelain dolls.

Olivia stuck out, in her fuzzy cardigan and tennis skirt. Like a pastel splotch across the night sky.

With Rachel, I’m not such an outsider. She could treat a two-headed calf like her best friend in the world.

She sent the text. It was really quite to the point--hey rach, need to get out of here, can we meet up?--but for some reason, it made Olivia’s heart stutter. Back home, people had begged for her time, her attention, just a moment beside her. She'd been the popular girl in high school. It was odd, being on the other side of that equation.

But also, she owed Rachel an apology for what she’d said at the bunker.

Her phone buzzed right away, Rachel’s name splashing across the screen.

You don’t have to ask twice! Want me to pick you up? I’ve got my sister’s car lol

Olivia smiled.

Sounds good to me, she texted back.