Sally stared in wonder at the floating white cross.

It was part of the beehive building and it was as primitive as could be. Amongst the gray and black rocks were set five or six as white as salt which made a crude upright with a set of wavy arms

She turned back to the panting Lavinia. “The cross, babe? Didn’t we spend that whole afternoon deciding they had no power over you?”

She was vaguely angry: was Christianity “the truth” after all? Would she have to kneel and pray to a God who’d made the Inquisition and Auschwitz, a God she still saw as her father towering over her with his belt?

“I dunno,” Lavinia’s voice rasped. “Something about this place just fucking…” She shook her head. “Let’s get out of here while we can.”

Sally shivered. “I’d just been thinking this was a good place. Maybe it’s the home magic? Let me crawl inside one of those huts and then invite you in.”

“Are you fuckin’ out of your…!?”

Sally faced Lavinia’s storm. What would happen if I crawled inside and then ordered her out? That terrible power again, which she did not want.

Lavinia became still as if she’d heard Sally’s thought. “Awright,” she said quietly. “Go ahead.”

“Babe?”

“Fuckin do it, do it now.” The words came out like a line of rocks. A ghost rose from Sally’s past: she’d said those words to the first man she’d slept with when he panicked at the sight of blood.

She turned sharply and walked up to the old building, wishing she could see better. Oh for Christ’s sake, what was wrong with her. They had a flashlight. She dug it out of the duffel and snapped it on.

Directly beside the square black entryway was a modern sign which said, “Please do not enter the buildings unattended.” This place was a museum of sorts, people came here on tours. But she and Lavinia needed shelter; she’d be careful and respectful, damn it.

She crouched and walked into the old church, if that was what it was. Inside she could stand. The interior was rectangular, a primitive, snug little house. She shone her light around: just stone walls. They had probably been chinked tight long ago but now the wind found little fingerlings and cracks to dance through. Stone pegs projected from the walls, probably for hanging a cloak or a satchel of possessions at the end of a long day.

She said firmly, “This is my home for tonight and I invite my beloved Lavinia to be welcome in my home!” I hope it’s okay that I’m in here.

Then a strange thing happened. Lavinia bumped and stumbled in, cracking her head on the lintel, as if pushed from outside. From the floor she glared up at Sally, eyes glinting in the flashlight beam. “Jesus fuck.”

Sally knelt beside her. “What happened, love?”

Lavinia turned her head. “Fuckheads who lived here, monks or whatever, they woulda hated something like me, a vampire and a Jew. ‘Course you they woulda tossed in the sea for a heathen Chinee. Prob’ly woulda burned us both alive.”

Sally didn’t know what to do. “Were you pushed in here? It looked like it.”

“Yeah, soon’s you welcomed me, this was like the only room in this whole dead complex I could be.” She turned her angry face back to Sally. “I’m here on your sufferance, babe. Be extra careful what you say, huh? One angry word from you and I’ll prob’ly fly off the cliff.”

Sally shivered to hear her secret fear spoken aloud. But of course Lavinia knew about her fear, she’d spoken it in the old apartment.

She turned the flashlight off, preferring the dark. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” she said into the night. “We can keep exploring, maybe there’s something else on this island. It’s set up as a museum, maybe there’s a museum keeper’s house somewhere.”

“No, we’re here, it’s dark, let’s get some rest.” Sally felt Lavinia curl away from her. When Sally touched her, all her radiant heat was gone.

“Babe? Don’t do this. We’re in this together, whatever it is. We’ve been through too much for you to just turn away from me like this…”

Lavinia’s dim form turned back towards her, ominous somehow. Gingerly Sally turned the light back on. Fear was stamped across Lavinia’s hollow glare. “It’s slippin’ away from me, tiger,” she whispered. Her icy form grew still, eyes dead and hungry.

A thrill of fear went through Sally Yan. “Baby,” she quavered. “It’s me, your Sally, your wife. You’re Lavinia, your mom lives in Florida, your family name was…”

Lavinia’s mouth opened and her fangs streaked white.

The flashlight skittered from Sally’s hand and she wrestled in dreadful darkness with a cold-blooded, writhing snake.

Again.