I’m ready to search for the sorcerer, but of course Grampire’s sleeping.

  I pace restlessly downstairs. I’m prepared for travel; I have my best (only) hiking clothes on, and I found an ancient cloth backpack with only a few holes in the bottom. I’m not sure what I’ll need it for, but it seems like we should have something with us if we’re going on an adventure. But it’s late afternoon and Grampire is still snoozing. I understand, I get sleepy too after a big meal, but we really have to go.

  “Grampire?” I venture. No shuffling, no creaking wood above my head. Ugh. I make another circle around my sleeping rug, chewing on my thumbnail. I don’t feel good about knocking on her door when she’s clearly passed out, but we’re losing sunlight…I don’t want to run into a possibly hostile sorcerer in the dead of night. I don’t know much about them, but I do know sorcerers are way stronger than wizards and witches, and I’ve heard they get stronger still when the sun goes down. Though I guess Grampire does too. And me, technically, but I don’t even want to think about using the fighting skills Grampire taught me. It’s much better to go right at twilight so we appear friendly. No one likes to be asked for a favor in the middle of the night.

  I kick around some trash collected in the corner of the room. A bright yellow cardboard box tumbles off the top and slides down to my feet. I squint at it. The writing is faded, but I think it’s an empty box of tea? I dig further into the pile, and box after box tumbles out of the corner. I count at least thirteen faded, sun damaged boxes and a few metal tins with the same logo. Goddess, Grampire just cannot let anything go…

  That gives me an idea, though. I look up at the ceiling, then go to the bottom of the staircase.

  “Grampire,” I call. “Can I throw these empty boxes away?”

  Seconds later, a door bangs open. “You better not touch anything ‘til I get down there.”

  I hold in a victorious laugh. To the sorcerer, we go.

  Grampire descends the stairs a few minutes later, still wearing her nightdress. She eyes me warily. “What boxes are you talking about?”

  “Those, but that doesn’t matter.” I check the setting sun anxiously. “Are you ready to go?”

  “No,” Grampire grunts.

  “We don’t want to confront a sorcerer at night—”

  “I know,” Grampire says, waving me off. She kicks some trash around her armchair and then bends and plucks a stained tennis shoe from the hoard. “Gotta wear different shoes. My crocs are on their last legs thanks to a different magical freak.”

  I wince at the memory of the fight with Jerry. I don’t want to relive that if at all possible. I wait for Grampire impatiently, tapping my foot, while she slowly pulls on her shoes over her fuzzy socks. She bends to tie them, then cringes in pain, her hand flying to her lower back.

  “Damn thing locking up on me,” Grampire growls, her eyebrows scrunched together.

  I frown, my impatience fading. I forgot—Grampire’s strong, but she’s still an old lady. I didn’t know that vampires could get arthritis, or even injured at all, but today’s clearly a bad day. I close the distance between us and kneel before her armchair.

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  “I’ll tie them.” I carefully tie Grampire’s shoes (which are really cool vintage leather? I bet they’d cost a fortune if they weren’t so scratched up). When I look up, her expression is strange; a frown, but also genuine surprise. She eventually smiles, a half one that shows her gold fang.

  “Thanks. But I know you’re just ready to go.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Whatever, let’s head out.” Grampire stands and stretches her arms to the ceiling. She turns away and heads out the glass door to the backyard before I can say anything else. I shoulder my borrowed backpack and hurry after her.

  We dodge debris in silence for a few minutes. I try to walk slower, but Grampire seems to be over her pain spell. She makes a quick beeline north, parallel to the river. And my old home.

  I look at Grampire so I won’t have to think about that. “So, you know how I found some of Phyllis’s stuff in room 2A?”

  “Yeah.” Grampire rolls her eyes. She and Phyllis argued until three am about keeping her trunk, clothes, and fine china. I only got them to stop by promising to keep Phyllis’s best items and some of Grampire’s piles too.

  “Did you know she had a baby?”

  “Women tend to do that,” Grampire grunts.

  “Does that mean you have children too?”

  Grampire shoots me a harsh glare. “No. I ate them for being nosy.”

  “You could tell me something about you,” I whine. We pass the pond and the lone goose watches us walk by, head tilted. “I don’t even know your real name!”

  “And it’ll stay that way,” Grampire growls.

  I walk beside her sullenly. Grampire is so secretive. But why? I wouldn’t tell anyone her secrets. I guess she doesn’t know that. Or…I guess she doesn’t really know me either. I’m just the werewolf who chewed a hole in her door. Maybe I have to be the first one to reach out.

  “Well, I can tell you about me! I love Chinese food and daisies, and I’m allergic to strawberries.”

  “Didn’t ask,” Grampire says, her gaze straight ahead.

  Okay, ouch. Maybe I need to be more open. “I used to live in Chicago with my dad, but I was actually born here! I was with the pack until I was four, but I don’t really remember that. I think my dad had a fight with my aunt and uncle? But I don’t remember that either. Anyway, we moved a lot.”

  “Hmm.” Grampire sounds bored as we pass a rusted, ancient car.

  I continue, my mind drifting to Phyllis and her terrifying ability to steal my memories. “Did you know Phyllis could read minds? She showed me a Halloween mask my dad scared me with once. Did it work on you too? I can’t imagine you being scared of much, but—”

  “Stop.” I hush as Grampire puts out a hand in front of me. Grampire’s shoulders tense as she climbs a steep hill. “Hate to interrupt your yammering, but look alive. There’s a coyote den coming up.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. Coyotes like werewolves.”

  Grampire finally looks at me, frowning. “Come again?”

  “Well, it’s less affection and more like they’re not afraid of us. We don’t hunt them, and sometimes they can follow us if we’re sloppy with our kills, so we’re friends.” I spy a coyote hugging the treeline, ears pricked. I wave and the coyote tilts its head, but doesn’t run. “See?”

  Grampire raises her eyebrows. “Well, I’ll be. The kid’s good with wild animals.”

  “Not all of them, just the scavengers mostly. Crows, ravens, vultures, that kind of thing. We are not cool with wild boar, which I tried to tell you earlier, but you weren’t listening.”

  “I was listening. I just thought you were a wimp.” Grampire chuckles at my scowl. We walk for a few more minutes, but then Grampire slows as we approach the edge of a dense copse of trees. She nods to them, her expression serious. “You ever been back here while you were running around on all fours?”

  I shake my head. I don’t recognize it; my old territory ended a half-mile back, cut short by a branching stream from the river. “No, never.”

  “Thought so,” Grampire grunts. She stares forward, frowning fiercely. “This is the end of my territory. I don’t know what’s back there, or who that belongs to.”

  I swallow hard, a little nervous. Oh goddess, I hope the sorcerer is in a good mood. “What do you think is there? Besides a hopefully super nice sorcerer?”

  “No clue.” Grampire smirks at me. “Maybe some strawberries, so we better be careful.”

  I beam at her, the nerves fading. I don’t have any proof, but I think we’ll be fine, regardless of what’s in the uncharted part of the forest.

  “Let’s go find out.”

  Grampire nods, and we both step off of her territory and into the unknown.