Mary Kate lifted a spoonful of Cheerios to her mouth, dribbling milk onto the keyboard. She quickly pulled up her shirttail and wiped it off.

“We’re leaving now!” Chuck called up the stairs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right there.” She began to read over the last paragraph on the computer screen.

The darkness enshrouded them. Ursula could barely see the sheen of blood on his lip, yet she knew it was there. The union was complete. All ties to her life and family and everything she had ever known had been severed. She and Dimitri were one, neither living nor dead. They were eternal.

“That’s what you said fifteen minutes ago!”

Has it been that long? She slipped her feet into the scuffs under her desk and ran downstairs.

“Have fun at Grandma’s. If you’re not awake when I get home Sunday night, then I’ll see you bright and early Monday.” She kissed each of her boys on the cheek. “Bye-bye, sweeties.”

Thirteen-year-old David rolled his eyes dramatically. “I had things I wanted to do this weekend, Mom.”

“Next weekend, Buckaroo. Anything you want. You, too, Ben. Promise.” Ben looked thoughtful, giving her his evil spawn grin, exposing the gap where he’d lost his front baby teeth. “Almost anything,” Mary Kate added, laughing.

“We’ve got to go.” Chuck looked past her as if meeting her eyes was more than his temper could bear. “We’re going to be stuck in traffic as it is.”

Mary Kate spoke to the boys, but hoped Chuck was taking it in. “Listen, guys, this should be the last convention for a couple of months, anyway. And the promotional stuff should be tapering off soon, too. I’ll try to keep the book signings near home if I can. After that. . .”

“You’ll be working on another book, and we’ll still never see you,” David finished.

“It’s my work, honey.”

Chuck ushered the boys to the door. “Let’s go, guys. Grandma will worry if we’re late.”

Mary Kate watched her family pile into the Volvo, then back out onto Linden Lane. She wished it wasn’t like this every time. Lots of mothers work. Why should I feel guilty? Because I enjoy it so much?

A paw stepped softly on her scuff, and she looked down to see Lestat curling around her leg, purring.

“Oh, darn, Lestat. I forgot all about you. I don’t suppose you have someone to spend the weekend with. No? Okay, I’ll take care of it.” Picking up the tablet of phone numbers on the counter, she went down the list of neighbors who had pitched in for her before. Most weren’t answering, and the others were too busy to run in and open a tin for one little cat. There was only one option left, not including taking the wretched beast with her on the flight to Atlanta.

“Hi. Mrs. Olsen?”

“Yes?”

“This is Mary Kate Flaherty across the street. Uh, I hate to impose again, but I’m in a tight spot here, and if you could help, I’d really appreciate it. You see, I have to go out of town for the weekend, and could you come in and feed my cat?”

Silence.

“I wouldn’t bother you, except that I have to leave in about two hours, and I, uh, sort of forgot about Lestat in the shuffle.”

“Your work, I suppose.” The distaste in her tone insinuated that the work involved standing on a street corner flagging down men named John.

“I’ll be back Sunday evening. The key’s under the flower pot by the back door.”

Another silence. Mary Kate was about to ask if she was still there, when Mrs. Olsen said, “I’ll send my husband over.” Click.

Mary Kate hung up the receiver. “Tell him to watch out for the casket in the basement.”

“Hello,” she said.

“Theodora! We saw you come in!”

“Hi, Michael. Who’s here?”

“Everybody, babe. And we’re all dying to see you.”

“Great! Give me a few minutes, okay? I’ve got a panel at midnight.”

“We’ll see you in the bar.”

It was time to become Theodora. Theodora Zed, Queen of the Vampires.

Mary Kate toed off her loafers and dropped her blue jeans on the floor. She pulled the bulky knit sweater over her head, tossing it onto the bed. The sensible, cotton underwear had to go, too. She had to be Theodora right down to her skin.

First, she put on the black lace, bikini panties and matching push-up bra, then the garter belt and black stockings. She glanced in the mirror, turning from side to side, and could see where the five pounds she put on from eating too much McDonald’s with the boys went. Digging through the open suitcase, she decided on the new, little leather number for the first night. Most of the conferees stayed relatively sober on Friday and were most likely to notice and remember how she was dressed.

She wiggled into the dress, feeling the compaction of the extra poundage as she zipped it up. “Not bad for thirty-six and two kids.” She could begin to see the transformation taking effect as she looked at herself sheathed in black leather. The neckline was low, the hemline high. Silver buckles closed the gaps in the long, tight sleeves. She stepped into treacherously tall spiked heels.

Grabbing her cosmetics case, she sat at the well-lit vanity. Her face had few exotic lines, but it was amazing what make-up could do. She gave herself pale skin with a slightly feverish blush. Her eyes were deepened with liners and dark shadows. She lengthened her eyelashes and arched her eyebrows. Her lips became blood red with a full, sultry pout. A warm, electrified current ran up her spine to the base of her skull. She felt the release of the part of her personality ordinarily bound by sensible cotton undies. She let the excitement wash over her as she completed her metamorphosis.

Her hair was plain brown, shoulder length and straight. She teased it up high, spritzed on some red highlights from a can, then pinned it up loosely from her neck. Clipping silver death’s heads onto her earlobes, Mary Kate looked into the mirror and smiled. “Hi, Theodora.”

“Theo! Over here!” An arm waved over the throng. She squeezed between the tables in that direction.

A chair had been crammed between the others around the table to make room for her. Michael Kazdin put his arm around her waist.

“It’s good to see you again, Michael.”

“Likewise, babe. Cute dress.” He removed his arm and gestured for the waitress. “I missed you at NecroCon. We had a wild time.”

“I’m sure you did,” she said, knowing this meant that Michael had gotten stinking drunk and had taken a nubile, young fan or wannabe writer back to his room. He was still handsome at fifty-two, but Mary Kate noticed that the gray streaks in his hair had disappeared since the last time she had seen him. She looked around. “Is Phyllis with you?”

“No, not this trip,” he said without looking at her. “Red wine?”

“Of course.”

Michael ordered while Mary Kate greeted the others at the table. Some were old friends, like Conner Drake. He tipped his mug of beer to her and winked. She winked back and smiled, always glad to see him. He had stepped in and shown her the ropes of surviving conventions four years earlier, when her second novel made a surprise jump in sales. In order to keep the ball rolling, she had to learn how to promote and sell. Conner helped her keep it all in perspective.

Beside him, fellow vampire writer Alissa Dibiase was dressed almost as outrageously as Mary Kate in a red sequined sheath. “Theo, darling,” she said, “you’re getting to be a cow. You should leave the sexy vampiress bit to me.”

She smiled, but Mary Kate was never sure when she was kidding.

“Better a cow than a bloodsucking leech,” Michael said. Alissa scrunched her pretty little nose and blew him a kiss. Michael suddenly realized what he had said. “Not that you’re a cow, Theodora! You’re gorgeous! That outfit was made for you.”

Mary Kate held up her hand. “I got the point, Michael. I don’t listen to Alissa anyway.” Conner chuckled softly beside her.

Mary Kate didn’t recognize the young man in the heavy, green turtleneck. Michael introduced him. “This is Randall Valentine. You’re going to be hearing about this young fellow. I met him after a reading in Denver. He gave me his manuscript, and damn, it knocked my socks off. I don’t know why, but I sent him straight to my agent. This boy might just give me some serious competition.”

Nobody believed he meant it. Michael had been one of the few horror writers to remain popular in the mainstream for over twenty years.

Mary Kate accepted the drink from the waitress and took a sip. “Welcome to the club, Randall.”

“So, you’re the Queen of the Vampires. I’ve heard about you.” His voice reminded her of her son, David, at his whiniest.

“Dreadful things, I hope.” She smiled.

“I read your, uh, novel, Death’s Delight, or most of it. I’m curious; are you purposefully going for the soap opera, Harlequin romance, housewife demographic?”

Mary Kate clamped her teeth together. The others at the table sucked in their breath. Young Randall didn’t know her well enough nor have the status to join in the bitchy sniping. She knew if she called him what she was thinking it would show up in a fan magazine somewhere, so she said civilly, “An interesting thought, Randall.” He smiled smugly.

Conner leaned towards her and whispered, “Nice recover, Mary Kate.”

“Better than pulling that turtleneck up over his head.” She looked at her watch. “I’ve got a panel at twelve. You coming?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said. As she sipped from the long-stemmed glass of wine, she enjoyed his warm smile.