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was coming toward him, but his vision hadn’t cleared enough for him to make out who. He did know that he was naked, and he didn’t want that kind of vulnerability. He put a hand out to reach for his jeans and started to stand.
    Someone yelled, “Whoa!” and someone else yelled, “Don’t get up!”
    He rubbed his eyes. His skin was on fire, and he felt like he hadn’t slept at all. He was thirsty, parched, in fact. He needed to eat somebody. “What time is it?”
    “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in Jessa’s basement?”
    Graf cracked one eye, but the brightness of the basement made it difficult to focus. “Could you coverthat window over there?” He hadn’t seen sunlight in thirty years—at least, not willingly.
    “Hungover?” the male voice asked, kicking the leg of the cot, and Graf put his arms out to keep from tipping over.
    “Jesus, Derek, we’re not interrogating a suspect! He’s allergic to the sun. Put that gun away!” The woman from last night—Jessa, apparently—scrabbled through the boxes and camp gear in the corner and eventually found something to block the light from the dirty, ground-level window. A deflated pool raft stuffed into the hole covered the glass, filtering the light through thick blue vinyl.
    The male voice spoke again. “Allergic to the sun? That sounds like something a vampire would say in a vampire movie .”
    Very astute. His vision clearing, Graf examined the guy, who certainly did not look like the astute type. Derek, Jessa had called him. A lot of new, human names to remember that he didn’t care to remember. Derek had a college emblem on the hat he wore and a T-shirt with a varsity football logo on it that screamed, I didn’t willingly leave my high school days behind . He looked strong. Small-town strong. Farm-chores strong. Not strong enough to take Graf in a fight. He might not win, but he’d sure put up one, and the last thing Graf wanted was any kind of hard work. Derek slipped a handgun into the back of hisjeans. That was another thing Graf didn’t want to deal with.
    Jessa stood beside him, not close enough to tell Graf that they were lovers, but close enough that it was apparent they once had been.
    “What’s his name?” Derek asked, and Graf let the woman falter for a little bit before he looked up.
    “His name is Graf. He was trying to sleep after he was attacked by a monster last night.” Graf rubbed his eyes again. “What is it, 8:00 a.m.?”
    “It’s one in the afternoon,” Jessa snapped. “And you weren’t the only one running from a monster last night.”
    “I was the only one saving you. I guess I thought that would be good enough reason to let me sleep in!” He thought about standing up and choking her, but then he would be the only naked person in the room, and he tried to avoid that whenever possible.
    “Okay, both of you, shut up.” Derek gave Graf what was supposed to be a threatening look, but really just made him look like an angry gorilla.
    “Now, listen, Graf.” He leaned on the name like it was an accusation. “I don’t know where you came from—”
    “Detroit.” Graf pushed his fingers through his hair. “You can stop your tough-guy act. I’m not going to cause any trouble.” That you’ll be able to do anything about.
    “You’re in my girl’s house. You scared the shit outof her, and you pissed me off. You’ve already ‘caused any trouble.’” Derek gave the distinct impression that if Graf had been wearing a shirt, he would be yanking him up by the front of it. It was a good thing he’d turned down Sophia’s offer to pierce his nipples.
    Graf filed the “my girl” remark in the back of his mind, for later use. If Sophia had taught him any thing, it was that the most effective injury to inflict was to an opponent’s pride. Maybe he would sleep with Jessa, after all.
    He leaned his elbows on his knees and let his hands hang between his bare legs. “This isn’t just an inconvenience for