"What did you do today?" My grandson was quiet, but not morose as usual.

"I went to the park," he finally admitted. "I saw a Lightshow."

I dropped the plate in my hands. "Who?"

"I don't know."

"You saw someone die, and you don't know who?"

"I don't know. It just happened."

"You know that suicide is wrong."

Rue's eyes were grey, grey as the cigar smoke trailing in crooked halos around her father's head. She watched her father's after-dinner cigar burn, a deep red ember reflecting in her eyes. Somewhere within, flames burned in her too. Her father sat across the table, inhaling and sighing, meditating on the fiery ash and smoke mirrored in his daughter's eyes. She was almost eight now, the age of new beginnings, the age when something broke inside a child, and she grew into her own person. But Rue discovered what she was early. He knew what she knew.

"No, really! I'm a vampire!"

"Sure. Love the fangs…"

It's rare that I want to throttle someone but tonight was looking like it would be the night. "Look, not all vampires drink blood, right? Some of us thrive on energy, on essence…"

She rolled her eyes and made a show of looking bored. "Look, fella, this is a vampire bar. Unless I see fangs and a reasonable make believe of being a bloodsucker, out of my face!"