Ethan’s work season is shuffling things around, so we’re running this — Bev’s social media post right after getting dumped! What platform was this on? Who knows! It’s 2030! Anything’s possible.
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So this website is old as heck. I think some folks who are stopping by might not realize that. I launched it in 1996, and started this blog in 2001. So, y’know, thirty and twenty-five years respectively.
Because of that, this site has gone through a lot of different stuff on the backend. While it’s true that until last year a lot of it was still Perl instead of PHP, I’ve been running PHP code on parts of the site since the mid-2000s. And unlike the new scripts I wrote last year to replace the public facing Perl scripts, the old PHP files weren’t exactly up to date.
Which is why this site, until yesterday, was operating on PHP 7.4.
And that was not the worst thing in the world. Frankly, secretly I’d still been running PHP 4 until just a few years ago. I figured I’d get the site working on PHP 8 sooner or later, but I wasn’t in a rush. PHP 7.4 wasn’t a vulnerable version of the language as far as I knew.
Uh, that kind of changed this week.
Only PHP versions 8.2 and newer were getting patches, so even though my webhost installed the update to fix the vulnerability promptly, I had to get some work done to keep my site functional. I ended up doing a line by line audit of my site, digging through two decades of hacked together code, just to get the damned thing to work. It was a heck of a time.
I also had to do some work on No Brand Con‘s website too, because a plugin the organization relies on was crashing on PHP 8. Thankfully that was fixed without having to line-by-line fight the way I did with my own site, just having to re-setup a plugin from scratch to make sure the backend data was preserved. Mostly it was easy because that site is just a WordPress install, while my personal site is a homebrewed, hacked together custom CMS that no one supports but me.
So, uh, if something’s not working let me know.
It should be though.
I hope.
Season 6 will be coming out soon though, so don’t worry.
At this point though the show really is secondary to the weekend itself. We’re pretty much packed to maximum capacity in that cabin, and it’s just nice to spend time with friends I rarely get to see in person. For all the stuff in my life, I’m just glad these people are happy to spend a weekend with me every year. I spend so much of my life these days doing things remotely that it’s nice to remember “oh no, wait — these people actually like me.”
This post is a few days late, but it’s been a heck of a week. The day job is always a bit chaotic this time of year, and I’ve had to fend off the AI scrapers who briefly took this site down on Tuesday. We’re in the tail end of my favorite time of year and heading into the part where my brain is going to turn on me until the sun comes back. Moments like this last weekend are what I’ll hold onto to keep my sanity though.
That and maybe a few more pumpkin shaped iced sugar cookies.
The following is a short story set in the world of my Mia Graves novels I wrote while editing The Perfect Host. It takes place a few weeks after The Perfect Host, and contains some minor spoilers for Bloody Damn Rite. Besides the web version here, you can also download this as an ePub for your eReader.
********
There was gold in her hair. In their six years together, Lucy had never noticed that before. Of course this was the first time she’d ever seen Jayla standing in direct sunlight, where its rays could reflect back those hues. Lucy just stood in the doorway and took in the sight of her, Jayla standing on that back deck, dressed in a thick wool sweater and jeans, the sunlight hitting her long, dark brown hair.
Dark brown hair that apparently had flecks of gold in it.
Lucy had been alive for a very, very long time. Centuries. But in all of her endless nights, she had never met anyone she loved as much as Jayla. She had a singular mind, and challenged Lucy in ways no one else ever had. In the end she knew their time together would be fleeting – Jayla would never choose immortality – but Lucy was going to treasure every moment they had.
Even if it would just be a few decades in the end.
“Lucy! You’re here!” Jayla beamed, having finally turned around. “Took you long enough!”
“The families in Detroit were more difficult to negotiate with than expected,” Lucy sighed. She focused herself and took hold of the deep hunger within herself and held it down, like grabbing a snake by its head, and stepped out of the shadows of the house and into the bright, autumn afternoon. The sun hadn’t burned her in over a hundred years, but it still filled her with dread every time she did it.
“But it’s done now?” Jayla asked, pulling the shorter woman into her arms. “Everything is settled?”
“Emma’s on her way back to Indiana, but yes,” Lucy nodded, holding Jayla tightly. “I think we’re past it. I just hope that I did enough for all of them.”
“I’m sure you did,” Jayla replied, running her hand through Lucy’s black hair. After a moment, Jayla released Lucy from the welcome embrace. “Did my dad let you into the house or…”
“It was both of your parents,” Lucy smiled, sitting down on a deck chair, carefully smoothing her long black skirt as she settled in. “Your father insisted on carrying in my bags, and your mother asked if I wanted anything to eat. She attempted to give me food immediately. She said I was skin and bones. If she keeps trying to give me human food we may have a problem. I can only eat so much in a day without feeling ill.”
Jayla stifled a laugh as she sat down in the chair next to Lucy’s. “Speaking of… have you fed recently?”
“Last night,” Lucy sighed. “The families in Detroit were quite… generous. Perhaps too much so. I do not enjoy the society.“
“You’ve complained about them often enough.”
“Well they just insist on making things so… weird,” Lucy shook her head. “I enjoy sex and feeding as much as anyone else, but do we really have to do them at the same time? And in front of each other?”
“I can’t believe you’re in Buffalo,” Jayla said, looking up at the sky.
“I can’t believe you’re outdoors,” Lucy replied. “This is amazing. When you left Indiana you were a mess thinking about even leaving the house.”
“This isn’t outdoors, it’s the backyard. My parents’ backyard,” Jayla laughed.
“You’re relaxed and acting like yourself somewhere that isn’t the attic of our house,” Lucy said, leaning forward and placing her hand on Jayla’s knee. “Don’t ignore such a big step because it’s not a magical cure.”
Jayla sat silently for a minute. “How long are you staying?”
“I’m staying as long as you’re staying,” Lucy said quietly. “Now that I’ve taken care of the Drake’s former acolytes, I don’t have any other responsibilities. Emma can take care of the house in Parrish Mills while we’re gone. Assuming your parents don’t mind, of course.”
“…when’s the last time you had to ask someone’s parents for permission?”
“Technically? Never. I was never courted properly when I was alive, and in my early years I rarely offered such niceties,” Lucy shrugged. “But it’s their house. I’d be a guest. I doubt they have a moral issue with their thirty year old daughter sharing her bed with her girlfriend.”
“It’s fine. I kind of assumed you’d stay for a while,” Jayla said, squeezing Lucy’s hand. “I asked already, and may have preemptively installed blackout curtains in my room. My parents blamed my issues and I didn’t correct them. Do you want to go inside? This sun can’t be comfortable for you.”
“Oh it’s awful,” Lucy nodded. “But I love seeing you in the sunlight, and I didn’t want to pull you inside before you were ready.”
“It’s okay,” Jayla stood, offering her hand to Lucy. “I’m getting a little cold anyways.”
Lucy had only briefly glanced at the interior of the house when she first arrived, but it was warm and well lived in. Likely built some time around 1920, it was much smaller than Lucy’s house back in Indiana, but it was nice. As Lucy followed Jayla through the kitchen, she imagined what it must have been like to grow up in a home like this. Jayla chasing her brothers around the kitchen table, family dinners in the dining room, happy domesticity in its purest form. Lucy’s early life had been nothing like that.
A part of her was a bit jealous.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Jayla’s mother was standing inside, a round woman in her mid-fifties with salt and pepper hair. “Dinner won’t be for a while, but I could make you a sandwich or something.”
“No, Mrs. Grayson, I’m fine,” Lucy said with a smile. Things were going to get awkward if this woman kept trying to feed her.
“Please, call me Heather,” the woman smiled. “I had Bruce put your things in the spare room upstairs. It’s the door on the…”
“Mom, Lucy is obviously going to stay with me in my room,” Jayla said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We literally live together.”
“But you’re not married!” Heather shrugged. She pulled Jayla off to the side, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You never told us how young this Lucy was. What would her parents think.”
“Mom, her parents have been dead for a long time, and–”
“Even more reason for us to be looking out for her.”
“Mom,” Jayla hissed. “We are consenting adults. We’ve been sharing a home that she owns for a while.”
“Fine, I’ll go talk to your father and see what he thinks,” Heather walked out of the kitchen with purpose, disappearing somewhere else into the house.
“Oh my god,” Jayla sighed, leaning against the counter.”I’m so sorry about this.”
“I think it’s cute. Your mother is concerned for my virtue,” Lucy said with a look of faux innocence on her face. “You might be taking advantage of me.”
Jayla just laughed.
“Honestly, I’m a bit concerned for how this is going to work,” Lucy said, crossing the kitchen to Jayla. “It’s been a long time since I stayed in someone’s home who was unaware of what I am.”
“We’ll figure it out, it won’t be that–”
“Your father told me I was being too old fashioned,” Heather said, walking back into the kitchen. There was an edge of concern to her face she was clearly trying to hide. “He’s moved Lucy’s bags to Jayla’s room.”
“Thank you,” Jayla said. There was tension in the air, but a peace seemed to be holding. Lucy suspected this was not the first point of friction about her arrival.
“It’s been a long day,” Lucy said, breaking the silence. “I think I’d like to unpack and perhaps take a nap before dinner.”
“Yes, of course,” Heather replied, re-engaging the smile of a happy host. “Jayla’s room is up the stairs and to the left at the end of the hall.”
“I’ll show you,” Jayla said, pushing off the counter.
Jayla’s room was exactly as Lucy imagined, a hodgepodge of remnants from her youth mixed with the things she’d taken with from home. It wasn’t large, just big enough for a bed, dresser, and desk, which was largely occupied by Jayla’s work computer. The room’s windows faced the front of the house, but heavy blackout curtains had clearly been hastily installed. Lucy’s bags were stacked neatly in the corner.
“I made some room in the closet,” Jayla said, standing by the desk. “But do you really want to unpack, or do you just want to go to sleep.”
“Sleep would be divine,” Lucy sighed, walking over to the dresser and picking up an ornate hairpin decorated with roses from its surface. It belonged to Lucy, but she had sent it with Jayla as a reminder of her while they were separated. Lucy hoped to never be separated from Jayla for that long as long as Jayla lived.
Lucy kept trying not to think about that inevitability.
“You were thinking bad thoughts again,” Jayla’s hands wrapped around Lucy’s waist from behind. She gently kissed the back of Lucy’s head. “Stop. I have a lot of years ahead of me, and I don’t want you mourning me while I’m standing in the room.”
“Sorry, my love,” Lucy sighed, enjoying the warmth of Jayla’s body against hers. “It’s been a long day.”
“Take off your shoes and lie down,” Jayla said quietly in Lucy’s ear. “I’ll wake you up before we need to go back downstairs.”
Lucy kicked off her shoes and let Jayla lead her to the bed. Normally she’d tie up her hair or change into something more comfortable to sleep in, but the moment Lucy’s head hit the pillow she was out like a light.
********
Lucy awoke to Jayla’s hand on her shoulder gently rousing her.
“Dinner’s in thirty minutes, and I thought you’d want a chance to fix your hair before we rejoin my parents,” Jayla smiled, a hairbrush in her hand. “You look stunning with it down, but it certainly got itself tangled.”
Lucy sat up groggily, and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Glancing at the clock, she’d been out for at least two hours. The moment she sat up, Jayla was carefully running the hairbrush through Lucy’s thick, black hair.
It was nice.
This was nice.
“Is my makeup alright?” Lucy said, craning back to look at Jayla. “And should I change my shirt?”
“Makeup is fine, you didn’t smudge it in your nap,” Jayla said, continuing to brush out any tangles. “But yes, you should probably change the shirt. I didn’t even know you could sweat…”
“It’s all the daytime travel,” Lucy replied, shaking her head. “If I suppress the vampiric spirit long enough, the body starts… doing things again. Sweating included.”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to lend you some of my deodorant too,” Jayla laughed. “I don’t think my mom was close enough to you to get a whiff earlier, but you’ve gotten quite ripe.”
“Dear lord, this is so embarrassing,” Lucy covered her face with her hands.
“Oh relax, the sun is down now, you can put on your whole ‘delightful creature of the night’ act and charm your way through dinner,” Jayla put the hair brush down and stood up. “Hair’s all good. No time to do your normal plait, but did you want to leave it down or tie it back?”
“We’ll leave it down,” Lucy nodded, standing and pulling one of her bags onto the bed. “Now let’s ‘un-ripen’ me so I can pretend to enjoy eating food and try to make a good impression on your mother and father.”
Choosing a top appropriate for dinner with her girlfriend’s parents turned out to be a larger challenge for Lucy than expected. For the first time in Lucy’s long life she was genuinely concerned with how tight or low cut a top was.
“I feel off kilter,” Lucy sighed, pulling various shirts from her bag. “Not myself. I’m not used to being in someone else’s home anymore.”
“If you want I can start deferring to you and calling you ‘Mistress,'” Jayla said with a wry smile.
“Don’t you dare,” Lucy gave Jayla a dirty look. “I swear Jayla, if you pull that game in front of your parents–”
“There she is,” Jayla laughed. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up. Now stand up, shoulders back, get dressed, and let’s introduce your full regal self to my mom and dad.”
Eventually Lucy was able to select something that felt modest enough, and after a few moments she was finally ready. Lucy and Jayla left the sanctum of the bedroom and went downstairs. Jayla’s father, Bruce, was already setting the table when they entered the dining room. Bruce was a heavy-set middle aged man with a graying beard and what was best described as a suggestion of a hairline. He looked up and smiled as Jayla started helping him distribute the silverware.
“Is there anything I can help with?” Lucy said tentatively, standing in the doorway.
“No dear, you just relax. Jayla said you had a long day?” Bruce smiled. He had a friendly face. Jayla had said that he sold cars for a living, and he was clearly adept at making people feel at ease. “She said you drove here from Detroit? Drive wasn’t too bad I hope?”
“It went about as well as one could expect,” Lucy shrugged.
“That’s your black Suburban out front, right?” Bruce asked. “Miles per gallon must be pretty terrible, and gas prices are really high these days. Must have cost a pretty penny.”
“And the fuel was even more expensive in Canada, yes,” Lucy smiled. “I often found myself wishing I drove something more efficient on this trip.”
“You know, we’ve got a few hybrids on the lot you might want to take a look at. If you have time this week…”
“Bruce! Leave the poor girl alone!” Heather said, entering the room from the kitchen, carrying a large covered dish. “You do not need to sell Jayla’s girlfriend a car. I am so sorry Lucy.”
“It’s okay,” Lucy replied. “While I doubt I will be replacing my vehicle while we’re in town, I’m sure Mr. Grayson can offer me indispensable advice.”
“Bruce,” Jayla’s father corrected her.
“Sorry, Bruce.”
Sitting down for dinner was awkward for Lucy. She listened while Heather explained the meal she’d made, but in truth none of it really mattered to her. While she could eat normal food, it did nothing for her. What made it worse, since she’d been socially pressured to gorge herself on blood while in Detroit, it was hard to even enjoy the food for the taste. Lucy didn’t really need much to live, just a little over a pint of blood a month would keep her easily filled as long as she didn’t use the “gifts” that accompanied her curse. Jayla normally supplied a significant portion of that, albeit in small amounts spread out over time, but Lucy felt like she probably wouldn’t be asking Jayla for a true meal for weeks at this point.
Most vampires never truly harmed those they fed on, and Lucy had long ago decided to only feed on those who consented to the act. From what she’d been told, the experience of being fed on was quite enjoyable for most people, so it wasn’t hard to find someone who might be curious enough to try. Of course, that led to some rather awkward situations when enough of Lucy’s kind found power, and the larger Vampire Societies often made Lucy uncomfortable.
The problem was it was hard to make herself eat real food when she had zero hunger of any kind. Even the wine on the table, which Lucy normally would have enjoyed, was almost flavorless to her right now.
But she ate. And she drank. And she smiled. Lucy wanted Heather and Bruce to like her.
“So how did you two meet?” Heather asked. “I don’t think Jayla ever told us.”
“It’s not that interesting a story,” Lucy smile, glancing at Jayla. “I had some business in Indianapolis and ran into her in her old apartment’s building lobby.”
“I asked her for her number,” Jayla smiled. “To which Lucy informed me she didn’t own a phone, which is ridiculous. It’s still ridiculous not having one by the way. Instead Lucy gave me her address, and insisted I write to her.”
“Yes, and we corresponded for a while through letters,” Lucy nodded. “Then, after a few months, we decided to give it a go. And six years later she’s still tolerating me.”
“Six years ago…” Heather seemed to be trying to do some math and looked a little alarmed. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, Lucy? You look so young, I just assumed…”
“Ah, that. Would you be shocked if I told you that I was a few years older than Jayla?” Lucy gave her most charming smile. That mostly wasn’t a lie. Three hundred years could be considered “a few” if you really felt like stretching the word. In any case, both Heather and Bruce seemed to relax a bit when Lucy said it.
That was the important part.
“That is… remarkable,” Heather replied. “How do you…”
“Good skin care, and she stays out of the sun most of the time,” Jayla interjected. “Do we need to keep commenting on Lucy’s appearance?”
“Yes, sorry,” Heather shook her head. “So what do you do for work, Lucy?”
“I own a number of properties,” Lucy answered. She’d actually hoped that she’d be able to avoid the topic, but it was inevitable. Everyone always asked how you earned a living in America. “Largely they’re managed by others on my behalf, but I try to live simply.”
“Lucy is being modest,” Jayla shook her head. “What she didn’t mention was that when we met in my old apartment building, she was in the middle of buying the place. I didn’t know that at the time, of course. I just saw how stunning she was.”
If Lucy could blush, she would. Jayla knew that.
“Now I don’t think any little girl dreams of being a landlord,” Heather said, leaning back in her chair. “What was your original plan.”
“Her original plan before becoming incredibly financially stable?” Jayla interjected with some mild irritation.
“Jayla…” Bruce shook his head like this was touching on some conversation that had happened many times before. People always seemed to regress around family.
“I actually trained to be a ballet dancer,” Lucy said with sad smile. “But I was injured and had to leave it behind.”
Again, she was dancing around the truth so to speak. The “injury” had been an encounter with an arrogant and presumptuous vampire who decided that Lucy’s talent and beauty must be “preserved.” That vampire didn’t remain all that well “preserved” himself though, as Lucy’s rage at having her dreams taken from her had been quite strong in her younger days.
“Ballet? I should’ve guessed,” Heather said. “You move with so much grace. Should have been obvious, really.”
“You have an interesting way of speaking, and I can’t quite place your accent,” Bruce said, shoveling another forkful of food into his mouth. He held his fork in the air to keep control of the conversation until he swallowed. “You don’t sound midwestern.”
“Ah, well, English isn’t my first language,” Lucy admitted. “I do my best.”
“Oh where are you from!” Heather asked, leaning forward.
“I grew up in Venice,” Lucy smiled. “Though my family is largely from Tuscany.”
“Mom, her last name is ‘Vitale,'” Jayla rolled her eyes. “She’s very, very Italian.”
“Lucy isn’t really an Italian name though is it,” Bruce shrugged.
“My first name is actually Lucia,” Lucy clarified. “I started going by Lucy when I first came to America. I find it makes me more approachable, as I’m told I can be a bit intimidating from time to time.”
Jayla stifled a laugh and gave Lucy a knowing smile.
“So why were you in Detroit?” Bruce asked. “Was that more business?”
“Yes, in part,” Lucy lied. Explaining that she was effectively rehoming the former acolytes of a dead vampire warlord didn’t really seem like first-dinner conversation. God, how was she going to explain this? She really should have taken the time to plan a lie. Lucy was terrible at outright lying. “Sometimes in my business we rely on favors. There are… people who owed me, and I was asking them to fulfill their debts. In many ways, it was more of a family matter than anything else.”
Heather and Bruce seemed to be considering what she had just said, and Lucy noticed that Jayla had stopped chewing her food. Lucy was puzzled, but Jayla’s expression as she turned to Lucy made it fairly clear that Lucy had made some kind of mistake in her explanation.
“Bruce, can I talk with you in the kitchen for a moment?” Heather stood from the table, and placed her napkin next to her plate.
“Yes dear,” Bruce replied, as he followed Heather into the kitchen.
“What is happening? What did I do?” Lucy said, leaning over to Jayla.
“Oh god hon, I think we just fucked up. You really should have come up with a story before dinner,” Jayla shook her head. “You had what, four and a half hours in the car before getting here? The weeks on the road before that with the rest of the Drake’s army?”
“That is not an explanation,” Lucy hissed.
“Hon, you’re mysteriously wealthy, and saying you were doing some kind of ‘family business’ without explanation is a red flag. Add in the fact that you’re Italian…” Jayla shook her head. “I know bringing up the money was my fault, but my parents watch a lot of crime movies and TV shows, and they’re going to jump to conclusions.”
“I’m still unclear, I…”
“Jayla? Can we talk to you in the kitchen for a moment?” Bruce stuck his head into the dining room.
“God damn it,” Jayla muttered under her breath. “Fine.”
Lucy sat uncomfortably in the dining room alone for a moment, as Jayla and her parents seemed to be arguing just quietly enough for her not to be able to understand them. Curious, she got up and moved towards the kitchen.
“I can’t believe you got involved with someone like that!” Heather snapped at Jayla. “And brought her into our home even!”
“Mom, it’s not–”
“Haven’t you thought to ask questions?” Heather continued. “Where does the money come from? What does her family do exactly? Why has she been buying up property?”
“That money of hers isn’t honest, and it comes with a lot of danger,” Bruce said in a hushed tone.
“Dad, she isn’t–”
“Have I taught you nothing!” Heather said with incredulity. “I thought I raised you better than this! Organized crime is–”
“GOD DAMN IT MOM!” Jayla yelled, her hands balled into fists. “She is not in the mob!”
Lucy stood in the door behind Jayla, but no one seemed to have noticed her yet.
“Then how do you explain what she’s told us!” Heather demanded. “It certainly sounds like she’s in the mob!”
“She’s not in the mob or the mafia or La Cosa Nostra or whatever.”
“You made a point to say how Italian she is–” Heather interjected.
“She’s not even the right kind of Italian for that!” Jayla sighed deeply, looking her mother dead in the eye. “The mafia is Sicilian, and she’s from Venice! Think canals, not ‘take the cannoli!'”
“If she’s not, you better have a damned good explan–”
“LUCY’S A FUCKING VAMPIRE, MOM.”
This, of course, was the moment that everyone noticed that Lucy was standing in the doorway.
Lucy raised her right hand and gave a very small wave.
Both of us are also very bad at maintaining contact with people, and since we live approximately 250 miles away from each other, we can end up going months (or in some cases years) between one of us reaching out. We had dinner together last winter, and when he reached out about a month ago asking if I wanted to get together any time soon, I immediately said yes.
So, yesterday morning, I got in my truck an drove the two hours to the Wisconsin Dells where we met in the middle to have lunch and just hang out for a bit.
Nothing really profound happened here. It was just two middle aged people eating food, taking a walk, sitting by a river, and talking about our lives. Just normal, simple stuff. But it’s normal, simple stuff that it’s easy to forget to do. It’s stuff that we’ve forgotten to do.
I don’t have anything all that deep to say with this other than “make sure you take time to talk to the people you care about.” That and maybe that you should remember to take a second and enjoy things while they’re here.
I had a really good time at the event, and it gave me the opportunity to hang out with some cool people (like E.H. Lupton). Honestly it’s just fun to talk with readers and other writers about stuff, and I picked up some new books that I’ll be reading for a while.
“Bookish” events are so strange to me. I say this not as a criticism, but as kind of a statement of fact. While they’re certainly structured and run like the fan conventions I’ve spent most of my life dedicated to, they’re not really born out of nerd and geek spaces. On the surface you’d think they have a lot in common with the Genre Lit Cons that have persisted for the last century, but it’s not really the same community or vibe. It feels like the people who attend a “bookish” event are, frankly, just way more normal than the folks I talk to on a daily basis.
Of course a lot of the other authors I spoke to were weirdos like me, so it’s not like I didn’t feel at home.
I know attendance numbers were down significantly from last year, and that they’re having some financial issues. But to the organizer’s credit, she didn’t cancel, made sure the con went forward this year, and hopefully things can be recovered. I have lots of thoughts on things that could be done better (and how money could be used more efficiently), but I think it’s really easy to take that all the wrong way. Running an event like this is hard, and I think that an event like Booked Eau Claire is really good for our local community.
So I’m rooting for it.
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