Corazon was bound to trick me, so I cheated by driving to the Eternal Acres half-an-hour before the visiting hours. If the staff here was as nice as the manor peeking above magnolia trees, I wouldn't have to short-change an old man.

But if I had to...Grits and biscuits! I had to make sure Corazon didn't bullshit me after the game. Locked into this moral dilemma, I nearly chewed a hole through my cheek before taking a side-road to the Eternal Acres.

Despite the grandeur of the copper roof and lush gardens, I didn't see anyone else coming or going. The parking lot was so empty that Cruz Triana's askew parking job wasn't a problem...except he was supposed to be playing football fifteen miles away.

Did I misjudge Corazon, and she had arranged a date for us...at a seniors' nursing home? With the twin's grandpa as a chaperone? No way, just no way.

Even from the bleachers, I could sense how truly devoted Cruz was to football. Love life hardly blipped his radar, so he wouldn't sacrifice a game and fail his team to meet me. It also wasn't like him to park his precious car carelessly.

Creasing my brows, I parked next to the Porsche.

Thanks to some trick of light, the windows didn't look tinted at all, so I could see the empty interior clearly after I rolled my driver-side window down.

Normally, an unoccupied car isn't a disturbing sight, but a shiver ran down my spine as I studied the gorgeous stitching of the leather seats. The Porsche felt too empty, if it makes sense.

I climbed out of the Mini, breathing in the funerary fragrance of lilies that grew everywhere, and shivered again. The air of the Eternal Acres was too cold for a sunny May day, and it was too early in the season for lilies to bloom. Despite how beautiful everything was, the place gave me creeps. I wanted to flee and never look back.

So, the sooner I found both Triana men, the better.

Actually, only Cruz was a Triana. Grandpa's name I gave to the woman manning the entrance desk was De Triana. Bartolome De Triana. It sounded like the ancient scrolls smelled, but I couldn't blame the twins for shortening their last name for the high school.

"Miss Zoe Green to visit Monsignor De Triana. Yes. Yes." Mrs. Front Desk typed something on her keyboard, then slanted a glance at the floor-clock that towered in the corner. It showed time, dates of Mayan calendar, phases of the moon and Zodiac. "Can I offer you anything while you wait?"

I cleared my throat. "Ah...I know I'm early, but I was worried about traffic and...well...."

The woman's penciled-in brows rose. "Traffic, Miss Zoe?"

Suppressing the memory of the deserted road, I shifted my tote from one shoulder to another and ignored her question. Rude, but I'd just tangle myself further in my lies, and anxiety was already gnawing at me.

"Well, since I'm here already, could I see ah...Mr. De Triana earlier?" And Cruz as well, since he would be with his Grandpa. Hopefully.

"Of course, Miss Zoe, but can you handle it? Our guests are playing boules and they haven't been served their mid-morning repast yet."

She made 'guests' sound breathy, like she was in awe, and they were playing what da higgidy thing? Been served mid-morning which...?

"I'll be okay, I'm sure." I faked confidence pretty well for someone whose stomach was full of rabid butterflies. I was about to meet Cruz outside the confines of school!

"Very well." The woman pointed with an arm clad into a puffy polka-dot sleeve. "Go through the French doors and follow the gravel path between the Southern lily beds. Bear right until you'll come upon the Far Southern lily bed. Circle that to find the Boule lily bed. If you see a stand of young lily trees, you went too far south."

"May I love anything as much as the owners of this place love the lilies," I muttered.

The woman nodded solemnly, and only then I noticed her name tag. It read Lilian. Heat rushed into my face. "Thank you for...ah...the directions, Mrs. Lilian."

"My pleasure, Miss Zoe." She sighed. "But for your own sake, I wish you'd wait until our guests are sated. Monsignor De Triana could be a little short of temper before his first glass of the elixir."

I had no idea what to say to that, or even understood all the words, so I just chuckled nervously and set off on the path winding between the lilies.

Tall lilies and short ones. White, yellow, pink, orange and red. Speckled, spotted and dark-throated. With curly small flowers dangling like bells, and the ones that opened their giant trumpets to the sun. Anyway, lots of lilies.

***

I heard the guests before I saw them on a manicured gravel pad overhang by the boughs of centennial trees.

"Just shoot already!" someone boomed so thunderously, that the lilies around me shook. "I wish to finish this round before the millennium is over!"

After a quick prayer that this querulous old man wasn't Grandpa De Triana, I stepped out of the blooms. "Excuse me? I'm looking for...for..."

Nine seniors abandoned their examination of the shiny metal baseballs. Eight out of nine glowed with so much contentment, benevolence and forbearance, they could have graced the Eternal Acre's next brochure promising picture-perfect retirement. 

The only hold-out shook both fists in the air at another interruption and pegged me with a withering gaze. "God's bones!" he cried. "A mortal comes among ours!"

Despite a deep network of wrinkles, a leonine mane of white rather than raven-black, baggy slacks belted at nipple level and—horror of horrors!—crocks with socks, I recognized his commanding nose and the liquid obsidian of the irises as familial features. This was the Grandpa, of course. Lucky me.

"Mister—" at the last moment I remembered how Lilian titled Cruz's grandpa. "Monsignor Bartolome De Triana?"

"She knows my name!" Bartolome appealed to his fellows, ignoring my pleading tone. "Who permitted this human child to eavesdrop on our affairs?"

"Calm down, ye rascal," said a lady with curls the same shade of lavender as Bartolome's crocs. "What is she to spy here aside from your foul language?"

"Hmm," Bartolome wiggled his epic brows. "Hmm!"

"The girl has good manners. It's no skin off my nose, but were I in your shoes..." Lady Lavender shot a scathing glance to his footwear, "which I'm thankfully not, I'd hear her out."

Two staff were setting up refreshments on a trestle table under a tree. One of them sauntered over and inserted a glass of a thick tomato juice into Bartolome's hands. He emptied it in one gulp, tossed the plastic cup away and hiked his pants almost into his armpits. "So I should, if only to give Evaristus another decade to determine his next move!"

The guests rolled their eyes, but Bartolome seemingly buzzed with even more energy than before the drink. 

"Come along, human child," he ordered me and took off immediately. 

I had to hustle to keep up with him. It wasn't easy, particularly because I swiveled my head right and left in search of Cruz.

"Sir! Monsignor! Where...where is Cruz?"

"Cruz?" Bartolome grumbled, "Cruz won't be here today. It's Corazon's visiting day."

"I know, but Corazon—" between huffs and puffs I gave him the abbreviated version. The tote grew so heavy, I had to pull it off my aching shoulder. I passed it from hand to hand, and was about to plead Bartolome to slow down, when he stopped dead in his tracks before entering the manor.

"You are Señorita Green." He squinted in a manner that sent chills up my spine. "Of Delys High School."

"Y-yes. How do you—"

"Cruz's description of you was accurate, and I should have deduced your identity from it the moment I saw you. Alas, there is no time to ruminate on the woes of senility. We have to save him."

"Save Cruz?" My voice pitched into a squeal, while my heart pounded painfully against the ribcage. "From who? What happened to him?"

"That's what I'm about to find out as soon as you stop pestering me with questions. To the parking lot!" He raced off again.

I gave chase. How did I always end up running after Trianas? "But...but shouldn't we call the cops, Monsignor?"

"No, Señorita Green, we do not call the law enforcement officers as they are...how should I put it succinctly?...useless in our world."

Such was the force of Bartolome's personality, that I disregarded his viciously pink shirt, his super high-waist pants and even his crocs. I hung onto his every word. "What world?"

His eyes, so much like Cruz's, held my gaze to make sure I understood the gravity of my situation. "The world of shadows."

"The...the mafia?" In Delys?!

He rolled his eyes. "Please, you insult me!"

"Then what?" Espionage sprung to mind, but Cruz was too young for it, and Grandpa, no matter how spritely, was probably too old.

"I am a vampire, Señorita. An ancient one, though you wouldn't know that from a biscuit," Bartolome said. "he gene skipped a generation, the way it does with other talents, so it's my grandchildren who have it."

Bartolome De Triana wasn't senile or a spy. He was insane! "Cruz and Corazon are vampires?"

ONC: 8000 words mark

"No. They are hybrids. Neither dead, nor undead; neither mortal, nor immortal; neither prey, nor hunter, until their hunger is triggered. Awoken, they die slowly to command incredible power in the undeath. And, human child, Wednesday last, at the school cafeteria, you awoke my grandson."

I did the most natural thing in my situation: I screamed.