Christmas in Transylvania by Sandra Hill

ago. Vikar and his brothers, for example, are that old. Others, like me and Armod, aren’t that old, but we have at least some Norse blood in our veins.”
    â€œWhoa! Are you saying that Vikar and his brothers are more than a thousand years old?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHe doesn’t look much older than his early to mid thirties.”
    â€œVangels do not age.”
    â€œHow convenient!” she said. Then narrowed her eyes at him, “How old are you?”
    â€œWell, I was twenty-­two years old when I died in Vietnam forty-­two years ago. So, I guess you could say I’m sixty-­four.”
    â€œHoly cow! And here I thought I was being a cougar at twenty-­nine, lusting after a younger man.”
    He grinned. “You lust after me?”
    She decided to ignore his question. For now. “That still doesn’t explain the whole vangel . . . vampire angel business.”
    â€œA long, long time ago, God got angry with the Viking race as a whole, and the Sigurdsson brothers in particular. Too sinful, too vain, too vicious, too arrogant. He decided to wipe out the Viking culture and, in fact, eventually did so.”
    â€œThat is some story!”
    â€œYou don’t see any Viking nation today, do you?”
    â€œI guess I never thought about it.”
    â€œAt the last minute, St. Michael the Archangel interceded on their behalf, and God gave the Vikings a second chance at redemption. Some of them, anyhow. Jasper, one of the fallen angels, was wreaking havoc on earth with his Lucipires, demon vampires. God commissioned Michael to turn a band of fallen Vikings into vampire angels to fight the Lucies.”
    â€œHoly moly!”
    â€œIt’s a lot more complicated than that, but I think I’ve given you enough information to digest, for now. You can see why secrecy is important to us, and why, at first, I tried to hide your presence here. The less you know, the less you can reveal when you leave.”
    Karl mentioned her leaving in such a casual manner that it felt like a stab to the heart to Faith. She tried not to show her hurt. “Do you seriously expect me to believe you’re a vampire?”
    He made a hissing sound and turned to her. Fangs emerged from his mouth, and he licked his lips, like he was considering taking a good bite of her neck.
    She shimmied over to the other pillow against the wall.
    â€œSee. I’m a true-­blue, blood-­drinking vampire.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth, and his fangs receded into his gums, leaving only small, almost unnoticeable points on his incisors. “Still lust after me, baby?” There was an endearing vulnerability in his eyes as he asked the question.
    â€œProbably,” she said. “You said vampire angel. Do you have wings, too?”
    â€œNot yet. Maybe never. I do have shoulder bumps, though, where they might be someday.”
    â€œThis is amazing. Do you know what I thought? You’ll laugh. I thought you were some kind of gang, like Hell’s Angels.”
    â€œMore like Heaven’s Angels. Or Heaven’s Other Angels.”
    She smiled. “I think I’ll take my pills now.”
    He went to the bathroom, where she could hear him opening the medicine cabinet and pouring water. She hurried and undressed, pulling on her flannel nightgown. When he returned, she was in bed, under the sheets. She took the pills and drank half of the glass of water.
    â€œI really am safe here, then?”
    He nodded.
    â€œWould you lie down with me until I fall asleep?”
    â€œThat’s not a good idea.”
    â€œWhy? We could bundle like the Amish do? Like we did that first night you brought me here, and you lay on top of the quilt.”
    â€œYou remember that? You appeared to be unconscious.”
    â€œI remember bits and pieces.” She scrooched over and patted the top of the quilt on his side. “C’mon. I promise I won’t jump your