So this was it.

  The house was imposing in the dark, a squat shape that looked more like a jail than a home. As he opened the car door, a gust of wind tried to slam it shut, but Jepar held on, already cursing this place, this house, this life.

 By the time he'd reached the front door, his hands were numb; he dropped the keys twice before he managed to open the door. Vanira would have laughed at his clumsiness, he knew, and that made it all worse.

 Jepar Jubatus stole in from the cold like a wounded animal, looking for shelter. The place was empty, as it should have been; the whole house had the astringent smell of cleaning agents.

 The vampire who'd brought him had been alienated by his silence long before they ever reached Ryars Valley, so he dumped Jepar's bags on the floor in silence and left without more than a cursory farewell.

  He sat on the floor in the  freshly furnished living room, staring out of the wide patio windows at a garden full of spikes and imagined monsters in the dark. His eyes were wide, although whether in shock or in an attempt to make senses of the shadows, he didn't know.

 He didn't move until morning.

 ~*~

 The next day, eyes heavy and tired, he began to explore. Five bedrooms, he noted with distant interest. A kitchen, fully stocked, though why, he didn't know. The shiny pans and cutlery had no place here, as if she had tried to produce a picture of normality, perhaps hoping that it would rub off on him. Huh.

 Pinned to the fridge were details of the finances his sister had arranged for him. Two bathrooms finished the ensemble, neither particularly luxurious.

 Not that he had done anything to deserve luxury.

 The building was light and airy, sunlight pouring through a multitude of windows. He sat in patches of sunlight for long hours, moving from room to room. It felt good to be warm and safe, but he was aware that the house was too big to hold him; everywhere he went, he expected to find someone else, eating at the table, sat on the faded sofas, running a bath full of bubbles.

 He felt like an intruder: whoever this suburban dream belonged to, he was half-expecting them to walk in and shout "Who's been sleeping in my bed?"

 Am I Goldilocks, or one of the bears? I'm not sure.

 The loneliness might have been overwhelming if not for the list of jobs his sister left him. Tend the garden. Clean the kitchen. Go grocery shopping. Enrol at the school when the holidays are done. Buy a Christmas tree - that one made him smile.

 And slowly, in this sterile atmosphere which he was beginning to fill with the clutter of possessions and character, he began to heal. After a few days, he felt comfortable enough to go further than the local store; when he went into the ice-cream parlour, there were kids about his age there, chattering and devouring vast mountains of chilly sugar.

 When he went to the bar to pick up a menu, a girl came over. She was chewing gum, and her round brown eyes were full of interest. "You just move here?" she asked.

 "Yeah." He didn't know how much he could say.

 "Cool. Where from?"

 "Back east," he answered, wary. "My family wanted to live somewhere quieter."

 He had no family any more, of course, except for his sister. Or rather, he had them, but he couldn't contact them, or they him. There'd been a brief phonecall when he arrived, but the sound of his father's voice, full of gruff comfort, had only emphasised the immensity of his loss.

 "I'm Sharla," she informed him, and gave him a coy grin. "I guess I'll see you at school next semester."

 "See you," he echoed, and she went back to her friends, whose curious eyes made him want to flee.

 The brief meeting only made him realise how much he missed the company of other people. After that, he began to walk into town every day, just so he felt like he was part of a crowd.

~*~

A week went by, and he found he had slipped into a comfortable routine. He rose early, and hungry for the wild, he jogged around the town. Soon he was beginning to get a feel for the streets, which criss-crossed in a network as complex as the nerves in his body.

 Each day he ran somewhere different: up to the beautiful wide lake, which looked big enough to windsurf on, if Gata could send him all his old gear. Round the edge of the woods, which smelled green and growing. The high rolling hills, which he could only get halfway up before his shins were a solid mass of ache. Through the town, early enough that he only ever saw a couple of people walking their dogs and the local postman.

 In such moments, Ryars Valley didn't seem like a prison. He could run where he wanted, run until the breath stung his lungs and his feet throbbed, racing against the wind, racing his ghosts.

 Vanira was already fading in his mind, and it was both relief and travesty. It hurt him to remember her as he had last seen her, flung aside like litter. Sweeter were his recollections of her lively laugh, her catchy sayings, her long body stretching with a ballerina's effortless grace.

 He missed her, but he was beginning to accept that. At least he didn't have to walk into places where she had once been, knowing her feet would never fall there again. This place was unspoiled, a clean start.

 He was grateful for that much, at least.

~*~

One morning, he woke to the doorbell. Uncertain who it could be, he dressed quickly and went to open it.

 The vampire who'd dropped him off shouldered past him, weighed down with bags. "You've got company," he announced. "Sadly for you, she's a cast-iron nag with a vanity problem."

 A girl came in behind him, equally burdened, muscles showing in her arms. "Hi," she said breathlessly, giving him a warm smile. "I'm Lisa."

 She was about his height and stocky: her trim shape appealed to his hunter's eye, while he boggled a bit at the dozens of beads wound into her hair, and the bright colours she was wearing. She gave him as thorough an examination as he did her, and he could only guess what she saw: a lanky shapeshifter, growing into his legs, hair and eyes that gave away his species, scruffy from sleep.

 "Careful, he might not be feeling talkative," warned the vampire. "Or have you cheered up?"

 Jepar gave him a wry smile. "Yeah. Sorry about the trip down."

 The vampire shrugged. "Eh. Don't worry about it. I wouldn't have been too chirpy either. Back in a minute - typical woman, about twenty bags."

 "Want a hand?" he offered.

 The girl swept past, pausing to whisper in a confidential tone, "I split all my stuff into more bags just to annoy him." Loudly she said, "Please."

 After several trips between the car ("What's she got in here, bricks?" mumbled the vampire as he handed over a hefty suitcase) and the house ("There's bricks in this one," revealed Lisa "I was hoping he'd carry it. Really, he's so obnoxious."), all of Lisa's worldly possessions - and there were a lot - had been unloaded, he was left with his new housemate.

 She toppled into a chair, eyes closed. "That was hectic."

 "Tell me about it," he agreed, a little wary.

 She opened one eye. "So. I'm Lisa Ochai. I'm an average student, a good cook and a great person. Made vampire, in a bit of trouble, ask me no questions and I'll return the favour. "

 He thought about it, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. "Just a couple of questions?"

 "Mmm. Okay, if I can interrogate you."

 "How old are you?" Her effortless confidence had surprised him, but if she was a made vampire, that would explain part of it.

 "Mid-twenties, but don't tell anyone. I'm passing as your age." She gave him a wide, white smile. "I'd be more upset about it if I'd had a formal education, but this is my first time in school."

 "Really?"

 "Really," she confirmed, but didn't seem inclined to discuss it any further. "I know you're Gatajri's brother, and you're in even more trouble than me, but like I said, I won't ask. So, what's this place like?"

 He thought about it seriously. It was the first time he'd really considered his new home; and then it occurred to him that under other circumstances, he would have loved this place. "Pretty great."

 "Good," she said briskly. "Show me round tomorrow?"

 ~*~

 With Lisa in the house, suddenly it didn't seem so empty. Despite his protests, she dragged him around the local shops to pick paintings and cushions ("Honestly, I have no opinion on cushions," he'd said, and she'd replied, "Don't be ridiculous, lemon or peach?", badgering him until he gave an answer.) and to buy paint in a torrent of weird colours he was positive would look terrible.

 And to his surprise, he found he was enjoying himself.

 In return, he took her to the Enticing Ices parlour, and with company in tow, he felt a lot less like an interloper. Between them, they devoured three sundaes and tentatively, he began to let her know a little about himself. For the first time in days, he was starting to feel like himself again; that boy who'd loved life, who'd had friends and knew where the fun was to be found.

 The day was spent painting, until they were both exhausted and smeared with wayward flecks. He sagged into bed that night with the stink of chemicals in his nose, stuffed with food.

 Lisa hadn't lied in her introduction; she whipped up meal after accomplished meal, and he was beginning to think there was nothing she couldn't cook, until he asked her to make pancakes.

 As one after another hit the floor in a sad mess of batter, he could only laugh - in fact, he howled until his sides hurt and he couldn't stand up. She scowled at him the whole time, and he had to spend the evening apologising between fits of resurgent laughter.

 The next night, they decorated the Christmas tree with just-bought decorations, and he taught her how to make paper chains. In return, she taught him some carols he hadn't known, and they filled the rooms with sound.

 He went to bed smiling.

~*~

 When the doorbell rang again, nine days later, it was Lisa who answered it, but it was Jepar who caught the brunt of the newcomer's temper.

 "Who is it?" he yelled down the stairs, dragging on a T-shirt. "Do they have as many bags as you?"

 "Come and see for yourself, lazybones!" shouted Lisa.

 He scrambled downstairs, only to find himself face to face with a tall boy whose sneer and hostile eyes should probably have warned him how the conversation was going to go. "Jepar Jubatus," he said, sticking out a hand.

 The boy looked at him as if he crawled out from a swamp. "I'm not sharing with a goddamn shifter!"

 Taken aback, Jepar didn't know what to say. "What's your problem?"

 "Christ," muttered the boy, whose flaring gold eyes were full of scorn. "I don't even know if you're housetrained."

 His hackles were beginning to rise. "I don't know if you are. How do I know you're not going to sink your fangs into me when I'm sleeping?"

 "Like I want to go anywhere near your flea-bitten skin. I'm strictly a gourmet diner, babe." He wasn't sure what was more offensive; the insults, or being called 'babe'. "Mange and tapeworms aren't my thing."

 Jepar tried to tell himself that the boy might just be jet-lagged, or scared, or something. But most of him was shouting loudly that was no excuse for being a complete prat. "Don't worry," he said pleasantly. "Leeches aren't mine. I like a good pedigree on my dinner."

 The boy's grin was vicious and nasty. "That's what worries me. I'm bona fide Redfern."

 "You're a bona fide asshole," he informed the boy.

 He never saw the punch that knocked him to the floor and split his lip. He only knew he was suddenly looking up at the boy, blood dribbling down his chin, and the boy's fangs were gleaming like ivory.

 He's going to bite me, Jepar thought, and the part of him that was pure animal thought: not if I get him first.

 The boy bent down - and Jepar launched himself forward, grabbing the boy's legs and bringing him crashing to the ground. And then there were punches and kicks, and elbows and knees and even a forehead at one point, and it was only when Lisa yanked them apart that his need to take all the unfairness of the world out on someone, anyone, abated.

 "What are you doing?" she screeched, and Jepar and the Redfern boy shared pained looks at her pitch.

 Jepar wiped the blood from his face, about to try and explain when the boy butted in. "Babe, a little more deference, please. I'm a Redfern, you're a made vampire, which all right, means you rank higher than Garfield over there, but you need to give me-"

 What Lisa was supposed to give him, they never found out, because she kicked the boy in the shin.

 "I see what you were doing," she said to Jepar, giving him a grim nod. "Feel free to carry on. I'll bandage you up after."

 And then she strode back out to the car, leaving Jepar to give her a bemused wave.

 "Jesus!" The Redfern boy hopped, clutching one leg. "That girl's violent!"

 "You could try be a little less stupid," offered Jepar, trying to work up some sympathy. "Not to mention insulting, egotistical and judgemental."

 "I wasn't being any of those things," protested the boy. "I was being me!"

 "Then you've got an attitude problem."

 The lamia frowned. "Everyone tells me that." He glanced sideways at Jepar, black hair in his eyes, giving him the air of a feral beast that had crawled into a bolthole. "Um. Can we go back to the bit where I came in?"

 He was half-tempted to refuse and then he thought: if this guy's here, he's going to be staying for a while. It's going to be so much easier to try and get along with him. "If you want."

 This time, it was the vampire who stretched out a hesitant hand. "Cougar Redfern. I should warn you, apparently I have an attitude problem."

 So, he had a sense of humour. Jepar shook his hand and said, "Maybe it's just you."

~*~

 After that, life slipped into a comfortable routine. Cougar proved to be a quick learner, and after some prompting from Jepar, he gingerly apologised to Lisa, if from a safe distance.

  Despite his often thoughtless insults and his heinous rage, Jepar found himself liking Cougar; his brand of black humour and his unexpected moments of empathy meant the vampire might bitch endlessly about the housework, but he also knew when Jepar was in a black mood, and left him alone to figure it out. Once, he stuck his head in, mumbled something about passing by the shop and threw in some chocolate.

  With Cougar in the house, it felt almost full: the vampire had enough personality for several people, and it was only when they were arguing over what to watch one night that Jepar realised he was enjoying having someone to spar with.

The next day, he caught himself referring to the house as 'home'.

Even more surprisingly, he realised it was true.