She Tried Exposing Modern Vampires

The very first evening my brother brought his fiancée home for dinner, I knew the girl had completely misread the room.

My mother poured her a glass of chilled tomato juice.

Kayla stared at the dark red liquid, her face draining of color as if she were staring down an open grave.

Later, when my father sliced his ribeye rare—letting a pool of rich myoglobin settle against the white porcelain—she excused herself to the bathroom and spent the rest of the night hanging an ornate wooden crucifix over her guest-room door.