Allison Groves's twelfth birthday fell on the Tuesday after Thanksgiving. By then, all the gossip about the Kraus farm had made the rounds, wheedling its way even into Briargate's four walls. Shannon Malone herself had unsurprisingly heard about the whole thing from Toni Guaraldi on Sunday night when she'd returned home. The air of caution that had circled the town since Sarah Benadine's death had evolved; the terror was sharp and pointed, menacing in its ferocity. A curfew had been put in place to try to keep the kids off the streets, but no one was sure what that would accomplish. Samuel Kraus's cows and chickens had not been out on the streets. Nor had Sarah Benadine. There was no way to be sure that the town children were even the ones that were in danger.

This town-wide paranoia had not passed over the Malones; they all felt it, perhaps even tiny Connor. Both parents kept as close an eye as possible on their children, monitoring everywhere they went. No one was out after dark. With one notable exception.

Shannon had been planning to have dinner at Briargate on Allison's birthday for weeks. Allison had tried to dissuade her a half a dozen times, but Shannon would not be deterred. She'd almost lost the cause when her parents heard about the Kraus farm; she'd spent most of Monday night begging her parents to allow her to stay late at Briargate the following night. They only relented when she'd promised three different times that she would not leave the school and she'd show up immediately after dinner when one of them would be there to pick her up.

Shannon spent the hours between classes and dinner in the library with Allison and Caleb. Allison had lugged Ockham's Guide out of her dormitory—she'd insisted she didn't believe in vampires, but she'd kept the book close to her at all times. The three of them ventured even farther into the stacks than Charlie Mouser usually did, counting on not being disturbed. Allison had been more agitated than usual, but Shannon supposed it stood to reason following what happened at the Kraus farm.

"What do you think?" Allison asked, all of them somehow conscious of avoiding looking at the book.

"You have to admit, Allison," Caleb said, "vampires would make a lot of sense."

Allison scowled, crossing her arms. "You think so?"

Caleb gave a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. He tapped the cover of the book with a forefinger. Shannon sat somberly, eyes flitting across the bookshelves in a curious, frenzied way. Allison looked at her expectantly.

"What about you?" she asked impatiently. "I suppose you think the same thing?"

Shannon chewed the inside of her cheek and looked at the air around Allison's head. She shrugged. Allison made a low growling noise in her throat.

"Think about it, Allison," Caleb said calmly. "A vampire needs to feed. All those farm animals would be perfect."

Allison leaned in low over the table and said, punctuating each word with sharp precision, "I don't believe in vampires."

"Then how come you spend all your time reading that book?" Caleb fired back immediately. Shannon straightened in her chair, eyebrows raised. She hadn't known Allison had been reading the book. Allison looked mutinous—but, behind that, something else. She looked caught. She didn't say anything.

"You think it's possible too, don't you?" Caleb said, leaning in to match her. His voice was gentle, coaxing. "So why are you denying it?"

Allison shook her head and looked away. Caleb nodded as if he'd been expecting it. He leaned back in his chair again.

"What do you think, Shannon?" Caleb asked. Shannon looked at him for little more than a second, then back to the shelves.

"I don't know," she said. She cleared her throat. "I don't know if I believe in any of this, really."

"How?" Allison asked, her face suddenly aflame again. "How can you not believe in this? Goddammit, Shannon, you saw a Follower!"

"And if you're so certain of all of this, how come you don't believe in vampires?" Shannon matched Allison's intensity. They both stared defiantly at each other for a few augmented moments, and then Allison backed down.

"I do believe in vampires," Allison said quietly. Shannon and Caleb looked at each other in surprise.

"But you just said—" Caleb began, but Allison was shaking her head vigorously before he finished. Again, she would not look at him. Shannon tapped the tips of her fingers anxiously on the table.

"Okay," she said, with forced casual cheeriness, "so let's talk about the Follower, instead. If we're right, there's one of those out there. It attacked me and maybe killed Sarah. But it most likely didn't break into the butcher's shop or kill all the animals. So there's gotta be something else."

"Right," Caleb agreed. "Well, there's gotta be something else, anyhow, 'cause something had to give the Follower its directions, I guess."

"Yeah," Shannon said softly. "Yeah, I guess so."

It was lurking in both Caleb and Shannon's mind. Shannon supposed it was lurking in Allison's as well, even if she wouldn't say it. A vampire did make sense. Shannon wouldn't call herself an expert by any means, but she'd heard all the tales. She knew that—if the stories and the movies were to be believed—vampires fed on blood. A whole farm of cows would provide a lot of blood. What she did not understand was how she fit into all of this. If it was truly a Follower that she had seen, then someone had wanted her dead. And someone, perhaps, had saved her; the black mark on her hand had disappeared sometime near the start of the school year.

She said none of this. That was for another time. No need to get Allison's hackles up again today. When she spoke—when they all spoke—it was vaguely and without a search for certainty. They did not try to pin down what exactly could have killed the chickens and cows on the Kraus farm. They trotted carefully around the elephant in the room.

Allison's behavior about the whole thing undoubtedly bewildered Shannon, but that was only because there was something Shannon had yet to learn: Allison Groves was a very realistic girl on all accounts, except for one.

***

Something was obviously amiss the moment the three of them entered the dining hall for dinner. Only a handful of students actually sat at the tables; the majority were standing around in clumps, talking and pointing around the room. The students spoke in hushed whispers, and above all of their voices, frantic fluent Italian could be heard. At the front of the room, Headmistress Lea and Professor Lavanya Nadig, Lea's right-hand woman, were listening to the pleas of Signora Moretti, the head cook.

"Carlotta—Carlotta, we can't—" Lea was trying to speak over Signora Moretti's harried Italian.

Shannon, Caleb, and Allison looked between each other in confusion, venturing further into the room. Signora Moretti spoke even louder. Her voice was hard and convicted, and as she talked she gripped the pendant of her necklace.

"What—?" Allison began. She did not finish; a small white chicken crossed in front of her and took the words right out of her mouth.

"I—there's a chicken," Shannon said stupidly, watching the animal as it moved away.

Allison snorted. "Nothing gets past you."

"Looks like Wanda," Caleb said. "Or is it Dinah? I always forget."

"No, that's Wanda," Allison confirmed, craning her neck to look around the room. She pointed to the corner. "That's Dinah."

Another chicken—golden—stood by a group of sixth years, looking up at them curiously. Shannon's mouth moved soundlessly as she observed the second chicken and tried to figure out what she was going to say first.

"Wanda and Dinah?" she finally settled on. She wanted to look to Caleb and Allison, to communicate her confusion through her eyes, but she could not look away from the golden chicken that was now circling the group of sixth years. It seemed so out of place, so hard to contextualize.

"Signora Moretti's chickens," Allison said. "She keeps them for eggs in a coop out back."

"Uh-huh," Shannon said slowly. "Does she often let them into the dining hall during dinner?"

"No, never," Allison said. She, too, stared at the feathered animal, cocking her head to the side slightly. Her face was impassive.

"Nope," Caleb said, frowning slightly. Three sets of eyes followed Dinah the chicken around and around the cluster of students. Signora Moretti threw her arm around, spewing Italian to the walls. Wanda had made her way to the three staff members and stood at her owner's side, pecking softly at her dress.

"That can't be good," Shannon said.

Allison made an inquisitive noise in her throat. They both continued watching Dinah's trek, as did Caleb.

"I've heard my friend Toni say that," Shannon said, jerking her head in Signora Moretti's direction. "She only knows the curse words."

"No, no, Headmistress!" Signora Moretti cried, her Italian accent even thicker in her distress. "I will not let my chickens out with that vermin about! I will not!"

She still held onto her necklace, straining the chain so much it seemed that it might break off of her neck. Her face was painted in a mix of fear and outrage. She was unmoved by any attempts to calm her. Professor Nadig said something too soft for Shannon to hear.

"I do not care if all the heavens hear me!" Signora Moretti said angrily, throwing her arm skyward as if demonstrating. "I know what I saw! If those abominations are out there, my chickens stay in."

Signora Moretti turned her face up to Headmistress Lea defiantly. Lea regarded her, eyebrows raised, for half a moment, then sighed and nodded at Professor Nadig. Professor Nadig looked back at her warily and spread her hands.

"Grazie," Signora Moretti said warmly. "Oh, grazie."

Signora Moretti scooped Wanda off of the ground as Professor Nadig shuffled off in Dinah's direction. Signora Moretti's golden chain fell back down upon her chest, and Shannon could just make out the pendant. It was a tiny cross. Signora Moretti and Professor Nadig, chickens in arms, made their way to the door to the hall, Signora Moretti passing right by Shannon, Allison, and Caleb. She was saying the "Our Father" in Italian. At the front of the room, Headmistress Lea cleared her throat.

"Thank you all," she said dryly, "for being such attentive spectators. You can go about your business now, please."

Without anything more, she headed out of the dining hall after Professor Nadig and Signora Moretti. The clumps of students scattered about the room took moments to recover, little by little finding seats at tables and settling down to dinner. Shannon, Caleb, and Allison gazed wordlessly at each other, standing still for a minute or two. They moved as a unit to a table, watching each other carefully. Ideas and supposition whirled in her mind, but she held her tongue. She caught Caleb's eyes, however, and saw her own thoughts reflected back. She'd guessed she would.

"Quite a racket about chickens," Allison said quietly.

"Yeah." Caleb nodded. His eyes were focused somewhere on the opposite wall.

"You—you don't think—" Allison began before shaking her head jerkily—almost spasmodically. "No, no."

But Shannon did think, she thought very much, and she knew that Caleb did too.

Allison began dishing food out for herself without another word. Her face was set; it was obvious that she did not intend to speak on the subject anymore. Shannon and Caleb both watched her warily for a bit longer before getting down to the food. Signora Moretti's tiny cross nagged in the back of Shannon's mind all throughout dinner. It was a quiet meal. Allison did not say a single word, leaving Shannon and Caleb to talk softly amongst themselves. For the second time that day, they danced around the elephant in the room. But all of them—even Allison—knew this would have to be confronted sooner or later.

The three of them drifted into the entrance hall after dinner, reminiscent of Shannon's first meeting of them. Caleb remained with them this time, though. Shannon gazed at the big clock at the top of the stairs and knew that someone would be there to pick her up soon. They stood at the bottom of the stairs and Shannon smiled pleasantly.

"Well, happy birthday, Allison," she said, giving the other girl a hug that was only half-reciprocated. Allison thanked her when she pulled away, twisting her lips in what might have been a kind of smile.

"I guess we'll see you tomorrow," Allison said.

Shannon nodded. "Yep. I better get going; it'll be the end for me if I'm late."

She turned on her heel, took two steps away, and a brutally jagged scream cut lines into the air. It hit Shannon like shards of glass. She turned back immediately and followed the swarm of eyes and heads that had turned toward the stairs to the West Wing. The sound got closer and much more awful, and within seconds Tuly Lewis shot down the stairs at top-speed, crying her fear into the sky. A big, muscular seventh-year with an ill-fitted baby-face caught her before she could reach the main staircase; she was running blind and looked to get herself killed. He questioned her a bit fiercely, but she only shook her head, her scream choking off into a sob. Teachers had begun to appear in the hall now as well, but the horde of students had solidified, most of them heading—perhaps unwisely—to the West Wing. At some point, Allison had caught Shannon's hand, and was now dragging her along with the flow of the crowd. There were some two hundred students at Briargate but right then Shannon could've sworn there were a thousand or more all climbing the stairs to the West Wing. Caleb was somewhere to her right; the top of his head kept reappearing in her view.

The train stopped at the West Wing lounge. The first arrivals had taken mere steps into the room before stopping cold; people in the back had to push their way in, driven by an awful, morbid desire to see. A few more, shorter shrieks burst through the air like fireworks. Some people began pushing back the way they came. Allison forced her way through the shocked, frozen bodies, digging fingernails into Shannon's palm hard enough to sting as she dragged her behind. Shannon had lost sight of Caleb altogether. She supposed he was caged in somewhere between people who would not move, shocked into statues by something Shannon had not yet seen.

Finally, Allison somehow managed to break free from the crowd. She gave Shannon's arm one stiff yank and Shannon came with her; impossibly, they stood at the front, ahead of everyone, able to see.

At first, Shannon wasn't sure what she was looking at. It took her a few minutes to process, to make the appropriate connections. Allison had gone completely stiff next to her, her fingernails pinching hard enough to bleed. Shannon didn't feel it. She stared blankly at the thing in front of her, grasping at clouds to try to find an appropriate reaction.

Opposite her, above a long red couch, the severed head of a cow had been nailed to the wall. Its cloudy eyes stared unseeingly out, looking at her. Sitting on the couch directly underneath it was Ockham's Guide to Vampires and Creatures of the Night—which had been returned to Allison's dormitory before supper. The worst of all: above the cow head, written in what could only have been blood, were the words Happy Birthday!

Allison released Shannon's hand at last, ran only about two feet to the side, and threw up on the carpet. Shannon stared.

The teachers finally battled their way to the top and immediately began screaming directions, bawling at the students to get out. Professor Diefenbaker, the history teacher, checked on Allison. Shannon felt unable to move, glued to the spot, held by the dead cow's sightless gaze. When a teacher finally put an arm around her shoulder and began to escort her out, she remembered asking only one thing:

"Is that one of the cows from the Kraus farm?"

***So here's just a little tidbit about me: I have a thing about birthdays. I throw them out like candy at a parade. I'll give characters who don't even matter birthdays. If you look at a calendar for 1955, you'll be able to figure out when Allison's birthday is. Not that anyone probably really cares except for me. Anyway, thanks to everyone who read and commented, particularly Paradoxx and apoorwasinha for your kind words :)***