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out so well. With or without clothes, her imaginary audience glared at her with the same hostility.
    The front row had big red letters painted on their chests, spelling out, "LOSER."
    "Even my own figments hate me," said Mavis, and then she dropped her head to the podium. Her long hair fell around her in a shroud of red.
    I'm just not cut out for this line of work.
    "I have to try."
    Why? To make up for treating your dad like a jerk? To prove you measure up?
    To find out if you're good for something after all?
    Tears burned Mavis' eyes. "How do I know what to do?"
    You're in church, right? What do people do in church?
    They pray.
    Still white-knuckling the pulpit railing, Mavis bowed her head. "Sure. Why not?" She hadn't prayed since before her mother died. "Um, okay. Send me a sign, God. Tell me what to do."
    Nothing. No answer.
    The church was silent except for her breathing. It was about what she'd expected, but still...a direct answer would have been nice.
    Keep trying.
    "Come on, God. Just a little sign?"
    It was just then that the heavy oak door in the rear of the church swung open.
    Hot desert air swelled the room. Mavis' head leaped up, and her eyes flew straight to the two figures in the doorway.
    One was a woman with long, black hair and dark horn-rimmed glasses. She wore a red leather jacket over a short, black dress.
    The other was a scrawny young man in a black Jethro Tull t-shirt and bluejeans. He must have dyed his shoulder-length hair, because he didn't look anywhere near old enough for it to have gotten pure white like that naturally.
    They look like they just came from a nightclub.
    "Hello, Pastor." The woman closed the door behind the young man. She had a slight Italian accent. "My name is Stanza Miracolo."
    "Yes?" Mavis frowned, instantly suspicious. It was after eleven-thirty on a weeknight—not usually a big time for drop-ins with good intentions.
    Can't believe I didn't lock that door.
    There was no one else in the building, so she was outnumbered two to one. If her guests had trouble in mind, Mavis wasn't crazy about her chances.
    Stanza took a few steps down the aisle, then stopped. "Look, Mavis," she said. "Don't mean to freak you out, but I have to move things along here."
    Mavis was surprised when Stanza used her name...but then she remembered it was on the marquee outside. "Okay," she said, glancing around the church as casually as she could.
    What if they have a partner?
    "Thing is, your life's about to change," said Stanza.
    "Really?" Mavis continued looking around, wondering what nearby objects she could use as weapons. "How's that?"
    "For one thing," said Stanza, "you're about to meet family you might not have known about until now."
    Stanza turned and swept an arm toward the young man at the door. "Meet Jonah Ivory," she said. "Your cousin."
    "What?" Mavis stopped looking for weapons and locked eyes with Jonah.
    "What?" Jonah looked surprised.
    "Now we've got to get out of here fast," said Stanza. "A pack of vampires will be here any minute now."
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    *****
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    Chapter 6

    I knew it.
    Mavis rubbed her eyes and smiled to herself. She had been worrying so much about her first day as Pastor, it was kind of a relief now that the other shoe had dropped.
    I knew something was going to go horribly wrong.
    "Hmm." Mavis stared at a tall brass candlestick beside the altar as if she were considering what Stanza had told her. In reality, she was thinking about using the candlestick to club Stanza and Jonah on the head. "When you say vampires..."
    "Bloodsucking creatures of the night, yes." Stanza drummed on her hips and looked impatient.
    Jonah stepped in front of her and hiked a thumb in Mavis' direction. "When you say cousin..."
    Stanza looked at Jonah. "Mavis's grandmother was your grandmother's sister," she said. "The two of you have the same great-grandfather. I told you we were going to trace your family tree, didn't I?"
    Jonah frowned back at Mavis. "But I've never even heard of