I have a type.

Yeah, most women do. And no, it's not necessarily the Hollywood ideal. That's not saying that I don't think heartthrobs aren't aesthetically pleasing; yeah, they're handsome, sure, but when I choose a guy to go after I'm not looking for a magazine cover. Well, maybe Mojo.

I like to kid myself and say I'm trying to be a muse to musicians, but really I just like their hands. Strong, calloused, that sound when a bassist runs those tips down the stockings you wore to his show, the tight grip of a drummer as he wraps you up in his arms. It's their passion made manifest in flesh, and it makes me melt in ways I just can't explain in words.

With Anders the melting came to a boil. I found him busking near the Trinity fountain in the middle of the City, coins and bills falling as passerby stopped to hear him bend that old battered fiddle. He had a crooked smile and skin pale as milk that should have burned to a crisp even in the soft sun of that dreary summer day. He wore his dark hair long, a soft crumpled white shirt over a pair of dingy grey trousers, and a hat that would have repulsed me on any other man sitting half-cocked jauntily on his head.

I was smitten. Me. I asked him to tea, in broad daylight. I loved the way he sat his violin back into its battered case, kissing his fingers as he put the bow back and tucking her in like a lover leaving his beloved behind. He took my hand, bold yet somehow old-fashioned, and we walked the waterfront for hours talking about music and life and past loves and then the sunset then his lips and my hands and our hurried rush to my flat and then...

He was good. A magic man, and I was under his spell.

What started there ascended to an actual relationship. We found that my mother's and his families came from the same small region of Sweden, our ancestors just a few bends away from each other on the calm run of the Dalälven river. He had been born there, coming across the Atlantic when times got tough for his mother and his father long away roaming as a fiddler himself. The faint lilt of his accent made me beg him to speak in Swedish, and he would laugh as I swooned over his description of a fanciful cow or the story of a cat in our shared native tongue.

The days turned to weeks, then months, and finally Maja Sanford had a boyfriend. A real boyfriend, for the first time since my lonely days in college. My friends loved him for me, and while they all stared and fawned? I never felt worried that they would take my magic man away. Life was good, and we spent long lazy days in bed between his busking and my work from home, and life was wonderful.

And then I learned the truth, and my world changed.

We sat across from each other in the living room, the awkward tension thick in the air. I was sat with my girlfriend, Caitlin, on the sofa her hand in mine. My grandmother was sat in her usual seat near to the fire, glaring daggers directly at me and muttering darkly under her breath in Gàidhlig. My mother was fussing, trying to calm her down and my father had resolutely decided that discretion was the better part of valour and fled to the kitchen to 'make tea'. He'd been gone for fifteen minutes, and I was starting to suspect that the kettle wasn't going to finish boiling any time soon.

The word that my grandmother had uttered upon laying eyes on Caitlin still echoed under it all, and I squirmed in my seat nervously. Caitlin squeezed my hand and I glanced to her, taking some small comfort in her sympathetic smile. Unfortunately, that smallest of movements seemed enough to undo whatever truce my mother had managed to scramble together and my grandmother pushed her away, "See now girl, I'm not senile yet!" She snapped, her accent thicker with her upset its flavour of the northern shores of Scotland barely penetrable, "Nor am I blind. I know what I see, and I see what I know. Now I want answers out of my grandson and I'll have them now!"

She turned on me, then, and my mother wrung her hands helplessly, giving me a worried, apologetic look. I quailed inside at the ferocity of my grandmother's glare, "It's not what you-" I attempted.

"Don't you start!" She cut me off, hand chopping down in a vicious silencing motion, "The truth out of you, boy, or I'll have you over my knee see that I won't!" She jabbed a finger towards Caitlin, "Well? What have you done with this poor girl then? Out with it!"

I froze, eyes widening, the protestations on my lips dying instantly. It was like my mind had stuttered like one of those old vinyl record players juddering over a damaged groove. "I uh.. w-what? Wait, no that's not-" I started, but the words failed, my mouth went dry, and a sick feeling coiled in my stomach as I realised just what my grandmother thought!

"It's not what?" My grandmother growled, "That you think you can get this past me? I thought we raised you better than this. I know what she is, written plain as day. She's a Maighdeann-mhara. A Selkie, if I've not missed my guess, and I know full-well how a land-born man gets himself a selkie lover. Out with it, then, boy. Where's her seal-coat, eh? Where've you hidden it? Give it up and give the thing back to her or I'll get myself a switch and make her a fresh one out of your hide instead!"

I paled, and that sick feeling in my stomach only got worse. My mother put her head in her hands, and looked like she'd rather be anywhere else. Caitlin's eyes widened as she realised at last just what my grandmother was so angry about. It wasn't her, not really. It was the old stories, and the implication! I flushed hot, something in me angry that my own grandmother would think I could ever, ever do something so awful but more than that I was angry that this sort of thing must have happened often enough that the stories still persisted even after all this time.

Before I could try to stammer out a weak response, that surely my grandmother would have dismissed out of hand - she was always so difficult when she got like this, and stubborn in her anger too - Caitlin got to her feet and went over to my grandmother and knelt down by the side of the chair and grasped her hand, "It's not what you think, ma'am," she said, shaking her head, "Please believe me. I chose this willingly. Your grandson and I have been friends for a long time, and I chose to do this. To give up my seal-coat and leave the sea. I know that it'll be difficult. That I'll always pine for the sea in my heart; but I couldn't stay there, and pine for him instead. He didn't take my seal-coat, I gave it to him. It's folded up in a box at the bottom of our wardrobe back home. When you come visit, I can show it to you. I'm here by choice, not by force."

My grandmother frowned, stared down at her, eyes searching, suspicious, but the sincerity shining in Caitlin's eyes seemed to convince her and she relented, "Hmf... I'll want to see it," she grumbled at last, "But... I believe you girl." she looked at me, shaking her head, "I'm sorry for doubting you. When I saw her... well, it's no excuse. I should have known better that you wouldn't force yourself on a girl."

I shook my head, "no it's.. it's okay. I'm glad that... that you were looking out for her. It's good to do that if you... if you have reason to ever think something like that. I'm grateful grandmother, really." I smiled weakly at her, my stomach slowly settling. I was still flushing hot and cold. Where was dad with that tea? I really needed one now to calm down.

The awkwardness descended again, of a different timbre this time, but luckily my father managed to make his belated re-entry with a tray with full mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits. Conversation was stilted, at first, but Caitlin seemed to decide that ignoring the whole ordeal was probably best and soon enough her warm and enthusiastic responses had my mother laughing and my father smiling and the atmosphere lightened. Later, as we were leaving my mother took Caitlin aside to thank her for "humouring" her mother, and apologised for her behaviour. she was getting on, and she'd always believed in the old stories, and it seemed that her advancing age was finally catching up to her. Caitlin, of course brushed it off and reassured my mother she wasn't offended.

It wasn't until we were alone in the car on the drive back to our house, that she looked at me with a sly smile, "that went pretty well. so, when are you going to tell them that you've got a boyfriend of the daoine sìth too?"

I choked at that and blushed hot, "At this point I think they might take the news I've got both a boyfriend and a girlfriend worse than that they're both mythological beings. Bisexuality? They came around on. you being a selkie? Well only my grandmother actually believes that. Polyamory, though, might be a step too far."

She laughed about that the entire way home.

I was a little nervous bringing Janice to meet my family, but I could only imagine how she must feel. She told me she didn’t have any family so I didn’t have to impress her folks, so that was a relief on my end. Still I was a little nervous about bringing her. I mean I’m sure my family would approve of her, even if we’ve only been dating for two months, but still you never know.

We got out of the car and walked towards the front door of my parents house, which opened immediately to the sight of my older sister ready to greet us. Guess she was eagerly anticipating out arrival. After i introduced my sister, the three of us made our way to the dining room, where my parents and younger brother were setting the table, and I introduced each of them to Janice.

Once those introductions were done, my sister ran to get our grandmother for dinner. I breathed a sigh of relief, everything seemed to be going well at this point.

Soon my sister returned walking our grandmother into the room. Then suddenly, before I got the chance to introduce her, my grandmother screamed “Jandevier!!!”

Everyone except for Janice turned to see my grandmother. The name she screamed, Jandevier, was apparently the name of some ancient demon that was trying to enslave mankind, something my family had been tasked with preventing by killing Jandevier generation after generation. Of course it was some ancient legend past down my family, so I didn’t think it was true especially since the last time Jandevier tried to take over the world was before my grandmother was born.

But that wasn’t the weirdest part about this night, what was weird is seeing my grandmother running up to this supposed “ancient demon” and hugging her.

“How have you been? It’s been so long.” She asked Janice.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know you.” Janice replied, confused.

My grandmother stopped hugging Janice. She put both hands on her shoulders and made a somewhat serious face. “Someday, your little world will soon be mine, little hero girl.” Grandmother said in a mocking tone of voice.

Suddenly, Janice face beamed. “Claudia?” She hugged my grandmother again. “Oh it’s been so long. How are you? You look more beautiful than ever!”

My grandmother laughed. “I’m so happy to see you.” My grandmother then turned to see the rest of us. We were all bewildered, first by the fact that the girl I brought home was apparently our family’s sworn enemy, but then by the fact that our sworn enemy was best friends with my grandmother.

“So you’re some kind of demon?” My little bro asked Janice.

“Yeah. If you guys want, I can show you my powers.”

“Yeah sure.” I said

Janice beamed once more. She held up her hand, and we all gasped watching her fingers morph into three, then break apart into six, then morph back into five. She then pointed at her head, and her long brown hair shifted to blonde, then red, then back to brown.

She then snapped her fingers, but nothing happened. She tried again, but still nothing. After a few more snaps, she finally got a small flame flickering on the end of her index finger, which she used to light the candle on the dinning room table. Everyone applauded.

“But wait.” My sister said. “If you really are our sworn enemy, how are you and grandma best friends? And how come you’re dating my kid brother?”

Janice laughed. “Well it’s kind of a long story: you see, a generation before your grandmother was born, I decided to try a different approach to killing your family, I decided to become friends with them and pretend to give up on enslaving mankind. To my surprise, your great-great-grandfather treated me like I was his friend. I was so charmed by him that I eventually stick to my word and became his best friend. Once I died in that body, I became best friends with your grandmother. Yeah taking over the world sounds fun, but being friends with your family is way more fun.”

“Well alright then.” My father said. “I’m sure we’re all hungry, let’s eat.”

The rest of the evening went smoothly with all of us enjoying each other’s company and making each other laugh. After a few hours, Janice said her goodbyes and we drove off.

“Well that went better than I expected.” I said.

“Yeah I’m glad your family still likes me.” Janice said. “But beware, I might still enslave humanity if your not careful.”

I laughed, and she did too as we drove off into the night

We were there early, me and Samantha. Mother was really happy to meet her, and dad was, as usual not impressed. Samantha was all smile, her pretty blue eyes lighting up while looking around my familly's house. We sat around the dinner table, with grandma and grandpa. They are from Romania. Our familly moved in america in 1945, after WWII. They are very nice and welcoming to everybody, warm and charming usually, but this time, each time i try to cheer them up, they just ignore me and look at Samantha with a strange glaze.

-So where do you come from, Samantha ? Finally ask my grandpa.

• Only from here, Philadelphia, we met at the museum while your son was guiding us through the exibitions.

-I mean, where do you come from, you Zblarta ! Spit out grandma. We are all shocked by her reaction, the violence in her tone. What's happening ? Samantha look unmoved. She put her hand on my knee, as to ask me to calm down.

-What is a Zblarta ? She asks charmingly.

-It is what you are, a creature of the devil, a monster who creeps at night to steal the masculine power of young virgins ! We know what you are demon, and what you want from our grandson.

She makes a cross sign and begins to speak in romanian, nearly shouting at my girlfriend s face. I start to stand up to protest, but the grip from samantha's hand on my knee get so strong that i feel her fingers nearly cutting trew my upper leg's flesh, it is so painful i start to wheep. At my left, Samantha's face is not looking human anymore. She has became some sort of nightmare. A monstruous, terrifying mass of deliquescent rotting flesh, with big teeth and a disgustingly long tongue, hugging my other leg under the table.

-The boy is mine ! It screams. My grand mother faints. My grandpa is nowhere to be seen. At the door of the dinning room, my parents look at us in shock, pale as ghosts. She slowly turns toward me. Slowly she says :

-It will only hurt for a few minutes, love...

I close my eyes. A loud BANG makes me open them again. There is no monster anymore. Only bits of rotting flesh everywhere. I turn around. Grandad has retrieved his shotgun from WWII. Did not know it was still functionning. I stutter :

-Thanks, grandpa... -No problem grandson, but not more Zblarta at home, grandma won't survive it.

"Вампір!"

I froze, looking over at my partner Ailis in horror. Their shoulders were hunched, a sure sign they were stressed out, and I reached out slowly in an attempt to reassure them. With a sigh I rubbed my temple and said, "Бабуся - grandmother - please. I thought we talked about this?"

The old woman glared at me from under her thick eyebrows, just a flicker of the eyes before her gaze returned to my partner. My parents stood off to the side of the living room door, seemingly trying to fade into the flower patterned wallpaper. So much for their promises of support.

"I know what is! When you told me I thought it a sick joke, that you playing a trick on your old grandmother. But this... This goes too far." She reached a knarled hand under her blouse and brought out a rosary, beginning to mumble prayers under her breath. I sucked a breath in and felt my partner tremble in the presence of the Holy item.

"Бабуся please! Put that away, you're being incredibly rude!" I cried, rushing over as Ailis fled the room. I caught a streak of pale pink running down their face as they turned away. I'd known introducing my vampire partner to my family would be difficult but I hadn't thought it would go this badly, this quickly. I felt the hair on my arms lift as I snarled in anger. The old bitch snarled back, even though she was too physically frail to shift these days.

Pulling in a breath that felt like pure electricity I stripped off my shirt and let the change come over me, my arms lengthening and legs shortening as my hands turned into paws. My parents - the cowards - only now stepped up to put themselves between me and my grandmother. I snorted at them in disgust at the idea I'd attack my own pack then turned and loped out the door. I needed to find Ailis.

I had been dreading dinner for weeks now. The family dinner that would inevitably end up with someone either drunk or crying. Maybe both. Our family dinners didn't exactly have a great track record.

Especially when I'd bring the current person I was seeing.

The last guy I'd been dating, an engineer named Trevor, had left the dinner halfway through because my grandma had claimed that he was possessed by a vodyanoy, a male water spirit that was known to drown people. Why did she think that, you ask?

Well, he had a tattoo of waves on his forearm, which she had interpreted as a demon’s mark. Because having just having a normal, non-demonic tattoo apparently wasn’t possible.

Anyways, that wasn’t the first time my grandma had made comments like that. She had this fun quirk of thinking anyone I dated was either cursed or possessed. Something that definitely didn’t help my already-dry dating life.

So, after years of failed relationships and being ghosted after family dinners, I decided to try a new method: don’t introduce anyone to my family. Ever.

And that had worked well for the past year. I’d managed to stay in a relationship longer than a few months. We were even planning on moving into an apartment together in the next-coming months. Everything was going well.

So of course, it only made sense that my family would plead and beg to finally meet him. After weeks of my mom’s constant nagging over the phone, I finally gave in. I’d bring him for dinner.

Briefly. No longer than an hour. Because after an hour meant that my mom would start asking her embarrassing drunken questions and my grandma would start theorizing which demon he was.

I was determined for this dinner to work out.

“It’ll be fine,” Nate had said, trying to comfort me as we drove. He squeezed my knee a she was driving.

“That’s what you think,” I frowned. “You haven’t been there to witness my grandma’s odd fixation on Russian folklore.”

“Well, lucky for her, I love learning about folklore.” I didn’t say anything, envying his positivity. The positivity that would be gone within an hour’s time.

We arrived at my grandma’s house later than I had promised. I hoped that dinner would be ready and it would cut out some of the time spent talking with my family. My mom answered the door with a smile. “Alexis! And this must be Nate. It’s great to finally meet you.”

She pulled us both in for a hug.

“Sorry we’re late,” I apologize. “There was some traffic.”

“There wasn’t traffic,” Nate said. I shot him a look. “Oh! You mean that traffic. I almost forgot about it. Yeah, it was bad. Really bad.”

We walked inside. My grandma was already sitting at the table, waiting. Warm food was steaming on the table. I kissed her on the cheek before sitting down. “This looks great, baba.”

She said nothing, her eyes narrowing at Nate as he sat down. He gave her a nervous hello. This is only the beginning, I thought with a sigh.

“Let’s start,” my mom said, joining us at the table. We began serving food onto our plate. My grandma continued to shoot odd glances in Nate’s direction as she ate. I could feel him eyeing me, a bit weird, his eyes seemed to say. I gave him a knowing look.

I told you so.

We ate in silence. I prayed that it’d last. But it never did. “You brought a unique one this time, Alexis,” my grandma said.

“Can we not start this now?” I asked. It was too early and I was far too sober.

“Nate,” she continued. “Have you ever felt drawn to, or I suppose a kinship towards vampires?”

He swallowed his food, confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You carry the aura of a besomer.” She put some food into her mouth and chewed it. “A very dangerous demon.”

“Grandma—” I started to say but Nate stopped me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“What kind of demon is that?” He asked. His voice had lowered. There was a darkness in his gaze that I’d never seen before.

“Hm, I think you know.” They were staring at each other. The table suddenly felt tense. I looked over at my mom who was uncomfortably draining her wine.

“I’m not sure I do.” His fingers dug into my shoulder. That’s starting to hurt, I thought.

“They tend to enjoy darkness,” my grandma said. “And a craving for blood. It’s no wonder you latched on our Alexis. She’s got the blood of our family’s ancestors. Pure blood.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Nate said. He released my arm. I could still feel the ghost of his grip even after it was gone. “Although, I'm sad to admit you’ve got the wrong type of demon.”

His eyes flashed. “I’m far worse than any besomer.”

"KUMIHO!"

I stared almost blankly at my grandmother, who was pointing at my girlfriend, Carmen. Something had occurred between them, since it wasn't normal for my grandmother to be this worked up about something, however she was angry. Very angry. Soon, Carmen showed the exact same fury, however she held back.

"Oh, so every single kitsune with Korean ancestry is automatically a fucking kumiho in your eyes, huh?! You racist piece of shit!"

"You will not take my son's liver! Get out! Get out you murdering piece of—"

"That's enough!" my grandpa shouted. "Honey, you're scaring the guest. The least you could do is offer her something to eat, such as the leftover fried tofu I'm heating up."

He was wise enough to not mention that it was a way to tell kitsune apart from kumiho. And, of course, Carmen's eyes sparkled at the mere mention of fried tofu. My grandmother left the room, grumbling to herself. My grandfather, however, pulled up a few more chairs before bowing to Carmen.

"Please forgive my wife's rudeness. As careful as she is, this was completely uncalled for. Should I make some tea for us?"

"Yes, please," Carmen replied, feeling a bit more relaxed and letting her 9 tails show. "I understand why your wife wasn't very kind towards me, but she really should be more careful with spotting a kumiho."

"I can't blame her, she often had to fight them off in the past. She'll warm up to you soon enough."

There were signs, of course there were, but I hadn't met a girl I got along with for years, so I guess I might have ignored a couple of red flags. Besides, it's not like I could have guessed what would happen, no sane person would ever have even considered this a possibility. There was one incident with some green shit in the bathtub, and a time I caught her humming a song that she definitely didn't hear on the radio, but I just chalked it up to her quirky, off-beat personality. No way could I have expected the absolute insanity and sheer amount of brain-fuckery I was in for. I suppose my weakness for nerdy, socially-awkward blondes is something I need to work on if I ever get out of this.

"Günther, focus!", Oma shouts. "Grab me that book from the top shelf!". Hearing her speak with such a commanding tone quickly snaps me out of the fuge state I had been in up until now, and I hurriedly make my way over to an old, nearly-collapsed bookshelf and reach for a moss covered bronze-tinted book. "Holy shit is this thing heavy, are you gonna be able to carry this Oma?" . Without hesitation she rips the book from my hands and opens it to a page about 2/3 of the way in. It was kind of cool to see her like this. She had always had a strong personality, but this was on another fucking level. I guess this explains why she and Opa were so secretive about their careers.

"Akth F'the Frilehth, Akth F'the Frilehth". Oma starts chanting vigorously as her face becomes pale and her eyes blank, like something is taking control of her body. A terrible sound can be heard from downstairs, but it doesn't feel like a sound, nothing like anything I've ever heard anyway. More like a gut-wrenching vibration passing through me making me feel as if my skin is melting and my intestines are being pulled out of my stomach.

Oma breaks out of her trance and turns to face me; "The incantations didn't work, this means she's gotten stronger. We have to fight her. I know what she can do, the suffering she can cause ". I get the urge to tell a shitty joke about a time we had gone shopping and I ended up sitting with my dick in my hand at Ikea for 4 hours, but quickly come to the conclusion that it probably won't get many laughs. Without wasting time, Oma sprints to the edge of the attic and pulls open the door to a medium-sized room filled with weird contraptions and odd-looking instruments."Take this-", she says as she hands me a small wooden cylinder with a lever on top, along with a small silk bag filled with what feels like a bunch of marbles. "It can fit 3 at the time, only use it if you have a clear shot-", I wanted very much to pay attention to what she was telling me, but the room we found ourselves in was filled with a foul, vomit-inducing odor that would make any experienced skat-enthusiast cream with excitement. "I love you, Günther, and I wish I could have introduced you to this part of my life under better circumstances. Opa loved you to, and even though he now lies scattered in the living room, he will always be with us". Before giving me the opportunity to return any affection or ask for further instructions, she disappears back through the door from which we came.

Preparing myself for the impending, most likely torturous death of both me and my grandmother, I find myself wondering; Do I really want to do this? I have so much to live for, so many girls to kiss, so many blondes to get manipulated by, do I really want to risk my life for the sake of humanity? What the fuck has humanity ever done for me. With global warming, wars and all the other misery we put upon ourselves, maybe there is an argument to be made for me just staying behind.

But then, as Oma's warcry can be heard reverberating through the house, I'm reminded how my last relationship turned out, and I realize that maybe my uncontrollable predilection for pretty blondes is doing my life more harm than good.

Alas, I think it's time to find out what the family business is really all about.

It was on Holy Saturday when my Grandmother Maite had been, what I would call anyway, cranky and out of sorts even for her. For some reason, she was not happy with the number of crows she was seeing in the neighborhood, not that I had seen any. She also said things like the spirits are angry, or the Named are hidden. Crazy stuff to me. On top of that she said she felt in her bones that something was going to happen...something bad.

It became the running theme when anyone talked to her.

I hated it when she talks like that, that amorphous 'something bad' is going to happen. I love my Abuela but she is very old school, a mix of Catholic religion and Native Chilean mysticism, and that always make me roll my eyes when she hits me with those things.

I haven't been to church in years and I have never lived in Ancud, the city our Family is from, let alone even been to Chile. I know that we come from there, as well as many of the families around us, but it never really had been something that I had strong ties to beyond knowing it was our background and that we still observe some of those traditions.

Don't get me wrong, I love some of them traditions...like the one where we throw our shoes out to see what the year will bring. Or like these big dinners., always so much good food to eat...but that is about it for me.

It really had went south when, right before the Big Meal, the last of the guests had arrived. Specifically, me and Chloé.

This big dinner had been planned for weeks. Neighbors and family had all been invited to spend the day together, help ("If you want to", my Mom always says) fix a big dinner, and celebrate the end of the Holy Week. You could come and go all day as you wanted but dinner was a 'must' for everyone involved. Mom had just said, "Be there!" to me as I had left to go pick up Chloé.

Late was also not OK!

My girlfriend, Chloé was invited because I had been dating her for a while now and the rest of the Family wanted to met her. With the exception for my sisters, none of the Family had met her even though I had been dating her for more that six months. She lived in San Fernando and I spent most of my free time over there rather than make her come over here.

Invited is really the wrong word. My Mom told me to make sure Chloé came with me; no ifs, ands, or buts this time. She was important to me and so she was to the Family as well. This is a big deal, this dinner for the Family, an important gathering and not to be missed by anyone who is truly part of the Family, she had said.

Not a big surprise to me. She always treated ever girl I dated as "The One I Am Going To Marry".

e are celebrating Holy Saturday, nd we are honouring the traditions of community with our neighbors, Mom was not going to let it go how big a deal this meal was.

My mother and father were having the dinner at our house, as they had for years, and had invited all the Family to come if they could. Many of the neighbors had also been invited and were already there as dinner approached. Some were still going in and out of our house, shuttling food from their houses to Mom and Dad's as I walked up with Chloé.

I had parked two blocks away...parking sucks in this neighborhood generally and the party was making it just that much worst.

Chloé and I were holding hands chatting about the different neighbors that were going to be there. Well, about the neighbors that were not going to be there more specifically. It was fun for me to share stories about the neighbors we don't like or things they do that are just silly or stupid.

Like the time the Álvarez's had had the police show up because Mr. Álvarez's girlfriend had shown up at the house...that had been a fight to watch.

<chuckle> Well, maybe only for me. Chloé has become a bit quieter as we approached the house. Nerves, I guess.

The front room, which is the biggest room in the house, had been converted to a dinning room for today's meal. In the window I see the tables and chairs with my Family and friends still putting out dishes of food and setting up glasses and plates. The big screen TV is showing pictures of the Vatican and statues of the Saints in an endless montage setup for the holiday.

We walked through the open door and I let everyone know we are there.

"Hey, everyone! I would like you to meet Chloé...Chloé, my Family..."

And Grandmother started screaming, "¡Kalku! ¡Kalku! ¡Oh! ¡Dios mio es el Malvado! ¡Una Kalku!" and waving her hands in warding signs at Chloé.

Suddenly people were looking around trying to figure out what is happening: at me, at Chiloé, and Grandma. Some were even looking out the window for the crows that had suddenly become very noisy for some reason. The crows outside could be heard cawing like they were on the house or just outside the door...I had not even seen them as we came up to the house. Their caws seemed very loud to me and we were inside.

But I looked over at Chloé as she is squeezes my hand painfully hard.

Are her eyes black?

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Kalku: A Chiloe and Mapuche mythological sorcerer who controls crows and contains dark magic and negative powers.

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