Joe filed into the security line, along with what seemed like half the city. The airport speakers crackled with announcements every minute or so, and the line didn’t seem to be moving an inch.

At least he’d listened to his agent and turned up early.

He wondered what Alexei would make of this situation. Did vampires need to take airplanes? Alexei could fly, but it hardly seemed a practical method for cross-country travel. No, Alexei would need to take a plane, just like any human.

Alexei would hate the press of other people, the constant noise, the vague sense of irritation permeating the air from hundreds of people who felt this was a waste of their time.

Joe pulled his ever-present notebook out of his pocket and quickly jotted down some notes. As a legal teenager, would Alexei get unaccompanied minor status?

By the time he reached the front of the line, Joe was feeling just about vindictive enough to make Alexei’s school take a field trip across the country.

“And you can bring that nice young man of yours along, too.” Cusarn’s grandmother patted him on the hand.

“I… Pardon, who?”

“That lovely partner of yours, the one you brought to the benefit that time.”

“Rekala? But we’re not… I mean, he’s not my… We just work together! We’re not romantic partners!”

When my aunt announced her intention to explore the centre of Mt Girrwassen, I did not at first pay it any mind. My aunt was a university professor and was always away on one expedition or another. It did not affect me except for the lack of company at the dinner table.

It was only in the month leading up to her departure that she commented that I really should be starting to pack my bags.

“But of course you are coming with me!” she exclaimed, when I professed my surprise.

I suppose she had decided that I should accompany her on the expedition because it had been I, indirectly, that drew her attention to the volcano.

If there is anything more frustrating to a young man of independent thought attempting to establish his place in the world, it is to fall in love with a young lady of whom his mother would approve.

“It’s all off,” said Cyril, swanning into the sitting room and prostrating himself on the settee with dramatic flair. “The girl is polite and deferent and would make any man a lovely wife.”

Alistair put aside the letter he had been writing and assumed a sympathetic air. “You surprise me. I thought you described her as a quick-witted and gay young lady with nothing but contempt for the trappings of modern society.”

“Ira? Ira, have you seen my red scarf? I can’t find it anywhere.”

Ira had curled himself up with one of his books in a patch of sun, tail curled around himself and tickling his nose in typical cat fashion. Disturbed from his reading, he yawned and stretched as Zachary surveyed the van in frustration. :Where did you see it last?: he asked.

“If I knew that I wouldn’t be asking you,” said Zachary reproachfully. He was only half dressed, his white shirt hanging half open and his belt unclasped. He rubbed a hand through his hair anxiously as Ira jumped down from the window sill and padded over to him. “You needed to be woken up anyway.”

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