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“Well, it’s not going to be here,” Alice’s reflection said. “The front door remains closed.”

“The Neighborhood Market is too open,” Hugo said. He paused, losing himself in thought. “It has to be the restaurant.”

Hugo’s reflection snapped his fingers and pointed at Hugo. “The restaurant could work. Familiar territory. It’s small enough. It’s on their turf. They’d gladly accept a meeting.”

“It would have to be after they close for the evening. Tonight,” Hugo said.

“You have the place,” Alice’s reflection said. “How are you going to do it?”

“The round tables are off to the side and only seat two, so we’ll be seated at a square table. I’ll keep Sylvia in front of me and Sebastian to the side. I can control the placement.”

“What if they jump you as soon as you enter?” Hugo’s reflection said.

“Tell them I would level the building if you don’t walk out,” Alice’s reflection answered. “Tell them I sent you to negotiate for me and ease the tension.”

“Okay. That keeps you safe,” Hugo’s reflection said. “Now how are you going to take them out?”

“I can’t walk in with a stake, so I’ll have to hide it,” Hugo answered.

“Where would you hide it?” Alice’s reflection asked.

“Up my arm sleeve,” Hugo replied. “The one from the kit is too large. It would be noticeable. I need something . . . something I could conceal. Something smaller.”

Hugo paused. He rotated his right forearm back and forth, deep in thought.

“Oh. Ohhhh,” Hugo’s reflection blurted out. “That could work!”

“What? What could work?” Alice’s reflection asked.

“Anything that once bled, right, regardless of size? That’s what I need?” Hugo asked.

“Yeah, but what is it?” Alice’s reflection asked. “Tell me.”

“Control the sweater . . .” Hugo said.

“Control the fight,” Hugo’s reflection finished.

Hugo rushed out of the bathroom and past a waiting Max, fearful of a possible bath should she enter the bathroom. Hugo flung open the closet door and dropped to his knees. He rummaged through boxes piled up, Alice and Hugo’s many pairs of shoes, and otheritems flung inside the closet. He pulled out a box labeledHockey Stuff, tucked away in the back of their bedroom closet.

He opened the cardboard box and rummaged through the contents—old pictures of his playing days, his used high school game sweater, giveaways from professional hockey games, commemorative pucks. There, laying across the bottom of the box, was his newfound vampire hunting weapon—a wooden mini hockey stick, longer than a foot, emblazoned with the logo of Columbus’ professional hockey team.

Hugo shoved the contents back into the box and rose to his feet. He flung the box into the closet and shut the door. He bounded with excitement into the bathroom, nearly slipping on the checkerboard tile floor. Max still resisted entering the bathroom, tapping her paws on the ground, out of fear it was a ploy to get her in the bathtub. She wagged her tail at the excitement. Hugo held his new weapon high in the air for the reflections to see.

“With this!” Hugo shouted.

“You’re going to do what . . . scratch their back with it?” Alice’s reflection said.

“No, I’ll trim it down and turn one end into a spike. I can tape it to my forearm. I’ll wear a dark shirt. They’ll never see it. Then when I’m ready to strike, I’ll use the chair leg to dislodge it and slide it down into my hand. It’s perfect,” Hugo said.

Hugo’s reflection turned to Alice’s. “It’s the best option we have.”

Alice’s reflection crossed her arms and turned her back to Hugo’s reflection. “I don’t like this. Not one bit.”

“What other option is there? Move again? Then they keep coming after us until they get what they want,” Hugo pleaded. “We make a stand. We make it tonight.”

“Run me through it.” Alice’s reflection turned toward Hugo. “Every little detail.”

“Okay, imagine the table is here.” He motioned with his hands. “I’m sitting here, and Sylvia is across from me. Now, ideally, I wantSebastian to be to my right. It gives me a direct shot at his heart. I can stab him right here.” He pointed to a spot on his chest.