I was walking through a graveyard, the moonlight casting deep shadows over the tombstones. I can just hear someone mumbling, "Big deal! You're a vampire. You're supposed to be hanging around in graveyards."

Well, NOT! Graveyards are spooky. Mausoleums are cold and drafty in the winter and hot and stifling in the summer. They're all granite and black iron and there's no comfortable place to sleep. Besides, they're full of dead people. Vampires drink blood, you know. The only people I know of that can get blood from a dead person all work for the IRS.

Anyway, here I was. Why? I didn't know. I was pretty sure I was somewhere in California, the name of the town had slipped my mind, and this was one big-assed graveyard for so small a place. What was happening?

I saw two people, teenagers it seemed, wending their way through the graves. One was a really cute blonde, with a cheerleader look about her. The other was a young male, about her age, who alternated from looking all around him with a worried expression to staring at her with what appeared to be some pretty intense unresolved desire. I also saw he was very careful to hide that when she looked his way.

I started towards them, assuming that they were probably just here to do a little making out and had picked the graveyard to add a little thrill to the session. Then I caught sight of another group. Four males were sneaking through the shadows, coming up behind the two teenagers. The moonlight glinted off fangs and their faces changed in a way I had never seen before. But they were definitely vampires, of a kind I had never seen before. Even as I opened my mouth to shout a warning, the foursome rushed the boy and girl.

I ran forward to try to aid them, wishing I had a weapon of some kind. But I couldn't have hidden a toothpick in the outfit I was wearing. It was a nice outfit, an attractive blouse with a bra that lifted and flattered my not very large breasts combined with a skirt that was cut at my knees but with a generous slit up the side. It wasn't made for weapon concealment though. And why was I wearing very cute, but extremely impractical high heeled sandals? And why was I standing here contemplating my clothing when two humans were being menaced by a quartet of rough vampires?

Before I could reach the fight, it was over. The blonde girl stabbed one of the vampires with a stake I hadn't even seen her holding. Then she quickly gave a round house spin kick to the second foe's belly, doubling him over and dropping him to his knees. In an astounding feat of agility, she used the bent over vampire to launch herself completely over the heads of the other two. Landing on her feet behind them, she dispatched them with two thrusts of her stake.

Meanwhile, the dark haired boy had, rather clumsily in my opinion, produced a stake of his own and eliminated the last vampire. I arrived just as the shower of dust was settling to the ground.

I was so astounded by the way the blonde teenager had dispatched four vampires almost by herself that when her male companion shouted "There's another!" and pointed in my direction, I actually turned and looked behind me. It took a moment to realize that he was talking about me. I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender, trying to placate them. Although I could tell from their poor fighting that I had been older than all four of the other vampires together by the time I reached my first century, I still didn't want to fight anyone, much less someone as capable as the blonde girl.

The young man suddenly pushed a cross into my face. I was about to sigh and point out that, like almost all vampires, crosses don't affect me, when I found myself hissing and shrinking back. Hissing? Bridget O'Brien HISSING? Not in all my 400 plus years had I hissed. As he stepped towards me, I involuntarily took off running, with him and the blonde in hot pursuit.

What the HECK? I'm not afraid of crosses. In fact, I wear one of my own around my neck, given to me for my First Communion by my parents back in Ireland when I was still human. It had been taken from me twice over the centuries, and a good deal of pain, effort and other people's spilled blood had been needed for me to get it back. I reached into that low cut, tight blouse that I was wearing for some unknown reason and came up empty handed. It wasn't there.

I had only known two vampires who could be repelled by a cross. I had also known one Arab vampire who could be driven off by someone holding up a copy of the Koran. But by and large holy artifacts have no effect. I often attend Mass, and receive Communion and dip Holy Water and cross myself when entering or leaving the church. I had a very uneasy feeling that I had better not try that around these parts.

I had discussed the issue with Sigmund Freud back before World War One. I had also talked to Jung, who went off into an endless discussion of archetypes, the collective unconscious and the Anima and Animus until I was so bored that I nearly ate him. To simply sum it up, those vampires feared the cross, or whatever, because they believed that they were supposed to fear them.

So why was I completely repelled by it? And four vampires together. I had never heard of such a thing. By and large we are very solitary creatures, concealing ourselves among a lot of humans. I had never seen such malevolence displayed as those four vampires did. It was as if they weren't even human anymore, something that I and most of the other immortals I have known still consider ourselves.

And those faces. I shuddered even as I came across a paved sidewalk and sprinted up it towards the building ahead. I was just barely holding my own. The young man had fallen back but the blonde girl was dead on my ass. Another vagrant thought, if it wasn't for the circumstances I wouldn't mind having her on my ass. She was cute.

Ahead of me were two double metal doors. Oh great, they looked like the opened outward. If they were locked, well, I'd never get a chance to make another choice. I grabbed the right side handle and yanked as hard as I could.

Luck was with me this time, double in fact. The door not only opened, but my blonde pursuer crashed into it, stunning her long enough for me to get inside and pull the door closed behind me. I took off down the hallway I was in, speeding past doors with labels like "Freshman English, Miss Jones" and rows and rows of lockers.

I came to a foyer and spotted some kind of trophy case, the back of which was mirrored. I hesitated, surrendered to the urge and looked. I had a terrible feeling that my face was as angular and misshaped as those of the vampires I had seen.

Well, this is fine how-do-you-do. No reflection in the mirror. Damn it, I cast a reflection! That's an old wives tale about vampires not being seen in a mirror.