"I am what I am!" shouted the obvious Vampire as the door opened as, yet again, Jehovah's Witnesses had shown up to preach at him.

"Look, I am nothing if not polite. Do come in, tea?" Two old ladies sat down an overstuffed chaiselong, which Amelia, the elder, thought was older than her gran.

The vampired disappeared and the other lady whispered "Why did you bring me here? I'm not a believer like you."

Amelia bristled. "I didn't bring you, you tagged along, now shush you..."

The Vampire, Brian, came back with a plate of digestive biscuits and two cups of Earl Grey. With lemon, like civilised people.

"How may I help you, ladies?" Brian's lisp made a raspberry noise.

Agatha just sat there, staring at his sweater, feeling confused. Brian noticed and looked down.

"Oh, you like this one? It's my favourite, my mother knitted it, bless her soul. It's the most comfortable jumper in my collection."

"Collection?" The preaching thing forgotten, Amelia's curiosity got the better of her. This was not how it was supposed to go.

"Yes, let me show you." He stood, sweater billowing around him like, more cloaklike than knitwear, and walked to a large wardrobe. It popped opened by itself, revealing neat rows of knitted sweaters, cardigans, and all manner of woolen socks. There was also a coffin in the back, but Brian made no mention of it. He removed two and presented them.

"Ladies, I know we just met, but..." he handed one to each "... I think you would love these. Transilvanian wool. Very durable. You can get blood out without soap."

Agatha wasn't good with bodily fluids. "Blood?"

"Well, accidents happened." Realising what he said, he added "Rules of hospitality dictate that we do not eat our guests." He paused and winked at Agatha, who swallowed. "Unless very naughty."

She smiled, unconvincingly. The stake in her purse felt out of place, she looked around and thought what a lovely home.

She hadn't noticed when she entered, but it was comfortable. A rainy window sat framed by Victorian drapes, dark warm furniture dotted about, and a rug plush enough to obscure her feet.

Amelie could feel the tension in the air, something Brian was oblivious to.

"Would you care for..." Agatha cut him off. The time was nigh.

"Did you know my daughter?"

Amelia blinked. "Daughter?"

She ignored her. "Yes, her name was Alice. Lovely girl, drained by one of you. Did you know her?"

Brian looked confused, embarrassed maybe, Amelia couldn't tell, but she clutched her purse closer.

"Madam," Brian ventured, "I have not had a human for decades. The reformation movement is strong, but if you need to, I am willing to take the hit for our kind."

Without warning, the stake slammed into his chest making a sound somewhere between a wet balloon deflating and getting cornobbled by a trout. Amelia fled in a shower of Watchtowers.

Brian sighed. "Better?"

Agatha grinned. "Much..."

"Same time next week?"

"Absolutely. The knitting club will love this."

"Oh good, Mother." He gave her a peck, returned the stake, and refilled her tea.