Page 84 of Never Invite a Vampire to Dinner

“Mabel knows,” I say, and his gaze sharpens. “I don’t know how much. But she knows enough to take a photograph out of my hand before I can ask the wrong question.”

“That sounds like Mabel.”

“Arthur knows something too. He just thinks it’s none of his business.”

“That also sounds like Arthur.”

“They’ve been making room for you.”

Julian looks away.

“And so have I.”

His eyes come back to mine. For a moment neither of us says anything.

Then he says, “Yes.”

Just that. But this time it isn’t a little thing. I can hear the rest of it. I step closer and take his hand.

“There’s something else.”

His fingers close around mine.

“Of course there is.”

“You said this is the only place you’re not a guest.”

“Yes.”

“Is that why invitations matter so much?”

His fingers tighten. There. I didn’t even know I was looking for it until I found it.

“Partly.”

“Julian.”

He sighs. “A private dwelling is different.”

“Different how?”

“I cannot enter one without an invitation from someone who lives there.”

I stare at him. He waits.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“Like actual vampire rules.”

“I am an actual vampire.”

“I know, but some of the rules are ridiculous. You already told me that crosses and running water and mirrors weren’t a problem.”

“No.”

“But invitations?”