"So, your xeroderma pigmentosum," Wilma says, realization striking her, "it was—"

"—a clever cover story invented by my mother," I explain. "It sounds crazy, I know, but it's true. If you don't believe me, ask—"

"—his father," Mort says, appearing beside me. "I am Mortecus Dracul, son of Prince Vlad. It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear." He gives her a bow, of course. Wilma places her hand in his, and while he kisses it delicately, he glances up at her with his eyes glowing. "My, my. You are even more lovely in person." She laughs nervously as he proceeds to kiss her hand several more times.

"Okay, okay," I say, pulling him away as he starts to sniff her wrist. "That's enough!"

"My apologies. It has been so long since I've smelled such sweet nectar."

I'm a little annoyed, but then I catch a whiff of it myself. It's like warm vanilla with a hint of fresh lilac, grounding and intoxicating all at once. Every part of me sharpens, drawn to it, to her.

"He's rather thirsty," Mort whispers in Wilma's ear.

She blushes and asks, "W-what?"

"Mort!" I hiss. "You're freaking her out."

He holds up his hands defensively. "I'm simply trying to warn her that you've had nary a drop of blood since you started using your powers. The longer you go without feeding, the harder it is to resist temptation."

"Oh, my gosh," Wilma says in amazement. "You really are vampires, aren't you?" She clutches the cross hanging around her neck, trying to accept the absurdity of it all. There are probably a million questions running through her head, but before she can release a single one, we hear a familiar voice rising over the crowd.

"Drakey!" My mother spots me from where the soldiers are lining people up to board the trucks. Many of them are still wearing their pajamas, including my mother. Her face shows a mixture of relief and determination as she breaks away from the line and hurries toward me, ducking past guards trying to hold her back.

"Mom!" I call out, meeting her halfway. She reaches for me, her eyes going wide as she takes in the sight of my armor.

"Oh, Drake. You always took so much after your father, now look at you. Somehow, I knew that you were destined to follow in his footsteps. I only wish I could have told you sooner." She touches my armored chest, eyes misty. "Forgive me for keeping so much from you."

I squeeze her hand gently, feeling a rush of gratitude. "You don't need to apologize, Mom. Thank you for giving me a life, for loving me, for keeping me safe. You protected me for so long. Now it's my turn to protect you."

We embrace, and in that moment, I realize that Mom was right all along. I have to let her go, to trust that she'll be okay without me by her side.

When we pull apart, her gaze moves to Mort. And, to my surprise, she steps forward and wraps her arms around him in a warm hug. "Mort," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion, "it's been so good to see you again. Not a day has gone by that I haven't wondered... about what life could have been if you'd stayed."

"Quinnie, darling... you were unforgettable," Mort replies, smiling down at her. "I often imagined a life here with you as well, but know how proud I am that you've built one all on your own."

Just then, Sheriff Seward approaches, his usual stoic expression softened by the scene. He drapes his police jacket over Mom and puts a protective hand on her shoulder. Mort gives him a respectful nod.

Mom turns to Seward and lovingly caresses his cheek. "Thank you for being so understanding," she tells him. "And thank you, Mort, for giving me such a wonderful son."

Seward returns a nod to my father, his eyes revealing a silent acknowledgment of their unusual connection.

"Thank you, Sheriff." Mort tips his hat, casting a grateful glance at them. "And all the best to you both." He takes a step back, catching Solara's gaze as she walks up behind. She gives him an encouraging smile and threads her fingers through his.

As the evacuation efforts intensify, Seward guides Mom back towards the soldiers, rallying the townspeople to move quickly. Before she's out of sight, she gives me one last look, filled with pride and love. I feel a swell of appreciation that I was blessed with such a strong family.

Then I turn to Wilma. The weight of the coming battle makes it clear that she, too, has to leave, no matter how much it pains me. "Wilma," I begin, trying to keep my voice steady, "you need to go. Head to your father's bunker." I know that she'll be just as safe there, if not safer.

She opens her mouth to protest, but before she can, a sharp pain grips my stomach. It forces me to double over, and I drop my helmet on the ground as my hunger claws at me, fiercer than ever.

"You're running on fumes, Drake," Mort says grimly. "If you don't feed, you won't stand a chance against the Repkonians."

Wilma takes my hand and, with surprising calm, says, "Drink my blood."

I hesitate, not wanting to risk losing control. But her resolve is unwavering. "Just... just a little," I say finally, bringing her finger to my mouth. My fang barely pricks her skin, and the taste of that single drop electrifies my senses, making every fiber of me feel alive.

Wanting more, I put her entire finger in my mouth without thinking. I close my eyes now, reveling in the ecstasy, and gently suck on it for a few seconds longer.

Just then, Jeremy stumbles into view, taking in the sight of me with Wilma's finger in my mouth. His eyebrows shoot up. "Whoa... Did I just walk into some kind of freaky vampire love ritual?"

I let go of Wilma's hand and straighten up, feeling the strength return to my body. She rolls her eyes at Jeremy but grins, shaking her head in amusement. "Glad you're safe, Jere-Bear. I should have known that you were with Drake all along." Her smile fades as she turns back to me. "I'm guessing that you're not going to let me stay with you, are you?"

"Sorry," I say, putting my helmet back on. I climb onto Nadia's back and give her a bittersweet smile. "But just think--I finally get to be your knight in... well, dark armor." I extend a hand to help her onto the saddle. "I'll take you home. Hold on tight."

When we arrive, her father is waiting at the door, shotgun in hand, looking ready to do whatever it takes to protect her. As she slides off the horse, I lean down and risk pulling her into a kiss right in front of him.

"Mija!"  Her mother, Isabel, runs past Mr. Murray and latches onto Wilma. Then she looks up at me. "Drake, are you coming with us?"

"Judging by the look of him, I don't think he plans to," says Mr. Murray. There's a hint of concern in his eyes, but knowing that time is running short, he gestures for his family to follow him inside. "Time to say goodbye, pumpkin."

"Be safe," I whisper to Wilma, knowing it may be the last time I see her. She nods and clutches my hand for a second longer before heading into the house.

I return to the town square where Sheriff Seward is organizing a few people who've volunteered to stay behind. Among them are Mayor Mosely, holding two antique revolvers, Randy, wielding a replica sword from one his favorite movies, and even Larry Scampone. He grins while showing off a stash of fireworks strapped to his vest.

I eye them, feeling a pang of worry. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

The Sheriff nods, his expression resolute. "Someone's got to defend Penumbra if things go south." I shudder to think of what would happen if the Repkonians break our army's line of defense. But Seward looks at the volunteers confidently and says, "We're ready."

Mounted on Hadrian once more, Mort rides over and gives me a sidelong glance. "Ah, there you are. So you've bid your fair maiden adieu, have you? That Wilma is a rare find." He gives me a sly grin. "You'd be a fool not to marry her."

"You're right," I reply, feeling a sense of clarity. "If we survive this, I'm going to ask her."

"Smart man," Mort chuckles, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "And fortunate, too--that girl's a virgin."

I blink, bewildered. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Mort raises an eyebrow. "The Lunatori have strict rules about who can be turned. They wouldn't let me change your mother because they didn't consider her 'pure.'"

I understand what he's implying, and suddenly it all makes sense. If my mother had never been eligible to become a vampire, their paths were destined to diverge.

Before I can dwell on it, I glance at Solara, who is practicing kenjutsu with her swords. She pauses, mid-twirl, and smiles at him from afar.

"Well," I begin, trying to return a helpful nudge, "you're lucky to have Solara. She's beautiful--and she doesn't need to turn into a vampire to stay that way forever."

"I suppose you're right." Mort swallows. "Perhaps, I have my own sweetheart to pursue once this battle is over."

Meanwhile...

There is no way Wilma is going to sit idly by. That's why she makes the difficult decision as she follows her parents down to the basement. Her father dug it out years ago after buying the property, dedicating himself to furnishing this fallout shelter "just in case."

It's fully stocked with food, water, and medical supplies that could last a lifetime. The ventilation system ensures clean air flows continuously. There are even several bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom.

As her father punches in the passcode to open the heavy door, Wilma reassures herself that her parents will be safe here. She waits for her mother to step inside first... then she pushes her father in and slams the door shut.

Her hands fly over the control panel, switching the lock from inside to outside, just as he had taught her.

"Papá, Mamá... lo siento (I'm sorry)," she says, sliding her hand down the cold metal door as her parents bang against it from the other side. "I'll come back," she quietly reassures herself before bolting up the stairs.

In her room, she unlocks a safe sitting by her bed. From it, she retrieves a rifle. She checks it quickly, grabs the ammo from her drawer, and loads the weapon just as her father showed her.

"Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo. Santificado sea tu Nombre... (Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name...)"

Her prayer is steady, her resolve firm. As soon as she finishes, she exits through the back door and climbs onto the roof.