The Vampire's Photograph by Kevin Emerson

of tongs and began shaking a piece of paper that was lying in a shallow tray of liquid. Oliver noticed a string along the wall with many photos hanging by clothespins. Oliver hadn’t ever seen a darkroom before, but he understood basically what was happening. He watched through the window, with Emalie, as the paper she was shaking began to darken, and an image took shape. There was a wall, and something intricate and made of glass—a chandelier.
    Now Oliver recognized the ceiling from the first floor of his house.
    She was developing the photo of him.
    He stood up, about to look for a way inside—
    When something sharp nudged him in the back, directly behind his heart.
    â€œDon’t move, demon,” said a low voice.

Chapter 5
    The Photograph
    OLIVER FROZE. HE COULD already smell that the object was wood. And yet, he could also hear his enemy’s short, quick breaths, and could smell that he was desperately scared. With his keen vampire memory of scents, it only took Oliver a moment to figure out who this was.
    In a lightning motion, he leaped straight up into the air, flipped overhead, and landed behind his assailant. He grabbed his arm and twisted it around his back.
    â€œAhh!”
    The broken length of tree branch fell to the ground. Oliver pushed his attacker forward, pinning him against the foundation of the house.
    â€œNo!” Dean gasped, looking up at Oliver, wide-eyed. “I didn’t mean it, I—”
    Oliver bared his teeth. He wasn’t actually sure what he was going to do next, but he definitely planned on terrifying Dean.
    â€œPlease don’t kill me!”
    â€œStop it!” Emalie raced around the side of the house. She had her own wooden weapon. It looked like the handle of a hammer, and it had been whittled to a sharp point. “Get away from him!”
    Oliver let go and stood up. He thought about leaping up to the rooftop and taking off, but Emalie flicked a flashlight beam squarely on him. He winced and shielded his eyes.
    Dean stayed slumped on the ground. He coughed weakly, pulling at the collar of his wool sweater.
    â€œDean!” Emalie cried, but she didn’t go to him. She stayed a few steps away, flashlight and stake pointed at Oliver. She glanced back at Dean, her brow furrowing angrily. “What were you thinking?”
    Dean gathered his long arms and legs together and warily got to his feet, fixing his sweater and rubbing his short, black hair back into place. “I…I was just coming over for homework. I brought the Chinese.” He gazed dejectedly at the grass, where a bag of Chinese food boxes lay spilled. “But then I saw him. I…I just thought I could—”
    â€œWell, you can’t,” Emalie scolded. Her eyes turned to Oliver. “You’re no match for a vampire.”
    Oliver tried to think of what to say. She knew what he was. It probably shouldn’t have surprised him.
    â€œYou’re the one from the house,” Emalie continued, catching Oliver even more off guard.
    â€œYeah,” was all he could manage to say.
    She looked at him oddly, and what she said next surprised him. “Come inside.”
    â€œEmalie!” Dean blurted, but Emalie flashed him a stern look, turned and started around the house. “This is crazy,” muttered Dean. He almost took a step, then stopped, instead motioning to Oliver. “You first.”
    Oliver shrugged and walked around the house, listening carefully to see if Dean tried to pick up his weapon. He didn’t bother, instead gathering the Chinese food before catching up. “Emalie! Are you sure about this?” Dean called after her. Emalie didn’t answer. “She’s out of her mind,” Dean groaned quietly.
    Oliver followed Emalie through a narrow door into the basement, weaving between piles of boxes to the cramped darkroom space, lit only in red. She returned to the sink as if Oliver wasn’t there. Dean squeezed