"I... saw it," he says quietly. "Not saw. Not exactly. I. There was a line of people on their knees. One them was already..."

Neal closes his eyes again, swallows tightly. "We told them we wanted them to know us. The one we picked, his eye--"

He's not going to throw up, he's not going to puke. He did that once already, and he doesn't want the kitchen to smell. Neal breathes. Forces himself to focus on that, only on that, the way Malcolm has been showing him. Slowly pulls himself back from the edge. "We--you--called Lucille a vampire bat."