Vampire for Hire (14 page)

 
      
 
I shrugged and sipped the white wine. Wine has no effect on me, but it’s one of the few things, outside of hemoglobin, that I can drink like a regular person. Red wine not so much. Red wines contain tannins that upset my stomach. For someone who is supposedly immortal, my digestive system is hyper-sensitive.

 
      
 
I said, “I just want to talk to a friend.”

 
      
 
“You know I’m your friend, Moon Dance.”

 
      
 
“I like when you call me Moon Dance.”

 
      
 
“I know. I read your epic IMs this morning when I woke up. Truth be known, I like it when you call me Fang, too.”

 
      
 
“Fang and Moon Dance,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re weird.”

 
      
 
“More than anyone could possibly know.” He glanced around his mostly empty bar as any good bartender would, saw that his few patrons were content, and looked back at me. “Sorry I missed your IMs last night. I crashed as soon as I got home.”

 
      
 
“No worries. It was late.”

 
      
 
“It’s difficult to keep up with your schedule, you know.”

 
      
 
I laughed and set down the worthless wine. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t normal? Why was I so concerned about looking normal?

 
      
 
Fang reached out and touched the back of my hand. His warm touch sent a shockwave of shivers up my arms and down my back. “You know,” he said, “there is a way that you and I could have the same schedule.”

 
      
 
“Oh?” I said, curious. “Would I need to get a second job here as a
barback
?”

 
      
 
“That’s not what I meant, Moon Dance.”

 
      
 
He continued touching me. His thumb lightly stroked the back of my hand. His fingers slipped under and caressed my palm. I shivered. Fang wasn’t looking at me. I sensed his hesitation, and I sensed his insane desire.

 
      
 
Now Fang turned to me and our eyes met and I found myself looking deep into another person’s soul for the first time in my life. Everything opened up to me. All his secrets. All his desires. All his wants and needs and hopes and dreams. And cravings. I gasped.

 
      
 
Fang gave me a lopsided smile.

 
      
 
“Yes, Moon Dance,” he said. “Make me a vampire.”

 
      
 
Chapter Twenty-one

 
      
 
It had been a long night.

 
      
 
When I got home, I discovered that everyone was sleeping in my bed, including little Anthony. I stood in the doorway of my bedroom, taking the scene in: Tammy on her back and snoring lightly. My sister in the middle and lying on her side with her palm resting lightly on Anthony’s back.

 
      
 
A beautiful blue glow surrounded my daughter. The blue glow was interlaced with swatches of gold. The aura around my sister was a powerful orange, a contented color, a peaceful color.

 
      
 
There was no color around my son. There was only a deep blackness. It was as if he didn’t exist at all. The light energy around him seemed to enter that black field and disappear. Like a black hole.

 
      
 
I rubbed my eyes and fought my tears. I slipped into some sweats and a tank top and slid into bed next to Anthony. I, too, rested my palm on his back.

 
      
 
His burning back.

 
      
 
* * *

 
      
 
I lay like that for a long time, waiting for the sun to rise, and when it did, I was out to the world.

 
      
 
Some hours later, I was awakened by my ringing cell phone. Generally, my ringing cell phone doesn’t awaken me. But in the darkness of my deep sleep, a sleep where I seriously suspected I lay in a state of suspended animation somewhere between life and death—I had heard a shouting. Someone, somewhere had shouted my name.

 
      
 
It had been shocking enough to awaken me from my coma-like sleep.

 
      
 
Half-dead, I snatched the ringing phone off the nightstand and flipped it open, barely aware that it had said “Caller Unknown” on the faceplate. My son, I saw, was lying next to me...in a pool of sweat.

 
      
 
“Hello?” I said, instinctively reaching for my son and feeling his forehead. Burning up. My heart skipped-hopped in my chest. Panic raced through me.

 
      
 
“Hi,” said a tiny and familiar voice.

 
      
 
But I was too distracted with my son for the voice to fully register. Two seconds later, the voice sank in, and I snapped my head around as if someone had spoken next to me, rather than through my phone line.

 
      
 
“
Maddie
!” I gasped, practically squealing.

 
      
 
“Hi,” she said again. Her voice, if anything, sounded even smaller and fainter. I had an image of her covering her mouth as she spoke. This image came to me with crystal clarity and I suspected it was a psychic hit. Takes
awhile
to believe such hits are accurate...until you see enough evidence. I’ve seen the evidence now.

 
      
 
At that moment, a text message appeared on my phone. The call tracing had worked. A phone number was waiting for me.
Maddie’s
number.

 
      
 
“
Maddie
,” I gasped, trying to control myself. “Please, honey, can you tell me the name of the person you’re with?”

 
      
 
“He’s the bad man.”

 
      
 
“Do you know his name, angel?”

 
      
 
I saw her shaking her head in my mind’s eye. She didn’t answer me, but I knew her answer: No, she didn’t know.

 
      
 
“Honey, what does he look like?”

 
      
 
“He shot my mommy. He kilt her dead.”

 
      
 
“I know, baby. Please can you tell me what he looks like?”

 
      
 
“Old.”

 
      
 
Old to a five year old could be anything from nineteen to ninety. “Does he have gray hair?”

 
      
 
“None.”

 
      
 
“No hair?”

 
      
 
“No hair,” she said. “He eats too much.”

 
      
 
“Good, honey. Good. Is he fat? Does he have a big belly?”

 
      
 
I sensed her nodding but she didn’t answer. I also sensed that she didn’t completely understand that I couldn’t see her nod, that she thought she had answered my question. I had a fabulous connection with this little girl. Almost an immediate one, perhaps born of desperation. I had an idea.

 
      
 
“Honey,” I said, “close your eyes.”

 
      
 
“But why?”

 
      
 
“Please, just close your eyes.”

 
      
 
There was a sound from somewhere and in my mind’s eye I saw the little girl’s head jerk up. Someone was coming.

 
      
 
“Please, honey, just close your eyes.”

 
      
 
“The bad man is coming.”

 
      
 
“Close them for one second.”

 
      
 
“He’s going to
hurted
me again.”

 
      
 
“Please honey. Please. Do it for me. One time.”

 
      
 
And she did. I knew she did, because I was instantly given a deeper access to her mind and memories and I saw an image of a room. A nice room. No, a beautiful room. A house? Condo? Apartment? I was having a hard time placing the interior. Whatever it was, it was epic. Where the hell was she? I didn’t know. Through her window I saw something glittering brightly on the hillside. A desert hillside.

 
      
 
I saw something else. A black man. A bald black with an enormous stomach. He was standing over her and doing things that would be the death of him.

 
      
 
“He’s coming!” she whispered over the phone, snapping me out of her my reverie and out of her own memories.

 
      
 
“Okay, angel. Okay. Thank you, baby.” I was crying now, but she would never know it. “Be strong,
Maddie
, for me, okay?”

 
      
 
“I scared.”

 
      
 
“Be strong, angel. I’m coming for you soon. I swear.”

 
      
 
“Okay,” she said, “I strong.”