Vampire for Hire (16 page)

 
      
 
His soul was leaving.

 
      
 
Or perhaps it was already gone.

 
      
 
No,
I thought. I refused to believe that.

 
      
 
He was just sick. Very sick. I am looking at the aura of a sick boy, that is all. A very sick boy.
My
sick boy.

 
      
 
Shit.

 
      
 
The light particles that flitted through the room, swirling and flashing and illuminating the air, disappeared completely into his aura. My hand, which glowed
silverish
to my own eyes, seemed to disappear into the blackness, as well. It was as if I had plunged my hand into freshly turned soil.

 
      
 
Graveyard soil.

 
      
 
I sat like that until the blood tests came back, miserable and borderline hysterical. The doctor returned and talked about normocytic anemia and thrombocytosis and blood count. He discussed something called an erythrocyte sedimentation rate and C-reactive protein levels being elevated. None of it sounded good to me. As he spoke, the doctor bit his lip a lot and looked grave and I sensed from him extreme concern and even alarm.

 
      
 
He next ordered liver function tests, an electrocardiogram, an echocardiogram, an ultrasound and a urinalysis.

 
      
 
And while they poked and prodded my son, my ex-husband Danny appeared in the doorway of the hospital room.

 
      
 
Chapter Twenty-four

 
      
 
He blinked, taking in the scene.

 
      
 
It was quite a scene. Three nurses and two doctors, all swarming around my son, who appeared to doze in and out of sleep. Or in and out of consciousness.

 
      
 
In our separation, Danny had proven to be particularly vindictive and mean-spirited. Unless, of course, you saw things from his point of view. Admittedly, very few people on the face of this earth would ever find themselves in his peculiar position. His once mostly happy household had been turned upside down. His wife of five years (which was how long we had been married prior to my attack) was suddenly not the person he had wed...and for the next six years Danny didn’t handle things very well.

 
      
 
Yes, eleven years of marriage down the drain.

 
      
 
Would it have taken a special man to be strong and stay by my side? Certainly. It also would have taken true love, too. That was, perhaps, the hardest realization of all. That my husband didn’t love me enough to be there for me.

 
      
 
So, yes, if you saw things from his point of view then perhaps some of his actions began to make sense.

 
      
 
Some.

 
      
 
The cheating part was unforgivable. Call me what you want, but I didn’t deserve that. Next, he had fought for sole custody of the children. He believed I could hurt them. That if I was desperate enough, or hungry enough, I might feed on my own children. Insanity, of course. If I was desperate enough or hungry enough, my neighbor’s yipping
chihuahua
would suddenly go missing.

 
      
 
Fighting for the well-being of our children was admirable enough on Danny’s part, although there was no basis for it. I had never once exhibited any lack of control. My children received nothing but love from me. I suspected he was doing it out of spite. To purposefully hurt me.

 
      
 
Danny wasn’t a bad father. Sure, he worked too much and often missed out on anything that had to do with school and sports, but he made up for it the best way he could. Often he read to them at night. As I worked in my office, I would listen to him patiently explain the meanings of words and help his son and daughter pronounce them. Often I would hear little Anthony giggle at
Curious George
or Tammy beg him to read one more page of
Twilight
. (Ironic, I know.) He spoke gently to each of them, sometimes so quietly that I never knew what he told them. I always wondered what they talked about, but I never wanted to ask. It seemed so personal. Just a son and a father, or a daughter and her father, exchanging sweet moments meant only for each other.

 
      
 
We’d gotten along like this for many years, living in quiet desperation, our kids content enough, but our marriage collapsing. I would have continued living like this forever. I was a monster and Danny seemed to at least accept me.

 
      
 
But it all came to a crashing end months ago when I had caught him cheating.

 
      
 
Danny still stood in the doorway, unsure what to do. His tie was still pushed up against his Adam’s apple, and he looked pale and worried. He was still wearing his nice Italian suit. Danny rarely wore his nice suits, so he must have been in court today. An injury attorney, Danny hated going to court. Injury attorneys prefer to settle over the phone. They like easy, cut-and-dried cases. Anyway, if he had been in court, that might explain why he had been so short over the phone.

 
      
 
He finally spotted me in the far corner of the room, where I had sat while the doctors and nurses swarmed over my son. A few long strides later and he was sitting in the spare seat next to me, where he surprised the hell out of me by leaning over and giving me a small hug. I didn’t hug him back.

 
      
 
“How is he, Sam?”

 
      
 
I started to tell him what I knew, but only about six coherent words came out. I broke down completely, sobbing hard into my hands, and I was slightly less surprised when Danny reached over again and pulled me into his shoulder.

 
      
 
Chapter Twenty-five

 
      
 
We were sitting side by side at the foot of my son’s hospital bed. It was after hours, although “after hours” didn’t mean much in a children’s hospital intensive-care unit, since parents or guardians are usually permitted to stay with their children overnight.

 
      
 
We had been sitting there quietly for some time before I realized Danny had been holding my hand. I gently pulled it away, shocked and surprised all over again. Danny hadn’t held my hand in six years. And if he did happen to touch me, it was always immediately followed by a visible shudder.

 
      
 
He wasn’t shuddering now. Why, I don’t know, and I certainly didn’t care. Danny was the least of my concerns.

 
      
 
Anthony was breathing lightly on his own. Occasionally his aura would flash yellow, but mostly it was a deep black. Interestingly, bigger flashes of light seemed to hover over his body, and then scuttle away again like frightened fish. I sensed these could be other entities. But I wasn’t sure. How could I be sure? I didn’t know what the hell was going on with myself half the time.

 
      
 
Another curious glob of light come over him, hovering briefly over his head, and then seemed to dart around my son almost hectically.

 
      
 
No, not hectically.

 
      
 
Playfully.

 
      
 
It was the spirit of a child, I realized. And I was suddenly certain this child had died in this hospital. A ghost child. Trying to play with my son.

 
      
 
I took in a lot of air but the sound was strangled and Danny glanced sharply over at me. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hand now that I had removed it from his.

 
      
 
“What?” he asked.

 
      
 
“Nothing,” I said. I had long ago learned not to share my supernatural experiences with Danny. Such experiences served only to freak him out and distance him even further. Now, I just didn’t care to share anything with him.

 
      
 
As I watched the amorphous light zigzag over my son’s inert body, I thought of another child. A girl who was being held prisoner by God knows who. A girl who was alone and scared and probably hurt.

 
      
 
I looked at Danny. “Will you stay with Anthony?”

 
      
 
My ex-husband blinked, and then his eyes narrowed. “Of course. Are you going somewhere?”

 
      
 
“Yes.”

 
      
 
“I want to talk to you about something, Sam,” he said, and I heard, amazingly, desperation and a hint of something else in his voice. What that hint was, I refused to believe.

 
      
 
“Can it wait?”

 
      
 
He almost reached out for my hand again, but stopped. I noticed a subtle ripple of revulsion pass through him, but he fought through it. “Yes, it can. When will you be back?”

 
      
 
I stood and grabbed my purse. I looked at my sleeping son. I looked at the impenetrable black halo that surrounded him. I decided against sharing any information with Danny, especially about the black halo. I also didn’t want to talk about the phone call with little
Maddie
. Danny had lost his intimacy privilege long ago, and was nowhere near my inner circle.

 
      
 
I said, “I might be out all night.”

 
      
 
He nodded. “It’s okay. I’ll be here. You have work to do. Anthony isn’t going anywhere. Are you working a case?”

 
      
 
“Yes.”