Vampire for Hire (31 page)

 
      
 
“I’ve heard of the name.”

 
      
 
I’d heard of the name. Saint
Germain
was a European mystic. An alchemist of the highest order. He supposedly lived for centuries. And, from most accounts, he never died. They say he ascended; that is, turned to light. A heavenly being who was just as comfortable in the spirit world as the physical world, often alternating between the two. And helping those in need.

 
      
 
And no, Samantha, I’m not a vampire, either.

 
      
 
“Then what are you?”

 
      
 
A seeker of truth.

 
      
 
“And did you find the truth?”

 
      
 
I found what I was looking for, yes. But there are always bigger questions, with bigger answers.

 
      
 
“So you eternally seek answers.”

 
      
 
“
Forever and ever.”

 
      
 
“So why are you here with me now?”

 
      
 
You have called out for answers, Samantha Moon. I’m here to help you find them.

 
      
 
“But why you?”

 
      
 
Why not?

 
      
 
“Fine,” I said and rubbed my head. I looked at my sick boy. “I want to talk about my son.”

 
      
 
What would you like to know?

 
      
 
“Is he going to die?”

 
      
 
There was a slight pause and the tingly sensation briefly abated, but then it returned. I realized that maybe I didn’t want to know the answer. My hand moved across the page, and the gel ink flowed freely.

 
      
 
Your son has his own path, Samantha.

 
      
 
“What does that mean?”

 
      
 
We all follow our own paths, generally agreed on and known before our births.

 
      
 
“Who agrees on this?”

 
      
 
You. And many others.

 
      
 
“Which others?”

 
      
 
Those who care about you deeply. And those who care about your son deeply.

 
      
 
“And what’s his path?” My voice was shaking now.

 
      
 
You know his path, Sam. You have foreseen it.

 
      
 
“Just tell me.”

 
      
 
There was a short, agonizing pause, and then:
Your son’s path will come to an end in this physical plane soon, as it has been decided upon, as he has decided, as well.

 
      
 
“He’s only a little boy, goddammit. What the hell does he know about anything?”

 
      
 
A little boy now, in the flesh, certainly. But a very wise old soul eternally.

 
      
 
I covered my eyes with my free hand. Tears poured between my fingers. It was all I could do to not throw the clipboard across the room.

 
      
 
“Why, why would he decide to end his life now? Who would decide such a thing? Why take him from me?”

 
      
 
There are many, many reasons, Sam. And most of those involve the growth of his own soul, and the growth of the souls around him.
Adapting to loss is a big step toward growth.

 
      
 
It’s a horrible, cruel step toward growth. How could you take my boy?”

 
      
 
I’m not taking him, Sam. No one can take. Leaving this world is his choice and his choice alone.

 
      
 
“But he’s just a boy. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, and don’t give me that crap that he’s an old soul. He’s not. He’s just a little boy. A little, sick boy.”

 
      
 
A little, sick boy with a highly evolved soul, Samantha. He understands his purpose here at the soul level, even if not at the physical level.

 
      
 
“Fuck you.”

 
      
 
I’m sorry, Samantha.

 
      
 
I wept hard for a few minutes, barely able to control myself. Finally, when I could speak again, I said, “Are you there?”

 
      
 
Always.

 
      
 
“I have a question.”

 
      
 
We are here for answers.

 
      
 
“Okay. Okay.” I took a deep breath, and plunged forward. “Is there
anyway
that I can save him?”

 
      
 
He does not need to be saved, Sam.

 
      
 
“Please.”

 
      
 
We all have free will, Sam. You can do anything you want.

 
      
 
“So there is a way to save him?”

 
      
 
Of course there is. The body can heal itself immediately if it so chooses. What your doctors call miracles.

 
      
 
“But I know of another way.”

 
      
 
I know, Sam. There are many ways. Many paths. The key is to find the right one. The one that feels the best.

 
      
 
“So my way is such a road.”

 
      
 
Of course. But does it feel right, Samantha?

 
      
 
“It feels right to me,” I said quickly, although doubt ate at me.

 
      
 
Then so be it.

 
      
 
I took a deep breath. “Well, you haven’t told me not to do it.”

 
      
 
I would never tell you not to do anything, Samantha. This is called a free-will universe for a reason.

 
      
 
“But would you caution against it?”

 
      
 
I would caution against doing anything that doesn’t feel right, Samantha. Always ask yourself if the choices you are doing feel right, and act according to your feelings. Then you will know you are on the right path. Always.

 
      
 
“But how do I know how I feel if I’m truly confused?”

 
      
 
You always know, Sam. Always.

 
      
 
Chapter Forty-six

 
      
 
I was driving.

 
      
 
My mind was still reeling from the phone call with
Maddie
. My mind was still reeling from my conversation with Kingsley. Reeling from my conversation with Saint
Germain
. Reeling from the possibility that my son could be saved. Possibly.

 
      
 
I was doing a lot of reeling and no doubt a lot of erratic driving, too. I forced myself to calm down. To focus.

 
      
 
It was early afternoon. My sister and daughter were with Anthony. I had work to do, and this was my time to do it, even if I was a royal mess.

 
      
 
I could head out to Simi Valley now, but I suspected I would be waiting a long, long time in the casino before anyone of note showed up. It was better to wait, and head out there later.

 
      
 
For now, I knew where to go. And it just so happened to be right around the corner, too.

 
      
 
* * *

 
      
 
I parked at the Wharton Museum and dashed across the parking lot, past the rich and not-so-famous dining at the Wharton outdoor cafe, and ducked into the main building, gasping for breath I didn’t need, and feeling as if I had just run across hot coals.

 
      
 
“You okay?” asked the security guard at the door.

 
      
 
“I’m fine,” I lied. Actually, I felt like shit.

 
      
 
He asked if I wanted some help and I waved him off and did my best to walk with some dignity toward the side offices, all too aware of a slight burning smell wafting up from my skin.