Moon Child (Vampire for Hire #4) (6 page)

He opened his eyes again and now that his
psychic shell was cracking, I saw something monstrous about the
man. A darkness appeared around him, swirled briefly, and then
disappeared again. The man was possessed by something dark. Of that
I was sure. Something that required the years of the living to
sustain it.

“Or your son can live forever,” he said. “The
choice is yours, my dear.”

The air in the room had grown agitated. The
calm, beautiful lights had been replaced by crazed, dancing
butterflies of all colors.

“And what are you offering me in return? Do
you know how to unlock the medallion?”

“I know of one who does. An alchemist older
than even me.”

“So you are not a vampire?”

He grinned wickedly. “No. At least, not the
blood sucking kind.”

“And that’s all you’re offering me? The name
of an alchemist for three years of my son’s life?”

“Yes.”

“And what, exactly, does that mean? Three
years of his life?”

“Your son’s life, should he become mortal
again, will be cut short by three years. Years which will then be
transferred to me.”

“You’re sick.”

“No,” he breathed. “I’m alive, as I plan on
being for many years to come.”

He explained further: my son’s life would not
necessarily end tragically. It would simply end as it was meant to
end, only three years earlier.

Lord help me.

“Where do I find this guy?”

“I know not, my dear. In fact, no one knows.
And those who have seen him claim that he has found them.”

Great. I closed my eyes and took in a lot of
air, and held it for seemingly an eternity. “One year,” I finally
said.

“Three!” he hissed angrily.

Sweet Jesus. I was bargaining with my son’s
life. His years. “One,” I said. “Only one.”

“Two,” he screeched. “Two! And no less!”

“Okay,” I said weakly. “Two.”

He clapped his hands thunderously. “Then it
is done!”

Chapter Fourteen

Before crawling into bed, I called the
hospital. According to the doctor on staff, Anthony was sleeping
quietly and showing signs of marked improvement. I could hear the
relief in his voice.

I thanked him for everything and hung up. My
daughter, I knew, was with my sister. I was alone and exhausted. My
body was shutting down. I sent texts to Danny and my sister, too
weak to call. I told them the good news, that Anthony was
miraculously recovering. I didn’t explain the miraculous part. I
hoped I would never have to, either. I told my sister to tell Tammy
that I loved her, then set my alarm for noon. I had just slipped
into bed when I felt the sun rise, felt it in every fiber of my
being.

Oh, what a night.

And just before blackness overcame me, I
thought of the name I had been given.

Archibald Maximus.

* * *

I awoke sluggishly, reluctantly,
painfully.

During the day, I felt mortal. During the
day, I felt less than human. I dragged my tired ass out of bed,
hopped in the shower, where I stood under the scalding hot spray
until I used up all the hot water. In the bathroom mirror, other
than a few beads of water that seemed to be floating in mid-air, I
saw nothing. Neither follicle nor fingernail.

Nothing.

How is that possible? What the hell is
happening?

My son would see nothing, too. Forever
nothing, unless I found him a cure. And with that thought, as I
gazed at nothing in the mirror, I realized that I would forever be
undead.

Forever.

Jesus.

Recently, I had held out hope that I might
someday use the medallion for myself, the thought never occurring
to me that I would need it for my son instead.

An eternity on this earth.

Alone.

I continued standing before the empty mirror,
dripping on the bathroom floor. I looked down at the puddle forming
below me...there was no reflection there either.

I don’t exist, I thought.

Panic gripped me. It had been quite a while
since I had had a full-blown panic attack, but I was close to
having one now. I circled the bathroom, slipping in the puddle
once. There was no image pacing alongside of me in the bathroom
mirror. Nothing.

Not seeing yourself in a mirror, or window,
or fucking puddle has a way of playing on one’s nerves. And my
nerves were shot.

Completely fucking shot.

I circled, breathing deeply, trying to calm
myself, until I realized that breathing deeply didn’t calm me.
Breathing deeply didn’t do shit.

I broke out in a sweat.

Maybe I really don’t exist. It’s a fear I’ve
had over the years. A fear that I was still back in the hospital,
recovering from my attacks so many years ago. In a coma. Or worse.
Maybe I was dead. Maybe all of this is happening in my dead mind.
Was that even possible?

I continued sweating, continued pacing in the
bathroom. I looked to my right, in the mirror. Nothing except a
ghostly, wet outline of a curvy woman.

That’s just not right. That’s just fucked up.
I mean, who can’t see themselves in mirrors?

Vampires can’t, Sam. Vampires.

Calm down. Relax. You’re okay. You’re here.
You’re really here.

Naked and still dripping, I found myself in
my living room, at my house phone. I called the only number I
trusted to call. My sister Mary Lou answered immediately.

“Hi, love!” she said excitedly. “I’ve been
waiting for you to wake up. Such great news about Anthony!”

I agreed and her excitement buoyed me, but I
was far from better. I was far from thinking reasonably. A great
panic had taken hold and I was a woman drowning in her own
fear.

“Mary Lou,” I said, and her name caught in my
throat.

“Sam? Is everything okay?”

“Mary Lou, I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

I tried again, my mind racing, my heart
beating faster than it had in quite some time. “Mary Lou, is this
really happening?”

“What do you mean, Sam?”

I started crying, so hard that I could barely
hold the phone. I was losing it. You would, too. Anyone would.
Trust me, there’s only so much a person can take. “Am I really
here, Mary Lou...please...I need to know. Is this real? Is this
really happening to me?”

“Is this about Anthony? But he’s okay, Sam.
He’s—”

“No. It’s not about Anthony. Please, Louie.
Please.”

“What do you need, Sam? What is it?”

“I don’t understand what’s happened to me,
Louie.”

“Oh, honey...sweetie...”

I wept harder than I had wept in a long, long
time. I sank to my knees. It took a full minute before I could
speak again. “Is this all a dream, Louie?”

“It’s not a dream, honey. This is real.
Everything’s real.”

I thought of the empty mirror and shook my
head even though my sister couldn’t see me shaking my head.

“No, it can’t be. It’s impossible.”

“Honey, listen to me. Something very bad
happened to you, but you’re going to be okay. I promise. And now
Anthony’s going to be okay, too.”

I thought of Anthony and what I had done to
him, and found myself sobbing nearly hysterically. The last words I
heard from my sister was that she was coming right over.

Chapter Fifteen

My sister is one of the few people on earth
who know about my “condition.”

I have other family members, of course. A
sister in San Francisco, a brother in New York, and my parents in
the high desert, but I was not close to them. My sister, Mary Lou,
and I had always been more like twins, even though she was six
years older than me. Back when I was attacked and left for dead—or,
more accurately, left for eternity—it had been Mary Lou who was by
my side. In fact, I didn’t even receive a phone call from my
brother until three days later.

It’s hard to forget something like that.

Mary Lou and I will probably never live very
far apart. She is my rock. Men come and go, friends come and go,
but my sister will always be there for me.

That I would someday outlive her is a very
real possibility. That I would watch my sister steadily grow old
and wither is a very real possibility. Somehow, this was less
difficult to accept than watching my own kids grow into old
age.

Of course, if I failed to unlock the secrets
of the medallion, I wouldn’t have to worry about this with
Anthony.

Panic gripped me.

Calm down, Samantha. Be calm. You’re of no
use to anyone if you’re panicking.

As I waited for my sister, sitting there with
my back against the living room wall, sitting between an end table
and a bookcase, I realized that I didn’t know what the hell I was
doing. What if unlocking the medallion somehow hurt Anthony? What
if the process of returning him to his mortality was painful? What
if something went wrong?

Oh, Jesus...what have I done?

“You saved him,” I whispered to myself,
hugging my knees and rocking. “You saved him. That’s what you did.
Now just fix it, Sam. Fix it.”

A car pulled up outside and soon I heard feet
rapidly approaching. My sister was using her own key to unlock the
door and soon she was inside and in the living room and on the
ground next to me, holding me closely, and crying with me.

God, I loved my sister.

But she had no idea why I was crying, and I
would not tell her, not ever. Not if I didn’t have to.

“C’mon,” she said, hauling me to my feet.
“Let’s go see Anthony.”

“Where’s Tammy?”

“Rick’s watching her and the kids.”

“Rick’s a good man.”

“The best. Now, let’s get you dressed...”

Chapter Sixteen

At the hospital, we found Anthony asleep. No
surprise there, since it was the middle of the day.

With guilt nearly overwhelming me, I listened
to the doctor express his concerned over my son’s slower than
normal heartbeat, a condition he called bradycardia, which
apparently could lead to a cardiac arrest. My sister looked
increasingly concerned about this news, but I held my poise. The
slowing of my son’s heart rate was to be expected, after all.
Expected by me, at least. Hell, my own heart barely beat a few
times a minute.

Other than the decreasing heartbeat,
everything looked good and, according to the doctor, if my son kept
up this healing pace, he might even be released in a few days.

Good news, surely, for any mother. Mary Lou
hugged me tightly and I felt her tears on my face. She pulled away
and wiped her eyes and was unaware of a very different expression
on my face.

I could not predict how I looked, but I
suspected it was a look of desperation. After all, I had three and
a half days by my reckoning to unlock the secret to the
medallion.

Or my son would forever stay a vampire.

At age seven.

Sweet Jesus.

I asked Mary Lou if she would stay with
Anthony for a few hours while I took care of some business. She
said of course, and as she pulled up a chair, she took out a black
and narrow device that looked suspiciously like one of those Kindle
thingies.

She powered it on, settled in, and I headed
out.

Maybe I should get one of those someday.

Chapter Seventeen

In my minivan, with my specialized window
shades drawn tight, I Googled Archibald Maximus on my iPhone, a
device that was quickly becoming the private investigator’s
greatest tool.

Nothing of note.

I tried the name without the quotes,
including other possible related keywords:

Archibald Maximus, vampire. Although a ton of
sites popped up, very few were even close to what I was looking
for. And the few that were turned out to be either porn or dead
ends.

Archibald Maximus, medallion. Same thing.
Nothing.

Archibald Maximus, alchemist. Nothing.

Archibald Maximus, wizard. Nothing. Wait!
Something. No, never mind. Just another porn site.

I really hadn’t expected an obscure alchemist
to have a web page or even a Twitter account, although that would
have certainly made my job easier.

I next tried the name in my various industry
databases, sites that only private investigators have access to.
Nothing. Not even an unlikely hit. Whoever Archibald Maximus was,
he didn’t own property, have a criminal record in the United
States, nor had he applied for credit.

I next called my ex-partner at HUD, Chad
Helling. He answered on the second ring, which made me feel
good.

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

“Never gets old does it?” I was referring to
his nickname for me. Sunshine. In Chad Helling’s simple world, the
nickname was supposed to be ironic. And funny.

“Not yet,” he said, chuckling.

“You need to get a life.”

“I’m working on it,” he said. “I’m going to
ask her, Sam.”

“Ask her what? And who?”

“Monica. I’m going to ask her to marry
me.”

I shook my head. The poor dope. “Isn’t it a
little too soon?”

“For love? Never!”

Oh, brother. “Listen, Romeo, I’ve got a job
for you.”

“Paying work?”

“Sure,” I said. “A coffee and a scone.”

“The coffee I’ll take. I’m still not sure
what the hell a scone is.”

I gave him the name and asked him to use the
agency’s database.

“Archibald Maximus?” he asked,
confirming.

“Yes.”

“What is he, a wrestler or something?”

“Maybe.”

“Really?”

“No.”

Chad grumbled something about doing my work
for me and told me he would get back to me as soon as he had
something.

I was still in the hospital parking lot,
parked under a pathetic-looking tree, whose branches only provided
me with partial shade. The minivan was heating up and by all rights
I should crack the windows and let in some fresh air. Except, I
didn’t need fresh air, and so I didn’t bother. Cracked windows let
in sunlight, and sunlight was far more detrimental to me than stale
air. Also, there wasn’t a car on earth that could heat up hot
enough to remove the eternal cold from my bones. In fact, I craved
the heat, and so I sat in the minivan, baking, breathing stale air,
and thinking hard.