Otherworld Nights (2 page)

“Last month, we were supposed to have a quiz, and he completely forgot about it.” The girl grinned. “Not that anyone complained.”

Adam was still at the vending machine, trying to make a decision.

“He’s a great prof, though, isn’t he? Enthusiasm makes all the difference, I think. Of course, it’d probably be hard to make something like that boring. When I told my mom I was studying demonology, she almost had a fit. She thought I was taking an occult class.”

Talia stared at the young woman. Her mouth opened, but before she could speak, the student continued, “Then I told her he used to be a priest, and that made her happier. I think she figures we’re learning about exorcisms and stuff. My aunt called last week, asking if I could take a look at my little cousin, check for signs of possession. I think she was joking … but I’m not sure.”

Demonology? Former priest? Possession? Oh God, what had she done?

Talia caught sight of Adam bouncing back from the machines, pop can in one hand, candy bar in the other, his face beaming. She held up a finger, telling him to wait. Then she grabbed her purse and his homework, murmured something to the student about remembering another appointment, and raced out.

“Mom?” Adam said as she hurried to him. “What’s—?”

“The appointment was canceled.”

“So we don’t have to stay?” A momentary shadow, then another sly look. “It’s getting late to go back to school.”

She put a hand against his back to steer him along the hall. “Definitely too late. But I think there’s still time for the arcade, and I bet it isn’t too busy at this time of day. No lineup for Pac-Man.”

Another grin. “Cool.”

They’d caught the attention of a slender, bearded middle-aged man. With his towheaded good looks and infectious grin, Adam often won the attention of strangers, but it was usually indulgent smiles and the occasional pat on the head. This man, who’d been rushing down the hall, had stopped and was frowning slightly, as if he recognized them.

“Ms. Lyndsay?”

She almost stopped. Almost turned. Then she realized this man must be Robert Vasic.

“Ms. Lyndsay?” he called after them.

She took Adam’s arm, ignoring his protests, and steered him into a throng of students exiting a classroom. By the time they were through the crowd, Vasic was gone. She gave a soft sigh of relief, and hurried Adam to the exit.

That night, Talia dreamed of Adam’s father, as she found herself doing more often these days, especially when her quest would smack into another dead end. It made sense, she supposed—that a single mother struggling with a parenting problem would reflect on her son’s absent father. But there was never any anger to her dreams, no “Why I am stuck handling this alone?” bitterness. Instead, she dreamed of their meeting and of their night together.

From the start, she’d accepted that Adam was her sole responsibility. Had she been able to contact his father, she would have—it was only right. But that hadn’t been an option, and she’d never wished it was otherwise.

She’d met him a month into her first college term. There’d been a lot of changes in that month, not all of them good, not all of them
welcome. The biggest had been the end of a relationship. When she’d gone away to college, the guy she’d been dating since ninth grade had dumped her.

Maybe “dumped” wasn’t the right word, as it implied a sudden, unexpected end to the relationship. Josh had warned her, starting the day she sent in her college application.
Leave for college, and we’re through
. Like most of the boys in town, he already had a job lined up at the tire factory, and had his life lined up right behind it. Find a good job with good benefits, get married, start a family, like his father and his older brothers before him.

When he’d learned that Talia’s plans didn’t coincide with his, he’d given her his ultimatum.
Go to college and you lose me
. She hadn’t believed him. When she was accepted, he’d sulked but continued dating her right until Labor Day weekend. She thought he’d changed his mind. Later she realized he just hadn’t expected her to go through with it. When she did, he dumped her.

A month later, she’d come home for the weekend, planning to talk to him and work it out … only to discover he was dating Brandi Waters, who’d been after him since they were twelve. That was the end of her weekend home. And the end of Josh.

She’d caught the bus back to school, though she was sure she could have saved the fare and just kicked herself all the way back. Had she really gone home to try to make up with him? After what he did? She should have booted his ass to the curb the moment he’d given her that ultimatum.

When she got back to college that evening, she’d dropped off her suitcase at the dorm, then headed to the café to drown her sorrows in an herbal tea with scones and jam. They didn’t have scones back in Springwater. They didn’t have herbal tea, either. And they certainly didn’t have any place like the Elysian Café, with its incense burners, abstract art, and Tuesday-night poetry readings. Most times, Talia found the place too So-Cal, but tonight anything that didn’t remind her of home was exactly where she wanted to be.

She’d resisted the urge to bring schoolwork. This night was for wallowing, not studying. So she’d grabbed one of her roommate’s novels. Stephen King’s
Salem’s Lot
. Vampires. If that wasn’t wallowing, she didn’t know what was.

She’d noticed him watching her as she sat down. He was a decent-looking guy. Not gorgeous, but Talia didn’t go for gorgeous. He sat by the fireplace with his chair pulled up to the blaze as if he found the air-conditioning too much. She pegged him at a few years older than her, probably a grad student. Average height, average build, medium brown hair … average all around, really.

Only his eyes were noteworthy. A warm brown with coppery glints. When he smiled at her, she smiled back—polite, nothing more. Then she settled in with her book, tea, and scone.

After a few minutes of reading, a shadow passed over her table. She looked up to see the young man. He smiled. A cute, average sort of smile—friendly, nothing more.

“Vampires, hmmm?” he said, nodding at the book. “Do you like vampires?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never met one.”

He threw back his head and laughed as if this was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. His laugh was anything but average, as rich and vibrant as his copper-speckled eyes.

“That’s not the most comfortable place for reading,” he said, gesturing at her wooden chair. “The seats by the fire are much better.”

“Sure, but they’re always full—” She looked over. The chairs were empty, with only a jacket thrown over his to save his place. “Well, they were full when I came in.”

“I scared everyone away for you.”

She smiled. “Thanks. But I’m not sure—”

“You don’t have to be sure,” he said, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I’ll just go back to my chair and move my coat over one for you, and if your chair here gets uncomfortable, you know where you can find something better.”

With that, he tipped his head, the gesture oddly old-fashioned and courtly, then walked back to his chair by the fire.

Talia held out for ten more minutes. Then she looked at him, reading quietly, as anti-Josh as this café was anti-Springwater. She gathered her tea and her book, and went to join him.

They’d spent the evening talking. Just talking, about an endless array of topics. He seemed to know something about everything, but what he wanted to know most was more about her, her life, her interests, her goals. Of himself, he said very little, not even his name. It didn’t matter. Talia was fascinated, and there was something fresh and exciting about being found fascinating in return. Nine years later, she could still see him, leaning forward, the fire making his eyes glitter.

They left only because the café closed at midnight. He offered to escort her back to her dorm. He actually said “escort,” and she’d tried not to laugh, charmed in spite of herself. When they reached the building, they stopped under a tree to talk some more, and he’d kissed her.

In his kiss, there’d been something she’d never found with Josh, and when she’d closed her eyes, she’d seen fire, and felt it blazing through her. Then she did something that she still couldn’t believe: she’d invited him to her room. Talia Lyndsay, the girl who’d made Josh wait almost three years before letting him go all the way, inviting a stranger into her bed. And, to this day, she didn’t regret it.

That night … well, she’d had lovers since, but none had come close. He’d been perfect—patient yet passionate. Some nights she could still see the glimmer of his face in the candlelight, feel the heat of his fingers.

That was what she always remembered in these dreams. Those candles and that heat. She’d come from the bathroom to find that he’d lit every candle her New Age–obsessed roommate owned. She’d jokingly asked where he’d found the matches, because Sunny kept them hidden, but he’d only smiled and rose to meet her. And
his touch. Hot, his skin like someone with a fever, and his fingertips warmer still.

She’d asked him to wear a condom, and he’d produced one from his wallet. She’d seen him put it on—she was sure she had. As for what went wrong, she could only assume it had broken. She hadn’t noticed until the next morning, rising to find a still-damp spot under her.

The last thing she remembered of their night was him lowering her to the pillow, then staying there, watching her as her eyelids flagged. Once, she’d forced them back open and had one last glimpse of him, holding a candle to watch her face, his own shimmering against the flame. Then she’d drifted off, and when she awoke, he was gone. A month later she missed her period and knew he’d left something behind.

The day after she’d bolted from Dr. Vasic’s office, Talia started feeling foolish. That student had been laughing about her out-of-touch mother jumping to conclusions … and Talia had done the same thing. Put the words “ex-priest” and “demonology” together, and she’d envisioned a man booted out of the Church for radical views, a nut who’d see a child fascinated by fire and assume possession by hellfire imps. Just the kind of guy who’d make tenured professor at Stanford. Obviously, not.

So, Talia did what she should have done
before
making the appointment. She researched him. And she found a man with a solid academic record, lauded and admired by his peers.

After three nights of dreaming about Adam’s father, she knew her subconscious was telling her she’d run out of options. It was time to take another look at Robert Vasic.

Two days later, Talia sat at the back of Vasic’s lecture hall for his huge first-year class. Getting in hadn’t been difficult—she looked young enough. Taking time off work hadn’t been tough, either. She
was a horticulturist—a glorified gardener, as she joked—and self-employed, so her schedule was flexible. Busy, but flexible.

Talia couldn’t believe not only that Stanford offered courses in demons but that they were so popular. By the end of the lecture, though, she understood why. Vasic was an outstanding teacher. He spoke with a quiet passion and a dry humor that had her suspecting he could have made even her plant physiology classes interesting.

At the end, she tried to merge into the rushing river of students.

“Ms. Lyndsay?”

Vasic’s voice was soft yet strong enough to cut through the chatter. She could pretend she hadn’t heard, but …

She backed into the classroom as Vasic stepped off the lecture platform and walked toward her.

“Did you enjoy the class?” he asked.

His voice was mild, no hint of mocking, but Talia’s cheeks heated.

“It was very interesting, thank you.”

“It can be, though it’s never as interesting as some students hope. No satanic rituals. No demonic possession. No exorcisms.”

Her face burned now.

“So how is young Adam?” he asked. “He looked quite happy the other day. Glad to miss an appointment, I’ll bet. No doctors poking and prodding, asking questions, pestering him about his dreams, his thoughts, his feelings …”

“It’s been difficult for him.”

“I’m sure it has been.” His eyes met hers. “For both of you.” He paused. “May I buy you a coffee?”

Talia nodded, and let him lead the way.

They talked until their coffees went cold. Vasic asked questions, and Talia answered. It never felt like an interview, though. More like confession. Talia had never been to confession—she wasn’t
Catholic—but she imagined this was what it would be like, talking to someone who seemed to have all the time in the world to listen and was genuinely interested in everything she had to say. With each scrap unloaded, the weight lifted.

She told him about Adam’s father. All of it, most of which she’d never breathed to another soul. No matter how “liberated” you thought you were, there was shame in admitting you’d become pregnant at seventeen, in a one-night stand, and didn’t even know the father’s name.

But with Vasic, the confession came easily. He’d wanted to know everything about Adam’s father, obviously looking for a genetic link, so she’d told him everything, right down to the silly fancies that ate at her brain—the images of fire, the heat of his touch. Vasic had seemed fascinated, pulling out every observation she’d made, until he seemed to cut himself short, dowsing his enthusiasm and forcing himself to move on.

One other topic had sparked that same excitement—her description of Adam’s “abilities.” That’s what he called them, abilities not problems. He’d asked again how old Adam was. And when had this started? Had he burned anyone since the bully?

When they finished their coffees, Vasic leaned back in his chair as if digesting it all. His gaze flicked to the wall behind the counter. Talia followed it to a calendar that featured a photograph of a tornado. She’d seen Vasic notice it when they’d first walked in.

“First,” he said as he tore his gaze back to Talia. “Let me reassure you. There is nothing wrong with Adam. He’s not a ‘budding pyromaniac’ or any other label they’ve assigned. I’ve worked with cases like his before, children with behavioral anomalies that science can’t explain. While his abilities may change as he grows, there is no cause for alarm. He will learn to manage them as we all learn to manage our special skills. That is where I can be of most assistance, Ms. Lyndsay. Helping you and Adam monitor and manage his skills.”