by J. R. Rain
“You’re losing me.”
“It goes back to the book on Wicca...and someone else.”
I saw the old lady in Allison’s mind. And it wasn’t just any old lady...
“Since when do you see ghosts?” I asked.
“Since last week.”
She told me about it. Allison had been hired by a man to help him find his daughter’s killer. She had done so, and strangeness ensued. “But I’ll tell you about him another time,” she added.
However, I had already caught her thoughts regarding him. I shook my head at the wonder of it all, and said, “Fine. Tell me about the old lady.”
“She’s one of us,” said Allison.
“What the devil does that mean?”
Allison gave me another image, this time, of the old lady looking not so old. She was younger now, our age, mid-thirties—although I would forever look in my late twenties. At this younger, more youthful age, the woman looked frustratingly familiar.
Allison was nodding. “See, you recognized her, too.”
Our drinks came and Allison dove into hers. Literally. Head first. When she pulled away, wine sparkled on her lips. Lips that were smiling contently. The girl liked to drink.
“What’s going on, Allison?”
“We’re soul mates, Sam. We’ve always been soul mates, and so is Millicent. There are three of us. Bound together throughout time and space.”
“I just met you last year,” I said, sipping my wine. I had to sip it. If I drank it too fast, I’d get stomach pains. Who knew vampires would have such sensitive stomachs? Granted, it could be the thing that lived within me who had the sensitive stomach. The thing that I kept alive with each consumption of blood. Knowing that I was simultaneously keeping something wicked and hideous alive, while at the same time keeping myself alive, was something that, to this day, I hadn’t quite wrapped my head around.
“Yes, we just met,” said Allison, “but we were supposed to meet. It was destiny.”
“You were the fiancé of a murder victim,” I said. “Destiny arranged for your fiancé to die so that we could meet?”
Allison looked down immediately into her wine. The strangeness of her fiancé’s murder did nothing to diminish her loss, and I reached out and took her hand and apologized from my heart. “Sorry, that was harsh.”
“It’s okay, Sam. And I can’t begin to understand how the world works, or how the Universe works, or even how God works. For all I know, they’re all one and the same. But, somehow, someway, we came together, but this time, as friends.”
“And we were sisters before?”
“Often,” said Allison, perking up a little. The wine might have had something to do with that. Hers, I noted, was nearly half gone. “And sometimes, brothers. But we’ll call that a failed experiment.”
I laughed. “I prefer being a girl, thank you very much.”
Allison giggled. “Likewise.”
“And the old woman—”
“Young woman,” Allison corrected. “Millicent.”
“Yes, Millicent. She is also a soul mate?”
“Yes.”
“But, she is in spirit, passed on?”
Allison shrugged. “She was a soul mate who got here a little earlier this time, perhaps to pave the way for us...”
I caught the thought that she didn’t voice. I said, “Or perhaps to guide you in spirit.”
“Us in spirit, Sam. You are deeply connected to her, too.”
“This is weird,” I said.
The waitress came by and took our orders. I wasn’t in the mood for raw steak. I told the waitress I was just here for the wine. She smiled weakly at that. Allison, of course, ordered enough for two people.
When the waitress left, I said, “Two baked potatoes?”
“They’re earth energy,” said my friend, who tilted back the rest of her wine.
“You lost me again.”
“Earth energy, Sam. They’re grown within Mother Earth, and she has infused them with her love and energy.”
“Love and energy?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how crazy this sounds?” I asked.
“Says the vampire.”
“Fine,” I said, taking another sip of wine. “Tell me about the book on Wicca.”
“Millie gave it to me.”
“The old lady?”
“The young lady. Yes, her.”
“And she gave it to you why?” I asked.
“Because, Samantha Moon, you’re not the only freaky one in our little duo. I’m a witch, you see.”
Chapter Eight
“A witch?” I said.
“That’s right. I said witch.”
“Since when?”
“Since forever, Sammie. It looks like I’ve been one throughout the ages. And since you and I have been sister soul mates, so to speak, I suspect you were one, too. Along with Millie.”
“Trust me, I’m no witch.”
“Well, not now, silly. You can’t be both a witch and a vam—”
“Shh,” I said. Allison always had a bad habit of talking louder and louder, especially when the booze was flowing. “Maybe we should keep our voices down, huh?”
“Oops, sorry. I’m just, you know, super excited.”
But her excitement was short-lived. A moment later, she turned her head and buried her hands in her face and I was left staring at her in confusion.
That is, until I saw the image of a thirty-something man in a schoolroom...and then the image of that same young man lying dead from multiple wounds over his face and neck. All of this, I knew, was from the perspective of Allison.
Something very bad had happened to her—and something worse had happened to the man lying dead at her feet. What exactly had happened, I didn’t know.
But first things first. I rushed around the table and knelt next to her and hugged her tight and as I did so, she wept silently into my shoulder.
* * *
A few minutes later, after the waitress had asked if everything was okay and all eyes were on us, I stepped away from Allison and went back to my seat.
I didn’t care that all eyes were on us. I cared about my friend and that something very bad had happened to her, and as we looked at each other across the table, as our wine glasses sat forgotten and the water glasses collected condensation, I saw all that she had been dealing with this past week...and, in particular, what had happened just the night before.
When she was done, and I had seen further and deeper into her than I had ever seen before, I reached across the table and took her hands and told her over and over again that it was not her fault.
A man, after all, was dead because of her newfound skills.
Skills that were, to say the least, jaw-droppingly powerful.
“You see, Sam,” she said, speaking for the first time in many minutes, “I’m a freak like you, after all.”
“Maybe freakier.”
She laughed lightly. “I doubt that.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Allie. He tried to kill you.”
She broke our contact and reached for her wine glass, but didn’t pick it up.
“And you should have called me,” I said.
“I know. I just...I just didn’t think things would get so out of hand.”
“He was a child killer...and desperate. Anything could have happened. You got lucky.” And, I added telepathically, you’re not immortal. He could have killed you.
Allison nodded again and wiped her eyes and finally did lift her glass of wine. When she set it down again, it was quite empty.
We talked more about her newfound skills, about Millie and about Peter Laurie. We talked about his little girl and her art work.
“I promised I would help find good homes for his daughter’s artwork.”
“I would be honored,” I said. “Put me in for two.”
Allison laughed, and we shared a quiet moment, holding hands again across the table. The waitress soon brought Allison’s d
inner, which looked heavenly. It was also, I noted, vegetarian.
“Since when did you become an herbivore?” I asked.
“Since discovering that abstaining from meat helps me tune into Mother Earth.”
“Mother Earth?” I said.
“Yes, Wicca is an earth-based religion that draws power from the energy of the Earth itself.”
“Of course,” I said. “Who doesn’t know that?”
“Don’t you dare laugh, Samantha Moon, who just so happens to draw her own power from blood—”
“Shhh,” I hushed. “You talk too loud.”
“I talk the way I talk. You’re just going to have to deal with it.”
I rolled my eyes. “So, is this the new you?”
“The new and empowered me,” said Allison.
“Fine. Then tell the new and empowered you that we have some important secrets that we don’t need the world knowing.”
“Fine,” she said, and happily dug into her salad.
It had, of course, been a long, long time since I’d had anything like a salad. My mouth watered, which was a useless leftover trait from my human days. Still, the salad, with all its bright veggies and leafy greens, looked incredible...and crispy. The crispy part was proven to be true as Allison bit into each forkful. She crunched her food in a way that made me long for cucumbers, tomatoes, and lettuce dressed in a nice balsamic vinaigrette.
I sighed and looked away, and my thoughts turned to my own problems.
“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Allison, between bites. She had also, somehow, managed to order another glass of wine without my knowledge. Maybe she had a telepathic link with the bartender. Wouldn’t surprise me.
“Rude,” said Allison, picking up my stray thought.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m just cranky.”
“I would be, too, if I couldn’t eat. So, let’s get back to what else is making you cranky.”
I nodded. She had, of course, picked up on my brooding thoughts...and what I knew I had to do.
“You’re going to break up with him,” she said.
By him, she was referring to my boyfriend of the past four months. Russell Baker was a professional boxer and about the sexiest thing I’d ever come across. He was also, of course, the man who had killed Allison’s fiancé. Or, at least, that’s what we had initially figured.
Turned out, the case had been far stranger than originally thought, and Allison never held a grudge against him, and as well, she shouldn’t.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m breaking up with him.”
“Why?”
I thought about it again with a heavy heart...then told her why.
Chapter Nine
We were jogging Tri-City Park.
The park connected three cities: Fullerton, Brea and Placentia, cities that didn’t mean anything to anyone outside of Orange County. Truth was, I wasn’t sure which city the park was actually in. I liked to think that with each one-third loop around the park I was entering a new town. I was easily amused.
My jogging partner was Russell Baker. He was a professional boxer and, I guess you could say, my kind-of boyfriend. We’d been dating now for six months, and we seemed to be committed enough, although no one had said much of anything about anything. Meaning, we’d never discussed our situation. We just sort of flowed.
I saw Russell about twice a week, which was enough for me. Maybe I wasn’t ready for more, I don’t know. Or maybe Russell and I didn’t have enough chemistry. We were always comfortable, relaxed, friendly...and yes, passionate, too. But the passion didn’t extend much further than the bedroom.
The evening was warm. It was early summer. School had just gotten out. I would have my kids for the next three months. A good thing on the one hand: I could sleep in. My kids knew my super-secret identity, and kept it brilliantly, including secrets of their own.
That my kids had to go around keeping so many secrets was something of a burden for me. I hated knowing that I had inconvenienced them. Lord knew I tried to keep it all from them...I just couldn’t. Not consistently.
Granted, it hadn’t all been bad. Truth be known, our combined freakiness—my immortality, my son’s super-strength, and my daughter’s ability to read all minds—had brought us closer. It was a sort of us versus them, and it was nice.
For now.
We’d see how this all played out.
As we jogged, Russell and I chatted amicably, easily, neither of us out of breath. My shield was up with him, as usual. It was always up. Otherwise, he would probe, unknowingly, deep into my psyche. He would have been surprised as hell by what he found in there.
No, Russell did not know my super-secret identity. I had purchased a lifetime supply of hand warmers, which I kept in my pockets at all times, so that when he and I held hands, there was some semblance of warmth. Granted, there wasn’t much warmth when we were body to body, but I didn’t think Russell had noticed how cold my flesh might have felt in those intimate moments.
Afterward, I rarely lay naked next to him. I would jump up, pretend to use the bathroom, then get dressed and lay next to him again.
It was weird. He knew it was weird, but never said anything about it.
For us to work, for us to make it to another level, I would have to trust him with my Big Secret. And I would have to trust him without controlling his mind, which I swore to myself that I would never do.
He knew about my inability to go into sunlight, and he knew I wasn’t much of an eater. I also suspected that he knew I was keeping something important from him.
Boy, was I.
Hardest of all was that Anthony had fallen in love with Russell. And why wouldn’t he? Russell was a professional fighter...and we had gone to his last two big fights. One in Los Angeles, and one in Vegas. Anthony was Russell’s biggest fan.
Not to mention, I had spent the last six months shielding my thoughts from him, which got exhausting. Russell and I had developed an almost immediate psychic link, much like I had with Detective Sanchez. Except, with Russell, I could never fully go there with him.
I wasn’t sure why. I think, perhaps, out of a need to have a real relationship. To be as normal as possible. Except, being normal was proving exhausting and almost impossible. I spent half my time lying to the poor guy. Yes, lying came easily to private investigators. We lied to get what we wanted—we pretended to be other people, other occupations, whatever it took to close a case.
I’d found that once the lies had started with Russell, I just couldn’t take them back...and I didn’t want to be known as a liar. I didn’t want him to think he couldn’t trust me.
But, nevertheless, I was indeed fibbing to him. I was a fibber. The whole damn relationship was built on fibs.
“You’re quiet this evening, Sammie. Are you okay?” Russell asked. His voice was silky smooth. His movements were silky smooth, and they were in the bedroom, too. The man had full control over his body...and what a body it was.
Sadly, he also thought that we were closer in age than we really were.
He thought I was mortal.
I lied about the food I ate.
The drinks I drank.
I lied about my friends.
About my kids.
About the real reason for my divorce.
I lied about everything to him.
Yes, I probably should have come clean about it all...but once the lies started, I couldn’t take them back. And I didn’t want him to know what a monster I really was. He adored me. I knew he did. His interest was genuine, real.
He didn’t deserve me or my lies.
As we jogged, I turned to him. “No, I’m not okay,” I said. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Ten
We stood together on a little bridge.
The bridge spanned a stream that flowed into the bigger pond...or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe the pond flowed into the stream. Hard to say since the water was mostly stagnant and smelled. Beneath the dark surface, I could see glo
wing torpedo-shaped fish swimming idly. I could see other forms glowing, too. Water spiders and flying insects. Most life gave off a sort of bio-luminescence, at least to my eyes. I could see anything living at night. And sometimes things not living, too.
I see all, I thought.
I was, I suspected, the ultimate hunter.
Anyway, Russell and I were both leaning against the wooden railing. The park was mostly empty at this hour, as it should be. No one but vampires and professional boxers should be out jogging in a city park at night.
There was, however, a man who strolled casually off on the far edge of the lake, hands behind his back, whistling softly to himself. To my eyes, in the dark, he looked very bright, his aura shining a radiant blue. I knew of such auras, although I rarely saw them. Blue meant that he was deeply spiritual, and the brighter the blue, the more spiritual. His was a brilliant sapphire blue that extended far beyond his body. Who he was, I didn’t know, but I suspected he was a true master. As such, he had nothing to fear from the dark. Indeed, all good things were attracted to such masters, and they, in turn, radiated good things. I wondered what he would make of me.
I sensed Russell’s rising anxiety. He knew that nothing good was going to come from the talk. I could almost hear his heart beating, too. Lord knew it certainly wasn’t my own lackadaisical heart, which tended to beat once every ten seconds or so, if that.
I’m so very, very weird.
At the far side of the lake, the bright blue light stopped. Within the blue light, I saw the man turn and face me, his hands still behind his back.
As I stood there on the ridge debating what I needed to do, I sensed a warm tingling come over me. Almost never does the word warm ever apply to me, and so I perked up at the rare sensation.
Russell hadn’t moved, and there was no wind. There was, in fact, no obvious source of the warmth, which now surrounded me gently, as if with loving arms. The hair on my neck and arms stood on end, too, but not because I was cold, but because something alive and warm was moving around me.
