by Linn Chapel
In rare instances, a vampire may go beyond the need for sustenance and cause the death of the victim.
Myths and False Rumors
There is no factual basis for a number of common myths.
Vampires do not possess fangs. Instead, their teeth are composed of altered dental enamel, as explained above.
Vampires cannot turn a victim merely through predation. An exchange of blood is necessary.
Contrary to popular myths, vampires possess reflections in mirrors. They can enter any dwelling without waiting for an invitation.
Psychological Considerations
The urge to seek blood is of paramount significance in any psychological assessment of a vampire.
Some individuals live only for their bodily urges, similar to humans who indulge in gluttony. With few reasons to limit this attitude, a hedonistic mindset is common among vampires.
Other vampires feel repugnance for their predatory urges. Such individuals avoid humans and the temptations they represent, confining their diet to the blood of animals. This behavior is usually associated with a secluded lifestyle conducted within extensive tropical forests. In regions of the world with colder winters, this profile is uncommon among vampires, for low body temperature makes a forest lifestyle impractical in cooler climes.
Tressa sighed and lifted her eyes from the manual to gaze across the room. Neither psychological profile seemed to fit Holt.
She found it impossible to imagine him hunting humans, year after year. On the other hand, she found it just as hard to picture him living in the woodlands outside the city, continually hunting for wild animals and struggling to survive the cold New England winters. Why would he own a car if he lived in the forest? Why would he have been walking down a city street on the night of her mission?
Still feeling mystified, she was about to store the Handbook away and leave for her meeting at headquarters when her attention was caught by the checklist on the back cover.
ESSENTIAL SAFETY RULES
Never be alone with a vampire. Back-up surveillance is imperative.
Never accompany a vampire into a private dwelling.
Maintain emotional neutrality at all times.
Tressa felt her face flush with heat and was glad no one was around to see. She’d broken not just one of the essential rules, but all three.
And yet, there was still time to revise her emotional stance so that it was neutral. Solidly neutral.
Later tonight, when Holt drove her home from the hospital, she’d be an impartial observer. She’d watch for any signs of the expected symptoms while they were together in the car. When they arrived at her place, she’d say goodnight to him outside the building.
Under no circumstances would she invite him upstairs.
Twenty minutes later, Tressa arrived at the downtown office complex that had been chosen as a front for the Operation. She parked and walked up to the door with the neat, professional sign that read, Insurance Resolution Services.
After typing in her personal security code, she entered.
Inside, she passed through the empty reception room to the second set of doors, where she punched in another secret code and entered the headquarters of Operation M. Halfway down the corridor, she came to Ted Johnson’s office.
From his desk, Ted gave her a fatherly smile. “Tressa, you were very courageous the other night.” He waved her into a chair.
She nodded warily as she took her seat. Ted was bound to have more to say about her mission, for he was no fool. The stocky, middle-aged man had been hired last winter when Operation M had found itself mired in bureaucratic details. Ted had proved to be a savvy businessman, and with his recommendations from the Secret Service, he could be counted on to be discreet.
“But you engaged in too many risks.” His voice was full of concern. “I’ve had a full report from Peter, and I know that you left the scene and entered a vehicle with the subject, and then brought him inside your own apartment!” His eyebrows rose, making him look like a worried puppy. “You put yourself in grave danger that night.”
“I lost my focus.”
“But, Tressa, on the following evening, you accompanied the subject to the river district,” Ted pointed out sadly. “I only discovered this after questioning your brother, Peter.”
“Yes, I saw the subject again,” admitted Tressa. “I was going to plant the tracking bead on him that night.”
“There’s still no signal here at headquarters. Did you forget?”
“Yes. I lost my focus again.”
Ted gave her a disappointed look. “Did you find out where he makes his home, at least?”
“No, I didn’t think to ask,” she said. Only later had she begun to wonder where Holt slept in the daylight hours.
Ted’s plump hands straightened a stack of papers on his desk. “I’ve already spoken with Peter and messaged Dr. Hayes. As you know, he’s out of town at the moment. You’re to be assigned to a support team if you opt to volunteer again. Leave the active work to your brother and the other operatives, from now on,” he said with a kindly nod.
Tressa had been prepared for that decision and she didn’t contest it. She only said, “When will Peter’s next mission take place?”
“Unfortunately, it hasn’t been scheduled yet. There’s been a delay,” he explained with an airy wave of his hand. Rising a bit ponderously to his feet, he added, “Wait here, Tressa. I have something to give you.” He opened the office door and padded down the corridor.
Tressa didn’t have long to wait before Ted returned with a small bottle in his hand. “You’re looking pale, Tressa, but there’s no need to schedule an appointment with a doctor. Too many questions would be asked. All you need is an iron supplement. Take one tablet every six hours, and you’ll soon feel better.” He gave her a pat on the shoulder as he placed the bottle in her hand.
Tressa was about to tell him that she had already purchased an iron supplement, but the look of the brown bottle in her hand made her pause. It was a plastic prescription bottle, just like the ones she used every day at the hospital, but it had no label. She felt a warning shiver go down her spine.
Giving Ted a dutiful nod, she silently spread her psychic ability outward. It was always much harder to look for intentions with her eyes open, but her alarm strengthened her resolve and she was able to discern a faint shape nearby. It was a closed door in a short, square wall. Hastily she absorbed as much as she could from it without drawing attention to herself.
Blinking, she learned that Ted had plans for her to become weaker and more listless from taking the tablets in the brown bottle. His intention was to make her docile.
Quickly pulling her thoughts back inward, she smoothed her expression so that her dismay would not show.
Placing the little bottle in her handbag, she took her leave of Ted and retraced her steps, passing through both doors of headquarters. She had just stepped outside the office building into the sunlit street when she heard a voice call out from behind her.
“Tressa! Wait for me!”
Turning, she saw Albert Chu follow her from the building. She was surprised to find the former vampire in town, for nowadays he lived in Boston with her brother, Luke.
“Albert! What are you doing here at – Insurance Resolution Services?” she said as a group of pedestrians passed nearby.
“I was called in for consulting,” Albert answered. His Asian features were as serene as ever, but his voice held a troubled note. “Let’s go someplace for a bite to eat.”
A few minutes later they entered a small café that served fine coffees, teas, and an array of sweet and salty biscotti. Tressa took a seat at a table and Albert followed suit.
Leaning over their small table, Albert spoke in an undertone. “Ted and Margot wanted me to clear up a few details. They said it was for a new edition of the Handbook. The request was supposed to come from Dr. Hayes, but I never saw him,” Albert added in a worried voice.
“He’s attending a c
onference in San Francisco,” Tressa explained. “At least, that’s what I was told. But Albert, what kind of details?”
“Anything psychological I can remember about aggression. Why do they want more info on that? There’s already enough in the Handbook for the Operation’s purposes. Something else worries me, too. When I arrived at headquarters this morning, I noticed lots of pharmaceuticals when I opened the door to a storeroom by mistake.”
Tressa considered that silently. “More than the usual tranquilizers?” she finally asked.
Albert nodded. He recited a few of the terms he had seen on the labels.
“Albert, those are psychoactive compounds,” she murmured in a low voice, recognizing some of the constituents he had named. A ripple of foreboding passed through her.
Albert gazed uneasily back at her. “I’m staying with Peter overnight before I travel back to Boston. I’ll tell him what I saw.”
Worriedly, Tressa picked up her forgotten biscotti and took a bite. “Peter already knows there’s something going on behind his back. Tell him what you saw, Albert. He’ll be very grateful for the tip.”
Arriving at the hospital for her evening shift, Tressa performed her duties in a mechanical fashion, for her mind kept skittering back to Albert’s accidental view of the psychoactive compounds.
The brown plastic bottle was still in Tressa’s shoulder bag, which was stored in the nurses’ lounge as usual. Should she bring the tablets to the hospital lab and have them tested? No, too risky. An unmarked bottle could cause concern, even spark an investigation.
The hours of Tressa’s shift passed slowly. When her thoughts weren’t mulling over the contents of the brown bottle, they were dwelling on Holt.
As she took another patient’s temperature in the Recovery Unit, she wondered if she could find some way to assess Holt’s vital signs. He’d ask too many questions, though. And he’d be an impossible patient. Her duties at the hospital had made her a fair judge of temperament, and there could be no doubt about that.
If she tried to use a thermometer or a blood pressure cuff on Holt, he’d shake his head and whisk them out of her hands. Then he’d hide them someplace tricky where she couldn’t find them.
“Tressa,” called out another nurse who was passing by. “You’re smiling! Tell me what you’re smiling about,” she demanded. Tressa turned to see that it was Sue Callahan, the queen of hospital gossip. “It’s got to be a man!”
Tressa had finished her duties in Recovery and was just about to enter a storeroom. “It’s nothing.”
“I’m sure it’s a man,” Sue repeated, following Tressa into the storeroom. “Tell me about him!”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Tressa’s brown-rimmed stage glasses had slipped down her nose and she pushed them back into place. Busily she sorted through the boxes of supplies on the storeroom shelves.
“He must be special if you’re interested in him. You never date anyone!” Sue was carrying a pen in one hand and a hospital clipboard in the other. She impatiently wiggled her pen between her fingers. “Tell me all about him.”
Tressa gave a helpless shake of her head. “I’m not dating him.”
Sue pounced. “So, it is a man! Is he hunky, or just cute?”
Tressa’s face must have given her away.
“So, he’s not hunky or cute. Then maybe he’s the dangerous type,” concluded Sue, looking even more excited. “Is he fair-haired, like your brother? Peter’s such a dream,” she cooed wistfully.
Tressa rummaged through a stack of supplies, determined not to answer.
“He must be dark, then.” Sue’s voice was filled with glee. “This totally makes my day! Nothing interesting has happened all week, until now!”
Swallowing uncomfortably, Tressa left the storeroom as quickly as she could.
Sue Callahan trailed close behind. “When are you going to see him again?”
With a sinking feeling, Tressa remembered that Sue would be stationed at the main reception desk later that evening. She’d spot Holt the moment he arrived at the entrance to bring Tressa home.
There was no choice but for Tressa to give the other nurse an answer. Too much reluctance on her part would make any rumors spread out of control like wildfire.
“He’s driving me home tonight, but-” Tressa began.
“Mr. Dark and Dangerous, himself?” Sue squealed with delight.
Tressa sighed. “Yes, but Sue, it doesn’t mean anything. Besides, he’ll be leaving the country soon for his work.”
Seven
Tressa glanced again at the time on the nursing station monitor to find that it was almost ten o’clock. At last her evening shift was drawing to a close. Humming softly, she recorded the last few patient updates on a computer and was just about to leave for the night when a request from Dr. Patterson flashed on her work phone.
Dutifully she walked down the corridor and entered the room he had specified. But she found that there had been some mistake, for the room held no patient. Glancing away from the empty hospital bed, she saw Dr. Patterson standing at a counter.
He set down a chart and turned to face her. “I’m sorry, Tressa. I gave you the wrong room by accident,” he apologized. “It was the patient next door who needed help, but his meds finally took over and he’s sleeping at last.” He flashed her his white smile. It was more striking than ever, now that his tan had deepened from a recent vacation in the Caribbean.
“Our shifts are almost over,” he continued. “Would you like to go somewhere afterward? We’ll get a drink – take a walk – relax. Anything you want.”
Tressa felt herself paling and turned away. “It’s late, and I’m tired. I was just about to go home,” she answered from the doorway.
“Tressa...” She heard his footsteps behind her.
She darted forward into the safety of the hall. “I have to finish up at the nurse’s station. Goodnight, doctor.”
With a glance over her shoulder, she took in Dr. Patterson’s reaction. His tanned features gave no hint to his emotions as he watched her from the doorway of the empty room. She felt the heavy stage glasses slip down her nose and she pushed them back up as she walked quickly onward.
It was a few minutes before 10 o’clock when she returned to the nurse’s station. She finished the last of her routine, switched off the computer, and then went to the lounge to retrieve her shoulder bag and sweater. Slipping off her stage glasses, she stored them in her bag.
Was she worried they’d cause Holt to ask her some probing questions, or was she hoping to look less plain? Both, she decided a little uncomfortably.
Exiting the lounge, she peered through one of the windows in the corridor. From this vantage point, she could see the parking lot and the entrance to the hospital. There was no sign of Holt standing outside yet, but he was bound to arrive soon.
Walking down the corridor, she felt a welcome sense of confidence. Tonight, she wouldn’t have to worry about Dr. Patterson, or anyone else, following her into the parking lot.
She walked past a series of vacant rooms and was about to turn the corner when she noticed a movement within the semi-darkness of the last room. A jolt of fear raced through her body and she increased her pace, but before she could leave the doorway behind, an arm reached out and pulled her roughly into the room.
“You could have had it easy, Tressa,” Dr. Patterson rasped as he captured both of her arms and held them in a vice-like grip before her. “I was ready to do the dating game.” He gave her a rough shake. “But you wouldn’t play it, would you?”
Tressa kicked upward as hard as she could. She heard a grunt of pain as her shoe connected with a shin. The doctor released one of her arms and slapped her hard across the face. She screamed but the sound was cut off an instant later when his hand covered her mouth, gripping her face tightly.
There was no one to help her – not Sue, at the reception desk – not even Holt, for the hospital entrance was too far away. Panic filled her. One of her hands had been re
leased and now that it was free she reached for the small knife she carried in her pocket whenever she worked at night.
Straining against the doctor’s grip, she brought the knife up. She felt his shirt ripping, but before she could strike a second time he had knocked the knife from her hand. A sense of despair came over her as she heard it clatter on the floor. She cried out again, but her protest was once again cut short by the stifling pressure of his hand.
Suddenly, her assailant’s body jerked away. Someone else was in the dark room – it was Holt.
He was just standing behind Dr. Patterson, pinning the doctor’s hands behind his back. Holt’s voice was low and steady. “Do you wish for me to break your right arm, or your left? I can oblige you either way.”
Holt gave a warning wrench and a groan of pain emerged from Dr. Patterson.
Relief coursed through Tressa, making her legs shake with its intensity. Holt must have arrived and heard her cry out from a distance. His hearing was even keener than she had thought.
With a scowl, Holt released the doctor’s arms and shoved him down onto his knees. “Leave her alone from now on, or you’ll answer to me.”
Dr. Patterson cast a single, furtive glance in Tressa’s direction, then looked away. He seemed too stunned to speak.
Bending to retrieve Tressa’s knife, Holt gave it a curious glance. With a little shrug, he pocketed it and stepped around the doctor.
“Come, Tressa.” Holt guided her out of the room and down the corridor, with a hand on her arm.
Near the entrance, where indoor palms grew in terra cotta pots and a fountain splashed water into a wide blue basin, Holt stopped and drew her close to him.
Some of the fierceness had left his face, but she could see that he was still angry. Inspecting her, he murmured, “You’re as pale as a ghost.”
