Charming Blue (16 page)

“My father left the household to my mother,” Blue said softly. He had a faraway look in his eyes. “She—she was shy. She hated dealing with people. It was almost as if they frightened her.”

“So she didn’t deal with the chatelaine,” Tank said. “Even though the woman didn’t do her job.”

“What kind of magic did your mother have?” Jodi asked.

“I don’t know.” Blue brought a hand to his face. “I honestly don’t remember. I worked so hard at putting all of this out of my mind. I have no idea.”

His voice was shaking. He sounded fragile.

Tank said, “Well, Blue, you gotta remember—”

“Shush, Tank,” Jodi said. “We’re overwhelming him.”

At that moment, the door opened again. Dr. Hargrove came inside the room. “I think this has gone on long enough,” he said. “Clearly Blue is tired.”

“I’m fine,” Blue said curtly.

Hargrove came deeper into the room. He glanced at Jodi’s purse, and she cursed silently.

“What’s in there?” he asked.

Tank dove deeply into the purse.

“My dog,” Jodi said. “She’s a miniature Chihuahua.”

“Hey!” Tank said from inside the purse.

Hargrove looked over his shoulder, as if he had heard that but thought it came from outside the room. Both Jodi and Blue were careful not to react.

Then Hargrove glanced at the purse again. “They call those pocket dogs, right?”

“Yes,” Jodi said.

“You do realize pets aren’t allowed here.”

“She never leaves the purse,” Jodi said with emphasis.

Hargrove nodded, then frowned. “Still, you should have told us.”

“Sorry,” Jodi said. “Next time.”

“Doctor Hargrove.” Blue spoke, his voice deep and assured. He startled Jodi, and Hargrove looked at him like he hadn’t expected Blue to talk at all.

“Yes, Blue?” Hargrove had a tone of voice that he seemed to use with patients. Jodi hadn’t noticed it until now. It was… not quite patronizing, but just a fraction off. You had to listen to hear it, but this time Jodi heard it.

“Ms. Walters has brought me bad news,” Blue said. He was using that strange deep confident voice again. “It’s something I’m going to have to take care of.”

“What is going on, Ms. Walters?” Hargrove asked. He stopped in front of her, looming over her. She hated it when people did that.

“It’s confidential, Dr. Hargrove,” Jodi said. “I’m sure you can understand that.”

“Let’s talk to me, Dr. Hargrove,” Blue said, and Jodi had to suppress a smile. Blue managed to replicate Dr. Hargrove’s almost-patronizing tone exactly.

Hargrove looked at Blue in surprise. Had Blue never spoken to him like that before?

“Forgive me, Blue,” he said, and now his tone was patronizing. “It’s just that—”

“Here’s what’s going on, Dr. Hargrove,” Blue began. He looked taller. Suddenly he looked powerful. Not dangerously powerful, but like a man who was groomed to rule a kingdom. A man who knew that he controlled his small patch of the world, and no one could shake him from that.

Tank poked her head out of the purse and folded her arms on the edge, resting her chin on her wrists. She had a Kleenex over her head. Someone could see that she was a live creature but not really tell what kind unless she made some kind of move.

Jodi hoped Tank wouldn’t make a move.

Blue continued, “I need to finish my discussion with Ms. Walters. It’s important. I prepared all day yesterday and most of last night for it.”

“Yes,” Hargrove said in that same patronizing tone. “We discussed it already, and how important sleep is to your healing. This is not acceptable—”

“And when I am done talking with Ms. Walters,” Blue said as if Hargrove hadn’t spoken at all, “I will talk with you about my treatment. But not until then. Is that clear?”

“Right now, Mr. Franklin, you are in no position to give orders,” Hargrove said.

“All right then,” Blue said. “Let’s put me in a position to do so.”

He turned slightly and bowed just a little to Jodi. The courtly manners suited him. She felt a smile starting in spite of herself.

“Excuse me for a moment, ladies,” he said. “I’ll be back. I’m going to talk with Dr. Hargrove.”

Jodi didn’t quite wince when Blue said “ladies,” but she wanted to. And of course, Hargrove caught it.

“Ladies?” he said. “See, this is why I believe you need to take better care of yourself, Blue. There’s only one woman here—”

“Ladies,” Blue said firmly. “Ms. Walters’s pocket dog, Tank, is female as well. I’m quite fond of her.”

Tank growled from Jodi’s purse. Jodi wanted to hit the purse to silence Tank, but she was afraid of knocking the Kleenex off her head.

Hargrove narrowed his gaze. “Something’s not right here.”

“Yes, I know,” Blue said. “Let’s go outside.”

Hargrove glanced at Jodi as if he expected her help. “But—”

“No buts,” Blue said. “Let’s go.”

He crossed around from the back of the couch and headed toward Hargrove. For the first time, Jodi realized how much bigger Blue was than the doctor. It seemed like Hargrove just realized it as well. Panic crossed his face and then disappeared as if it never was.

Suddenly Hargrove was afraid of Blue. Or had he always been afraid of Blue? Jodi didn’t know. And she wanted to find out, but she didn’t know how to ask.

Blue put his hand on Hargrove’s shoulder and propelled him from the room.

Jodi let out a small sigh. Tank pulled the Kleenex off her head.

“That was weird,” Tank said as she crawled out of the purse. “Did Blue really just call me a bitch?”

Chapter 21

The moment they stepped out of the meeting room, Blue took his hand off Dr. Hargrove’s shoulder. Blue had started shaking; he didn’t want Dr. Hargrove to feel that.

Everything that Jodi had told Blue, everything that Tank had confirmed, made him queasy. Maybe he should have felt joyful—they were telling him that none of this was his fault—but he had lived with the image of himself as some kind of horrible involuntary killer for so long that he didn’t trust this transformation now.

When he was young, he had thought himself invulnerable. He had planned to be a better ruler than his father, who wasn’t a bad man, just a bit oblivious at times. His father had used that obliviousness to his own advantage when Blue got accused of killing young women. His father pretended the news wasn’t relevant at all, which had disturbed Blue.

Blue started traveling when he realized how bad it could get. He grew a beard so he wouldn’t be recognized, but that didn’t work. He was well known as the Prince Charming whose family called him “Blue” because of the highlights in his hair. Those highlights dominated his beard. He couldn’t hide. But when he got recognized, people weren’t willing to call him Prince. They called him Bluebeard.

So he traveled even more. He stayed away from women, stayed away from people for the most part, trying other Kingdoms, and then finally coming to the Greater World, thinking that nothing could happen here.

And as far as he knew, nothing had.

Until this Fairy Tale Stalker. And for a few minutes when Jodi had told him about it, Blue actually worried that he could have done it. (More than a few minutes, if truth be told. A lot more.)

“Let’s go to my office,” Dr. Hargrove said in that voice he used when he expected to be listened to.

Blue looked down at him, this man who had worked so hard to keep Blue sane all these years. Doctor Hargrove was starting to get a bald spot on top of his curly head. His hair was mussed and he still had the coffee stain on his shirt. He wasn’t as young as he used to be.

But Dr. Hargrove had done a good job, better than he knew. The compassion he had shown was just enough of a lifeline to keep Blue from giving up on everything.

Because, as he had once said to Dr. Hargrove in complete despair, what was the point of a long life if a man couldn’t enjoy it? Doctor Hargrove had thought that Blue was talking about drinking, and how much he enjoyed drinking, but Blue hadn’t been. It took Blue a while to convince Dr. Hargrove that he was talking about obliviousness, and not remembering anything, and how difficult that was. Blue then said he came from a long-lived family, and he didn’t understand why, if he was going to spend this life in a worthless state of semi-consciousness, he should go on.

Doctor Hargrove understood that and tried to convince Blue his life would be better without the alcohol. But Blue hadn’t been talking about the alcohol. And even though Dr. Hargrove repeatedly asked Blue about the pain behind his addiction, Blue refused to talk about it.

He also refused to lie.

Now, Dr. Hargrove was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to lead the way to the office. The office was the place where Dr. Hargrove had complete control, where he ruled supreme. He also had easy access to security and lockdown procedures.

Blue had always come to this place as an addict seeking treatment, not as a psychiatric patient, but he was suddenly worried about California law on this subject. Because state-to-state committal laws were different, and sometimes someone who had voluntarily gone into a clinic couldn’t check himself out.

Blue knew that much. In the past, he hadn’t cared.

But today, he did.

“No,” he said. “I don’t want to go to the office. I’d like to talk here.”

Doctor Hargrove was frowning. He clearly hadn’t seen this side of Blue before. Blue was channeling his father, searching for the commanding part of his nature, a part that had been long buried. His father hadn’t always used charm when being regal. And Blue wasn’t using it now.

“There is no privacy here in the entry area,” Dr. Hargrove said. “We have no guarantee of confidentiality.”

He sounded concerned. He glanced at the meeting room door, then at the front doors. He pointedly did not look at the Eames chairs, because they would provide a place to talk.

Blue didn’t look at the chairs either. He glanced into the meeting room. Jodi was still in her chair. Her head was down. She was probably talking to Tank. Outside, Blue could see the mostly empty parking lot and a flock of seagulls swarming over the security guard’s station.

“I don’t expect privacy,” Blue said.

Doctor Hargrove stood as tall as he could. He didn’t look as put together as usual. But then, he wasn’t used to Blue rebelling.

Other patients rebelled. Blue never had. Not once in all the years he’d been coming here.

“Privacy is necessary,” Dr. Hargrove said. “If this goes into your record—”

“Doctor Hargrove,” Blue said in a tone he hadn’t used in centuries, if ever. Commanding, a bit too strong, but warm. He was somehow managing warmth. Or at least he hoped he was. “As I said, I had some difficult news from Ms. Walters. I’m going to need to check out of the facility to deal with it.”

He didn’t realize that had been his plan until he spoke it out loud. But he had to leave, if only for the short term. He couldn’t keep having meetings here, and he couldn’t deal with all the rules right now. He had to help Jodi and Tank get on the right track to stop the Fairy Tale Stalker, and more importantly, he had to figure out exactly what was wrong with him—who had cursed him and how. He had to get rid of that curse.

Before it killed Jodi.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Hargrove said. “You can’t leave. It’s too early in your treatment.”

“Nonetheless,” Blue said, “I have to. I’ll pay for the entire month in fees.”

“It’s not the fees I’m worried about, Blue,” Dr. Hargrove said. “You’ve been our guest almost a dozen times—”

Blue hated the use of the word “guest” in this context. He always had, but this time he let himself feel it. It was patronizing and incorrect. He wasn’t a guest. He was a patient.

“—and while we’ve made progress, it hasn’t been as much as I would like. I worry that if you leave to work on a crisis, you will stress your own recovery to the breaking point.”

In other words, he’d start drinking almost immediately.

It was a good concern, an accurate one for the Blue of the past who relied on the alcohol to protect him from himself—or from the curse, if what Jodi and Tank had said was true. It was also an accurate concern for the real addicts in this place, who used any excuse to return to the source of their addiction and often did not have the personal inner strength to deal with any kind of crisis.

But Blue had a different problem. He couldn’t even quite imagine telling Dr. Hargrove about it:

Excuse
me, Doctor. I’m not concerned about the drinking. I only drink to prevent myself from murdering women that I love. Only now I’ve discovered that I didn’t kill those women. It was a curse all along.

Yeah. He was supposed to believe that. He didn’t quite believe it, although Tank did. And Tank was a hardheaded old soul. And Jodi, she said she could see his aura, that it was different today.

Last night, he hadn’t left the facility. Not physically, not mentally. He hadn’t blacked out, and they’d actually had him on surveillance video. He had been here. So something magical was up.