Real Vampires Know Hips Happen (11 page)

“You’re speaking nonsense. What is a trauma?” Jerry jumped up and began to pace the room. “How did I get it?”

“It’s an event, a bad thing that happened to you. You returned to the family home because something bad happened in America, right?” Bart was up now, keeping pace with Jerry as they walked the perimeter of the large room.

“So Gloriana says. But she claims it was a lover’s quarrel. I’m a warrior. A bad thing to me is losing a battle. My horse being shot out from under me. I’d think those things would be a trauma to me, not crying about my unfaithful girlfriend.”

Bart shot me a hard look. “You’re probably right.”

I refused to hang my head or pull a scarlet letter out of my new designer bag. Instead I cleared my throat. “Well, Jerry, you did take the news I gave you pretty hard. But the memory loss…” I shook my head. “Beats me why it’s hanging around.”

“Men don’t usually think that way, Jerry. A woman lets us down? We move on. But being stabbed by a family friend would certainly be traumatic. The fact that what you’ve blocked out is only your time with Gloriana…” Bart glanced at me. “Well, it’s suspicious.”

“Thanks a heap. I’m sorry, but I didn’t do this.” I glared at Cait when I saw her start to say something. “Jerry, you need to let Bart hypnotize you. Maybe that will unlock your memories.”

“He explained that craziness. But I won’t be stuck with his needle.” Jerry had a mulish look. “Maybe I don’t need to remember those years. I rode in Bart’s blasted machine here. I suppose I’ll get used to these times. Eventually.” He rubbed his forehead again. “If there just weren’t so many holes in my head.” He tried to laugh. “Shit. You know what I mean. Like how the castle got in such bad shape. This America you keep talking about. It’s too blasted much!”

“You’re right. It is too much to just forget. And there’s no need for needles. I can hypnotize you after you’ve had some glasses of fine Scots’ whiskey. That should relax you enough for me to get you under.”

“Under? What will I be under?” Jerry looked around the room. “This all sounds like more witchcraft.” He held out his hand to his sister. “Caitie, what do you think of this hypno-thing.”

Cait rushed to take his hand. “It’s worth a try. It won’t hurt you. It can be very relaxing. I’ve done it myself.” She smiled at Bart. “I had a fling with an associate of Freud’s in Paris. I’ll try almost anything once.”

“Good to know.” Bart walked to a crystal decanter and glasses sitting on a sideboard against the wall. “I know most vampires don’t drink alcohol, but I’ve done experiments. This won’t hurt you. It’s smooth and should go down easily. Gloriana?”

“What the hell? My night can’t get any worse.” I sat in a chair after it became clear that Bart was going to persuade Jerry to lie back on the sofa. I held the glass of whiskey, sniffing it and wondering if I could really drink. My friend Israel Caine was a recovering alcoholic. I sure wasn’t going to share Bart’s discovery with him. I thought about mentioning that Ian had brought up some of the same theories and cures Bart had, but figured throwing in the name MacDonald now would put Jerry off the whole thing.

Jerry tossed back his first glass with a sigh then held out the empty for a refill. Before long he was stretched out, his boots off so he didn’t soil the fine velvet.

I sipped the drink. It burned going down but I enjoyed the idea of getting falling down drunk. Not yet. Not when there was a chance Jerry might wake up and know me. Really know me.

“What do I have to do?” Jerry had his head propped up against the throw pillow as he sipped the drink. He smiled. “Fine Scots whiskey. Damned if this isn’t a treat. Don’t know when I drank last. Guess I just thought I should stick to blood after I was turned.”

“We all did. But my family is in the distillery business. I was determined to see if we could still at least check the product.” Bart smiled as he filled Jerry’s glass again. “To my surprise, as long as we aim for high quality and moderation, this won’t hurt us. Of course you are not back to normal so I’ll watch you carefully in case your reaction isn’t right.”

“Bart! Maybe you shouldn’t have started this now.” Cait looked alarmed.

“Relax, Caitie. I feel fine. Better than fine.” Jerry had a lopsided grin. “I’m relaxed for the first time since Mara attacked me, truth be told. Now what?” He held out his empty glass once more.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Bart took the glass and set it aside. “Now you’re going to watch me, Jerry. Follow my directions. I will tell you to do some simple things, look at my watch, count, stuff like that. It will help you relax and open your mind. Hopefully you’ll remember the past years. Ready?”

Jerry wiggled his toes in dark socks then nodded. “Go ahead. I want to remember. This empty feeling is making me crazed. This woman.” He stared at me. “Gloriana. She seems to be someone I know.” He held up a hand when I started to protest. “I know. I know. You
are
someone I know.” He looked back at Bart. “Anyway I kissed her. Just now. Held her. Drank her blood. Sweet. Tasted, hmm, really good. And, for a minute, I thought…But I couldn’t hold on to it.” He rubbed his forehead. “Hurts when I try.”

“Okay. That’s progress.” Bart pulled out an old-fashioned
gold pocket watch. “Stare at this as it swings back and forth, back and forth. Don’t take your eyes off of it. Watch how slowly it swings. Back and forth. Back and forth. Your eyes are getting heavy. You’re getting sleepy. Start counting for me, Jeremiah. Back from twenty. Are you ready?”

Jerry nodded, his eyes starting to close until he blinked them open.

“Here we go. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…” Bart continued until Jerry’s voice trailed off at twelve.

“All right. Now you are totally relaxed. Take me back to the last thing you remember before you were stabbed. Describe the scene.”

“I was riding Thunder. He was restless. Had a hard time keeping him under control. I finally let him have a good run.” Jerry kept talking about his horse. A fence that was down and some sheep missing. At one point he got excited. A MacDonald had crossed his path and they’d exchanged words. He was sure the man had taken the sheep but he didn’t have proof. He rode back to the castle, where he and Da planned a raid to get the sheep back.

“Do you remember going to London, Jeremiah?” Bart glanced at me. “Remember meeting a woman with blond hair?”

“London? What business would I have there?” Jerry frowned. “My brother Thomas and I are headed up to Edinburgh to see a play after we take care of the MacDonalds. Plenty of women and sport there. London is too far away.”

Cait made a sound and I noticed she was crying.

“What is it?” I hadn’t heard anything that upset me so far except that I wasn’t in Jerry’s mind.

“Thomas. He’s our brother who was killed on that raid to the MacDonalds’ holding. After that Jerry hied off to London. He never admitted it, but he took Tommy’s death hard, blamed himself for it. We never did prove that those sheep came from our lands.”

“Can you go forward, Jeremiah? Do you remember living in America?” Bart reached over and squeezed Cait’s hand.

“America? Who?” Jerry’s hands began to shake and he pressed them to his temples. “The pain! Make it stop!”

“Never mind. I’m going to count to three. When I clap my hands, you will wake up, refreshed, and the pain will be gone. All you’ll remember is that you had a nap and a fine drink.” Bart counted then clapped his hands.

Jerry opened his eyes. “Well, that helped me feel better. Did I remember anything?” He frowned at his sister. “Caitie, why are you upset?”

“You didn’t remember, Jerry. I just wished this had worked, that’s all.” She wiped at her cheeks. “I guess we’ll have to give you more time.”

“Yes, we’ve been rushing this.” Bart helped Cait stand up. Jerry was already on his feet.

“Time? While I’m going mad?” He stomped into his boots, then sat to get them on properly. “Surely there’s something we can do.”

“Drugs. But you don’t like needles. And there’s only one doctor I know of who has done serious work on posttraumatic amnesia with vampires.” Bart put his arm around Cait. “You’re not going to like who it is.”

“Why not?” She looked up at him. “Spit it out. Who is it, Bart?”

“Ever hear of Ian MacDonald?”

Six

The
ride back to the Campbell town house wasn’t exactly a fun time for all. After refusing to have anything to do with a MacDonald, doctor or not, Jerry was trying to be the stoic warrior. Cait had strapped him into the seat belt which he’d endured with only a few choice words for the way she’d made it too tight, then she’d announced she was going to catch a ride later with Bart after she discussed Jerry’s case with him. That left me in the driver’s seat. You can imagine what Jer thought about that.

“Are you sure you know how to run this machine?” he finally asked after I’d bumped the post for the fourth time.

How the hell had Cait gotten this car into the tiny parking space? I wasn’t all that current on shifting gears either and the car kept groaning objections and dying.

“I’ve got this, give me a minute.” I tapped the car in front of us and its alarm went off. Fantastic. I backed up quickly, made a hard turn then managed to get us out of there before an angry car owner came out to check on his Bentley. Yes, this was an expensive neighborhood. As far as I could tell, I hadn’t done more than dust his bumper.

“There. We’re on our way.” I made a grinding shift into
second and hit the gas. “You all right?” A glance showed me he really wasn’t. If his brain had been in this century, he would have been livid about how I made his Jag suffer through my gear shifting.

“What happened to all the horses?” He held on to the strap that dangled by the window, his other hand braced on the dashboard when I made a turn.

“People still enjoy horses. As a hobby.” I stopped for a red light, the car died, and started rolling downhill. Edinburgh is all hills. Not exactly where I’d have chosen to relearn standard transmissions. Damn. I put both feet on the brake while I waited for the light to change before I started the engine again. “There are still race courses and events where people show off their horsemanship. But horses aren’t used for transportation anymore.” Green light. I got us going again, barely. It took a minute or two and the car behind me blasted his horn when I almost rolled back into his front bumper.

“What’s that noise?” Jerry grimaced, his head obviously still hurting.

“An ass who wants me to go faster.” I sped up. “You’re still having headaches. Maybe that means you’re trying to remember.”

“Of course I’m trying to remember!” he shouted, his hand inadvertently bumping the gear shift during one of my wide corner turns. “Damn it, Gloriana. Slow this monster down.”

“Sorry.” I pulled over and stopped to study his pale face. He’d looked almost ruddy right after he’d fed. Now he was fading again. So soon. “Really sorry. I know this is hell. I can’t even imagine it. Well, I sort of have a clue. A guy I knew once made me forget we were ever together. Seems he just erased a year of my life.” I shook my head. “But that’s not nearly the same.”

“Another man? How many have there been when we were supposed to be in love for centuries?” He leaned back
against the glass. “Fill in some of the blanks in my memory, Gloriana. This relationship we had. How was it?”

“We took breaks from time to time, Jerry. You would see other women. I would see other men.” I looked out at the dark street, remembering. It beat me if I could understand now why I’d been so dead set on my independence. Surely we could have worked out a compromise without going our separate ways.

“That doesn’t sound like love to me. What happened to being faithful? Vows?” He bumped his knees against the dash. “I have to get out of this thing. How far are we from the town house? This area looks familiar. It must not have changed that much since…You know.”

“No, it hasn’t changed in centuries. The Campbell town house is just up that hill.” And the hill wasn’t doing me any favors again. My legs ached with the effort to keep from coasting back when I needed to go forward. “Go ahead. Get out. And this ‘thing’ is your luxury vehicle that costs more than my shop makes in profit in a year.” The car died again and I pulled up the emergency brake. I opened his seat belt and he reacted like he’d been released from a straightjacket.

“There. Now you can walk. I’ll drive and meet you there. You’ll recognize the place. The old stone buildings are historic, preserved exactly as they were back in the day.” I knew I had to give him some space but hated to see him distance himself again. He fumbled with the door latch and succeeded in making the window go up and down a few times before finally managing to open the door.

“They were built to last. I guess Da put more effort into keeping the town house in shape than he did the castle since we’re staying there.” It wasn’t a question. Jerry climbed out, slammed the car door and strode away.

I started the car again, tried not to strip the gears and drove on up the hill, keeping an eye on Jerry in my rearview mirror. When I pulled up in front of the door, a servant
came out to greet me and put the car in the garage. I just stood there, waiting.