Samantha Moon: First Eight Novels, Plus One Novella (112 page)

“As are you, Sam.”

“
I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“
You have partaken of many who have been slain here, Sam. Do not deny that you knew otherwise.”

“
You told me the blood was from willing donors.”

“
Some more willing than others, Sam. You knew this. I told you this, often.”

“
You did not tell me you killed these people.”

She tilted her head a little. It was not a human gesture. It was, if anything, something alien. “I did not kill these people, Sam. I was a buyer only. And, perhaps, an active supporter.” She grinned and spread her hands. “Of the arts.”

“You covered up his crimes.”

“
Of course, Sam. He was of value to me and our kind.”

“
Sherbet knows,” I said. “I told him about you.”

The fire in her eyes briefly flared. “I know, Sam. I’ve removed the memory of your conversation.” She motioned to the others moving across the stage, the policemen, detectives, medical workers. “As I have done with all here tonight. None will suspect our involvement, or the involvement of our kind. In fact, most are not aware that we are sitting here, watching them.”

“But how?”

“
It’s not very difficult to do, Sam. With a little training, you could do the same. Especially you.”

“
What does that mean, especially me?”

“
You are particularly...gifted.”

“
I don’t understand.”

“
You display a wide range of...abilities.”

“
I thought all vampires do what I do.”

She shook her head. “You thought wrong, Sam. Very few can do what you do, although most of us possess typical gifts.”

“Typical gifts?”

“
The ability to influence thoughts and change minds, minor psychic sensitivity, although only a few of us can transform into something greater.”

“
Can you?”

“
Sadly, no. You, my dear, are a rare breed.”

“
Why?”

She studied me for a long moment. Never once did she blink. “The reason is the person who changed you, of course.”

“Who was he?”

“
One of the oldest of our kind.”

“
Why did he change me?”

“
I don’t know,” she said, but as she spoke, the fire in her eyes dimmed a little.

“
You’re lying,” I said.

She laughed hollowly. “Do you see, Sam? Most of our kind would not have detected a lie. Tell me, how did you know?”

“Your eyes.”

“
What about my eyes?”

“
The fire in them...it went out a little, dimmed.”

“
What fire?”

“
Just behind your pupils.”

“
You can see a fire there?” she asked.

“
Yes.”

“
Interesting.”

“
Why?” I asked.

“
Because I see no fire in your eyes.”

“
Fine,” I said, turning a little more in my seat. “So, I’m a fucking freak among freaks. That has little to do with the issue here.”

“
And what is the issue here, Sam?”

“
The killing of innocent people.”

“
The killers will go to jail. Sherbet will be a hero. In fact, he thinks he came here alone, that he acted alone tonight, that he stumbled upon the secret door behind the mirror, alone, that he stopped both killers, alone.” She paused and stared at me. “He has no memory of you tonight, outside of your phone call to him.”

“
Jesus. Does Sherbet still know about me? About what I am?”

“
Yes, although it was very foolish of you to have told him. I can only go back so far to remove memories, as you will someday discover yourself. Already you are becoming more and more like us, and less and less like them.”

“
No,” I said.

“
Oh? Do you not feel the stronger effects of the sun? Are you not able to venture outside as long as you could before?” She paused and actually blinked. “Someday soon you will never be able to venture out into the light of day. Ever. And your hunger for blood—human blood—will become insatiable.”

“
Stop it, goddammit.”

“
I will stop, Sam. But then you and I will have this talk again soon, and you will curse the day that you stopped such a productive output of blood. You will curse the day that something so useful had been wiped out.”

I shook, my head, and kept on shaking it.

“I was like you, Sam. A mother. Full of love and hope. Hope that I would someday be normal again. Hope that this would all turn out to be a bad dream. That was a long, long time ago. Now my son is long dead. The hope is long gone. And I am hungry. Very, very hungry.”

Solemn voices filled the theater. Police personnel continued pouring across the stage. All looked shell-shocked. All looked numb. Sherbet was speaking to someone urgently. My detective friend never once looked my way.

“There has to be another way,” I said.

Hanner reached out and touched my arm. Her fingers were ice cold. “Someday you will see that there is no other way.” She paused, then leaned in and whispered into my ear. “Someday soon.”

She stood and was about to leave when I said, “So, this is it. You walk away from this?”

“
Yes,” she said. “And so do you.”

Chapter Forty-seven

I was in the desert again.

This time, a little further out. In fact, about eighty-five miles out. I was in the hills above a small town called Pioneertown. A fitting name if ever there was one. Pioneertown had street names like Annie Oakley Road, Rawhide Road, and Mane Street, as in a horse’s mane. Rebellious.

In all, it featured a few dozen homes, a post office and an inn, all of which I could see from my position high upon this cliffside ledge.

Sunrise was about an hour away. My minivan was parked about a thirty-minute hike away. I was sitting on an exposed ledge with no hope for shade. Doing the math, that meant I had thirty minutes to decide if I was going to do this.

And I was determined to do this.

Seven months ago, I had leaped from a hotel balcony. Truly a leap of faith. I was either going to fly or fall. At the time, I had been at wits’ end. My kids were gone, my house was gone, and my cheating bastard of a husband was gone. I had nothing to lose. And so I had leaped...and the rest was history.

Now, my life was a little more stable. I had my kids, my house and a boyfriend who seemed to care for me, a boyfriend who happened to be a fellow creature of the night, even if it was only one night of the month.

The desert birds were awakening, chirping in and around the magnificent Joshua trees which were scattered across the undulating hills below me.

Although my personal life had stabilized, something else was unraveling: my physical body. Perhaps “unraveling” was too strong a word. Perhaps even the wrong word. Perhaps the better word was progressing. Progressing inevitably to a full-blooded creature of the night, unable even to step out into the light of day.

But I had to step out into the light of day, dammit. I had to pick my kids up from school. I had to watch little Anthony’s soccer practices, even if from afar, even if from the safety of my van.

I had to.

I had to, goddammit.

I couldn’t lose that. I had lost so much already. Watching my son play soccer from my minivan was not too much to ask for, was it? It was shitty, yes, but I at least had that.

My feet hung over the ledge. Directly under ledge was, I think, a small cave, because I could hear critters moving around inside. These days, I didn’t fear critters, even the slithery ones with rattles on their tales. Unless their fangs were composed of silver spikes, or their poison of molten silver, I was good to go.

I checked my watch. Fifty minutes until sunrise. I could still turn around and head back to the relative safety of my minivan, which was parked under the shade of a rocky overhang.

So, why had I come out here? All the way out here? The same reason I had leaped from the balcony seven months ago.

No turning back. I was going to do it.

Or I was going to die.

I held in my hand the emerald medallion. The golden disk was nearly as big as my palm. I absently ran my thumb over the embedded emeralds, which were arranged into three roses. A cracked, leather strap was threaded through a small hoop in the medallion.

Behind me soared the San Bernardino Mountains. The east-facing San Bernardino Mountains. If I was going to see my first dawn in seven years, I was going to do it right. I was going to do it high upon a hill, facing east, with nothing—and I mean nothing—blocking my view.

This is crazy.

Already I was feeling the first stages of exhaustion. Already I was feeling a strong need to lie down somewhere comfortable and prepare for the comatose state that was sleep.

Instead, I sat here on the ledge, and, as the eastern sky turned from black to purple, as the brilliant flares of light that illuminated the night for me began to decrease, I knew that soon there would be no going back.

No going back.

Ever.

Forty minutes to sunrise. I had ten minutes to make my choice. I found that I was breathing fast. Filling my lungs and body and brain with oxygen. Except these days I didn’t need much oxygen, if any. These days it was an old, nervous habit. A remnant of my humanity.

And what was so great about humanity?

My kids, for one. And daylight, for another.

Thirty minutes. I began rocking on the ledge, forward and backward. If I wanted to comfortably work my way back to my van, then I had to leave now.

Now.

Except I didn’t leave. Instead, I continued rocking, continued holding the gold-and-emerald medallion.

I suspected the sun would kill me. Perhaps not right off. But soon enough. I suspected it would quickly render me incapable of movement and, once unable to move, I would just burn alive. In complete agony. Right here where I was sitting.

In twenty-five minutes.

As the sky continued to brighten, my heart rate, generally sluggish at best, picked up considerably. The wind also picked up, sweeping over me, rocking me gently. My pink sweats flapped around my ankles. I breathed in sage and juniper and milkwood and dust and the bones of the long dead.

Twenty minutes till dawn. I knew this on a sub-atomic level, my version of the circadian rhythm, or body clock. I was deeply tied to the sun. I knew, at all times, the exact location of the sun. I knew without a doubt that I had twenty minutes before the sun would first appear on the far horizon.

Nineteen minutes.

I rocked some more.

Breathed a little faster.

If I jogged now, I could still make it to my van in time.

Never in my life had I felt so exposed, so vulnerable. I might as well be naked in a shopping mall.

No, worse. Naked in a furnace.

The coming pain would no doubt be excruciating.

And all I had was this.

I looked again at the medallion. The gold surface caught some of the lightening sky, reflecting it a little. I recalled Max’s one instruction regarding the medallion:

“
Unlocking the secret of the medallion is easy enough for those of great faith.”

“
Great faith? What does that mean?”

“
You will know what to do, Sam.”

Easy enough.

Great faith.

I will know what to do.

Truth was, I
still
didn’t know what to do, and my time was running out fast.

Fifteen minutes. A strong need to sleep was coming over me.

I would have to sprint now. An all-out run to make it back to my van.

Great faith,
he had said.

Faith in what?

I thought about that again, perhaps for the hundredth time, as the wind picked up. Two or three tumbleweeds appeared out of the semi-darkness to skitter and roll in front of me far below. The sky continued to brighten.

There was only one thing I could think of doing with the medallion—and that was to wear it.

You will know what to do.

I dipped my head a little and slipped the cracked leather thong over my head and pulled my long hair through. Thoughts of my kids were dominant now. I could not lose them. Not to the morning sun. My kids were with my sister. The long night at the theater had culminated with me coming out here after a shower and quick change of clothing.