"So, there are others like you?" I asked.
"Of course."
"And what do you call yourselves?"
"We are watchers."
I nodded. "And what do you watch?"
"I watch you, Sam."
"Just watch?"
"Watch and protect and guide."
"Then you've done a shitty job of it," I said suddenly, thinking of my attack seven years ago.
Ishmael kept his eyes on me. After a moment, he said, "I was with you, Sam. Always with you."
"Even while that animal attacked me?" I couldn't help the anger in my voice.
Ishmael said nothing at first, although he slowly raised a hand to his face and rubbed his jaw. He continued to stare at me. Even his minor movements were fluid and hypnotic. "Perhaps you wonder why you were not killed that night, Sam."
"Actually, I do."
"Perhaps you should know that your attacker ended many lives, Samantha. He would have ended yours, too. In fact, he was just seconds from doing so."
The so-called watcher lapsed into silence and continued rubbing his jaw. The physical movement seemed to intrigue him, and now he slowly ran his hand over his own soft lips, feeling them, using his fingertips as a painter would a sable-tipped brush. I had the impression Ishmael rarely manifested in the physical.
I was about to speak, but suddenly found speaking difficult. I was back to that moment in the park, experiencing again the ungodly strength of the thing that had attacked me, the blast of pain of being hurled against a tree...the fear of being pounced on by something so much stronger than me. Yes, I should have been dead many times over. So, instead of speaking, I thought: You saved me.
Ishmael briefly paused in his exploration of his face. "It wasn't your time."
"Then why let me get attacked at all? Why let me get turned into...this thing?"
"Fair questions, Sam, but we are not quite the guardian angels as you think of us. Not the static lighted angel on top of your Christmas tree, assembled by small children in an Asian country. Not the Michelangelo-ish ones painted on ceilings of cathedrals or glorified in Christmas carols and hymns galore. Not the ones in old movies on TV, getting our wings every time someone rings a bell. Not those angels. Not."
"Then what the hell are you?"
"Think of us as custodians of destiny."
I blinked, processing that. "You help fulfill destinies?"
He nodded. "I helped you fulfill your destiny, Sam."
"And my destiny was to become a vampire?"
"Your destiny was to become immortal. Vampirism was one way to achieve that."
"So, I chose this life?"
"You did."
"Why?"
"I'm not at liberty to say."
"Why not?"
"You are not ready for the answer."
I fought through my frustration. "Will I ever find the answer?"
"Yes, someday."
I drummed my fingers along my desk, my thick nails clicking loudly. They sounded fiendish, like the claws of something dark and slimy moving quickly over the floor. I said, "So, in effect, the moment I turned into a vampire, the moment I became immortal myself, you were out of a job."
"That's correct, Sam."
"So, what have you been doing these past seven years?"
"Watching you, Sam. Always watching you."
"Why?"
He looked away, and as he did so, he looked very, very human. And even a little uncomfortable. He kept looking away as he spoke. "Because I'm in love with you, Samantha Moon."
Chapter Ten
You there, Fang?
I'm always here for you, Moon Dance.
Oh, cut the crap. Half the time, you've got a woman over there.
Not as frequently as you think, Moon Dance. And not since we've met.
But that was over six months ago.
It was.
But why?
It seems the right thing to do. Besides, I've lost interest in dating in general.
Since you met me?
That might have something to do with it, Moon Dance. But don't flatter yourself. Perhaps it was time for me to slow down, to take stock of who I am and what I want in life.
You want to be a vampire.
There was a short pause before he wrote: Among other things.
I did not have to dip very far into Fang's mind to know he was referring to me. Truth be known, I didn't much enjoy dipping into Fang's mind. His mind was not healthy, although he was doing an admirable job of dealing with his many issues. I found it ironic that the one mind I was most linked to was a deeply troubled one.
I felt him probing my mind in return and let him do it, giving him access of the events of the night before. A moment later, his words appeared in the IM chat box.
You have got to be kidding, Moon Dance.
I'm not.
Now I have to compete with a freakin' angel, too?
Despite myself, I laughed. I wrote: You're not competing with anyone, Fang. I'm with Kingsley. Happily with Kingsley.
Is that what you told Captain Ahab?
Ishmael, I wrote. And yes. After I spent about three minutes getting over my shock...and another two minutes convincing myself I wasn't dreaming, I told him I was happily with Kingsley.
And how did he take it?
He laughed and said he was infinitely patient, that we had all eternity.
Since when do angels cavort with vampires?
He calls himself a watcher.
Either way. I don't like it, Moon Dance.
I didn't think you would.
I need to look into this.
I figured you would.
Was he handsome?
I thought about it, still reeling from the encounter, still wondering if this was all some elaborate practical joke, and, as always, still wondering if I was still back at the hospital, lying comatose after my attack seven years ago. For now, though, I recalled Ishmael's emerald eyes and quiet strength...and the love that emanated from him seemingly unconditionally.
I thought about it some more, then wrote: He was radiant.
Ah, shit.
Chapter Eleven
I was back at Charlie's single-wide mobile home. Or, rather, standing just outside it.
It was evening and the mobile home park was mostly quiet. I could smell fish frying and meats baking. TV sets glowed in many of the mobile homes. Outside the window in question, where the blinds were a little too narrow and the curtains were a little too thin, I paused and took in the scene.
The area between Charlie's home and the home next to his was covered in white gravel and seemed to serve as a small parking lot. There was also a path that led between the two homes. The path seemed to connect one side of the park to the other. The path led just outside the window in question.