"You're not being selfish, Sam," said Fang, using my real name, which he rarely did. He also read my thoughts, which was of no surprise since he and I had developed an unusual psychic connection over the years. And meeting him recently for the first time had only enhanced that connection. "It's your job to look out for your son. It's your job to keep him safe from harm."
"But look what I've done to him."
"Only temporarily, Sam. Remember the medallion."
"But what if it doesn't work?"
"But what if it does?" he countered.
"You're ever the optimist."
"My friend is a gloomy vampire. Someone has to be the optimist in this relationship."
"But what about the psychological harm? I mean, even if I can turn him back, will he ever have a normal life again?"
The man smoking nearby snubbed out his cigarette. He glanced at me once and I saw the darkness around his heart. I didn't know what that meant, but I suspected its implication: someone close to him was going to die. I tried to smile and he tried to smile, but in the end, we only stared at each other with empty eyes as he slipped back into the hospital.
Fang was thinking hard on his end. He was always thinking hard for me. Always helping. Always working through my problems with me.
"It's because I'm a helluva guy," he said, picking up on my thoughts.
"And because you're obsessed with vampires."
"Well, someone has to be. Now, speaking of vampires...six years ago, after your attack, when did you first realize that you were something, ah, something different?"
"When did I first realize that I was a vampire?"
"Yes."
"Weeks later. But I knew something was vastly wrong only a few days later."
"But did you suspect you were a vampire?"
"No. Not at first. I just knew something was wrong."
"When did you crave blood?"
"A few days later."
"How many days later?"
I thought back to my time in the hospital, and then to my first few days at home. "Four days. But I thought I was low on iron or something."
I had an image of my son drinking blood and it was almost too much to bear. I started pacing again and hating myself all over again.
"Calm down, Moon Dance," said Fang, despite the fact that I hadn't said anything, so pure was our mental connection. "The way I see it, you have four days to find him a cure."
I stopped pacing; he was right.
He went on. "You have four days before your son realizes that something is wrong, that he's something different."
"Four days," I said. Relief flooded me. My God, he was right. I had four days to find a cure.
"Four days, Sam, to unlock the secret to the medallion."
"I gotta go," I said. "Love ya."
The words caught him by surprise, as they did me.
"Love ya, too," he said after a short pause, and clicked off.
Chapter Eight
I checked on my son.
According to the doctor on staff - a young guy who could not have looked more bewildered - Anthony's fever was dropping at an astonishing rate, even though the fever hadn't appeared to break; as in, my son hadn't yet broken out in a sweat.
More astonishing, at least to the doctors, were his eyes. Red, swollen eyes were a hallmark of Kawasaki disease. Anthony's eyes, however, had shown marked improvement. In fact, there was no indication of redness and the swelling was nearly gone. Same with his tongue. "Strawberry tongue" was common with children with Kawasaki disease. His tongue was a normal, healthy pink. Same with his hands and feet, which had earlier developed severe erythema of the palms and soles, now appeared normal and healthy.
The doctor just stood there by my son's side, blinking and stammering and smiling. He was certain he was witnessing a miracle. He had - just a very different kind of miracle.
When the doctor left to order some blood work, I sat by my son's side, holding his warm hands. He continued staring at me quietly, and I was having a hard time looking him in the eye. Did he know what I had done? I didn't think so, but I suspected he knew on a very deep level. The soul level, perhaps. His outer level, the physical level, was still confused and wondering.
Finally, he spoke, and my son's little voice sounded strong. He told me he felt weird and sick to his stomach. I remember feeling sick to my stomach, too. Years ago, I had been attacked in the woods while jogging, an attack that had changed my life forever.
Why? I asked myself again. Why attack me? For what purpose? What good was a vampire mama?
For now, though, I comforted my son as best as I could. I asked him if he was hungry and he shook his head emphatically, his black locks whipping back and forth about his forehead. I really needed to get him a haircut.
I told him to rest. He nodded and I hugged him tightly and did my best to ignore the guilt that gripped my heart. Six years ago, after my attack, I had slept often throughout those first four days. Perhaps the length of time necessary for the body to fully assimilate the vampire blood, for the transformation to be complete. I didn't know.
Anthony would be sleeping often for the next four days, and for that I was thankful. After all, I was going to be busy looking for answers. And since his health was now assured, I felt free to leave his side.
I gave him a kiss on his cooling forehead just as he was drifting off to sleep. I got up from his side and closed the curtains tight, and slipped out of the room and out of the hospital and headed for my minivan.
I checked my watch as I stepped in. Two hours before sunlight.
As I started my vehicle, I made a call to the only other vampire in the world that I knew.
Chapter Nine
I was at Detective Hanner's home in Fullerton.
The home was located in the hills above the city, and as we sat together on her second-story deck, she pointed out the rooftop of another home, barely distinguishable among a copse of thick trees. According to Hanner, the old man there was a Kabbalistic grandmaster, and was considered by many to be immortal himself.
"Then again," said Detective Hanner, crossing her bare legs and flashing me a grin, "neighbors do tend to talk."
"What, exactly, is a Kabbalistic grandmaster?"
"One who has mastered the nuances of the Kabbalah, the esoteric Jewish doctrine that facilitates a deeper connection with the great unknown, helps one gain a profound understanding of other realities and illuminates the meaning of life." Hanner turned her face toward me and I was struck again by the wildness of her eyes. They belonged to something untamed and free and hungry, a puma hunting at night, a tiger hunting in the jungles, a lion tracking its prey across the Serengeti. She grinned fiercely and added, "Or something like that."