They were esoteric sayings, surely. Spiritual sayings. The kind of sayings that might randomly flit through a highly-evolved mind. Or one who practiced the Kabbalah.
But the words, repeated over and over, created a sort of buzz. A white noise that was almost deafening, to the point where I was having a hard time thinking, or hearing my own thoughts.
"Please sit down, young lady," said the little man, motioning to the cushion before him. I noticed he didn't open his eyes. "At least, I assume you're young. With vampires, you just never know."
The air in the room was filled with more of the swirling, colorful particles; somehow, these particles were moving even slower in this room.
"I'm fine right here," I said.
He nodded. "Forgive the voices you might be hearing; that is, if you can hear them. Not all creatures of the night possess this skill."
"What...what are the voices?" I asked.
He cracked a smile, although he still hadn't opened his eyes. "Ah, you can hear them. Very interesting. Yes, the voices are my defense."
"I don't understand."
"You see, it is impossible to close off your thoughts to a vampire, especially a powerful vampire, but one can provide a sort of 'white noise.' Clutter, if you will."
I nodded as if I understood - which, disturbingly, I think I did.
The old man continued, "Of course, I cannot penetrate your thoughts; at least, not yet. Not until we've developed a deeper bond or relationship, and I don't see that happening unless you have an unflagging desire to become chums with a very old man."
I smiled despite the strangeness of the situation.
"How old?" I asked.
"Old enough not to answer that question. Anyway, I will not bother to ask how you came to find me, as I'm generally always found by your kind. Indeed, the how is not important. It is the why that I'm after. Why are you here?"
"I need help with my son."
He smiled again. "A vampire with children?"
"Yes."
"Tragic," he said, making small noises and shaking his head.
"Why?"
"Because you will inevitably outlive your son, only to spend an eternity being barren."
"Barren?"
"Vampirism is the ultimate contraceptive."
I hadn't thought about having more kids. I hadn't realized that I would never, ever have children again. My heart sank. No wonder Hanner was so distraught.
"Ah, I see that this is news to you," he said, and still he had not opened his eyes.
I nodded. "Yes."
"You can see, then, the tragedy. There is but one way to overcome this, of course."
I suddenly knew the way, because despite his looping gibberish that filled my thoughts, I had caught a quick glance into his mind.
"Yes," I said. "The medallion."
His eyes shot open.
Chapter Thirteen
He said nothing at first, but I saw the suspicion on his face, especially in his strange eyes, eyes that seemed devoid of color. I knew he was wondering if I had read his thoughts, or if I had simply made a supposition based on his last statement.
"What about the medallion, my dear?" he asked. He closed his eyes again, and it was just as well since his colorless irises were creepy as hell.
I told him about my son, opening up to the strange man and telling him secrets that I told few mortals. He might hold the answers to my son's return to mortality, and that was enough to keep me talking, to keep me babbling until I finally caught him up to date.
As I spoke, he sat quietly, no doubt watching me in ways that I couldn't quite fathom. When I was finished, he said, "You have spared your son from death. Is that not the goal of most parents?"
"The goal of most parents is not to turn their children into blood-sucking fiends."
He nodded. "So you've turned your son, and now you wish to turn him back?"
"Yes."
"You are playing God, Samantha. Granting immortality and then taking it away."
"I'm using the tools I've been given to save my son. No more, no less."
He nodded. "The medallion. Is it in your possession?"
"It is somewhere safe."
"And you seek to unlock its secret?"
"I seek to give my son a normal life."
"Normal lives are overrated."
The energy in the room had shifted a little. It was moving a fraction faster. I think my own anger and frustration was charging the room. The old man continued sitting still, while his looping white noise continued filling my brain. What kind of secrets was he keeping from me? Perhaps it was better that I didn't know.
"I do not have strength to argue the point," he said. "Keeping you out of my thoughts is highly taxing. Tell me, what exactly can I do for you?"
"I need help in unlocking the medallion."
"And reversing your son's vampirism?"
"Yes."
He sat quietly. He was tiring. The whispery phrases that cluttered my thoughts seemed to be faltering, skipping words here and there. His defense was breaking down, and I idly wondered what mysteries might be lurking in his brain.
"There is a way, of course," he said. "There's always a way. But for my services I always requirement payment."
My eyes narrowed. Any woman's eyes would narrow when she hears a creepy old man utter the words: I require payment.
"What kind of payment?" I asked warily.
"Life, of course."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that for my service I require life, usually in the form of years removed from yours and added to mine."
So he was a vampire, after all. Or a type of vampire. One that sucked life, not blood, no doubt through the use of arcane magicks.
He went on, "But you have no years to remove, my dear, being immortal. To remove years implies that one's life has an ending point." He opened his eyes and looked directly at me. "You, lass, will live forever, if you are lucky."
Indeed. For creatures who are immortal, we tend to die easily enough if we find ourselves on the wrong end of a silver dagger.
My eyes narrowed. "So what are you getting at?"
"Your son's life, of course, Samantha. For my help, I require three years from your son's life, that is, of course, if you are successful in your bid to return him to his mortality."
"How will this be done?"
"Delicately, my dear. Your son will not be harmed."
I felt sick all over again. Jesus, what had I gotten Anthony involved with? "He will lose three years of his life?"