So I breathed and shook and tried to calm down.
And as I sat there, I recalled Max's words spoken to me just a few minutes earlier: "I have some very good news for you, Samantha," he'd said. "The emerald medallion is reputed to reverse the effects of...the sun."
"What, exactly, does that mean?" I had asked, not daring to believe what I thought it might mean.
"Once you unlock the medallion, Samantha Moon, the sun will no longer have power over you."
But his words were just not sinking in. It was just too much to hope for. Too much to believe. "I...I don't understand."
He had reached across the counter and gently took my hand. "It means, Sam, that you will be able to live in daylight again."
"But...how?"
He smiled mischievously. A mischievous smile in this situation was, in fact, maddening. He said, "Unlocking the secret to the medallion is easy enough, Sam, for those of great faith."
"Great faith? What does that mean?"
"You will know what to do, Sam."
Except I didn't know what to do. And, hell, when did I ever know what to do?
Now, as I continued to shake and breathe and burn in my van, I whispered his words again: "To live in daylight again."
I nearly wept at the thought.
Nearly. After all, I had my kids to pick up, and I wasn't going to be late again, dammit.
So, when the shaking had subsided enough to control the smaller movements of my fingers, I started the minivan, and as I drove, I saw myself at the beach with my kids, swimming with my kids, hiking with my kids. And watching my son play soccer in the bleachers with all the other parents.
Okay, now the tears found me.
And in my mind's eye, I saw myself sitting quietly high upon a faraway mountain and watching the sun rise for the first time in nearly seven years.
At the next red light, I buried my face in my hands and wept until the light turned green.
* * *
Damn.
I was a little late picking up the kids, which netted me a scowling look from the principal, whom I'm sure didn't like me much. I knew he saw me as an unfit mother, especially after the bogus ideas Danny had planted last year.
Bastard.
Bogus or not, I was now on the principal's radar. I hate being on anyone's radar, let alone a principal's. Sigh.
On the way home, we stopped for some burgers at Burger King. Anthony had branched out a little and discovered that he now liked mayonnaise. But just a little mayonnaise. My little boy was growing up.
At home, while the kids ate and I made yet another excuse for why I wasn't hungry, I found myself in my office and working when my cell phone rang. I glanced at the faceplate, saw that it was a local number.
"Moon Investigations," I said cheerily enough, although I was hearing the grumblings of a fight brewing in the living room.
"Ms. Moon?" said an oddly familiar voice.
"Go for Moon," I said. I've always wanted to say that.
"Ms. Moon, my name's Robert Mason. I own the Fullerton Playhouse."
"And starred in One Life to Live."
"I wouldn't say 'starred,' but, yes, I had a recurring role until a few years ago."
"When they killed you off with a brain tumor."
"It saddens the heart. Were you a fan?"
"It happened to come on after Judge Judy."
He laughed a little. A deep, rich laugh. A deep, rich, fake laugh. "Judge Judy was a great lead-in."
It was at that moment that a full-fledged fight broke out in the next room. I even heard something break. Something glass. Shit.
"Hang on, Rob," I said.
I left the phone on the desk, dashed into the living room and saw Anthony sitting on Tammy. Now that was a first. Tammy was always the bigger and stronger one. Granted, she was still bigger, but clearly not stronger. Her struggling seemed to be in vain. Indeed, she was looking at her brother oddly. No doubt marveling at what I was seeing, too.
I plucked him off his sister and deposited him on the new couch. I spent the next thirty-three seconds listening to "He said and she said and did that she started," and decided I'd heard enough. I turned the TV off and banished them both to their bedrooms. As they moped off, I couldn't help but notice the red mark around Tammy's arms where Anthony had pinned her to the floor.
Jesus.
Back in my office, I wasn't very surprised that Robert Mason hadn't hung up. After all, I suspected there was a very good reason why Robert Mason had called me.
After I apologized for the disruption, he said that was quite all right and that he wanted to meet me ASAP.
Yeah, that was the reason.
Chapter Eighteen
I was waiting at Starbucks.
It was evening and the sun still had not set. By my internal vampire clock, I knew it was about twenty minutes away. My internal vampire clock also told me that I should be asleep, to awaken just as the sun set. I think, maybe, that's happened only two or three times. And that was when the whole family was sick.
Now, of course, only I was sick. Eternally sick.
The Starbucks was near the junior college, which meant there were a lot of young people inside with longish hair, random tattoos, squarish glasses, fuzzy beards, and cut-off jean shorts, all working importantly on their laptops. These were hipsters feeding and drinking in their natural habitat.
As I sat with my bottle of water, keenly aware that the two young men sitting at the table next to me were not only barefoot but one of them had tattoos of sandals on his feet, a handsome older gentleman stepped through the door, blinked, and scanned the coffee shop.
I waved. He spotted me and nodded. I think my stomach might have done a backflip. Someone might have gasped. Actually, that someone was me, never mind. The closer he got, the bluer his eyes got and the deeper the cleft in his chin seemed to get, too.
Not to mention, the darker his aura got.
I'm familiar with dark auras. The aura of the fallen angel who had visited me last Christmas had progressively gotten darker. Robert Mason's aura wasn't quite as foul, but the thick black cords that wove around and through him were disconcerting at best. What it meant, I didn't really know, but it couldn't be good.
Especially since my inner alarm began ringing.
He stood over me and reached out a hand, but now my warning bells were ringing so damn loud that I automatically recoiled. Women stared. Men stared. Hipsters glanced ironically. It was surely an odd scene. A renowned soap actor and a skittish woman afraid to make contact with him.
After another second or two, he retracted his hand and sat without me saying a word. As he made himself comfortable, I noted that the black snakes now moved over and under the table, slithering like living things. I shivered. No, shuddered.