"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?"
"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.