“Yes,” I said, “and the one person who could have stepped in to keep it that way, didn’t.”
“Ishmael,” said Allison, referring to my one-time guardian angel who had, in fact, set me up. Yes, Allison knew my entire story inside and out. Hell, she knew me inside and out.
“Yes,” I said. “And I hate him for it. And I’ll hate him forever.”
Even as I spoke those words, something flashed across the sky through my windshield...something that could have been an errant headlight, an advertising spotlight...or something else. A fallen angel, perhaps.
“What the hell was that?” said Allison.
“You saw it?” I asked. Then I remembered her psychic specialty was remote viewing. Undoubtedly, she was right by my side as we were talking, in a metaphysical sense, of course.
“Yeah, and that was weird.”
“Welcome to my life.”
“Our lives, Sam. We’re kind of in this together.”
I took a deep breath, held it longer than humanly possible, and then came to a stop at a red light near St. Jude Hospital. “I don’t want to be the one responsible for introducing him to a world of vampires and werewolves...and witches.”
“He’s already in it, Sam. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Maybe it’s better to keep it that way. Ignorance is bliss, and all that.”
I continued through the green light, and then made a left turn into a housing tract.
“I can’t tell you, Sam, if it’s right or wrong to tell him. But I think he has a right to know who you are and the real reason you are breaking up with him.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“But you’re not convinced?”
“Not yet,” I said.
“So, what’s the deal about this bonding thing?” Allison asked again.
“I honestly don’t know,” I said.
“But you’re going to find out?”
“Yes,” I said.
We hung up and I thought about Russell and bonding and the streak of light in the sky and the blue aura master and shook my head...
I think I was still shaking my head when I finally pulled up to my house.
Chapter Twelve
“Anthony has a girlfriend, Mom.”
I was in the kitchen, making dinner. Not quite as normal as it might sound. On a platter next to me were precisely fifteen grilled hot dogs. All for Anthony. And, yes, I had grilled them with my George Foreman. That’s the way Anthony liked them, and it was easier than arguing with him. And, true to form, he wanted nothing on them. No buns, no ketchup, no mustard, no relish...nothing. Just fifteen Ballpark Franks, grilled, piled high.
Simmering on the stove next to me was Tammy’s latest obsession. Chicken in yellow curry sauce. She’d gotten it into her head that she loved Indian food. Apparently, she’d had the stuff over at a friend’s house, and now that’s all she ever talked about...Indian food. And now, my kitchen smelled like, well, curry and garlic, with a beefy hot dog chaser.
The trouble was this: the hot dogs smelled heavenly...and so did the damn curry, although I never remembered liking Indian food before. It all smelled good. Heavenly, in fact.
At this point in my pitiful existence—anything, and I mean anything—would be a wondrous change to the every-other-day blood shots I took from sealed plastic bags that I popped open and gulped out of necessity.
Of course, I thought, it didn’t have to be that way, did it?
No, it didn’t. There was one more medallion out there, one more mystical talisman that had been created ages ago to help lessen the side effects of those afflicted with vampirism.
The diamond medallion.
Another such medallion was presently absorbed within my son. Yes, absorbed. Sounded weird, I knew, but my son had taken an alchemical potion that had contained the dissolved medallion. Somehow, the magicks within the medallion still flowed through my boy. Where and how, I didn’t know. But one thing I did know was this...
I was a freakin’ horrible mother.
I stopped stirring with this last thought and stared down into the simmering chicken and curry. No, I thought...not a bad mom. A desperate mom. I saved him, didn’t I? My son was alive to this day, wasn’t he?
He was, of course. In fact, he was in the living room even now, watching SpongeBob Squarepants on Netflix. How the kid could watch those cartoons over and over was beyond me. But watch them he did, and often, all while laughing and giggling and slapping the floor hard enough to shake the whole damn house. In fact, these days, the house seemed to be shaking harder and harder.
No surprise there. The kid had shot up an inch over the last four months...all while filling out, too. He was only ten, but he now had the body of a high school football player.
Yes, I was a very, very bad mother.
I did this to myself often. I rarely, if ever, forgave myself. But I needed to forgive myself for doing what I did to my son—
For saving his life—
For turning him into a monster—
I paused, took a deep breath, collected myself, and then continued stirring the chicken and curry. Yes, my son had had some unforeseen side effects. But, I supposed, the side effects could have been a lot worse.
He could have been a true monster.
Of the blood-sucking variety.
And then a horrible thought occurred to me...one that I refused to entertain for longer than a few seconds before I beat it back into my subconscious...but here it was:
What if, someday, he did become a bloodsucker?
What guarantee did I have that he wouldn’t just keep getting stronger...but also more monstrous?
I didn’t, of course. There were no guarantees in my world. A world that my son—and now my daughter—were now a part of.
No guarantees, yes, but there were answers...and I knew just where to go to find them.
The Librarian, I thought.
For now, though, I heaped a pile of steaming rice on a plate, covered it with chicken and curry, then stuck my head in the living room and told Anthony his hot dogs were ready. He nodded without looking at me and stood smoothly and effortlessly, all muscle and long limbs. I next headed down the hall and told Tammy her dinner was ready, too. She said she would come in a minute.
Anthony grabbed his hot dogs first, but I wouldn’t let him leave without telling me thank you. He mumbled something utterly incomprehensible. It could have been a thank you. He also could have been having a seizure. I gave him the hot dogs anyway.
“Wait,” I said. “What’s this about a new girlfriend?”
He blushed mightily, which might have been cute. That is, of course, if we had been talking about anything other than a girlfriend. “She’s just a friend, Mom. A friend who happens to be a girl.”