Their auras had somehow connected. Where Anthony’s aura ended and Jacky’s began, I didn’t know. Never had I seen this before. The auras looked, at least to my eyes, to be one big aura.
What the devil?
I sat forward in one of the many plastic chairs that lined the perimeter of the gym and actually rubbed my eyes, but there was no rubbing away this strange display.
Yes, I could see auras. From what I understood, all vampires could see auras. Auras were the energy field that surrounded our bodies. And not just the energy, but, some claimed, our souls themselves, which were too big to be contained by flesh and bones.
I knew Jacky had lost his own son years ago to a drug overdose, and I always suspected that he coached and trained these kids here to fill a void. My suspicions were confirmed with my son. Their connection was tangible. Hell, spiritual.
What’s happening? I wondered.
I didn’t know, but with my own trainer long gone—in fact, I’d seen him slip out the front door with nary a glance back—I suspected that Jacky just might have found himself a new protégé.
And, as Jacky reached over and mussed my son’s hair—with Anthony grinning from ear to ear, his first grin in months—I suspected Jacky had found much more.
They both had.
Chapter Sixteen
I was with the Librarian, a man who might not be a man, and a man who might not really exist, at least in this physical world.
Who he was remained a mystery. That he had once been an ordinary human, I had no doubt. How he existed now, I didn’t know, although his knowledge of alchemy might explain a lot. What it explained, I didn’t know, since I didn’t know much about alchemy, other than a book I’d read years ago by Paulo Coelho, a book that, at the time, had been meaningless to me.
“Paulo touched on real truths,” said the Librarian.
Although Maximus, aka the Librarian, was immortal, he and I had an open telepathic line of communication. Not so much with other immortals, who were closed off to me. With that said, Max and I generally spoke aloud, rather than communicate telepathically. I liked speaking aloud. Call me old fashioned, but speaking aloud was what normal people did. I needed to do what normal people did, as often as possible.
He continued, “Some books you are ready for, some you are not. You were not ready for The Alchemist, although it laid the groundwork to open your mind.”
“What do you mean?”
“You had not awakened, Sam. You were closed, asleep. Life was as it was expected to be, with little questioning on your end. Now you question much and seek deeper answers.”
“And The Alchemist helped do that?”
“That, along with your attack many years ago. But not everyone needs to be rendered immortal to awaken. There are many paths to greater truths.”
“And why should we seek greater truths?”
“There’s no ‘shoulds’ in this world, Sam. There is only following your heart, your own truths, and explore where they lead you.”
“Well, they led me here, to talk to you.”
“And so they have. You have a question for me, I see.”
“I do. It’s about my son.”
Max nodded once, long and slow, from behind his “help desk” counter within the Occult Reading Room, itself filled with hundreds, if not thousands, of very old and very strange-looking books, many of which were, if you asked me, downright dangerous.
The Occult Reading Room was a secret room located on the third floor of Cal State Fullerton’s epic library, a room that few knew about, and even fewer actually saw. Secret may not have been the correct word. There were, after all, actual books in this reading room, books that were even referenced in the library’s computer database.
“Although referenced,” he said, “few would think to look for them, and fewer still have heard of them.”
“But if they have heard of them, and they look for it...”
“Then I am always here.”
“Always?”
“A figure of speech. But more or less, yes. You can mostly find me here.”
That such a young-looking guy could be so wise was still something I was getting used to. I said, “The emerald medallion was used to give my son back his humanity, correct?”
“Correct.”
“But he also retained some of his supernatural traits.”
“This appears to be so.”
“He seems to have retained all the good supernatural traits,” I said. “And none of the bad.”
“Again, yes.”
The Librarian watched me through eyes that never judged and were always kind. I was reminded of a newborn’s eyes, full of wonder and peace and joy. I was not used to such eyes. His were a pleasant change of pace, and if I wasn’t careful, I could get lost in those eyes.
I asked, “Then how is the diamond medallion any different?”
“It’s not, Sam, although it is obvious now that even I cannot predict the reaction each person will have to the medallions.”
The four medallions were, of course, created by the Librarian, relics put into place to help creatures like me combat the things within. That all four of the relics had gravitated toward me was something I didn’t yet understand. They surely could have landed in the lap of other creatures of the night. In fact, I knew of one such vampire—an ancient vampire—who had spent quite a long time looking for the emerald medallion.
I gathered my thoughts, thinking them aloud. “The emerald medallion didn’t just give my son back his mortality, but enabled him to keep some of his immortal powers, too.”
“It appears so, Samantha,” said the Librarian. “But we cannot know that it was the medallion that gave him these gifts...or if it was something else.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure what I mean, Sam. Your son’s reaction to the medallion was unexpected.”
“And you suspect...something else might be involved?”
“In a word, yes.”
“And you are just telling me this now?”
“I’ve only recently deduced this...and I knew you would be back sooner rather than later.”
“Should I be concerned?” I asked. “About my son?”
He shook his head and his kind eyes seemed to smile. “No, Sam. But there is something else at play here, something—or perhaps someone—who has helped your son greatly. This something or someone is beyond even my own perception.”
“That sounds frightening,” I said.