He’d come through more than once, saving my ass more than once. Being there for me, through thick and thin.
I recalled his tender words, uttered to me not that long ago, as we sat in his own oversized SUV.
“The big oaf,” I mumbled, shaking my head now as I sat in my office, staring down at the notes I’d made. I had a game plan to find Lucy, and it consisted of contacting anyone and everyone that Lucy had ever known. It would be a lot of work. Or, as Tammy would say, a crap-ton of work. Luckily, I was up for a lot of work.
I sighed and thought again of Kingsley and those big amber eyes of his, and that hair—Jesus, all that hair. And then it happened...for the first time in well over a year, I remembered what it had been like to run my fingers through that hair. His hair. His thick, yet soft hair.
It had been heavenly, exciting, intoxicating.
Lord help me.
I drummed my fingers on my desk, listening to the sounds of Anthony’s snores, which seemed to be growing louder these days, then double-clicked on my AOL IM icon on my computer screen.
* * *
Hi, Fang.
Good evening, Moon Dance.
And what are you doing on this fine night? I wrote.
You might not want to know, Moon Dance.
A woman?
Yes.
Then why the heck are you IM-ing me?
She’s asleep.
Is she human?
Yes.
Are you feeding from her?
I did, yes.
Is she a willing donor? I asked.
Yes.
The demon inside me perked up at this. I perked up, too, but it wasn’t because of the demon. At least, I didn’t think it was.
No, I thought, it’s her. She’s the catalyst for all of this, remember that.
Who’s the girl? I asked.
Do you really want to know, Sam?
I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.
She’s an ex-girlfriend.
I knew, of course, what had happened to an earlier girlfriend of his, hell, the whole world knew. He had drained her dry in his lap while making love to her, back when he was a teenager, back when he didn’t truly understand the depths of his depravity.
Does she know she’s a donor? I asked.
She knows everything about me, Sam. I have no secrets from her.
So, she’s willingly giving herself to you?
Yes, Sam.
Do you love her?
There was a long pause before I saw him typing again on his computer screen. Amazingly, surprisingly, I didn’t feel jealous. Well, not too jealous. I wondered if my thoughts of Kingsley had something to with that.
Yes, I think so.
I nodded to myself and sat back and analyzed how I felt about that. Yes, there was some jealousy. I did, after all, have feelings for Fang. There was mostly confusion, though. My feelings for Fang were all over the map. He’d done much to help me in the early days, and, later, to turn my life upside down. His siding with Hanner broke my heart. In the end, he had been compelled to act by a vampire much more powerful than me, and much older, too. Still, Fang had made the decision to go behind my back, to move forward without me. And he was doing just that now, with yet another woman.
Yes, I was jealous, but I also felt something else.
I felt liberated.
Seeing him like this. Or, rather, hearing him describe his current situation was a reminder to me of how far we had fallen, how distant we had become. Did he still love me? I think so. Love doesn’t just go away. Even a small part of me still loved Danny and missed him. A very, very small part of me, granted.
So, Fang wasn’t sure about his feelings with his girlfriend. I’d let him figure that out, in his own way, and in his own time. Truth be known, what I missed most was our sweet connection via the Internet. Via the old-school AOL instant message.
Chatting with him now—even reading words that upset me and concerned me—felt natural. It felt right. It felt like how things should feel. This past year had been one long, crazy-ass ride, and now things were finally, finally as they should be.
I typed: Well, Fang, I hope you can figure out your feelings for her.
I’m in no rush, Sam. She gives my life balance, security. She accepts me for who I am, exactly what I am. She doesn’t judge. She only loves.
And gives you a fresh supply of blood.
Yes, Sam. There is that, too.
We were silent for a long time. His “typing” icon remained silent. Finally, I wrote: You had the diamond medallion all along.
You knew about that?
Yes. It looked different than the others, so I wasn’t sure what it was.
I wasn’t sure what it was either, truth be known.
Where did you get it?
The curiosity museum, he wrote.
Where they displayed your teeth? I wrote, referring to the teeth that now hung around his neck, looking to all the world like miniature elephant tusks. They were teeth that had been extracted from Fang long ago, in an insane asylum. Yeah, Fang was messed up, perhaps more than I might ever really know.
Yes. When I went back for my teeth, after I dispatched the owner, I saw the medallion in his safe.
So, you took it?
Of course.
And had been wearing it ever since.
Yes, Sam.
And you still have it?
No, I’m sorry.
My mouth opened and I think a sound squeaked out.
Fang continued typing: I didn’t know what I had. I didn’t know its value. I just knew it was special.
I nodded suddenly. I wrote: But Hanner knew.
Yes. She knew that wearing it would possibly nullify my vampirism.
And you couldn’t have that, I wrote.
No, Sam.
So, you removed it?
Yes. I had to. It was the price I had to pay for her to change me. I gave it to her happily.
I nearly called him an idiot. Instead, I took a few deep breaths and sat back...and that was when it hit me.
She’s still alive, isn’t she?
Maybe. If she figured out how to unlock it. She was having trouble with that part.
But I saw the demon escape her when she died. The diamond medallion removes the demon.
Maybe she struck a deal with the demon within.
To keep it inside?
Yes.
Did you see her use the medallion?
I saw her try.
And then?
And then I was compelled to do what I was told, and I lost all track of the medallion.
I drummed my pointed nails on the keyboard, thinking hard. We had left Hanner down in the cavern, under the Los Angeles River, with the silver dagger still in her. Seemed safest to leave it in her. Yes, she had seemed dead. Very, very dead. But who knew?
You never went back for her? I wrote. To revive her or help her?
No, Sam. I’ve thought about it. But no.
But you loved her.
In a way, yes. But I didn’t love what she did to you and your family. That was a deal breaker for me.