Alan didn't know how to respond. Was he hearing the man correctly? Was he being offered all that, just out of the blue, out of the kindness of the old billionaire's heart? It couldn't be. There were always strings. This was Earth, not Mars. Millions of dollars were not invested without some kind of return.
He thought his best bet in this instance was to reply calmly and carefully, just as if he were offered this kind of thing every day. "I would love to have that, sir. It would mean the world to me."
"Well, that's what I'm offering. Naturally, I want something from you. You're not a stupid man. If you were, I wouldn't have called you and made the offer. I've done my own . . . research. You're one of the brightest physicians in the state. Just because you can't cure me doesn't mean I don't understand how brilliant you are."
"Thank you, sir." Alan realized he didn't have to tell Upton he was losing the battle with porphyria. The man knew he was dying. He knew there would never be a cure in time. So what could he want from him?
"I asked you what you knew about vampires. The legend of the vampire?"
Alan nodded, wondering what that had to do with the offer of a research center.
"I guess you've heard some of the other doctors who have been on my case refer to me as 'The Old Vampire.' Don't deny it. I heard them, so I know you must have."
"That was an unfortunate . . ."
"I don't want your sympathy, Doctor, and there's no point apologizing for those idiots. I'm trying to get you to understand where I'm going with the vampire thing."
"Yes, sir." Now he was thoroughly confused. He knew Upton had fired and sued his last doctors for referring to him as a vampire in a rather cruel, mocking way in what they thought was privacy. But what …?
"I want you to know, first of all, that this disease has not affected my mind," Upton said.
Alan thought that might be debatable, but he kept his peace.
"Secondly, I want you to know that, though I was furious with my last doctors and I have a lawsuit pending against them for defamation of my good name, I've come to look at myself as they must have. I know I look like a monster. I know that with my distorted face I could shame a special effects master. I'm not fooling myself. I'm sick, disgusting to look at, and dying. But what if …" He paused and Alan straightened in his chair. Upton was being honest with him and though he didn't know where he was going with his confession, it was intriguing to see a man so beset by fate find a way to face the truth about his condition.
Upton continued, "I'll just blurt it out. I've done some study into the vampire legends, and some of them seem to indicate that it isn't all a myth. There might have been people who lived after death. Who came back to life. I know it's fantastic, but … what if it's true? How many medical marvels do we enjoy today that would have seemed fantastic to us fifty years ago? Twenty years ago! And if there were vampires, real vampires in the past, what if there are real ones living and moving around among us today?"
Alan was flabbergasted. He hadn't expected this. Not anything like this. Though Upton claimed to be in his right mind, all indications were he was suffering from psychosis. The thought of his dream research center coming true faded like bright cloth left for a month under the hot Texas sun. He couldn't take money from a madman. He couldn't use him that way.
"I see how you're looking at me," Upton said, scowling. "You think I've lost it. Well, think again, Dr. Star. I'm as sane as you are. I did not live sixty-eight years and amass the fortune I have today by being a flake."
"But, Mr. Upton, we're talking about fictional creatures, horror movie actors, not reality."
"What if you're wrong?"
Alan tried to consider it, but every time he tried to think about fictional vampires as real he wanted to burst out laughing. That would be worse than rude; that would get him booted out of the apartment. "If I'm wrong?" he said.
"Here's the deal. I don't have time to waste trying to convince you of anything. I've read the literature. You haven't. I'm going to send along what I have with you; my man's got it packaged and waiting in the other room. Take your time reading it. Meanwhile, here's what I propose. You'll have nothing to lose and a great deal to gain. No one has to know anything about all this, not a soul. Not my partner in my business, not my butler, no one. It's strictly between you and me."
"What do you want from me?"
"I want you to search out and find me a vampire. I want the thing brought to me. I want it to give me my life back. I refuse to die."
There it was. On the table. A dead man's hand, aces and eights. Alan flinched in surprise and tried to compose his face. He couldn't look at the old man again. He stared at the floor. His shoes needed cleaning at the very least if he wasn't going to replace them.
"Dr. Star?"
Alan glanced up.
"You may think me insane if you like. That's your prerogative. What I'm offering is simple. I'll write you a check to cover any kind of medical facility you want. I don't care if it costs four million or forty million." He waved his hand to dismiss the spending of money that very soon would mean nothing to him. "In fact, once you start work for me on this, I'll fund the buying of the land and have construction begin right away. You pick the architect, and I'll write him a check. All I ask is that you do as I say. You search, put on an honest search for me. If I die before you find a vampire, I'll leave enough in my will for you to finish your research center. You're not going to lose on this. No one will ever know why I have given you the money. Your reputation as a doctor of medicine will remain pristine.
"But I will demand your complete loyalty and will expect you to devote yourself to what I ask."
"But my patients . . ."
"Let me be perfectly honest with you, Alan. I know this means you have to take time off from your real work. I know this might take more time than you want. But I don't have any choice in this matter. If you share your time with me and the hospital, you may never find what I need. I'm asking a great favor. I'm willing to pay for it. When this is over, you can return to your work, all the richer."
"But I don't know how I'd start. I mean, where would I look? Don't you need an investigator instead? Someone professional, who knows what to do?"
"Except for me and my partner, David, I'd say you're one of the smartest, most intelligent men in the state of Texas. I wouldn't have come to you if you hadn't been. You'll find a way to do this. You're not a private investigator, but you have a wonderful mind. You know how to research problems, it's your business. You know how to track down symptoms and diseases. Turn those traits to tracking down a living vampire, and I expect you'll turn up something. In fact, I believe it to the tune of forty million, if that's what it takes."
Alan sat biting down on his tongue. He couldn't say no, and he couldn't say yes. If he said no, there went his dream in a puff of smoke. He'd never again find someone willing to build him a research center, and if he tried to do it on his own he would be a very old man before he got the money and the credit.
If he said yes, he'd be saying yes to a crazy project that made no real sense. He'd be playing into the psychosis of a desperate, dying man.
"I don't know if I can do this, sir. I want to help you, but since I don't believe there are such creatures as vampires, it would be immoral of me to say that I could try to find one in order to get the funding I need."
"That's what I thought you would say. I'm glad you said it because it proves you're an honest man. Now let's forget it and move on. Take the literature home and read it. Call me in a couple of days and tell me what you think then. Tell me I'm insane then. Tell me you don't believe it could be true. If there is one speck of hope, I'm willing to gamble. After all, Doctor, I'm dying. I have nothing to lose and a new life if I win. So will you read the works and call me? Say you'll do that much. It costs you nothing but a little of your time."
Alan felt sorry for him. He was touched by the old man's fervor and incredible life force. He thought that money might save him, that myth might be made r
eality, that he might find a way to beat death. He hoped never to meet a man as desperate as this again.
"All right, I'll read it," he said, pity overwhelming his good sense.
"And you'll call me afterward?"
"Yes. But I really can't promise to do this, Mr. Upton."
"Just think it over. Think about the people you could save if you have a research center to work on discoveries that would cure them. Think about the future, Dr. Star. Think about children who get porphyria and what they are going to have to face. Do it for them."
It was certainly tempting. Upton had no close relatives he cared for and his money, when he was gone, would do little good in the world. Why not just take some of it now and use it to help mankind? But he'd be lying to himself and to Upton to get it, wouldn't he? Well, he'd read the old man's papers and books. He'd do what he promised.
"I'll read the material," he repeated.
"Thank you. I think after you see what I've found, you'll be convinced enough to pursue this for me. Even if you aren't convinced . . . forty million dollars could do a lot of good."
Alan was alone in the private elevator that took him to the lobby of the Upton building. In his hands he carried two heavy polyester satchels of books. What could the old man have found? How could he possibly have sold himself this bill of goods?
Out on the sunny street in his car, turning toward the hospital where he was due for a consultation, Alan glanced at the bags of books taking up the passenger seat. This was crazy. This was really daft.
But he'd do it. Upton knew how much he longed to do research, to man his own facility, to coordinate a staff of qualified researchers to help him unearth the remaining questions in hematology.
He would at least look at the books. As daft as it might be, he wouldn't be able to help himself.
Vampires, he thought. Oh, God.
8
Dell spent hours with Mentor listening to his advice. Sometimes her mind wandered, and she focused on the sounds outside the house. Sometimes she heard sounds inside the house, too. A June bug trapped at the window in the kitchen. A lone roach, antennae wriggling, on the floor beneath the refrigerator. The electricity in the wires inside the walls—that bothered her the most. It was like a background hum in her ears that wouldn't go away.
Nevertheless, she picked up most of what Mentor said to her and took it to heart. She could not try out her newfound supernatural powers that involved great physical strength right away. She could not show her exuberance in front of humans as they'd think she'd gone mad or was suffering from manic attacks. She could not ever let anyone know what had happened. She could not begin to act differently around her friends. She could not let them know she could read their thoughts if she wanted.
There were so many things she was supposed to not do that she wondered exactly what she could do.
"You can go on living your life as you always have," Mentor said, intercepting her thought. "A human lifetime is a gift."
"That's going to be nearly impossible. Living like I did before," she said, thinking of eating hamburgers and fries, slurping down milkshakes, going to football games and dances and to the mall to shop with her friends.
"It will in the beginning. But after a few weeks, you'll adjust."
"The funny thing is," she said, "I thought I'd feel . . . dead. I thought I'd hate being this way and I'd want to. . . die for real. I didn't know I'd feel so alive and thrilled about it."
"This feeling might pass, Dell," he warned. "There will be times when you'll feel just the opposite. Times when life will be unbearable."
"It's hard to believe that."
"It is now, but you'll have to trust me. Our emotions tend to swing widely, leaving us hanging on stars or dropped into the lowest pit. You'll call for me if that happens, won't you? When you think you can't go on?"
"Yes, of course, I will," she said.
"Good. Then tomorrow or the next day you will need to return to school. As a Natural, you're going to take up your old life and carry on. The sun will not harm you, the night and darkness will not call to you. You've chosen the path that allows you the greatest freedom in this world."
"I won't . . ." She could hardly say it. She tried again. "I won't try to . . . harm anyone, will I? I mean, I won't be like a Predator, will I?" Already she yearned for one of the blood-filled bags in the refrigerator. It was like a thirst that never ended. Her throat was as parched as a mesquite tree in a dry plain in the middle of a West Texas summer.
Mentor took his time answering. He was probably listening to her thoughts, weighing her need. Finally he said, "I can't promise that you'll never be tempted. At times, all of us fight the urge to just take what we want when we want it. It's so easy that way, you see. It's something you'll have to wrestle with and overcome."
"Your conscience is strong, Dell. Your humanity still resides inside you. Murder isn't something your mind will accept, though your hunger might grow strong. But there will be times when hunger overpowers the heart and your mind may get confused. It's at those times you'll be most vulnerable to committing an act against man. If you ever give in, even once, the next time will be easier. So you must never give in. Do you understand? Never, no matter what provocation or how weak you think you are or how great your need for sustenance."
"I didn't really think that would ever happen," she said sadly. "And this urge will be there all of my life?"
"I'm afraid so. It's the nature of our affliction. Unfortunately, it's part of being vampire, any kind of vampire."
She thought long and hard about what Mentor had said once he left. A horrible thought occurred to her. She called her mother into her room and shut the door.
"Mom, I have to ask you something."
"Anything, darling."
"Mentor told me I'd have urges now and then to drink blood from a human."
"That urge will come less often as you live this life."
"Well, what I wanted to ask is …" She wasn't sure she actually wanted to know, but she had to ask. "I wanted to know if you or Daddy ever wanted to drink from Eddie or me before we … we got sick."
Her mother's face registered surprise, and then she smiled. "Oh, only about once a week. No big deal."
Dell laughed, realizing her mother was teasing her. "No, really, Mom. Were you ever tempted that way?"
"No."
"Never?"
"Never. You're my flesh and my blood. Your father and I would have set ourselves on fire before we'd bring harm to you."
Dell breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't know how she would have handled the thought that her parents had hungered for her. "Okay, thanks, Mom. I didn't think you did, but I had to find out."
Her mother gave her a hug and opened the door. She paused on the threshold. "Do you think you're up for school tomorrow?"
"I can try. I guess if I feel out of sorts once I get there, I can call you at work and come home."
"That's my girl! I'm sure you'll be fine. The faster you get back into your normal routine, the better off you'll be. Remember, you graduate this year. And at the top of your class!"
Dell smiled as her mother left the room. Her mother loved and appreciated her. She was proud of all her accomplishments.
Restless now, Dell went to her dressing table and sat down before the mirror. She didn't look different. The sores that had erupted so rapidly were now healed, not even leaving scars. She was tan and fit, a girl verging on womanhood, and the only change she could detect was the look in her eyes. That look was one of knowledge and sadness. She knew now of death and of living on after death as a new being. Would her friends and classmates notice her eyes? Would they suspect she was different? Maybe she could wear sunglasses for a while, like some of the weird kids in school. She could say she had a sty. Or pink eye. Everyone hated getting pink eye.
She wouldn't know how her friends would react to her, though, until she went back to school and faced them.
"I can do this," she said aloud, turning away fro
m the mirror and the dead look in her eyes. "I can live again."
~*~
It took Dell two more days before she was ready to face the world outside her home. During that time, with her parents at work and Eddie at school, she wandered the empty house and tried to stay away from the transfusion bags in the refrigerator. Given her deep hunger, she thought she could down them all at once. The idea made her laugh, but the sudden sound of laughter in the quiet house gave her pause. She rubbed the back of her neck where the hair there had crept up. To ease her mind into trance, she tried to watch television. Think nothing and nothing will matter, she told herself, hunting down the remote where her little brother had stashed it between the sofa cushions.
Usually TV talk shows could turn her into a mindless vegetable, but it didn't work this time. She watched Jerry Springer, horrified at the guests as most Americans were, and remembered she'd heard her parents talking about a Predator in Fort Worth, Texas, who got himself booked on there one time to discuss the vampire "legend." Mentor was called in to squelch the renegade, for it was bandied about among the Predator community that the vampire doing the show was disgruntled and mentally unstable. He promised the Springer show that he would show his fangs and even take a victim under the watchful eye of the camera, if they wanted. A willing victim, if they could find one.
Secrecy was everything to vampires. Without it, they weren't safe. Rarely did anyone get out of hand and try to give the secret to the media. Mentor went to the renegade and discussed his upcoming television appearance. He judged the vampire to be clearly unreliable, his mind teetering on the brink of insanity, and had taken him away for his own good, and the good of all vampires everywhere. The Springer people booked wannabe vampires instead.
Dell's parents did not know where the renegade was taken, but they understood there was a place, a monastery run by vampire monks somewhere in another part of the world. Was it Asia? The far reaches of China? There someone could be kept prisoner until well, or if it was judged he would never be well again, rumor had it the prisoner was bound forever. There was no alternative.
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