by J. R. Rain
We looked at each other some more. I noticed now how perfectly groomed his beard was. I also noticed that his blue eyes were not really blue...holy hell, were they violet?
“I...I don’t have your book,” I said.
“I know.”
“I don’t know what happened to it.”
“That’s okay.”
“Do I still owe a fine?”
His lips broke into a wide smile, his cheeks rising high enough that the fine point of his beard wasn’t so fine.
“I don’t think the library would appreciate me taking fines for books that don’t officially exist.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s okay if you don’t understand. There’s lots I don’t understand, too. That’s half the fun: finding answers.” He leaned forward a little and his gaze locked onto the area just beneath my throat, an area that was now throbbing with real warmth.
“Ah, I see you’re wearing the medallion. Or, more accurately, it’s wearing you.”
Which should have been a highly unlikely statement, since the medallion was currently concealed beneath my shirt.
“I...was protecting it. I had no idea it would...”
“Attach itself to you?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like for me to remove it?”
“Yes. But I had heard—”
“The seal was permanent?”
“Yes.”
“Normally, yes. But I’m fairly familiar with it. Would you mind?” he asked.
I shook my head and he got up from behind the desk and stepped around to me.
“Just try to relax,” he said.
He put his hands on my shoulders, which sent a shiver of warm energy through me, charging me from the inside. Next he moved his fingers around my throat and slipped them down inside my shirt.
I gasped and felt a different kind of thrill.
His searching hands found the medallion, where he rested the flat of his palms over it. There was no pain, just a sense of...release.
A moment later he removed his hands, and held up the gleaming medallion. He grinned.
I was relieved beyond words. There was hope again. There was hope my son could live a normal life.
“Now, Sam, what would you like to do with this?”
But I was having difficulty speaking. I was so afraid to have hope, so afraid to believe. I tried speaking again: “I had heard that the medallion...” but I couldn’t get the words out.
“You had heard that it could reverse vampirism?”
“Yes,” I said, but I was terrified to hear his answer. Oh, sweet Jesus. What if he couldn’t do it? Or what if he said no? What would I do then?
“Yes,” he said, smiling. “The medallion can do this. Or, rather, the magic encoded within it can.”
“And you...you can decode this?”
He nodded. “I can, Sam. And before you ask, yes, I will help your little one.”
Relief flooded me. So much so that I couldn’t stop shaking. He reached out and took my hand.
“You’ve had a rough few days, haven’t you?”
I could only nod as the shaking, the relief, overcame me.
“You’re never alone, Sam. Ever. As hard as life might seem, there’s always hope. There’s always a way, and there’s always love. Always.”
I waited before I was certain I could speak, then asked, “How did you know I was looking for you?”
“How do you know I wasn’t looking for you?” he asked, eyes twinkling. He saw my confusion and smiled sweetly. “Very few call my name, Sam, but when they do, I listen.”
I couldn’t speak. I could only nod my thanks.
He said, “Now give me a few minutes. Feel free to peruse the books, but stay away from the ones that call out to you. They’re trouble.”
I told him I would be careful, and he slipped away into a side room and closed the door. A few minutes later, he returned holding a small glass container with a cork cap, filled with amber liquid.
“Have your son drink this tonight. He will sleep soundly for twenty-four hours, and will awaken with little memory of the past few days.”
“And he will be...human?”
“As human as ever.”
“And the medallion?” I asked.
He motioned to the amber liquid. “The medallion is no more.”
I raised the glass container, mystified. “It’s in here?”
He winked. “Distilled through, let’s just say, highly-advanced alchemical means. And Samantha?”
“Yes?”
“There’s only enough for one.”
“Somehow I knew that.”
“Remember, Samantha, there’s always an answer. Somewhere. You just have to look.”
I hugged the young man as hard as I could, and thanked him. When I finally pulled away, I saw that my own tears had stained his white shirt.
“I’m always here, Samantha, if you ever need anything.”
“Here in the Occult Reading Room?”
He grinned and winked. “There’s a lot to read. Oh, I have one question: How did you come upon my name?”
I told him about the creepy old gnome who lived in Fullerton. As I spoke, Max pulled on his pointed beard.
“And he bargained for your son’s life?” he asked.
“I’m horrible, I know. I was desperate.”
“Not to fear, Sam. One cannot bargain with another’s life. Ever.”
I looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, your son is safe.”
“And the creepy old gnome?”
“The creepy old gnome will never bother you again.”
I hugged him for a second time. Somehow, even tighter.
Chapter Fifty-two
It was a week later.
Summer was in full bloom and I was working a few cases. I had two cheating spouse cases and an undercover assignment working for a shipping company to find the reason for their occasional missing shipments. Two nights ago, I had gone on a date with Kingsley, to the musical premier of Annie in Los Angeles. He had kissed me goodnight and bowed slightly, and I was reminded all over again of his grace and charm and just how old he really was. Yes, we still had our issues, but to his credit he had dropped his loser client once and for all.
Fang was there, too. Always texting, IMing and emailing. During one of our exchanges, I told him that Kingsley and I were going to explore a relationship together, but I always wanted Fang as my friend.
He had paused for a few minutes before answering. When he did, he said that, of course, we would always be friends and that he was happy for me. To his credit, he appeared to be happy for me, but I could feel his hurt. We were, after all, still deeply connected.
Danny had visited the kids once, and although he seemed pleased that his son was alive and well and not a freak, as he liked to call me, I could see that his old suspicion was back. The fear was back. The hate was back.
Admittedly, I almost preferred Danny like this. I could handle his hate and suspicion. His flirting this past week had just been damn creepy.
Now it was a Saturday evening and I would work the night shift later. It was dinner time, and I called the kids in from the backyard where they were playing on a Slip N’ Slide. Both were as red as tomatoes from their sun block having long since worn off, and never had I been more happy to see a sunburn on my son. Anthony was showing no ill effects from either the vampirism or the Kawasaki Disease, either.
My son was back, alive and healthy. Had I altered his soul’s journey? Maybe. Had I played with his karma? No doubt.
But he was back. Oh, yes, he was back.
Dripping and arguing, they came running inside, snatching hot dogs and chips. A few minutes later, Mary Lou and her family arrived. My sister gave me a big hug and Anthony an even bigger hug.
We all settled in with hot dogs and chips—or water, in my case—and put in a movie. About halfway through the movie a strong and foul smell permeated my livin
g room, and that’s when the looks started.
“Mommy did it!” Anthony cried out, giggling.
“That’s it,” I said, grabbing him and throwing him over my legs, exposing his bony butt to the air. I was soon playing butt bongos off his little tush while he squealed with laughter. Soon Tammy joined in and so did my sister. There might have been some tickling thrown in for good measure.
It was later, at night, when I was putting Anthony to sleep when he looked up at me and said, “Thank you, Mommy.”
“For what?”
“For what you did.”
“What did I do?”
“You know, Mommy,” he said, and reached up and hugged me tighter than he had ever hugged me before.
The End
Samantha Moon returns in:
Christmas Moon
Return to the Table of Contents
CHRISTMAS MOON
by
J.R. RAIN
Vampire for Hire #4.5
Christmas Moon
Published by J.R. Rain
Copyright © 2011 by J.R. Rain
All rights reserved.
Dedication
To H.T. Night, for all his invaluable help.
Merry Christmas, little brother.
Christmas Moon
Chapter One
I was cleaning house in the dark and watching Judge Judy rip some cheating ex-husband a new one, when my doorbell rang. Enjoying this more than I probably should have, I hurried over to the door and opened it.
My appointment—and potential new client—was right on time. His name was Charlie Anderson, and he was a tall fellow with a short, gray beard, bad teeth, nervous eyes and a peaceful aura. In fact, the aura that surrounded him was so serene that I did a double take.
I showed him to my back office where he took a seat in one of the four client chairs. I moved around my desk and sat in my leather chair, which made rude noises. I might have blushed if I could have.
I picked up my liquid gel pen and opened my pad of paper to a blank page. I said, “You mentioned in your email something about needing help finding something that was lost.”
“Stolen, actually.”
I clicked open my pen. “And what was that?”
“A safe,” he said.
I think I blinked. “A safe?”
“Yes. A safe. It was stolen from me, and I need your help to find it.”
He explained. The safe had been handed down through his family for many generations. It had never been opened, and no one knew what was inside. Charlie’s father, now deceased, had left the safe to him nearly twenty years ago. Recently, a gang of hoodlums had moved into Charlie’s neighborhood, and soon after, some of Charlie’s things had gone missing. A gas can, loose change from the ashtray in his car. If he was a betting man—and Charlie assured me he wasn’t—he would bet that these punks had stolen his safe.
I made notes. Charlie spoke haltingly, often circling back and repeating what he’d just said. Charlie was a shy man and he wasn’t used to being the center of attention. He was even shy about being the center of attention of a smallish woman in her small back office.
“When was the safe stolen?”
“Two days ago.”
“Where was it stolen from?”
“My home. A mobile home. A trailer, really.”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure I knew what the difference was, but kept that to myself. “And where did you keep the safe in your trailer?”
“I kept it behind the furnace.”
“Behind?”
“The furnace is non-functional.”
“I see.”
“If you remove the blower, there’s a space to hide stuff.”
I nodded, impressed. “Seems like a good hiding spot to me.”
“I thought so, too.”
“Any chance it could have been stolen a while back, and you only recently noticed?”
He shrugged. In fact, he often shrugged, sometimes for no apparent reason. Shrugging seemed to be a sort of nervous tic for Charlie. He said, “A week ago, maybe.”
“Were you alone when you checked the safe?”
“Yes.”
I studied my notes...tapping my pen against the pad. My house was quiet, as it should be. The kids were at school. As they should be. I looked at the time on my computer screen. I had to pick them up in about twenty minutes.
At about this time of the day, my brain is foggy at best. So foggy that sometimes the most obvious question eludes me. I blinked, focused my thoughts, and ignored the nearly overwhelming desire to crawl back into bed...and shut out the world.
At least until the sunset. Then, I was a new woman.
Or a new something.
I kept tapping the tip of the pen against the pad of paper until the question finally came to me. Finally, it did. “Why would the thieves know to look behind the furnace? Seems a highly unlikely place for any thief to ever look.”
He shrugged.
I said, “Shrugging doesn’t help me, Mr. Anderson.”
“Well, I don’t know why they would look there.”
“Fair enough. Did you ever tell anyone about the safe?”
“No.”
“Did anyone ever see you, ah, looking at the safe?”
“I live alone. It’s just me.”
“Any family members know about the safe?”
“Maybe a few do, but I don’t keep in touch with them.”
“Do you have any children?”
“Yes.”
Bingo. “Where do your kids live?”
“The Philippines, presently. I’m a retired Navy vet. My ex-wife is from the Philippines. The kids stay with her most of the time.”
“But some of the time they stay with you?”
“Yes?”
“How long ago has it been since they were last with you?”
“A month ago.”
More notes, more thinking. I put the pen aside. I had asked just about everything my dull brain could think of. Besides, I had to start wrapping this up.
“I can help you,” I said. “But under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I get half of whatever’s in the safe.”
“What about the retainer fee?”
“I’ll waive the fee.”
“And if you don’t find the safe?”
“You owe me nothing,” I said.
He looked at me for a good twenty seconds before he started nodding. “I’ve always wondered what the hell was in that thing.”
“So, do we have a deal then, Mr. Anderson?”
“We have a deal,” he said.
Chapter Two
I picked up the kids from school and, as promised, we made a dollar store run. Once there, I gave the kids each a hand basket and told them to have it.
They had at it, tearing through the store like game show contestants. Tammy crammed some packages of red velvet bows in her hand basket and moved onto the jingle bells, shaking them vigorously. I chuckled as I watched little Anthony grab some scented Christmas candles. The candles filled up at least half his hand basket. Now, what did an eight-year-old need with Christmas candles? Nothing. He simply grabbed them because it was the first of the Christmas items he’d seen. I was fairly certain that he would later regret his choice.
As the kids attacked the many holiday rows, I smiled to myself and strolled casually through the mostly-clean store, trying like hell to ignore the way my legs shook, or the way my skin still burned from the five-second sprint from the minivan to the store.
Sadly, even with the winter-shortened days, we were still about two hours from sunset.
Two hours.
That thought alone almost depressed me.
Since my transmutation seven years ago, I’m supernaturally aware of the location of the sun in the sky. I can be in any building at any time and tell you exactly where the sun is, either above or below the Earth. Even now I could feel it directly above me, angling just over my right shoulder, h
eading west.
I powered through the shakiness and heaviness, and worked my way down an aisle of discounted hardback novels. I paused and flipped through a historical mystery novel, read a random paragraph, liked it, and dropped it into my own hand basket. For a buck, I’ll try anything. Hell, the Kindle app on my iPhone was filled with free ebooks and .99 cent ebooks that I had snagged in a buying frenzy a few days ago. Now, all I needed to do was to find the time to read them. I’m sure the one about the vampire mom—written, of all people, by a guy with a beard—should give me a good laugh.
I continued down the aisle. I didn’t often shop at the dollar store, but when I did, I made the most of it. And the kids, I knew, had been waiting all week for this trip.
It was, after all, a Christmas tradition with us. Each year about this time, the kids were given an empty basket and told to fill them with Christmas decorations. At a dollar a pop, no one was going to break the bank, and once home, together we hung or displayed the decorations. Usually with cookies baking in the oven. Of course, this was the first year we were doing it without Danny, but so far, neither of the kids had mentioned the exclusion of their father, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything.
Seven months ago, just after a rare disease nearly cost my son his life, I had filed for divorce. Just last month, the divorce had been finalized. I was technically single, although my relationship with Kingsley Fulcrum had taken on legs. Or teeth. We had grown closer and more comfortable with each other, and for that I was grateful to him.
The famed defense attorney—never known for his moral compass, nor morals of any type—had suddenly developed a conscience. Now, he was a little more selective with his defense cases, a little more discerning. He winnowed out the obvious slimeballs. Of late, he seemed to choose his clients with some care.
He did this, I knew, for me.
After all, I had found it nearly impossible to get too close to a man who actively defended murderers and cutthroats, rapists and all-around jerk-offs. He got it. If he wanted me in the picture, he was going to have to change.