* * * *
A couple of minutes later, Warrenna again sat in the dark backseat of the Volvo as the car slowly climbed out of Tebon Canyon. She wondered if Thomas felt as lost as she did just then.
"Mom, do you think Thomas is an angel?"
Alexandria turned around to look at her daughter. “I don't think so, hon.” Her dark eyes twinkled with thought. “Because of what we are, angels produce intense fear in us. But I don't think any of us are frightened by your friend.” She smiled. “Particularly not you."
Warrenna frowned. “Then what is he?"
"Your aunt Tammy will find out. With Zera's help."
Warrenna toyed with the bandage around her wrist and wondered what Zera had to do with anything. “Did being around him ease your craving?"
Alexandria turned back to face the windshield. “No."
"Are you sure? He wasn't around for you very long."
"Believe me, Renna,” Alexandria said quietly. “I am very aware of my craving these days. He didn't affect me in a positive way."
Richard shook his head, answering his daughter's unspoken question.
Warrenna folded her arms. Her parents had to be wrong. Granted, she knew absolutely nothing about angels. But what else could have created that scene in her bedroom? And what else could she call something that could drain away the dull ache of the craving and replace it with the cool, sparkly feeling that coursed through her?
She closed her eyes and pictured the marble beneath her heart. It glowed a brilliant blue, dissolving all the dirt that passed through it.
She fantasized that Thomas could cure her outright. Then she would be like any other sixteen-year-old girl, unbound by things like curses and destiny. She could walk in the sun without fear. She could share absolutely everything with a trusted friend. She could go to a silly dance with a boy.
Smiling, she rested her warm cheek on her shoulder. Wouldn't that be great? But then, if I became normal, what would Thomas become? Would he have to sacrifice his gift to eliminate my curse?
She pressed the bandage into her wrist to feel the sting of pain. I came close to missing out on tonight altogether. Not that I could've known what would happen.
She stared at the bright desert night above her, at how the stars stayed perfectly still despite the car's acceleration down the quiet highway.
I guess that's the point. How could I possibly know what fate has in store for me?
She jammed her thumb into the bandage and vowed to never give up on fate again.
Chapter 10
The medicine man entered the tent with sorrow in his eyes. He would not look at his patient's face.
"Then it is true,” Eyes-of-Dawn-Sky said. “My wound is marked."
Wisdom-of-Elk nodded. “An evil spirit decays you from within, and I cannot draw it out. That is why I have forbidden the tribe from visiting your tent."
Eyes-of-Dawn-Sky rubbed his thigh. It was a deep wound, but he had received far worse in battle before. This little cut was the blow that would end his life?
"Then I am to become a demon?"
"The teachings say you must sacrifice your life on the peak of Zeraphet. It is the only way you can return to the land. You must go alone."
Eyes-of-Dawn-Sky closed his eyes. Zeraphet was four days to the south. He could barely stand on his injured leg, and every breath burned his aching lungs.
He climbed to his feet. “Then I will go."
Wisdom-of-Elk held out a red feather. “Wear this in your hair. It marks you as possessed, and will warn the rest of the tribe."
Eyes-of-Dawn-Sky stuck the feather in his headdress and thanked the old man for his kindness and guidance. But Wisdom-of-Elk would not look at him.
The warrior limped out of his tent. There would be no glorious death in battle for him, but he could at least take the evil spirit inside him far away from his village.
No children played in the dying sunlight as he walked. No women crouched around the fires to talk. No men returned from the hunt. Eyes-of-Dawn-Sky pictured his tribe huddled in their tents, waiting for their doomed brother to leave.
But one woman stood by her tent, out of the shadows, erect, facing him. Mother-to-Doves did not flinch at the red feather in his hair.
He walked by her without saying a word. He could not let her see him suffer.
He could not bear to see her ashamed.
* * * *
Thomas woke slowly, without any doubt of whom or where he was. Bright sunlight shone onto the foot of his bed, and he pulled his feet out from under the covers to wiggle his toes in the warmth.
He wondered how Warrenna, wherever she was, saw that same light. Probably as something to hide from, something to avoid at all costs. She probably felt that way all her life.
He smiled and rubbed his eyes. Soon she'll see the sun in a much different way. The way I have all my life.
He stretched his shoulders and yawned. Why was Warrenna so worried about what happened to him as he cured her curse? The warm glow inside him more than made up for any sorrow he felt when they were together.
Thomas waved his fingers in and out of the yellow rays and watched the shadows flicker on the sheets. He wondered what his dreams had to do with all of this. Maybe they were a side effect of being an angel amongst humans.
"The Angel Thomas,” he whispered, and smiled. “That might explain a few things."
He climbed out of bed and sat at his desk to record his dream. He opened the journal and took the cap off his pen, but didn't start writing. Something felt wrong.
And then he knew. His alarm hadn't gone off.
"Oh, crap, the game!"
Coach wanted him at the gym by 9:30. He checked the clock. 9:22.
He groaned and grabbed his clothes. God, out-of-it all week, and now I'm going to be late for the actual game!
As he stripped off his pajamas in preparation for the world's fastest shower, Thomas remembered that he still hadn't recorded last night's dream yet.
He dove into the lukewarm water anyway. “Medicine Man,” he said, trying to hold the image of the old man in his mind. “Medicine Man, Medicine Man."
As he drove, he thought about scribbling down some notes about the dream, but then shook his head. It'd be pretty stupid of me to wreck my car because I was trying to write. Stupid, like forgetting to set my freaking alarm.
* * * *
She opened the door, and there was Tommy, with his bright eyes and his steady smile.
A gust of cold air blew in. She would need a jacket this morning, just like everyone else.
Tommy led her out of the dark room, to the outside. He held a big black umbrella in his left hand and he shared the shelter with her.
He wasn't shielding her from the sun, but from the sprinkles of rain. She didn't need protection from the sun anymore.
She wrapped her arm around his side, under his coat, to feel his wonderful warmth. He put his hand on her shoulder, drawing her closer, and together they ventured into the parking lot.
Warrenna didn't know where they were going, but it didn't matter.
We can go anywhere, we can do anything, as long as we're together....
* * * *
Warrenna rolled over and squeezed her sides. The marble inside her glowed a faint blue, shooting bubbly warmth into her heart.
Eventually the fantasy subsided, and she wondered where she was. The room was dark, but she could make out a few details: a sliding closet door, a wooden chair, a trunk next to the chair, a closed door she assumed was the exit.
A lamp with three bulbs on a pole stood near the bed. The lowest light didn't work, but the middle one turned on for her.
The walls were bleak and dirty, the brownish carpet thin and fringed. Two things set her mind at ease, though. First, her shoulder bag sat in the closet. Second, a thick black blanket hung tacked to one of the walls, almost certainly concealing a window. Wherever she was, the place was friendly to her kind.
Warrenna rubbed her forehead as she tried to remember
the previous night. She remembered drifting in and out of sleep as she thought about that warm cliff with the stunning sunset. She also thought about Thomas, smiling beside her, holding her hand.
She remembered endless driving, switching vehicles at least once, and her father giving passwords to wary-eyed people in empty parking lots.
Probably didn't miss much. Just more stuff I can't do anything about.
She wondered how long she'd been asleep, but the room had no clock. Yesterday's clothes still clung to her body, and her hair felt greasy. Wherever she was, she needed a shower.
She rolled out of bed, grabbed her bag from the closet and opened the door. A room full of light greeted her: bright sunlight, scraping away her skin, burrowing into her corneas. Instinctively her hand went up to shield her eyes.
"Oh, you're up. Let me get that for you."
The voice was familiar, and through her fingers, Warrenna saw Uncle Vince drawing some heavy blue curtains in front of a sliding glass door. The painful light was quickly extinguished.
He wiped his hands on his faded blue jeans. “Good morning, sleepyhead. It's nearly one. I was about to make sure you were still breathing."
Warrenna shrugged and yawned. She could see the rest of the room now. More dingy carpet, an overstuffed blue sofa with tears in the fabric, a coffee table with a cracked glass surface, an ancient television with knobs to change the channel.
"Where are we?” she asked. “Where are my mom and dad?"
Uncle Vince leaned his wiry frame against one of the blank walls. “This is the apartment your father and I shared in college. We keep it for occasions like this. That bed you slept on? That's actually the same bed we had back then. It probably felt like it, yeah?"
She returned his smile, and he continued. “Rick would sleep on it during the afternoon, work his graveyards at that crappy all-night taco stand, then go to class right after work. Those were the days. I don't know how he kept it up. I hardly ever saw him."
"That's nice, Uncle Vince. But where are my mom and dad?"
He touched his forehead. “Yeah, right, your parents. They're over with the Orphans, trying to help a friend of ours. They figured you probably didn't want to hang out over there. Plus you were passed out. I've never seen anybody sleep that hard."
Warrenna sighed. The Orphans were the group that her parents founded, vampires determined to stay human, and fanatical about Zera. When she was small, she knew them only as friends of her parents. But even before she knew who they really were, she got a strange feeling whenever she was around any of them. Their eyes always held a preternatural clearness and intensity when looking at Warrenna, like they were trying to remember every move she made so they could run home and record it all in their diaries. Her parents and Aunt Tammy seemed to be the only Orphans that treated Warrenna like a person and not some celebrity.
"It was nice of them to spare me,” she told Uncle Vince. “What's going on?"
"This friend of ours—her name is Necole—she's right on the edge. Your folks are gonna go all-out to bring her back. Necole's been with us since damn near the beginning. We were just starting to hunt other vampires, and Necole was a vital part of the team."
His eyes drifted upward, focusing on a spot about a foot over her head. “Those were the days. We'd meet in this little room, planning raids on vampire nests. There was your mom and your dad, Tamara and me, Luis, Necole, and Stefan. Man, Stefan was still with us back then. Those were the days."
Warrenna sighed in exasperation. “What do you mean, Necole's on the edge? Is she going to kill herself?"
Uncle Vince bowed his bald head. “No, it's, uh, that vampire thing. You know. Something awful happened to her, and Tamara had to put Necole in a coma to keep her from, you know, going all the way.” He swallowed. “Don't tell your parents I told you."
Her response was a shrug. It's just a matter of time for each of us. Except for me, maybe.
She noticed that the bandage on her wrist was gone. Two ugly white scars were all that remained of her ordeal in the bathtub. Had the Last Resort done the trick? Or was Tommy responsible?
Even though she knew the answer, she asked, “What happens if they can't bring Necole back?"
Vince shook his head. “We can't just let vampires run around killing people and spreading the curse. If she turns, we'll have to end her suffering."
Warrenna remembered her mother's uneasy steps, and the new black cane. How long did she have until something happened to her? Who would be the one to end her mother's suffering?
She swallowed hard. “How come you hang around us vampires, Uncle V? All we are is struggle and loss."
Uncle Vince folded his skinny arms. “I've never heard it put quite that way, dear. Your father and I were friends in Bascomville long before that vampire attacked him. I'm not one to let a little thing like craving human blood come between me and my buddies."
Warrenna knew her uncle was trying to cheer her up, but she didn't feel like letting him. “But don't you get worried? One day, one of us might lose control and go after all that life flowing through your veins."
He shook his head again. “Nah, I know you wouldn't. Plus, thanks to Tamara, er, your aunt Tammy, I know more about you guys than most vampires do. I've got some ways to defend myself if one of you slips over the edge.” His eyes brightened. “But hey, that's not in your future anymore, huh? What with Major Tom and all."
Warrenna smiled at Uncle Vince's nickname for Tommy. “Yeah, maybe not. Did you find out anything from Thomas's sample?"
She pictured Tommy's blood rolling around in a test tube, sticking to the sides. Then she imagined a dark line of crimson sliding down his bare, tanned chest. The line flowed down his sternum, followed a rib, and drew a half-circle around a pectoral.
The bitter, coppery smell filled her nostrils. The marble pulsed black, and when she dared to think about his taste, crimson drenched the room.
Release me! We must have his blood! It will fuel us for decades!
Warrenna shook her head at the voice inside her. No, she told it. He's not even here.
Then she gasped. Er, I mean, no. I could never hurt Tommy! He might be the cure.
"He just seems really healthy,” Uncle Vince was saying. He smiled. “I bet you think about him a lot."
Warrenna blushed and tried her hardest to control her breathing. The crimson faded away, and the marble swirled black and orange.
Whoa. And that was just from thinking about his blood.
Uncle Vince hadn't noticed anything. He was still smiling at her.
"Uh, so,” Warrenna said, “you, um, don't think he's an angel?"
Uncle Vince's drifting gaze went still for a moment, like he noticed something far away. “No, I don't think so. It might sound hard to believe, but I've seen some angels in my time, Renny-Penny. Honest-to-goodness, beings-of-light-and-peace angels. Been in the same room with one. They make you feel so comfortable, like you're home, after a long, long journey, and you wish they'd never leave so you could always feel that way."
He trailed off to a whisper, and his gaunt face turned melancholy for a moment. But then his gaze began wandering again. “That's a story for another time. Your Thomas is no angel. I'm sure. Positive. Confident."
Warrenna frowned. “Then what is he?"
Uncle Vince grinned again. “Something else."
She rolled her eyes. Yeah, some new type of angel you and my parents have never seen before.
"You wanna see him?"
Warrenna thought he was kidding, but Uncle Vince's face was serious. “What? Now? Wouldn't my parents get mad if I suddenly left town?"
"We won't go anywhere, and neither will Major Tom. But you'll be with him. He won't know it, but you'll practically see through his eyes."
"What do you mean? How?"
"Look, Tamara asked me to investigate any psychic link between you and Thomas while she helps out Necole. I'm betting that whatever you two have going between you is strong enough that I can ride i
t all the way to wherever he is. Bascomville, Maldecido, Timbuktu, wherever."
Warrenna swallowed hard and followed Uncle Vince's floating gaze around the room. “I didn't, uh, know you were psychic, Uncle V."
He laughed. “I'm not psychic, silly. You are. Or at least your vampire form is."
"I am? Er, it is?"
He nodded. “Vampires have powerful minds, capable of operating on levels that we humans can barely comprehend. Obviously all that power is drenched in evil, so it remains unavailable to anyone wishing to retain his or her humanity. But the potential is there. And over the years, I've learned how to tap into it from the outside."
Warrenna rubbed her eyes. Even if it was the afternoon, it was still too early to think this hard. “So you're saying that you can use my brainpower, but I can't?"
"Well, you can use that power, but only in your other form. And I have no desire to meet Evil Renny."
Yeah, she's pretty scary.
"How did you learn this stuff, Uncle V? Did you go to some kind of weirdo academy? I bet you got straight A's in the messing with the occult classes."
Uncle Vince snorted, and his eyes twitched back and forth. Warrenna couldn't decide if he was annoyed or fighting laughter.
"I've been looking for a cure for the curse for a long time, Renny. And not every source of supernatural knowledge is as mum as Zera, or as untrusting as the angels. Some of them are a little more interested in power.” He shook his head. “But that's not important right now. Do you want to be with Major Tom or not?"
She smiled. “Sure I do. I'd like to see how he's handling all this. For his sake, of course.” Even if he isn't bleeding. Warrenna bit her tongue. I have to stop thinking about Tommy's blood.
"Of course.” Uncle Vince tried to wink, but the resulting twitch looked more like a facial tic. He gestured to a hallway on her right. “Take your shower. I'll get ready."
"Okay.” She tapped the side of her head. “Anything I need to do up here?"
"Nope, the work is on my end.” He disappeared around a corner, into a tiny kitchen. “If you have something of his,” he called, “it would make it easier for me."
She fished Thomas's dream-journal from her bag and placed it on a counter. “Will this help?"
The Cure for the Curse Page 9