by J. R. Rain
“Which wouldn’t have been an issue at all if you hadn’t gone in alone.” He waves a hand around randomly. “It looks like you’re somewhere between suicidal or went in there knowing you’d get into a situation that would end in gunfire. We only have your word to go on, and―”
“Beg your pardon, sir, but Terrell witnessed it all. He will corroborate my account of what happened, because my account is what happened.”
Nico freezes mid-wave, staring through his fingers at me. “Well, that’s something at least.”
We sit in awkward silence for a minute or so.
“I’m honestly not sure what to do here, Sam. This is a giant mess.”
Here it is. The moment I dreaded. Once again, a few seconds can totally destroy dreams I’ve spent years working for. But, how can I justify being a risk to the people I work with? Even now, sitting in the hot seat, it’s taking an extreme amount of focus for me to remain conscious.
I take a breath and let it out.
Nico wobbles his pen between his fingers.
My sharpened fingernails pick at the armrest.
He smirks, frowns, and goes blank-faced.
A paper clip striking the floor would tumble over the room like a cannon blast.
“Maybe it would be best if I resign and save you the headache,” I say, barely giving it voice.
There it is. Years of work, hope, and determination dangled over the trash can. No. I can’t think that way. This isn’t my choice. Something happened to me that I didn’t ask for. I don’t belong out in the daytime anymore. I can’t risk other people’s lives for my vanity, my love for being able to say ‘I’m a federal agent.’ Even if it is only HUD.
Nico winces. “Sam… I don’t think this will get to the point of termination. It might. Probably a reprimand, maybe a suspension. It’s not like you disobeyed any direct order. Going in alone without any notification is…”
“Reckless. Yes, sir, I know. I’ve been considering my present situation, and in all honesty, I don’t think I’m in any physical shape to continue. As best I understand, I’ve developed a rare skin condition that causes me to break out with a wicked sunburn in mere seconds. I’m covered in SPF nine million right now, and I still hurt. My reaction time during the day is slow. I can barely stay awake. If I saw a doctor, I’m sure they’d tell me I need to stay out of the sunlight or I run the risk of melanoma or worse. Plus, what happens if I’m out in the field and I can’t function due to sunburn, or my slow reaction time gets Helling shot again? Maybe next time, he gets worse than a two-week hospital vacation.” I gesture at the paper. “And this brewing political mess is just one more reason.”
“Sam…” Nico sighs, steepling his fingers.
“It’s nothing I asked for, sir. I busted my ass for years to get here. I love this job. I love the people I work with, but I don’t want to give you these kinds of problems.”
“I’ll keep what you said in mind.” He pats the desk twice. “For now, consider yourself on paid suspension until further notice while the investigations progress. They’re still working on the shooting at the first house, and now, they’ve got your midnight raid on top of that.”
Yeah. Suspended with pay. That’s like saying, here’s two months to find a job.
A heavy lump glides up into my throat. I’m not sure I could talk right now if someone put a gun to my head. All I can do is nod.
“It wouldn’t look good on you to quit so fast, Sam. Makes you seem like you’re guilty of something.” Nico attempts his paternal smile.
“I am guilty… for letting all you guys down. For not being fast enough to stop that guy from shooting Chad.” I show off my greasy, sunblock-slathered hands. “I didn’t ask for this, either. You know I’m happy here.”
“And you’re one of our sharpest investigators.” He tosses the pen onto the middle of his desk. “Maybe you’re right about the medical issues. God dammit, it sucks.”
“Yeah.” I stare down.
“It’ll be a damn shame to lose you, but don’t give up hope, Sam. Go see a doctor. Perhaps there’s some kind of management regimen you could try. If your condition improves, we can always talk reinstatement.”
I summon a weak smile, the tip of my tongue circling the point of a retracted fang. Something tells me my condition’s going to stay right where it is… probably for quite a long damn time. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
Nico remains stoic as I remove my sidearm and holster from my belt, and leave them on his desk, along with my badge. Standard procedure for being suspended, but I think we both know I won’t be taking them back.
I feel like crying, as if a close relative has died. I’m terrified, freaking out, angry (at whatever attacked me that night), and defeated. That monster took more than my life; he took my dreams away, too. But, badge or not, I still have my family, dammit.
I’ll find a way to make this work.
Nico stands and offers a hand. “Take care of yourself, Sam.”
“Thanks. You too, sir. It was an honor to work with you.”
“Don’t talk like that, Sam. Suspensions aren’t forever.”
No, but vampires are. I’m sure he’s saying that to be polite. My willingness to resign is no doubt going to weigh on the evaluation process. Hopefully, it’ll let HUD sweep me aside and forget the whole thing ever happened without the need to concoct charges and turn me into a sacrifice on the altar of public opinion. I’m not too worried about being charged, since I didn’t technically break any laws (other than roughing Renton up a little, but good luck proving that).
“Thanks. You’ve got my number if you need to reach me.”
He nods.
For what I’m sure is the last time, I lower my head and walk out of Nico’s office.
Chapter Thirty-One
Acceptance
I spent about two hours at the office having an awkward-as-hell meeting with Ernie Montoya, Michelle Rivera, and Bryce Anders―my former associates.
They all now believe I have xeroderma pigmentosum, a medical condition that prevents me from properly executing my duties as a HUD agent. I’m sure they suspect my solo run on the Brothers of the Republic compound is part of my suspension, but not one of them objected to it. They’re all glad I got the bastards who put Chad in the hospital.
Speaking of Chad… I need to visit him soon. Unlike the others, he’ll get the whole truth about the raid… except for the part about Eva shooting me. As far as anyone is officially concerned, she never fired―or even had a weapon on her. Luckily, no one ever thought to check her hands for gunpowder residue. Probably because I never mentioned she had pulled a weapon on me. And, like a good daughter of militia wingnuts, she kept her mouth shut about it. Last I heard, she’s still with CPS while they try to find her mother’s ‘filthy lib parents.’ How sad is it that she only knows of her maternal grandparents by that term? She’s never even met them. Mitch’s parents have been dead for a few years. Speaking of Mitch, he and his wife are recovering in a secure room at the hospital. They’ll likely be guests of the federal government for a decade or six, between what they did to Terrell, trying to kill a federal agent, and being involved in selling stolen military hardware. It’s possible they’ll die of old age in prison, assuming nothing else happens to them.
Everyone’s recovering, except for me.
Still. It’s a damn miracle no one died.
After we’d loaded Terrell on the medevac helicopter, I made sure Eva understood that I wasn’t upset with her, and I would not be documenting that she pointed a weapon at me. My report stated that she carried it outside, thinking they had a burglar on the property, in case anyone questions finding her prints on it.
So, that’s the official story.
Except for being shot by a twelve-year-old, I told the truth everywhere else.
Anyway, two days have passed since I left the HUD office. No one’s called in any official capacity, though I’ve gotten a few “hey, ho
w’s it going” morale-boosting calls from Michelle and Ernie.
Between Danny and Mary Lou, I’ve tried obeying my body’s desires for those days and staying asleep during sunlight hours. My new metabolism is weird. I don’t feel any better or worse for ‘resting properly.’ When I force myself up during the day, I’m merely crummy-tired during the time the sun is up. I guess they got vampires wrong in all the movies and stuff where they either cannot wake up at all, or can only force themselves to function when facing an attack, and promptly pass back out once the danger is gone. I’m neither wooden nor forced to sleep, except at the moment of sunrise.
So, yeah. Hi, I’m Samantha Radiance Moon, and I’m a vampire.
I’ve moved past the point of denying it. How can I? The sun burns me. I drink blood, can’t die, groggy in the daytime, wide awake at night. Great night vision too. I have fangs. Oh, and mirrors hate me too. All that’s kind of difficult to argue with.
It’s not all bad. I mean, I’m strong, fast, can take a bullet without an issue. Sure, I can’t go out in the day without a bucket of sunblock cream slathered all over me, but if circumstance demands it, I can cope… just not when people around me are likely to get shot.
Yeah, I’m probably a vampire. As ridiculous as that sounds in my head. But, I will make this work. For my kids. For Danny.
For me.
I can’t give up. It’s already taken the job I loved. But no more, dammit. My family is where I draw the line. What can I do? They wouldn’t let a blind person drive, and if vampires were a ‘thing,’ I’m sure they wouldn’t let us hold day jobs, either. Especially risky ones involving guns, sunlight, and innocent bystanders. I’m going to take this circumstance that happened to me, this being a vampire, and I’m going to turn it into a benefit. I won’t let it crush me.
I won’t let it define me.
***
On a Wednesday, I force myself out of bed in the morning. Danny’s pleasantly surprised to see me up and around, and we have a nice family breakfast. He’s okay with me driving Tammy to preschool today, so I drop Anthony at Mary Lou’s for a little while since I’m going to visit Chad. Not being in a rush to go to work, I spend some time with my sister.
Her kids are all over me, except Ruby Grace, who’s still giving me the suspicious side-stare. I feel like a huge dog that she doesn’t quite trust not to be dangerous. Making a big deal out of it will only worsen things, so I pretend it doesn’t bother me and act like my old self.
Eventually, I duck out and go to the hospital.
Chad’s sitting up in bed, watching Wheel of Fortune. He glances over as I walk in and starts to look away until his brain registers who I am. His head snaps back to smile at me. “Hey, Sam. How’s it going?”
“It’s going.” I flop in the chair next to his bed.
He pats his side. “The drain’s coming out tomorrow. My lung’s almost fully inflated again.”
“That’s great.”
“You don’t sound happy.” He quirks an eyebrow.
“Oh, it’s not that.” I smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Chad pushes a button on the bed, motoring himself upright a little more. “So…”
“I got the bastards,” I say. “All of them who were involved.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah and they’ll be back on the street in six months.”
“We’ll see. Joey, in fact, might wind up in a mental facility.”
“What happened?”
“It’s complicated.” I chuckle. “Well, maybe ‘complicated’ isn’t the right word. I’ll substitute ‘reckless’ or ‘stupid.’”
I fill him in on the details. To avoid putting him in an awkward position, I don’t mention my throwing Renton around like a rag doll or that Eva shot me. Chad groans when I tell him the kid’s middle name is ‘Braun.’ Yeah, nice parents to do that to her. Of course, not everyone knows that Eva Braun was Hitler’s wife, before she popped a cyanide pill. Anyway, I wonder if they would’ve given her up for adoption if she hadn’t turned out blonde. At one point before the CPS woman took her from the compound, I suggested she really ought to change it when she’s eighteen, and suggested Marie. Eva Marie sounds much prettier.
Chad shakes his head. “Jesus effing… Nico must’ve flipped.”
“As much as he’s capable of flipping.” Truth is, our boss is a pretty sedate guy. “So, anyway… I’m suspended until further notice.”
He cringes. “With pay, I hope.”
I nod. “I’m probably going to resign, Chad.”
“What?” He stares at me. “No… Sam, please don’t. Not over me. This isn’t your fault.”
“It’s more than that.” I shake my head. “I have some medical issues that are getting in the way.”
“Damn. What? You busted your ass to get here. It’s a shame to walk away.”
Having Chad stare at me like we’re about to be divorced gets me choked up. “I know. Believe me, I know how hard I had to fight for this. Twice the work of any man and a third the credit. This is not a choice.” That damn lump in my throat comes back. It takes me a minute to get my voice back. “If things were different…”
“Maybe it’s not that bad? What kind of medical issues are you talking about?”
“The sunlight thing, mostly.”
“Sunburn? Really?” He chuckles. “You’re going to resign over that?”
“That, plus whatever is wrong with me that I’m barely awake during the day. I should have been able to shoot that man before he got his weapon drawn. You know how when you’ve been up all night, you bump a glass over and think, ‘I should really do something about that’ as it’s falling, but you just stand there and watch it crash to the floor? That’s how I felt. I had my weapon already out and just stood there. I couldn’t react.”
“Shock?”
“No. I’ve been on raids before. I don’t hesitate. You know that. This is different. Like a really thick brain fog is paralyzing me. Everything during the day happens a few seconds late.”
Chad grasps my hand. “The attack. You’ve got PTSD.”
“I’ve got something. But, there’s still the skin thing.”
“But it’s just a sunburn―”
I hold up a finger and stand. His eyes track me as I walk around his bed to the window, pulling my sleeve up. When I stick my forearm (where I didn’t put sunblock) into the light streaming in from the window, my skin reddens instantly to blisters. I jerk it back with a gasp of agony before the smoke starts. Better to show my partner.
“Holy shit,” he mutters.
Before he can notice the redness and blisters already healing, I tug the sleeve down and cradle the arm like it’s still burning. “I’ve got industrial-strength sunblock on my face and hands. You know, the kind they make for Irish people?”
He chuckles.
“I can’t take the risk that something like that happens out in the field, Chad. What if a suspect rips my shirt and I’m crippled with agony while you get killed because I can’t function?” I flop back in the chair, head down. Tears I felt for sure would start as soon as I saw Chad in the hospital bed start now. “I’m sorry, Chad. My pride isn’t worth your life. I really can’t function that well ever since the attack.”
“Wow…” He lets out a long, slow sigh. “That’s so messed up. I hope they get the son of a bitch. Think he’s got the same thing with the sun? Maybe you caught it from him?”
If he only knew how close to the truth he was. I almost laugh, but can’t quite do it.
“Pretty sure he does. I wish I got a decent look at his face, but I still don’t even know what he looked like, other than being a man.”
Chad motors the bed back a little to recline. “It’s going to stink babysitting a new agent, but Jesus, Sam. That arm… You need to stay the hell inside during the day. I’m a believer now.”
So am I. “Yeah. Sorry to stick you with new meat. I hate having to resign, but I’m too much of a risk.”
“Maybe they’ll
find a cure?”
I chuckle. “That’s what Nico said. I really love how much you guys don’t want to lose me. Maybe there’s a cure, but I’m not holding my breath.” And if I did, I could hold it for a really long time.
Chad nods, and I see his tears too. “You know that if you ever need anything, you can call me. Might not be official, but we’ve been together for years. We’re always going to be partners.”
When he raises his arm, I lean in and hug him.
“Thanks, Chad. That means a lot to me.” I hug him gingerly for a moment and lean back. “Same goes in reverse, although private citizen Sam won’t have the same connections.”
He chuckles, more sad than amused. “Whatever you do, please find happiness, okay? Take care of those kids of yours, and keep that Danny on the straight and narrow.”
I nearly ask why he said that, but let it drop. I nod. “My family is all I think about these days.”
We sit in silence for a little while longer.
“So, how are you holding up after that Navy SEAL stunt you pulled?” asks Chad.
I laugh. “Handling it as best as possible I guess… for having to shoot someone.”
Honestly, it bothers me more that it doesn’t bother me. I hope this vampire situation doesn’t come hand-in-hand with a lack of empathy… or worse, grow into a love for killing. All things considered, vampires are (so it seems) designed to prey upon humans, so it stands to reason that some degree of detachment at death would be included, but there’s enough Sam left inside me that I intellectually regard it as troubling, despite the lack of emotional freak-out.
“I’m sure you’ll be cleared. If I know you, even when you break the rules, you stick to policy.” Chad winks.
“Heh, maybe. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
He makes a finger gun at me. “If you change your mind, call me to testify on your behalf.”
I grin… and steer the conversation into happier topics as I need to keep my mind on something else.