Knights, Katriena - Vampire Apocalypse Book II.txt

by Vampire Apocalypse Book II. txt (lit)

  They’d spent hours on the Internet researching behavior problems to

  put together a logical scenario.

  It had seemed to Tara at the time that Julian’s input in the process

  had been based on some knowledge of Dr. DeAngelo, but then he’d

  told her to quote Nick as a reference. She wasn’t quite comfortable

  enough with Julian to question him about it, though. And the plan they’d

  put together seemed rock-solid. If the doctor figured out what was

  really going on, he had a better imagination than any doctor Tara had

  ever met.

  Still, if he did, they would deal with the situation. She just hoped

  Dr. DeAngelo made it through alive.

  She’d intended to get home before dark, but she didn’t quite make

  it. As she’d expected, but also feared, Daniel wasn’t in his small, sun-

  tight bedroom. Looking at the empty bed, she sighed. It didn’t matter

  that he’d gotten along fine without her for nearly five centuries. He

  was in her care now, and she felt responsible.

  Julian and Dr. Greene had both warned her to expect Daniel to

  disappear during the night, but she couldn’t help worrying. He was a

  vampire; but he was also a little boy, and she had developed a relationship

  with the little boy. So it was hard for her to think of him out, on his

  own. Harder still to think of him procuring a dinner of fresh blood.

  Hardest of all to imagine him being overpowered by one of Ialdaboth’s

  evil followers. Never mind Julian’s reassurances that Manhattan was

  safe; she didn’t want Daniel’s death to be the first indication that it

  wasn’t.

  She forced herself to make her own dinner, sit down, and eat,

  instead of pacing and worrying and wringing her hands, which was

  what she really felt compelled to do.

  When she’d scraped the last bit of pasta from her plate, she looked

  fruitlessly out the window for a minute or two, then turned on the TV.

  The evening news was half over when a deceptively small voice

  said, “Hey, Tara.”

  She turned around. Daniel stood behind her, a skinny little boy

  with disheveled curly black hair, his front teeth too big for him. He

  wore faded jeans and a bright orange Pokémon T-shirt. A smear of red

  next to his mouth might have been Spaghetti-O’s, but it wasn’t.

  “Wash your face,” Tara said mildly. “You missed a spot.”

  Daniel grinned sheepishly. “Oh, gee. Sorry.”

  Tara turned back to the TV, listening to the splashing sounds as

  Daniel washed his face in the kitchen sink. He returned to the living

  room and flopped onto the sofa next to her.

  “Mind if I watch something else?” he said.

  “Just let me watch the weather first.”

  “It’s going to snow. I could smell it.”

  “Okay. Fair enough.” She handed him the remote. Grinning, he

  explored the listings, then changed to a cartoon, one of the many specimens

  of Japanese animé he was fond of. Tara didn’t care for it. It was

  too bright and choppy, the voices high-pitched and obnoxious. But he

  was engrossed in a matter of moments.

  Kids, Tara thought. They were all the same. Even when they

  were five hundred years old.

  He watched until the next commercial break, then hit the mute

  button on the TV. Tara, who had been drifting off to sleep, blinked at

  him in surprise.

  “How did it go with the doctor?” he asked.

  “I’ll be taking you for your first session tomorrow night.”

  “I don’t want to go,” he said bluntly.

  “It’ll be all right.” She put her hand on his shoulder, and he stilled

  for a moment, almost as if he were afraid of her. “We just need a few

  minutes, some flashes from those years.”

  “But there’s so much more.” His voice was small but not a little

  boy’s voice at all. “I don’t want to—” He broke off.

  “I know.” In truth, she had no idea what memories lurked within

  him. And she didn’t blame him for his fear. “We can only do the best

  we can.”

  “Maybe I don’t even want to be mortal.”

  “But maybe you do.”

  He bit his lip, fighting tears. Then he swallowed hard, and his face

  became stony and still. “Go on to bed,” he said. “I know you’re tired. I

  might go out again, so if you wake up and don’t see me, don’t get all

  freaked out.”

  Tara nodded, disappointed. She’d hoped he’d open up to her a

  little more. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.”

  “Yeah.” He hit the remote button again—the commercial break

  was over. “Unless I change my mind.”

  In his office, Gray DeAngelo re-read the file on Daniel Summers.

  Something wasn’t quite right. Nothing he could pin down. He just felt

  vaguely uneasy in that way he’d learned, over the years, meant something

  was amiss.

  Maybe it was the light sensitivity. Porphyria was an extraordinarily

  rare disease, and it was the kind of thing that would give a child a

  great deal of emotional difficulty. Surely Daniel would have been in

  therapy before, to help him deal with his inability to play in the sunshine.

  Yet, according to the files Ms. Summers had given him, today

  was the first time Daniel’s parents had consulted a therapist. Paperwork

  signed by a Dr. Jarod Greene confirmed the boy’s porphyria, and

  an online search had found Greene listed as a hematologist. That seemed

  odd, too—why was Daniel seeing a hematologist when other specialists,

  like endocrinologists, usually cared for patients with his condition?

  Rubbing his forehead, he wondered why he was making such an

  issue of it. Maybe some of Daniel’s records had been lost somewhere,

  in the shuffle of a move or in the course of a custody battle. If Daniel

  had changed his name when Tara had taken full custody, the boy’s

  records might not all be in one place. He’d have to look into that, as

  well. Searching the file, he found Daniel’s father’s name. Julian Cavanaugh.

  He typed it into the search engine to see what came up.

  And was met with a big, fat zero. Oh, sure, there were Julian

  Cavanaughs on the Internet, but none who seemed to have anything to

  do with Tara Summers or her son Daniel.

  “Leave it alone,” he finally muttered to himself. He shut the file

  and prepared to leave the office for the evening. Just help the kid,

  take the money, and forget about the rest of it.

  But he couldn’t. And if he were really honest—which, as a therapist,

  he didn’t want to be—he had to admit that his interest had nothing

  to do with Daniel. It was all about Tara.

  He was certain he hadn’t met Tara Summers before, but something

  about her had seemed eerily familiar. When she’d walked into his

  office he’d had one of those strange déjà vu moments. He’d known

  what her voice would sound like before she had spoken, but he was

  sure he’d never heard it before today.

  He also, somehow, knew exactly what it would feel like to kiss

  her. And that made no sense at all.

  He shrugged on his coat, then looked again at the file lying on the

  desk. He picked it up and took i
t home with him.

  His face was shadowed in the darkness, but she could barely

  make out the line of his jaw, the glint of his eyes.

  “It was a good day,” he said. The timbre of his voice sounded

  as familiar as her own. “You were so brave.”

  “I wasn’t.” This voice seemed to come from her own lips, but

  it somehow was not her voice. “I was so afraid.”

  “But you did what had to be done.”

  A soft wash of pride swept over her, pride born of love. She

  was proud of him, proud of herself in spite of her modesty. But

  modesty had been ingrained in her from an early age, and it was

  hard to acknowledge her own accomplishments.

  He loved her, though, and his praise made her feel warm. As

  did his arms, closing around her, protecting her in the darkness.

  His lips touched hers, then pressed more deeply. She could feel

  every soft contour of his mouth, the gentle caress of his lips and

  tongue.

  He kissed her thoroughly, then shifted away from her to peer

  at her through the darkness. This close, even in the shadows, she

  could make out his face

  Gray DeAngelo.

  Tara started awake. Her heart hammered in her chest, the sound

  echoing in her ears.

  “What the hell was that?” she muttered. She had absolutely no

  reason to think about kissing Gray DeAngelo, except that he was an

  attractive man.

  Oh, well. It was only a dream. With any kind of luck, she’d forget

  it by morning.

  Two

  The next morning, Tara left Daniel asleep in his sun-proofed room

  and walked to the Underground. There was a doorway not far from

  her apartment—the Senior had created the portal specifically for her

  use three years ago, when her relationship with Dominic had led to her

  discovery of the vampire community and her eventual employment as

  a sort of nanny to the vampire Children. Back then, they’d been feral,

  most of them, making their way along the fringes of the Underground,

  avoiding the main areas because they knew too well what an adult

  vampire could do to them. She still wasn’t sure she’d found them all.

  Some of them had been so hideously abused for so long that they trusted

  no one, and refused to come out of the dark, safe shadows they’d

  found for themselves.

  The guards knew her on sight, and nodded as she walked down

  the narrow alley. The door at the back of the alley was locked with

  three padlocks. Tara fished out her keys and opened them, opened the

  door, then keyed the security code into the keypad just beyond it. There

  were three more checkpoints along the hallway behind the door, then

  another door with another keypad and another security code. After

  that, a long, narrow staircase, one more door, and then she was truly in

  the world of the vampires.

  She could always tell, even on those rare occasions when she

  came in through a different portal. There was a certain smell or aura or

  thickness to the air—she didn’t really know how to describe the sensation

  even to herself, but it was always there and always obvious to her.

  It grew thicker the deeper she passed into the Underground. At first,

  when she’d initially taken on the job of helping with the Children, the

  sensation had given her panic attacks. It still made her edgy, but she’d

  gotten used to it.

  Julian’s office was deep within the Underground, through what

  she liked to call the Geode Room. That was her favorite bit of scenery

  in the vampires’ territory. The walls were covered with crystals that

  refracted the artificial light in gorgeous streams of blue-green. She

  always stopped there, just for a minute, even if she came at night and

  ended up with a flock of vampires staring at her while she absorbed the

  beauty.

  Julian answered her knock immediately. She entered cautiously.

  She still wasn’t used to him. She and the previous Senior had developed

  a sort of uneasy rapport. Julian didn’t scare her as much as the

  old Senior had—she was more used to vampires now, and Julian seemed

  much more human in many ways than his predecessor. Still, he was a

  new face, a new personality to deal with, and she still hadn’t quite

  accustomed herself to the idea that he was in charge.

  “Tara,” he said with a smile.

  She was sure that smile was meant to reassure, but he seemed

  too edgy behind it. Things were brewing down here, she was certain.

  Things she, as a human being, would most likely never hear about. She

  wasn’t even sure she wanted to know.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “I’m fine, thanks. How’s Lorelei?”

  “Better. She’s been sleeping enough for her, the baby, and me.

  Thanks for asking.” He leaned back in his chair, giving her his full

  attention. “You’ve made some progress?”

  “I consulted the therapist you and Nicholas recommended. I think

  he’ll work out.”

  “Good. So you’ll start seeing him when?”

  “Tonight. I’ll be observing the sessions with Daniel.”

  “He had no problem with that?”

  “He suggested it.”

  “Good.” He gave a quick nod, as if settling things with himself.

  “Keep me informed of Daniel’s progress. If everything goes well, I

  might send Treva out, too.”

  Tara knew that Treva had been twelve when she was Changed,

  nearly two hundred years ago. On the initial evaluation, though, Dr.

  Greene had judged her less emotionally mature than Daniel. “We’ll

  cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  Julian smiled at her hesitation. “Yes, we will. Do you need any

  cash? How are you holding out?”

  One thing she liked about working for vampires—she was never

  short of money. “I’m good for the moment. There’s enough money in

  the account to cover the first five sessions or so.”

  “Grocery money? Rent?”

  “I’m good.”

  “All right.” He glanced at his watch. “How about lunch? I’m

  dying for sashimi.”

  Surprised, Tara nodded. “All right.”

  It still surprised her that Julian could go out in sunlight. Apparently

  he wasn’t quite used to it, either, because he blinked and shaded his

  eyes when they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  “Bright,” he said.

  “Doesn’t it hurt?”

  “Not so much anymore.”

  He led the way to a Japanese restaurant. They chatted over sushi

  and sashimi, about Daniel, about her own role in the vampire community.

  Tara felt more at ease with Julian after the conversation, which

  she assumed had been the point. In spite of the circumstances of his

  arrival, she liked him, and she sensed that the other vampires trusted

  him for the most part. She couldn’t help wondering about Lorelei, though,

  or more accurately, about her pregnancy. What kind of baby was she

  likely to have, if it had been fathered by a not-quite vampire? She

  hoped all went well for them.

  That night, sitting with Daniel in Dr. DeAngelo’s waiting room,

  other worries occupied her mind. If possible, she felt even mor
e uncomfortable

  than she had the day before, when she’d come alone.

  Never mind that Daniel was the patient. She wanted nothing more than

  to turn around and run. Surely this could do nothing but endanger Daniel,

  regardless of Julian’s opinion on the matter.

  Daniel seemed much more at ease. He sat in the waiting room

  next to her, reading a kids’ magazine. She’d assumed, before she’d

  met him, that he’d be interested in adult fare, given his chronological

  age. But he spent most of his time devoted to pursuits appropriate to

  his apparent age. She had no idea why that was. Maybe his brain had

  been stuck for five hundred years at the level of a ten-year-old. Other

  things about him made her think that was the case.

  He was so involved in the magazine, she had to nudge him when

  the receptionist called his name. He looked up at her with a very adult

  look of irritation. His voice, though, was a pre-adolescent whine. “I

  don’t want to go.”

  “Then you’ll have to talk to Julian.” She grasped his elbow, urging

  him to his feet.

  “I talked to Julian already. He’s annoying.” Shoulders slumped,

  he followed her toward the office.

  Hanging back a little, Tara slipped an arm around his shoulders as

  they walked, and he leaned into her. He was more scared than angry,

  she was certain.

  Dr. DeAngelo met them with a warm smile. “Good evening,” he

  said to her, then turned his attention to Daniel. “You must be Daniel.”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” Daniel fell into a chair.

  Tara sat next to him, patting his shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she

  said. He rolled his eyes at her. She smiled her apology.

  “Girls,” said Dr. DeAngelo in a commiserating tone. “They’re

  always so mushy, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah.” Daniel gave a wry grin. “Enough to make you barf sometimes.”

  “My mom was like that, too. Always wanted to kiss me in front of

  my friends.”

  Daniel made a face. Tara leaned away from him, partly to put him

  more at ease, partly to remove herself from the conversation. Time to

  let the doctor take over.

  “So how are you tonight?” Dr. DeAngelo began. “Are you feeling

  okay?”

  Daniel shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I’d like to just talk a bit, get to know you a little, before we start