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
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