anything too involved. Okay?”
Daniel shrugged again. Probably a typical reaction for a kid, Tara
thought. In any case, the doctor seemed to be taking it in stride. He
continued with his questions, asking things anyone might ask a ten-
year-old boy. Tara kept half her attention on the conversation, in case
Daniel might need her to intercede, but he handled things well. He’d
been pretending to be ten for a long time—he was good at it.
Instead of watching Daniel, she focused on the doctor, looking for
any indication that he might be suspicious, or ill at ease in any way.
Certainly no sign of that, she thought, noting the movement of his finely
cut mouth. He was a very handsome man, with dark, nearly black hair
and eyes somewhere between green and hazel. He wore a dress shirt
but no jacket, and he’d unbuttoned the top button of the shirt beneath
the loosened knot of his tie. A long day, Tara supposed. As he continued
to chat with Daniel, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves.
“So,” he said after a time. “Let’s talk a little about these problems
you’re having.”
Daniel cut Tara a look. He’d been briefed ahead of time on what
he’d supposedly done to warrant the intervention of a professional.
She bit her lip, hoping he wouldn’t suddenly decide to rebel.
“Yeah, okay,” he said.
“This says you’ve been having trouble with your friends. Lashing
out at them, calling them names.”
“Yeah, and I hit a couple.”
Tara suppressed a smile. He was going to cooperate, and with
flying colors, too, apparently.
“I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you this is inappropriate behavior.”
Gray’s tone was neutral.
“No, sir.”
“So can you tell me why you do it?”
Daniel shrugged. “They just piss me off, I guess.”
“Does it have anything to do with your not being able to go outside?
Are you feeling frustrated about that?”
Daniel’s mouth curled at one corner. “I’ve been living inside a
long time, Dr. DeAngelo. I guess I’m pretty much used to it by now.”
“Then have there been any changes recently?”
“Yeah, my dad left. That was tough.”
“You still see him, though, correct?”
“Yeah. He’s a good guy, I guess.”
Tara saw the curl in his mouth deepen. He was enjoying this.
She’d discovered most vampires got a thrill out of extemporaneously
inventing their personal histories. It amused them. Even Julian seemed
to get revved when he had a good line going.
Confident that Daniel he could carry the conversation at least for
a while, she relaxed in her chair.
And suddenly remembered the dream.
Had it really been Gray DeAngelo kissing her? With his soft mouth
and fondling tongue? Thinking back, the voice hadn’t seemed quite like
the voice she was hearing question Daniel about his relationship with
his father. But somehow it had been the same.
Uncomfortable, she shifted in her chair, trying not to stare at the
doctor. What had they been talking about in that ridiculous dream?
Something about being brave. What had they been doing that they
needed to be brave? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“Ms. Summers.”
Tara started. He’d called her name more than once, she suddenly
realized. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I drifted off there, for a minute.”
The doctor smiled, but she didn’t miss the small spark of disapproval
in his eyes. She should be ashamed of herself, she thought, not
listening to her own son in this kind of a serious situation.
“I’d like to speak to you alone for a few minutes,” the doctor told
her, “just to finish things off for the day.”
“Of course.” She looked at Daniel. “Can you wait for me in the
lobby? You can finish your magazine.”
“Sure.” Daniel trudged off, equal parts obedience and reluctance.
Watching him go, Tara wondered how much of that was an act put on
for the doctor and how much was simply Daniel being himself. It was
hard to tell with him.
“I think we’ve gotten a good start,” Dr. DeAngelo said when
Daniel had pulled the door shut behind him. “For our next session I’d
like to try a little light hypnosis, get him used to the procedure before
we try to isolate any trauma.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“Whatever’s bothering Daniel, I’d bet it’s on a deeper level than
current events between you and your husband. He seems at ease with
his relationship with his father, and equally at ease with you. What do
you know about his history before you adopted him?”
“He was abused. He doesn’t like to talk about it. I think that’s
probably what we need to look at. I’m not sure he remembers everything
that was done to him—or that he acknowledges what he does
remember.”
The doctor nodded. “I think that’s probably a good guess.” He
hesitated, eyeing her just a bit too closely. “This isn’t exactly kosher in
my profession, but would you like to have a cup of coffee with me
tomorrow? Maybe while Daniel’s in school?”
Tara blinked, surprised. The dream rushed in for a moment, even
more intense than it had been while it was happening. She could almost
feel his breath against her lips. “I’m not sure, Dr. DeAngelo.”
He gave a sheepish smile. “Forgive me for being forward. You’re
not really my patient, so I thought it might not be too untoward.” He
hesitated, then looked right into her eyes. The contact startled her. “To
be honest, since you walked into this office I’ve been having the strangest
feeling of déjà vu.”
That startled her even more. “Well . . . as long as we’re being
honest, I’ve sort of been sensing the same thing. We haven’t met before,
have we?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But I’ve always made it a policy to figure
these things out when they happen to me.” He shrugged. “Sort of a
therapist thing, I guess.”
“So you’re not really asking me on a date.”
“No. Just for coffee. Some chat. Would that be okay?”
She couldn’t deny the attraction. Had it been only that, nothing
more than the primal pull of hormones, she would have refused. But it
was more. She had the undeniable sense she knew him. “Yes. That’d
be fine. There’s a coffee shop around the corner from my building.
Would that be good?”
“That’d be fine.”
She wrote directions on a piece of paper, said goodnight to Dr.
DeAngelo, then went to retrieve Daniel.
“I’m hungry,” he said when they reached the sidewalk.
“Okay, go. I’ll meet you at home.”
She watched him disappear with her usual trepidation. Then, with
a sigh, she turned and walked in the opposite direction, toward home.
Three
At seven the next morning, sitting at a table with a latte and a
blueberry scone, Gray still wasn’t sure being here was a good idea.
When Tara walked in, saw him, and smiled, he was almost positi
ve
it wasn’t.
True, she wasn’t his patient, but close enough. He didn’t like to
play fast and loose with the rules, particularly those he’d made for
himself. And his own rules definitely disallowed involvement with a
patient’s mother.
Still, he found his attention drawn to her as she bought her coffee
and approached his table. Her blonde hair, cut in a neat, chin-length
style, bobbed prettily as she walked. Her blue eyes shone when she
smiled.
But not the way they should have. They were bright with friendliness,
but something inside him felt that was not enough. The light
there should be colored by love.
And the eyes should be green.
He shook his head a little as she sat down, bewildered by the
images in his head. Images that tried persistently to overlay the reality
in front of him.
Tara settled across from him and frowned delicately. “Are you all
right?”
“I’m fine.” He schooled his features, wondering what kind of
ridiculous expression they had held. “Just a little tired.”
“Oh, me, too. Daniel had me up half the night.” She broke off, as
if she’d said something she hadn’t meant to say. Then, in a different,
less certain voice, she added, “You know. Bad dreams.”
“That’s not unusual. In fact, it’s something I would expect to see
more of as treatment progresses. I’m a bit surprised it’s started so
soon, though.”
Tara’s frown deepened. “So what causes them?”
“Sometimes the subconscious starts working on problems we can
only brush on in therapy sessions. I’d like you to ask Daniel to start a
dream journal. We can take a look at the imagery and see what his
brain is trying to tell him.”
“Okay. I’ll tell him.”
Gray settled into his chair, tapping his scone. Tara hadn’t bought
anything to eat, he noticed. “Ms. Summers, I’m sure you understand,
but I want to stress anyway, that you and Daniel have to be in this for
the long haul.”
“Call me Tara.” She sipped her coffee, watching him over the rim
of the cardboard cup. The look in her eyes wasn’t quite seductive,
wasn’t quite coy, but seemed to be trying to hide elements of both.
“Did you really invite me here to talk about Daniel? Or is that your way
of justifying it to yourself?”
Gray shifted uncomfortably. Honesty, he thought, was probably
the best idea at this point. “Maybe a little of both.”
Her smile was a little wistful, and she tilted her head, looking at
him. “So. The déjà vu thing. What do you think it’s about?”
“It’s not that unusual,” he said stonily. But the strength of it—that
was unusual.
“What do you think it means? You do past-life regression hypnosis,
don’t you? Maybe we knew each other in another life.”
He shrugged, reluctant to entertain the idea, even though it was,
technically, his specialty. “I suppose it’s possible.”
“Is that something you’d be interested in exploring?”
Her teasing expression brought out the wicked in him. “I don’t
know. Is that the kind of therapy you’d be willing to pay for?”
“At your rates? I don’t think so.”
“Maybe that ex-husband of yours could finance it.”
He immediately regretted the joke as her expression sobered. “I
don’t think he would see it as a wise investment.” She paused, frowning
thoughtfully. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange, though, that I came
to you for help with Daniel, and then we both feel this connection?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Has anything like this ever happened to you before?”
“No, I can’t say that it has.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
The question caught him off guard. “Maybe I should ask you to
do a dream journal.”
She flushed. Just as he’d suspected she would. He nodded smugly.
“That’s what I thought. The whole past-life thing is a big joke to you.
But I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I’ve seen some pretty
strange things. If we start looking into it, you’d better be prepared for
what you might find.”
Her gaze hardened. “Ditto, Dr. DeAngelo.”
He quirked an eyebrow. The color of her eyes might be different
from those eyes he remembered, but the sparks flying from them at
that moment looked eerily familiar. “You think I might not like what I
learn about you?”
“Yes. And about Daniel, too.” She scooped up her coffee and,
with one last flash of her eyes, left him.
Odd, he thought, and returned to his scone.
Tara spent the rest of the day wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.
She had no idea what had possessed her, besides sheer anger at Gray
DeAngelo’s nerve. Something about the connection between them,
and finding out he was aware of it, too, had rattled her badly. Badly
enough that she’d opened her big mouth and said things she shouldn’t
have said. There was no point putting ideas in his head, after all, especially
about Daniel.
There was also no point, she supposed, in dwelling on things she
couldn’t do anything about. She’d said what she’d said, and couldn’t
take the words back. Maybe she could just blame it on sexual tension.
Or PMS. Or lack of breakfast. Regardless, there had to be some way
to smooth things over.
seem to be a need for any smoothing. Dr. DeAngelo immediately started
to work with Daniel, putting him into a light hypnotic state to be sure he
was comfortable with the procedure. Tara watched with interest.
“Do you remember the first time you saw your mom?” The doctor’s
voice was soft, in keeping with the atmosphere he’d created in the
room.
Tara was almost afraid to breathe. Easy questions, she thought.
Start out easy, then get to the tough stuff.
“Yes,” said Daniel.
“What did you think of her?”
“I thought she was pretty. But too young to be of much use to
me.”
The doctor’s eyebrows compressed a bit. Tara bit her lip. Daniel
didn’t sound like a ten-year-old boy at all. “What do you mean by
that?” the doctor went on.
“I mean that she didn’t seem like she knew much of anything.
She was twenty-something, just a kid I guess. She hadn’t been around.”
“And you had?”
“A hell of a lot more than she had.”
“But you grew to like her.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. She’s done some good stuff since then.
She’s smarter than she looks.”
The doctor steepled his fingers, leaning his elbows on his knees.
“What do you remember about the people you were with before?”
“A little. No one really watched out for me before.”
“Do you remember the first person who loved you?”
There was a long pause. Tara held her breath, wondering how
many centuries Daniel was sifting through to find the answer to that
question. The plight of ch
ild vampires was often an unpleasant one,
and she tried not to think about all the people who might have used, hurt
or abused him through his long lifetime.
Finally he said, in a small voice, “My mother.”
That startled Tara, but of course it seemed a perfectly normal
answer to the doctor, who continued with his questions.
“You remember your real mother?”
“Yes. She was gentle. She had a soft voice. We used to go . . .
outside. Into the sun.”
The doctor nodded. “I see. This was before you were diagnosed
with porphyria?”
“It was when I could still go into the sun.” Daniel’s voice held a
reverent tone. “It was bright and warm, and it didn’t hurt. And I could
eat. Meat and fruit and—” He broke off, and when he spoke again, it
was no longer in English.
The doctor exchanged glances with Tara, then returned his attention
to Daniel. He let the boy talk for a while, in an odd language unlike
anything Tara had ever heard before. Finally, when Daniel paused, a
rapturous expression on his face, Dr. DeAngelo said gently, “Daniel,
it’s time to come back. I’ll count backwards from ten ”
When Daniel had returned to the present, the doctor discussed
what had happened, asked him a few questions, then asked him to sit in
the lobby while he talked to Tara. Daniel gave her a weighted look as
he walked out. She nodded encouragement.
“That was weird,” she said to the doctor when Daniel was gone.
“Do you think he was having a past-life regression or something?”
“It’s possible, but I wouldn’t rush to that conclusion. Do you know
anything about his biological mother? Maybe she spoke another language
at home.”
Tara shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll see if I can find out.”
“Great. That’ll be your assignment for next time, then. That and
the dream journal.”
She gave him a narrow look. “Daniel’s or mine?”
He grinned. “Both, if you like.” He stood, effectively ending their
heart-to-heart. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.”
The whole situation was eating at Gray. Something just didn’t
seem right to him. About Daniel spouting strange languages, about Tara
and her blue eyes that should have been green. As he talked to Daniel,