several of the intervening hours.
“Won’t Lorelei be worried?” she asked him when he woke, just
before dinnertime. Daniel had awakened about a half-hour before, at
sunset, and had left the apartment without a word. He’d looked grim.
And hungry.
“I told her I might not be home until late. She’s been sleeping a lot
lately, so she’ll barely miss me. And I asked Dina and Nick to look in on
her.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Fine, as far as anyone can tell. Dr. Greene helped us find an OB,
and that doctor hasn’t found anything unusual about the pregnancy so
far. Except that Lorelei’s carrying twins.”
Tara grinned. “Neat. I guess maybe that explains why she’s been
so sick.” She paused. “Has it ever happened before? I mean, a human
woman bearing a vampire child?”
“Not really. True vampires are sterile. Lucien and his brothers
can father children, and have, but none of the rest of us can. Except
me, because I’m special.” He smiled smugly.
“You’re also not exactly a vampire anymore,” she reminded him.
“True. Which reminds me. Do you have anything around here I
can eat?”
She had raw steak in the freezer, but she couldn’t stand to watch
him eat it. Obligingly, he went out on the balcony while she prepared
her own dinner. She opted for a salad. Anything even remotely carnivorous
made her stomach turn after watching Julian tear into his
chunk of bloody sirloin.
Daniel came in the front door as they were finishing.
“Do we have an appointment tonight?” he asked, then blinked at
Julian. “When did you get here? Are you going with us?”
“Yes, we have an appointment,” said Tara. “It’s at the usual time,
and yes, Julian’s going with us.”
“Dr. DeAngelo’s freaking out about that rat thing, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is, a little bit. So Julian’s going to be your dad tonight for
our consultation.”
Daniel nodded. “Think you can get him off my back? I mean, shit,
I shouldn’t be sent off to the nuthouse just because I sucked down a
couple of rats, right?” His mouth curled with amusement as he spoke.
Tara frowned. “This is serious, Daniel. And watch your language.”
“It’s not that serious.” He headed into his bedroom. “Call me
when it’s time to go.”
Julian grinned at Tara. “You’re a good mom. You’re right—he
shouldn’t swear.”
“I don’t think either one of you is taking this seriously enough.”
“That’s because both of us have been around for way, way too
long to take much of anything seriously.”
Tara crossed her arms over her chest, thoroughly annoyed now.
“Well, then maybe there’s something else you need to consider.”
“What’s that?”
“Gray saw you in his dream, too. It wasn’t just me.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re just now deciding to tell me?
Even after I said to be prepared—that something like this could happen?”
Her belligerence faded. He was right. “He didn’t know it was
you. It was dark—in the dream, I mean. I only recognized you because
I know you. He hasn’t made the connection yet, and I’m hoping he
won’t.” She shrugged. “But, yeah, I should have mentioned it.”
“Yeah, you should have.” He sounded more irked than angry,
though. In fact, amazingly, he shrugged and said, “It’ll all work out one
way or another.”
Still, Tara was undeniably on edge as they all walked into Gray’s
office. In spite of Julian’s assurances that everything would work out,
she had a feeling something was going to go terribly, horribly wrong.
The receptionist led them into the consultation room. “Dr. DeAngelo
will be here in a few minutes. He’s expecting you, but he went to get
some coffee.” Smiling, she left the room, leaving the door open.
Daniel gave a wicked, big-toothed, mischievous boy-grin. “So the
doc needs a caffeine fix. Bet he’s been dreaming about you, Tara. Bet
it’s waking him up at night.”
Julian laughed.
“Oh, be quiet,” said Tara, “both of you.”
watched both of them with one corner of his mouth quirked up. Daniel
was still laughing when Gray came in, carrying a cardboard drink tray
with three tall hot beverage cups and one smaller one. Tara gave Daniel
a look—they were here to discuss his homicidal tendencies, and laughing
hardly seemed appropriate. He pressed his lips together and composed
himself quickly.
Gray set the drink tray on his desk and offered his hand to Julian.
“I’m Dr. DeAngelo.”
“Julian Cavanaugh,” Julian said, standing to shake hands. “I’m
glad you could see us on such short notice.”
Retrieving the drinks, Gray replied, “No problem. It’s good to see
you all.” He handed Tara one of the cups. “I didn’t want to be rude, so
lattes all around. Hot chocolate for you, Daniel.”
“No, thank you,” said Daniel. “Hot chocolate makes me barf.”
“Daniel.” Tara managed a chastising tone.
“No, no, that’s okay,” said Gray. “I’d rather know now than have
to clean it up later.” He held out a taller cup to Julian.
“No, thank you,” said Julian. He winked at Daniel. “Coffee makes
me barf.”
Gray smiled. “The two of you seem to have a reasonably good
relationship.”
Daniel shrugged. “We get along.”
“That’s good.” He sipped his coffee. “So let’s get things underway,
shall we?”
Tara relaxed a little as Gray briefed Julian on Daniel’s last session.
Thank God, Gray showed no sign of recognizing Julian. Based on
what he’d told her about the encounter in his regression journal, she’d
been certain he hadn’t seen Julian clearly enough to recognize him.
Still, it had worried her.
As Gray recounted Daniel’s memories of the vampire who had
Turned and trained him, Julian looked appropriately horrified. “My God,
I knew he’d been abused, but . . . What could possess a person to do
something like that to a child?”
“To be honest, Mr. Cavanaugh, I’m not certain if this is an actual
memory or simply a construct Daniel has developed to deal with something
more mundane but possibly more traumatic.”
Daniel, whose attention had drifted while the others talked, perked
up. “It was a real memory.”
“That’s not for me to determine. That’s one of the reasons I’ve
recommended that you see a specialist in this field.” He picked up a
sheet of paper from his desk. “I’ve made a list of therapists in the area
who are qualified to take on this kind of case. I can start calling around
tomorrow to see who might be available for extensive work with
Daniel.”
With a haughty frown, Julian took the paper from Gray’s hand.
He read over it and looked at Tara. “I’m not familiar with any of these
names.” He waved the paper at Gray. “I don’t believe I’ll be nee
ding
this list. I’ll look into the matter myself and arrange for the doctor.”
“Julian,” Tara protested. “I think I’d be more comfortable following
Dr. DeAngelo’s recommendations.”
“Perhaps so, but I want absolutely the best help for the boy.”
Giving Gray a sidelong look, he leaned closer to Tara. “I let you pick
this doctor—now it’s my turn. Given the seriousness of the situation, I
think I should handle it.”
Tara pressed her lips together. Even though she knew it was just
an act, Julian was irritating her. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care
of it.”
“Tara—” Julian broke off, straightened, and looked at Gray. “I
believe it’s for the best that we handle this amongst ourselves.” He
stood. “One of us will give you a call if we need further assistance.”
“But—” Gray started, but Tara shook her head, giving him a cautioning
look.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said quietly. “It’ll be okay.”
Julian folded the piece of paper and stuck it into his shirt pocket,
then held his hand out to Gray. “Thank you very much for your assistance
thus far. I’m sure you’ve been a great help to Daniel.” Turning to
his “family,” he said, “Come along.”
back at Gray as she left. He was frowning, his gaze intent on her. Not
on Daniel, his erstwhile patient, but on her. It made her want to turn
around and run to him and—what? Hug him? Beg his forgiveness for
letting Julian appear to run roughshod over her? Throw him down on
the floor and rip his shirt off?
Frankly, the last option sounded best, but it wasn’t available to her
at the moment. Still playing the part of the meek ex-wife, she reluctantly
followed Julian out of the office.
Later that night, watching late-night TV and trying to recapture
the weariness the evening coffee had driven from his system, Gray
wasn’t sure what to think about Cavanaugh—about the way Tara had
let him run roughshod over her. He’d been certain, from her comments,
that her ex-husband would be cooperative, but instead he seemed
to have his head lodged thoroughly up his ass. And where the hell had
Gray seen him before?
Gray could only hope Daniel got the help he needed. He would
give it a week or so, then call around to see if he could find out who had
taken the case. Just to be sure Daniel would be okay. As for Tara . . .
He found it hard to imagine not seeing her again. But he knew what
coffee shop she frequented, so it probably wouldn’t be that hard to
manage to bump into her by “accident.” Now that Daniel was no longer
his patient, maybe he could allow himself to step out of his stuffy doc
tor-tweeds and ask her out.
The whole evening, with all of its considerations, had left him
muddled in the head. Finally, his eyes burning but his brain still not
ready to settle down, he crawled into bed and forced himself to sleep.
It was time he asked Felicity to marry him. They’d been together
nearly two years, constantly on the run, and she’d accepted
everything about his insane life. But he’d offered her so little in
return. He should give her some security about their relationship.
At least that. The assurance that everything he owned would be
hers if he died. When he died, as he almost certainly would if he
continued in this line of work.
He watched her for a time as she lay in the small bed next to
him. Everything he had wouldn’t amount to much, but maybe it
would be enough, at least, for her to remember him by.
Gently, he reached toward her, cupping her shoulder, caressing
her until she opened her eyes and looked up at him. She smiled.
“Is it dark yet?”
“Just now, yes. Should we go, or should we stay here?”
In answer, she rolled him back into the bed and straddled
him. “We could do both if you’re quick about it.”
It seemed like a reasonable plan. He let her wrap her legs
around him, the heat of her sex caressing his shaft without allowing
him entrance. He grasped at her shoulders, pulling her down
to catch her breast in his mouth. His tongue rolled over her nipple,
feeling the textures, tasting the warm muskiness of her flesh. “Marry
me,” he said suddenly.
She froze. “What?”
“I said, ‘Marry me.’”
She laughed. “Make love to me first. I’ll think about it.” She
looked down at him and, suddenly, her eyes weren’t green anymore.
They were blue, and she wasn’t Felicity but Tara
Gray shifted in the bed, on the very edge of sleep. He was dream-
ing—he somehow knew that. But it was so real No, it couldn’t bereal. His name wasn’t Liam, and he didn’t hunt vampires. Yet when his
conscious mind had finished interfering with his dream, he went straight
back to the world that seemed so real but couldn’t be
He was stuffing wooden stakes into a bag. “We hunt tonight.
Where we saw the last one, the one that rescued us.”
Felicity frowned. “You intend to kill him?”
“I intend to find out exactly what he is.”
“He’s a vampire.”
“But then, why did he save us, rather than attack?”
“I don’t know.” She hesitated before hefting her own bag
onto her shoulder. “Are you certain all vampires are evil?”
“How could they not be?”
They were on the street then, and he was slipping around a
corner. A shadow lurked near the back of the narrow alleyway.
Smoke drifted from it and a small, orange ember glowed at the
level of the man’s face.
“You!” he hissed. “Come out where I can see you.”
The man stepped forward, out of the shadow, and he was,
indeed, the man they’d seen on their last outing, with his dark hair
curling a little against his shoulders.
“Can you see me now?” he said.
“Yes.” The man—the monster—was slim and handsome, his
eyes bearing the slight slant of Oriental stock. “Who are you?”
“I’m here to help you.” The man took another step forward,
tapping ashes from his cigarette. “I know more about these creatures
you seek than you could ever possibly hope to know. I know
which deserve death and which should be allowed to slink away
into the shadows.”
“They all deserve death.”
The man smiled, shook his head. “Not all.”
He lowered the stake he’d been holding. “All right, I’ll listen.
Who are you?”
“My name is Julian.” He took a long drag at the cigarette.
“Julian Cavanaugh.”
Gray sat straight up in bed, sleep and dreams deserting him in a
sudden rush. “Oh, my God.”
Tara was dreaming and knew she was dreaming—of Liam, with
his hands on her body, his mouth on her breasts, and she was no longer
certain if she was herself or Felicity, if the dream was fantasy or
memory.
The sound of the narrow bed protesting beneath them as they
strained against each other intruded. Ba
nging, banging. Louder and
louder it grew, until it became a pounding in her head. Drawn ever
more insistently by the reality of the sound, Tara drifted toward wakefulness.
Finally, she opened her eyes.
Someone was knocking on her door.
“Good Lord, what time is it?” she muttered, rolling out of bed.
The clock read 4:00 a.m. She got up and went to the door, glancing into
Daniel’s room on the way past. He wasn’t home yet. A pang of worry
struck, but she knew he had time. The year was winding into winter,
and the sun rose late.
At the door, she peered out the peephole and was surprised—or
really, not surprised at all—to see Gray in the hallway. She turned the
deadbolt and opened the door.
“What the hell are you doing here at four in the morning?” Maybe
she should have said, “Hello,” or “My goodness, dear Gray, what seems
to be the matter?” But she really wasn’t in the mood.
Gray brushed past her, not seeming to notice the brusqueness of
her greeting. “I just had a dream about Julian.”
She blinked, shoving a hand through what felt like a truly spectacular
case of bed-head. “I hope you weren’t having sex with him.”
“No, I was having sex with you—” He broke off, suddenly blinking
at her in confusion. “I mean with Felicity. Liam and Felicity.”
“Yeah.” She slammed the door shut behind him, cranking the
deadbolt into place. “You want some coffee?”
“No. Yes. Tara, do you have any idea what’s going on?”
Tara opened the coffee pot, shoved in a filter and began to spoon
ground coffee into it. “Yeah. I’m in the kitchen making coffee when I
should be curled up in bed snoring and having stupid, annoying dreams
about stupid, annoying Liam and Felicity. Who are, by the way, some
former-life version of you and me, and if you haven’t figured that out
yet, then you’re not half the past-life regression hypnotherapist you
think you are.”
He stared blankly at her while she ran water into the coffeepot. “I
was dreaming about them, too.”
“You just said you dreamed about Julian.”
“I did. First it was Liam and Felicity.” He waited until she turned
around and looked at him to add, “He was going to ask her to marry
him.”
“Did she say yes?”