Heather Graham - Kiss Of Darkness

Here I go again, he thought. Tell the truth and sound like an idiot? Or lie?

He took a deep breath and opted for the truth.

“There was a man,” he said simply. He almost laughed. “There was a good man, and a bad man. Or a good man and a monster, a good man…and something that was pure evil. In the end, I’m pretty sure the good man won. Think the police will ever believe that as a story without insisting I’m the victim of mass hysteria?”

“You should rest now,” Jessica told him, not pressing for more.

“Hard to do.”

“Are you afraid?”

“You bet.”

“I can stick around,” she told Nancy, “if you want to go back to your hostel and sleep.”

Nancy shook her head. “I can’t go anywhere. I want to stay with Jeremy.”

Jessica nodded her understanding. “I’ll go sit with Mary for a while.”

“Jessica,” Jeremy said, then hesitated.

“Yes?”

“Don’t leave. Please. Stay with her. Don’t leave her alone. Stay with her all night. Please.”

“I will. I promise. I’ll be right down the hall, so call me if you need anything, if you feel uneasy…or just to talk.”

Nancy fell asleep in the chair in his room, and he knew that Mary was just down the hall, and that she wasn’t alone, that Jessica was with her. That seemed important, somehow.

Eventually he slept, but it was a restless sleep. It was as if he could hear the wind, and the wind was whispering a single word.

Vampyr.

But vampires weren’t real.

Yes they were.

Panic seized him. He tried to awaken.

He thought that he opened his eyes. He was suddenly certain that a man was standing over him. A man wearing a low-brimmed hat and a railway frock coat.

Had the man come to check on him? Had he been to see Mary?

But Jessica was with her.

And this man wouldn’t hurt Mary. He had saved their lives.

Hadn’t he?

When Jeremy looked again, the man was gone and the panic left him. He felt a bizarre sense of safety.

He closed his eyes again, and this time he slept deeply.

“So, Mr. Peterson, if you don’t mind, we need to start with the basics,” Jessica said, smiling. She had her notebook open, her pen in hand, seated in a large, overstuffed leather recliner while Jacob Peterson, her last patient of the day, sprawled on the sofa in her New Orleans office. She never suggested that anyone lie down; she simply suggested they get comfortable. For Jacob Peterson, being comfortable apparently meant half sitting, scrunched down in the sofa, legs sprawled out and fingers laced as he scowled.

It was her first session with him, but over the years, she’d worked with many teenagers like Jake, as well as adults.

“The basics,” he murmured. “The basics are that my folks are making me come here.”

“Because they’re worried about you. Tell me, do you believe you’re a vampire?” She kept her tone serious, nonjudgmental.

“I should have known years ago,” the boy told her. “I stay up all night.”

“So I understand. And it makes it very difficult for you to get to school.”

He waved a hand in the air. “School is for mortals.”

“Mr. Peterson—”

“Jake. Just call me Jake.”

“Jake, let’s say you are a vampire. Even vampires have to make a living.”

He frowned, startled. “Vampires…have to make a living?”

She leaned forward. “Jake, there are diseases that create a physiological desire to drink blood.”

“I don’t deserve blood, I need it.”

“You need blood, or you’ve convinced yourself you need blood?” she asked.

“I’m not the only one,” he said defensively. “Not the only one who needs blood.”

“I’m not sure I’m the person you should be seeing. I’m a psychologist. If you really need blood, we should be looking at a number of physical tests.”

He shook his head. “They—I—no.”

“Why not?”

“They won’t find anything.” He scowled again. “Don’t you understand? I’m a vampire.”

She lowered her head, hiding her sigh. She had had this very conversation so often. Too many people came to this part of the country because they thought they were vampires, or because they wanted to rebel and become part of a cult. Some had even committed murders, so convinced were they of their own supernatural tendencies.

She thought back to the horror she had seen in Transylvania. Perpetuated by men, or by pure evil?

“I am a vampire,” Jake said.

“When did you first realize you were a vampire?” she asked.

“You believe me?”

She put down her notebook and uncrossed her legs, leaning forward. “Jake, listen, you’re in a lot of trouble. I just want to help you, but I can only do that if you’ll tell what’s really going on with you. Okay?”

He nodded and leaned back against the sofa, looking tired. Much better than before, when his attitude had reeked of sheer hostility.

Jake started to talk. As she had expected, he started off with esoteric words, trying to make her see a different world, one in which he wanted to exist. But once he started talking, his words flowed with very little encouragement from her. It became clear that Jake’s case was very similar to several she had dealt with before. After all, this was New Orleans, city of voodoo and vampires.

Jake was a brilliant kid, nice-looking, if a little thin. But he was shy and didn’t speak to girls easily. He was great with a computer. He’d read extensively.

And everything he had read he had skewed in a certain direction.

“You said there are others like you,” she said softly. “That you feel the urge for blood most often during nights when there’s a full moon. And that you walk frequently during those nights. So…where do you walk? What do you do?”

He flushed a beet red suddenly. “Um, well, once…I paid for it.”

Jessica frowned. “Paid for…it? Do you mean sex?”

“Yeah, well, that…and blood.”

That was New Orleans, too. Most diversions could be found somewhere—if you had the money to pay for them.

“I see. You just wound up at a peep show, or…someone solicited you on the street, or…?”

She was startled when she saw that her question had left him seriously perplexed.

“Jake?” she prodded gently.

“I—I don’t remember.” He stared at her, still looking lost and confused. “I mean…I knew that I had drunk blood. But now that you ask…”

“Were you alone?” she asked him.

The confusion was gone. There was a hard mask in its place. “I can’t tell you who I was with. I won’t tell you who I was with. You can’t make me.”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything,” she said with a shrug. “Tell me what you want, but I hope you’ll learn to speak freely.”

“There are others. Many others. And more are coming,” he said.

“Oh?”

Once again he appeared confused. Her heartbeat quickened. This was worrying.

“I’m not the only one,” he said.

“I’m concerned about you, Jake,” she told him. “And since I can’t make you tell me anything, I’ll tell you what I think, and we’ll leave it at that. You have friends who feel as you do, and you were out with one or more of them. I don’t think you had a particular destination in mind, and you wandered into a bad area, where you were accosted. Don’t take offense—you were easy prey. And when you left, you were probably minus every cent you had in your wallets, and maybe a nice watch or some jewelry, as well.”

His hand instantly went to his throat, though he wasn’t wearing any kind of medallion. His lips tightened, and she could tell that she had hit on the truth.

“Jake, I want you to do a couple of things for me. First, we’ll rule nothing out, okay? So I’m going to have you go to your primary-care physician and get a complete physical, all right?”