Kiss Of Darkness. Heather Graham

      “I don’t know. I wasn’t conscious.”

      “You have no idea?”

      “No.” Jeremy shook his head. He winced. That wasn’t true.

      “The man who fought the vampire,” he said aloud.

      “There are no vampires,” Florenscu told him. “My men have recovered a large amount of alcohol and drugs. They are demons enough.”

      “There was a vampire,” Jeremy said determinedly.

      Florenscu sighed wearily. “This is Transylvania,” he said with a shrug. “Everyone wants there to be a vampire.”

      “I’m not lying.”

      “No. You are not lying. You are mistaken. But you are trying to be honest with me. So, tell me, what about this other man?”

      “He stopped the vampire.”

      “With a stake?”

      The weary humor was apparent in Florenscu’s voice.

      “With a longbow.”

      “Touched with holy water, I imagine.”

      “I wouldn’t know. All I know is that he saved my life.”

      “Well, that is good. Let us hope I can find him and get some real answers.”

      Florenscu rose and turned to leave at last, his partner following him. The minute he was gone, Nancy burst in. She rushed to him, all but throwing herself on him, then drawing away quickly. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

      “Hug me whether it hurts or not. You’re warm and alive.”

      She sat down on the side of his bed and looked at him, troubled. “They don’t believe me. Not a word I say.”

      “It’s a little late, but…well, I did say we shouldn’t go. Have you seen Mary?”

      “Yes.” She looked down.

      “And?”

      “She just stares straight ahead. But she eats when she’s fed, drinks water. We’ll get her home. The doctor said that she might snap out of it in a day or two or…”

      “Or?”

      “Never,” Nancy said with a wince.

      Jeremy’s mind reeled in a new kind of agony. Mary. He had failed her. And yet…it was a miracle that they were all still alive.

      He shook his head; it hurt, and he warned himself not to try that again. “If we could find the man in the trench coat…. It was black, like his hat. I never saw his face.” He stared at Nancy. “He’ll know. He’s the one who brought me out.”

      There was a soft tapping at the door. They turned simultaneously.

      Jessica Fraser was standing there, her soft blond hair rippling down her back, her immense blue eyes filled with concern. He felt a little flutter in his heart, a stir of appreciation. And he felt like a real kid again, glad an adult had come to help him.

      “How are you?” she asked, entering.

      Jeremy stared at her. “Grateful to be alive,” he told her. “Mary…”

      “I just saw her. We have to have faith.”

      She smiled at them, walking to the bedside, touching his forehead. “I was due to fly out today,” Jessica said. “But the police said your parents wouldn’t be here until tonight or tomorrow morning, so…I wanted to be sure you were all safe before I left.”

      Jeremy felt a pang. “You don’t have to stay.”

      She laughed softly. “Maybe I do. You need looking after. You’re very lucky, you know. There have been similar disturbances in several other places. The authorities believe there’s a dangerous cult growing larger on a daily basis, well financed, with members who are adept at setting up in various countries and luring in victims. What on earth made you do something so stupid?” she asked.

      He looked at Nancy. Nancy looked at him. Mary, they both thought. But Mary was barely alive, and he would never blame her.

      “Stupidity,” he told Jessica. Then his eyes widened. “You were the one who went to the police, who told them something was up.”

      “The minute I found your note,” she told him.

      Nancy let out a little sob. “Thank you.”

      “I was young once, too,” Jessica said ruefully. “Jeremy,” she asked, “how did you get away?”

      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.

      4

      “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