Kiss Of Darkness. Heather Graham

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Kiss Of Darkness - Heather Graham

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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 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

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