hard. “I need to know if she’s real. That’s all. Do you agree or not?”
“All right,” the vampire said quickly. “I agree.”
The door was opening as Will glanced around the room and spotted a folding screen. “Over there, behind the screen,” he whispered.
The vampire moved so quickly he was but a blur of darkness. If Will had had any doubts-and he had-they were gone now. Nothing human could move with such a burst of speed. Nothing he knew about, anyway. “I never got your name,” Will whispered.
“Jameson Bryant,” the vampire hissed back.
“Willem Stone,” Will replied.
“Good to meet you.” There was a touch of irony in the vampire’s tone.
“Same here-I think.”
Three orderlies burst into the room, flicked on the light and paused to stare at Will, as he stood near the open window. He lowered his head, painted a look of anguish on his face.
“Listen, don’t jump,” one of them said. “It’s no answer. You know that.”
“Jesus, it’s that Stone guy,” another muttered. “Mr. Stone, you’re a hero-”
“It’s Colonel Stone,” he muttered. “Or it was.”
“It still is, man. Colonel Stone, U.S. Army Special Forces, and a fucking national icon. God, if you go out like this, then they win, don’t you see that?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” said the other guy. “Man, don’t tell us you survived all that crap just to give up now.”
“Colonel Stone, sir, I just got out of the Army. I was over there. Let me tell you something, you did us proud. You cash out now, it’s gonna crush all those soldiers who see you as a hero.”
Will turned slowly, looking at them, even while swinging one leg over the windowsill. “Just stay where you are, okay? I have to think.”
The men stopped their forward progress. “Come on, come on back in here. You can think in here as good as anywhere else.”
The door opened again, and a woman stepped in. She was mid-fifties, fit, kept her hair colored, but the smokers’-wrinkles in her face gave her age away. “Mr. Stone, I’m Amelia Ashby. I’m a psychiatrist here.”
A psychiatrist was just what he needed, he thought, considering he’d just been conversing with a vampire. Shit. He almost laughed, but that would have blown the suicidal depression skit right out of the water.
“Tell me what you’re feeling. Please, I only want to help you.”
He pursed his lips, sighed, wondered if this was going to end up lengthening his stay, when he’d so been looking forward to getting the hell out of here tomorrow. He drew his leg inside, stood on the floor, closed the window, and grabbed his cane. “I’m not going to jump, all right? I was just…out walking the halls.”
“Good. Very good. And you came in here because…?”
“My leg got to aching. I was looking for a place to sit down for a while.”
“I see,” she said slowly, coming closer now.
To stop her from reaching the point where she might catch a glimpse of Jameson-the-blood-thief, Will met her halfway. “Look, I’m ready to go back to my room now, all right?”
“That’s fine. Do you mind if I walk with you?” She took his good arm, walked with him back toward the door.
“Sure. Whatever.”
One of the orderlies opened the door. Another slapped him on the shoulder as he passed. “You hang in there, man. We need more like you, Colonel Stone.”
The former soldier sent him a snappy salute.
They all followed Will and the shrink into the hallway, and then the orderlies dispersed, one of them pausing to relock the door before taking off.
Dr. Ashby walked slowly. “You’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you?”
“The leg? Ah, it’s not so bad.”
“Bad enough that it had you considering suicide.”
“What, you think I’d kill myself over a little pain? I can handle pain, Dr. Ashby.”
She nodded, smiled a little self-deprecatingly. “I guess I should have known that, considering. Physical pain certainly wouldn’t drive a man like you to such an extreme decision.”
“It wasn’t a decision. More like a passing thought.”
“So you didn’t really plan to jump from that window tonight?”
“No. I opened it. I even stood there a while, contemplating the notion. But I never would have jumped.”
“Because you realized that you have too much to live for?” she asked.
“Because I realized it’s not a high enough window to ensure a quick end. I may have a high tolerance for pain, Dr. Ashby, but I’m not a masochist. If I’d been seriously thinking of jumping, I’d have taken the elevator on up to the top floor-better yet, the roof.”
She blinked at him. “I’m not sure if I should find that reassuring or troubling.”
“Reassuring,” he promised. “I swear.”
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