Survivor - By Kaye Draper Page 0,76
die.
Dr. Walton’s next client arrived and we had to end our session. I hesitated as Peter preceded me down the hallway. The Doctor stopped me with a hand on my arm. “I think you should tell him,” he said seriously. I glanced at the doctor in surprise. I hadn’t told him that Peter was one of the dead people. The old man nodded toward Peter’s departing back. “I don’t think you are crazy. I don’t think this is some kind of delusion or hallucination. I believe what I said just now. And if that’s the case, you need to act.”
*****
Peter and I sat on a park bench the next night, while I explained my nightmares. He had sat silently though my first explanation, not even breathing. Then he had taken my hand and simply said, “Tell me again.”
“At first, it was only the dead people,” I said slowly. “But last night, I saw one of them- the murders.” I shuddered at the memory of the man’s face. He had smiled at me as he stepped out from behind the seething, evil black cloud that always hovered in the corners of my nightmares.
Peter considered this for a moment. “It could mean something,” he said finally. “Do you remember what the murder looked like?”
I laced my fingers though his, drawing comfort from his calmness. Just thinking about the dreams tended to get me all on edge. “He was about your height,” I closed my eyes, picturing the man’s face. “He had brown hair, down to here.” I gestured to my jaw line. “And a big scar across the one side of his face.”
I opened my eyes to find Peter lost in thought. “Silly, isn’t it,” I said, embarrassed. “What could give a vampire a scar?”
He sighed. “A blessed blade. Wielded by a very pissed off priest, against a new vampire. In full sunlight.”
I started to laugh. Then I realized that he wasn’t joking. “You’re serious? You know the man in my dreams?”
Peter stood and drew me to my feet. We headed toward home under the light of the waning moon. “I need to speak with Leah. You’ve never met Lee; there is no way you could dream of him. This must have meaning.”
I followed in his wake, perplexed. “Who is Lee?”
“He was a member of my master’s coven once, a long time ago.”
*****
I got the call around nine o’clock that morning. My cell phone vibrated merrily, rattling its way across the bedside table. I stretched and levered myself out of bed to stop the incessant noise. My heart seized, and adrenaline sent my teeth shooting out the moment I heard my mother’s tearful voice.
Chelsea. She had been hit by a car while she was on her way to class. As I sat holed up in my comfortable prison, my sister lay in the ICU. “Please come,” Mom begged, her voice breaking. “I know you haven’t been happy with us, but… they… she might not….” I closed my eyes. She might not live.
“I’ll be there,” I said softly. “As soon as I can.” I glanced at the window, seeing the pink light of the rising sun peeking past the shades. “It might be a while.” Once the sun went down, I thought, cursing my new life.
I could tell that Mom was angry, aghast that I wouldn’t just drop everything and rush over. Why would I take my time at a moment like this? I was a terrible child- heartless.
When Peter came in a few minutes later, smelling like dew and carrying the newspaper, I was waiting at the door. I picked up my purse and gave him a defiant look. “Take me to the hospital.”
His sharp green gaze ranged over me, taking in my general lack of composure. “What happened?”
My hand clenched on the straps of my bag. “Chelsea.” I couldn’t say anything more. I was distraught, but I was holding it in check. I pulled my lips back in a grimace, showing him that my fangs were still retracted, that I was in control. “Can we please go now?”
He took a deep breath and shut the door, turning the lock with a snick. “Melody,” his voice held weary warning. “You know better.”
I clenched my teeth and fumed. “My sister is hurt… she might be dying.” I paused and tried to get a grip on the sudden urge to rip someone to shreds. “I’m going to the hospital.”
He crossed his arms, his face sad and resigned. “If you go there, you might be