these: The stranger always appeared by night. The memory of the victim was erased through a means that is apparently similar to post-hypnotic suggestion, though in an extremely powerful form. And the victim nearly always felt a sense of connection, of ease, with the stranger. Other similarities, though these are not universal, are reports that the stranger exhibited superhuman strength, could speak and apparently hear the victim’s replies mentally—that is, without words—and that the stranger appeared able to teleport, i.e.: move from point A to point B instantaneously. DPI research has found that this teleportation is an illusion. It is simply that vampires can move at speeds too fast for the human eye to detect. (See the actual recovered memories and session transcripts in the Case Studies Section, Appendix 2.)
She was scrolling toward the specified appendix when there was a tap on her door that nearly made her jump right out of her skin. She swallowed hard and closed the file, shut off her cell phone and quickly dropped it back into her satchel.
“Who is it?” she called, removing her glasses, setting them on the nightstand.
“It’s James.”
“Oh.” She got up, glancing down at herself. She removed the Kwan Yin pendant, draping it from the opposite bedpost and then hanging her bathrobe over it. Brigit’s minions, whoever they were, had returned with all the things on her list and then some, including that robe and several sets of pajamas. She tended to gravitate toward high thread count cotton in various pastel colors. They were cool and felt good against her skin. And yet she suddenly felt ridiculous in them.
Dumb. He was not only her captor, he wasn’t even her species.
Not according to what I just read, though. Folsom said I’m related. I have the antigen. That’s why they can’t hurt me. “Lucy?”
So he knew, then. He knew she had the antigen, and he knew that meant she would die young. Maybe within the next eight years or so. Maybe less—since her new sleep patterns were apparently symptoms of the antigen beginning to turn active. So maybe her life expectancy was shorter than she had ever guessed. Unless, of course, she became a vampire.
She rolled her eyes at the ludicrous thought. That couldn’t possibly be true. Sighing, she pushed the disturbing thoughts of death—and undeath—from her mind and opened her bedroom door, then looked up at James. His eyes were puffy, his lids heavy. He wasn’t standing up as straight as he had before, and his hair was tousled, as if he’d been pushing his hands through it repeatedly.
“Can I come in?”
She nodded, stepping aside. He pulled a large white box from behind his back, and the smell finally hit her. Her eyes widened. “Pizza?”
“I hope you like ham and pineapple.”
Her stomach answered for her, growling in anticipation as he walked inside, looking around for a place to set it down. She hurried to the bed and straightened the covers, then sat near the headboard, legs crossed, and patted the spot in front of her. “Right here is good.”
James stood beside the bed, opened the box and held it out. She took a big slice and bit into it. The flavors exploded in her mouth, and she closed her eyes. “Oh, this is so good,” she said. And then she realized he was still standing there, just watching her. “Aren’t you going to have some?”
“Uh—right. That was the plan.” He helped himself to a slice, set the box aside and then sat on the edge of the bed and ate.
There was no more talking until they’d both finished—she’d managed to down two full slices, and he’d had three. It reassured her that her appetite was still healthy. And honestly, she felt fine. Maybe that old man was a little bit crazy after all, even if he’d been right about the existence of vampires.
“I’ll put the rest in the fridge,” James told her. “We can have it for breakfast.”
She made a face, then tried to hide it.
“What?” he asked.
Sighing, she said, “I don’t think I could eat anything that had been in that fridge.”
He rolled his eyes. “The blood is in sealed bags, Lucy. It’s not like it’s going to get on the pizza.”
“It’s still disgusting.”
“I guess you get used to it.”
“I hope I’m not here long enough for that.”
James lowered his head.
She pressed him, though. “You’re going to let me go, just like you promised, right? As soon as I’ve translated the tablet?”
“Yes.”
“And yet Brigit’s minions brought me enough clothes to last