Moon River (Page 39)

He didn’t respond, of course.

My stupid idiot of an ex-husband had just died in my arms.

Chapter Forty-six

It was weeks later.

I was in my office, working, doing anything I could to get my mind off Danny’s death. We had left him in the cavern, along with the remains of the old vampire and Hanner. Kingsley had sealed the entrance with more rocks and destroyed another entrance we had found at the back of the caverns.

For all intents and purposes, the cavern had ceased to exist, and was now, in fact, a tomb, adding to its legions of dead three more lost souls.

There was no hiding Danny’s death from my kids, especially when I had a mind-reading daughter. So, I had told them what had happened. I told them that their dad had died trying to be with them, that their dad had made friends with the wrong people, and that their dad had died telling me how much he loved them, his last words, in fact.

It had been a hell of a shitty week.

Yes, I had asked my kids to keep one more whopping big secret. I asked them not to let the world know that their dad had died. Yes, I was a horrible mother, but the world at large needed to think that Danny had disappeared, perhaps with a stripper prospect, or perhaps because of some dirty business dealings. These explanations weren’t far from the truth. Hanner and Fang had disappeared months earlier, back when Fang had first turned. Hell, Fang didn’t technically exist, anyway, having been on the run since his escape from the insane asylum two decades earlier.

I had all of this on my mind in the weeks that followed, weeks during which I threw myself into my work, and threw myself into anything to avoid thinking about my lying, cheating ex-husband, my ex-husband who I suddenly missed with all my heart, my ex-husband who I forgave and would forever forgive.

Sanchez had also come by with questions of his own. I told him what I knew. I even told him about the caverns under the Los Angeles River. I told him that he had been compelled to act as a sort of puppet for Hanner.

I told him all of this, then took his hand and looked him deeply in the eyes, and then compelled him to forget it all. I told him to go home to his psycho wife and to forget anything about vampires. I told him to close his related cases and to write all three off as animal attacks. I told him I thought he was very handsome, but asked him to forget that I’d said that, too.

It was with these heavy thoughts, as I was leaning down and filing papers away in my office, when I heard a whisper of clothing and the swish of pant legs.

I looked up to find Fang standing in my doorway.

Chapter Forty-seven

“I’m sorry about your ex-husband,” he said.

The truth was, I had been pissed at Fang, too. His desire to be a vampire—his own personal compulsion—had led to circumstances and events that had led, in turn, to Danny’s murder.

But I knew that wasn’t fair, either. Fang had just wanted to be a vampire, to be immortal, to live the life of characters in books and movies, but he had not fully comprehended the horror of the reality of such an existence.

The reality was, of course, that something very dark and sinister now called Fang’s body home.

“Thank you,” I said. “Danny was a good man who made bad choices.”

Fang was seated in one of my three client chairs. Yes, I was ever the optimist. His long legs were crossed, and the drape of his jeans hung neatly. He was wearing leather boots that looked expensive. I suspected that Hanner had dressed and splurged on him these past few months. He was, after all, supposed to be her golden boy. As in, the perfect vampire and perfect killer. I didn’t want to know what Fang had done, or how many he had killed these past few months.

I could see the fire just behind his pupils, the fire that hadn’t been there when I’d first met him for drinks last year, back when he had finally revealed his super-secret identity, and I’d  realized the extent to which I had been stalked. Back then, he had been a bit star-struck, awed to be in the presence of a real vampire. He had been excited and goofy and funny and charming.

Now, he was none of that.

Now, he was controlled, reserved, cautious and careful. He watched me closely, rarely taking his brooding eyes off of me. His mannerisms were nonexistent; instead, he kept his hands folded on one knee, hands that had once poured us drinks at Hero’s, where I had first met him, back when Mary Lou and I had thought he was just another cute bartender, back when my marriage had been shaky, at best. Now, those hands had been compelled to hold a silver blade to my sister’s neck.

“You miss him,” said Fang.

“Danny was my first love. He was the father of my children. He died in my arms.” I looked away. “And he was never given a proper funeral. Yes, I miss the big idiot.”

Fang looked down for the first time. He adjusted the drape of his jeans then returned his hands to his knee. “I’m sorry that I played a part in his death, Sam.”

I nodded and wiped my eyes and looked back at him. It was, of course, hard to tell how sorry he was, with no inflection or emotion in his voice.

“I miss you, Sam,” he said. “I know now may not be the time to say it, and, for all I know, you’re still dating that muscle-bound boxer or even Kingsley or someone else, but I want you to know that I miss you every day. I missed you even when I was compelled to do bad things. I missed you while I silently screamed inside my head. I miss you every day, every hour, every minute. I never stop thinking about you.”

“Did you kill, Fang?”

“Yes. Many.”

“Were you compelled to kill?”

“Sometimes.”

“And, what about the other times?”

He looked away. “No.”

I bit my lip and fought the tears that threatened to come. “I think you should leave.”

He nodded once and stood smoothly on long legs. He crossed the room and paused at my office door.

“I’m sorry I failed you, Sam.”

He looked at me for a long moment and something hit me, something deep in my heart. I suddenly remembered the love I felt for him, the deep longing to have him back in my life.

As he turned to leave, I said, “Wait, Fang.”

He looked back. “Yes, Moon Dance?”

I hadn’t heard him say my old username in so long that I nearly lost it right there. Instead, I kept it together and said, “I miss you, too.”

He smiled and I saw the tears in his eyes.

“More than you know.”

The End