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My grandmother, who’d assumed that my anger was the result of receiving some exaggerated, gossiped version of what transpired, quickly went about getting me straight on the facts as we waited on Duncan to arrive with the truck. Apparently, my mother had been found in a hospital eighty miles away from our home in South Carolina, a “Jane Doe.” That was the subject of the phone call she had received this morning, when she’d excused herself from Darren and my company. Remarkably, the hospital was the only health care facility in the state with a specialized “bite” center. The treatments she received there had done much to stall the effects of the vampire’s venom, but her condition was still very serious. Because of this, the doctors had refused to allow Duncan’s local team (Jake and Eddy) to bring her here, especially when they couldn’t identify what kind of “animal” had been responsible for the injury. In an offer of full disclosure (I flinched at her use of the phrase), she had admitted that they’d had to draw up some phony legal papers which stated that my mother was against all forms of medical treatment, for religious reasons. She explained that it was necessary to get her to our doctors, because that was the only chance, she had for survival. However slim that might be.
The three of us rode in silence for the first half of the ride. None among us dared to risk exploring too deeply the fragile hope that wafted throughout the SUV. The fact that there had been hope at all was miracle enough, and we, each of us, clung to it desperately.
Headed back towards the airport, we passed the Brighton city limits sign that had welcomed me here. It seemed odd to me that a hospital for witches would be outside the safety of the city. Instead of posing this question to my grandmother or Duncan, it got me thinking about earlier tonight. If Tristan really was a vampire, which was something I had no reason to doubt after experiencing first hand his speed and leaping ability, how had he managed to enter the city? Had he always been here? Those pictures seemed to suggest otherwise. Duncan’s phone interrupted my thoughts. He answered and my grandmother and I watched him release a pained breath.
“What?” my grandmother asked in a trembling voice. “What’s happened?”
He dropped his head. I didn’t need to hear the words. I knew. I felt it. One moment the world felt one way, and then it didn’t. She was gone. Just as before, my mind searched for some way to make it not true, for some improbable hope, but this time there was none.
My grandmother and Duncan were saying things to me now, but I couldn’t hear them. I had zoned out, retreating into my mind. Memories exploded inside my head like fireworks, barely registering before being outshone by different ones. I began to think about the memories I wouldn’t have now—her walking me down the aisle, her holding her newborn grandchild…
“I want to see her,” I said suddenly, interrupting what I was sure were words of comfort.
Duncan and my grandmother exchanged glances. “I don’t think that’s a good idea sweetheart,” my grandmother said, shaking her head.
All of the fight and the anger I’d been ready to unleash on her before we left was gone. I had been ready to rage against the idea that I needed protection. Particularly because it seemed to require keeping things from me. However, suddenly the world was different, the way in which I viewed it instantly changed, to the point where it was almost impossible to differentiate the thought of protecting me from thoughts of my mother. I considered how it felt to see Tristan in pain on that boat, how much it hurt me to see him like that. How much I wished I could make it go away somehow. I tried to magnify that feeling to what a mother’s love for her child must be like. How far would I be willing to go then? I would be willing to do anything, I realized. As much as it took to keep my child away from pain.
I mean, what if my mother had told me that there were real monsters out there? That they were looking for me? What kind of childhood would I have had then— constantly living in fear of every shadow, jumping at every noise? Isn’t that what Mrs. Moorer’s grandparents had done for her? Sure, she suffers from the memory of their deaths now, but there had been a time in her life when her biggest concern was whether they were going to catch her sneaking off to the barn to meet with some friends. A time when my biggest worry had been whether or not I would be going to the same school the following year. I decided that given the circumstances, I probably would have kept the existence of vampires a secret as well. My whole life, I never understood why my mother kept her secrets, and yet the instant she dies, her reasons make perfect sense to me.
Next, I contemplated the reasoning behind taking me away from Brighton. What might she be protecting me from what was here? Was she trying to protect me from Tristan too? Duncan’s words rang in my ears, “She basically took her own life…for misguided love.” I remembered asking myself what boy could be worth your life. My thoughts shifted back to the green-eyed vampire who I had been willing to follow to an empty cabin where any number of horrifying ends could have awaited me. My feelings had been so strong that they overpowered the rational part of my brain. Could my mother have known about him and my aunt? If so, could Tristan’s story be true? He said himself that it ends badly. Was she protecting me from myself?
I shuddered at that thought, and the physical act of it brought me out of my own head. Duncan and my grandmother were whispering about something, arguing it seemed, and I watched them for a moment.
“We’ve already gotten the news, Duncan. There’s no reason to continue on.”
“Going up there right now is the best thing for her to do.”
I decided that I should speak on my own behalf. “I need to say goodbye.”
My grandmother looked to Duncan again, and he met her eyes with a reassuring nod. “It will help her accept it.”
We were riding again, but this time the atmosphere inside the truck was very different. Duncan didn’t speak after that, but every now and then, when we stopped at a stop sign or a red light, he would drop his head for moment and take a deep breath. My grandmother was weeping quietly, which struck me because I wasn’t. I hadn’t cried since I arrived here, at least not for her. Not since I discovered that I was rich, and royalty. While my mother was fighting for her life, I had felt relieved to be here. I was disgusted with myself.
That brought on the water works. However, it only made me feel worse. I was still being selfish. I wasn’t crying because she was dead necessarily, I was crying because I’d been a terrible daughter all these years, especially in the time I’d been here. I hadn’t once asked about the search efforts. However, to be fair, that was only because I was afraid of hearing that she was dead. Still, I didn’t deserve a mother like her.
The hospital turned out to be a rather unremarkable structure, just a brick building about the size of a medium sized convenient store. There were no windows and only one door, which suggested that those who went inside didn’t come back out again. A tomb. At least, that was the impression I got from it. The sign out front informed me that this was no hospital at all. It was a clinic. I squashed the sudden need I felt to protest her being treated here, remembering that she was no longer being treated at all. She was dead, and I was the last person who should be saying anything.
Duncan got out and opened the door for my grandmother. I opened mine for myself. She fell into his embrace and he held her up until she could get her feet under her. I got out next, surprised to find my own legs a little wobbly. After taking a moment to compose ourselves, my grandmother and I followed him to the entrance.
Bright yellow paint covered the waiting room walls and had the immediate effect of stepping out into the sunlight. A small television flickered on and off in the corner, in front of what looked like a homeless man muttering loudly toward the empty seat next to him. Despite the loud ringing that accompanied our coming inside, the receptionist didn’t look up from h
er magazine. Not even after we had gathered around the window. She was middle aged and had tired eyes.
Slightly annoyed, she reached beneath her side of the counter and handed us a clipboard. “Fill this out and bring it back.”
Duncan cleared his throat. “We’re here to see Dr. Roberts.”
That got her attention. She eyed us over, lingering an extra moment on my eyes. Clearly embarrassed, she stood up, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands. “I’ll be right back,” she assured us. She nearly tripped she spun around so fast.
“Duncan, we should say something to prepare her for this,” my grandmother whispered loud enough for me to hear. Duncan ignored her at first, and then said in a frustrated voice, “There is nothing we can say to make this any easier.”
My grandmother wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “Surely you must have some idea what this will be like for her?”
Duncan shot her a warning look.
“Right this way,” said the receptionist peeking out of a wooden door off to our left. We followed her inside, passing several empty examination rooms until we reached a solid black door that ended the hall. “Dr. Julio Roberts Only” was written across the front in bright red lettering. She knocked three times, then twice, ending with a final tap.
“Just a moment,” called a muffled voice through the door. That’s when it struck me. I was about to see my mother’s dead body. My throat closed up, and my legs felt unsteady again. The door creaked open.
A man in his forties, with sun-kissed skin stepped out of the room. He had neatly trimmed black hair and overly broad shoulders. The thick-rimmed glasses that sat above his nose gave me the impression of a very smart body builder. Other than that, he looked like any other doctor I had seen. I started to count the number of pens in his white lab coat and then tried to think of words using the just letters in his name. Anything to take my mind off what I was about to see.
He and Duncan smiled and embraced. His face tensed a bit as he regarded my grandmother, but softened immediately at the sight of me. “Your majesty,” he said in a welcoming voice.
“Don’t you pretend to respect the social order of things,” my grandmother barked.
“I respect the order of things, just not the social injustices you so readily embrace,” he shot back.
“This is not the time,” Duncan spoke in an irritated voice.
My grandmother turned away and Dr. Roberts took a few relaxing breaths. “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “My apologies,” he followed, looking to me.
I nodded my acceptance.
“Let’s let her see her mother,” Duncan suggested.
My grandmother gripped my arm tightly. “Wait! No warning whatsoever? Maybe this was a mistake. I-I think we should go back. Helena can have the kitchen staff whip up whatever you like and we’ll sit and talk about this, okay?” My grandmother had begun by addressing the men, but was staring into my eyes by the time she’d started stuttering. Her eyes were large and they pleaded for me to accept her offer.
I understood what she was trying to do, why she didn’t want me to go in there. I was being protected once again. I wasn’t upset about it really, nor was I angry anymore that she’d taken my memories of Tristan. But this was my chance to say the things to my mother that I’d never told her when she was alive. This was my chance to tell her that I understood. I just prayed some part of her was still around to hear it.
I gently pulled myself free. “I’m ready.”
This time, Dr. Roberts was the one who looked uncertain. “It really might be a good idea to talk about this first.”
I shook my head. No amount of talking was going to change the fact that my mother was dead. “I can handle it,” I said.
Dr. Roberts nodded hesitantly and then led Duncan and me inside.
The shock of what I saw hit me like a punch in the face. It was too much. My grandmother was right; I should have been warned. I felt myself becoming dizzy and I could hear their worried thoughts blaring in my mind. Duncan caught me as I fell and I whispered up to him in a confused voice, while the world around me began to blur, “But…she’s moving…”