Samantha Moon Phantasm, page 79
part #9 of Vampire for Hire Series
He laughed lightly. “I suspect—and I could be wrong—that some of their own particular talents leak through, too. My mother, for instance, was particularly gifted at mind reading, which is where my own skills come from.”
“And Tammy’s,” I added.
“Yes, Sam. I suspect my mother’s talents in this area have spilled over to me, and now to your daughter... and to anyone you remain in close contact with.”
I shook my head. It made perfect sense now why only he and my daughter, as humans, could read my mind; that is, the mind of an immortal. The bitch was powerful.
“Very powerful, Sam,” he said, picking up my thoughts.
“Wait. Then why doesn’t her gift of mind reading spill over to me, too? Or more fully spill over to me? I mean, I’m good at it, but nothing like my daughter. Or you.”
He thought about that. “I don’t think she can control the spillover, Sam, or how one utilizes it. I suspect if you worked hard enough at telepathy, you would get better and better at it.”
“But not as good as you and my daughter.”
“Probably not. Some of us do seem to have a natural knack for it.”
“Lucky you.”
“Not necessarily. It’s not easy hearing every single thought, from every single creature, alive and dead, within many square miles.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
“And my daughter is the same?”
“From what I’m gathering, yes.”
“How do you keep from going insane?”
“I turn it off as often as possible.”
“But when it’s on, you can hear... everything?”
“Every thought—and sometimes I can even feel the corresponding emotion, too, if the emotion is strong enough.”
“Sweet mama.”
“You can say that again.”
But I didn’t say it again. I was thinking of my poor daughter and wondering like crazy how she keeps it all together, too.
The Alchemist, of course, was aware of my thoughts. “There is a chance, Sam, that she is more powerful than even me.”
“Which makes her situation even worse,” I said.
“Yes and no. Yes, she might have a bigger range... but she also might have greater control of it, too.”
“Greater control?”
“She might be able to direct it more, perhaps. Turn off parts of it, for example.”
“Your mother... wow. She must have been a sight to behold.”
He looked away. “You have no idea.”
I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know I’d hit a nerve. Or seeing what I thought I was seeing. “You fear her,” I said.
“Let’s say that I have a healthy respect for her,” Maximus said. “But I do not fear her, no.”
Except I might have seen otherwise in his eyes. Something had flashed across them. Something furtive. It was, I was certain, the first and only time I had seen the Librarian display anything other than quiet strength. Something deep inside me chuckled. It was a feminine chuckle devoid of warmth; it quickly devolved into an animalistic growl. That this thing was within me was nearly too terrible to comprehend.
“Comprehend it, Sam. Understand it. Bear it. You have to. You are, quite frankly, single-handedly keeping one of the most dangerous people to have ever walked this earth at bay.”
“No pressure or anything,” I said.
He smiled lightly, and the nervousness he had displayed was gone. “Nothing you can’t handle, my friend. Remember, you are much more than her.”
“My Hermes bloodline.”
“That and more.”
“My own soul,” I said.
“Yes, Sam. Your pure and loving soul is no match for the darkness that is her.”
I paused, cocked my head, for I heard the words clearly. “She says she will break me. She will find a way. And I will be gone. Forever.”
Some of the color drained from his face. “She is wrong, Sam. You can’t believe her.”
“I don’t,” I said. “I just packed her down even deeper. Locked her up real good.”
I looked at him; he looked at me. He gave me a small but sad smile. I gave him the same smile. Finally, he said, “You are here about the creator?”
“God?” I said.
“No, your client.”
I blinked at that. “My client? Charlie Reed?”
“Yes, Sam. He’s a creator, and we need to talk about him. Now.”
Chapter Seventeen
Allison and I were jogging.
“So you’re telling me you’re just like me then?” she asked, phrasing the question only slightly different than the six other times she’d asked it.
“Insecure? No,” I said.
“Sam...”
“Look, I’m not a witch, and have no desire to be a witch. I’m not even sure what the hell a witch does.”
“Now you’re just being mean. You’ve seen what I can do.”
“And you’re just learning,” I said. “And you’ve been at this, what, a couple of years now?”
“There’s lots to learn. Lots of spells. Lots of memorizing—”
I waved my hand. “Nope. Not for me.”
“According to Millicent, you used to be quite good at it.”
“And she knows this how?”
Millicent was, of course, part of Allison’s triad. Millicent was also a ghost. She was also, apparently, once a good friend of mine—we all were—down through the ages, in various incarnations, living as witches on the fringes of civilizations.
“Not always the fringes, Sam. But we were rarely, if ever, accepted. We did what we had to do, to stay alive. Historically, witches weren’t exactly looked upon favorably. And to answer your question, Millicent has access to information we don’t readily have at our fingertips.”
“Because she’s dead,” I said.
“Right. She has read each of our Akashic records. She knows exactly what we have done, lifetime after lifetime.”
“Sounds like she has a lot of time on her hands.”
“You don’t like Millicent,” said Allison.
I shrugged, which might have been lost during the jogging. “She sounds like a know-it-all.”
“She does know it all! She’s in spirit. She has access to knowledge we can never fathom—”
“Doesn’t seem too hard to fathom a trio of witches running around a bubbling cauldron in the forest.”
Allison slapped my shoulder. “You’re just mad because Millicent doesn’t want me to speak with you.”
I shrugged. “I agree. She’s a bitch.”
“I didn’t agree she was a bitch!”
“You were thinking it.”
“Sam Moon. You have no idea what I’m thinking these days.”
“Right,” I said. “Because of the know-it-all bitch.”
“Well, you can be mad at her, but you damn well know that her motives are well-meaning. The thing inside you—”
“Elizabeth,” I said, surprised at how quickly I was defending the ‘thing’ inside me, and realizing just how deep my annoyance with Millicent ran.
“Well, we can’t have Elizabeth privy to what we are doing. We aren’t exactly on the same side, you know.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but there was no argument. Allison—and freakin’ Millicent—were right. Elizabeth heard everything I heard, despite how deep I stomped her down into my psyche. And each day, while I slept, Elizabeth was free to roam and divulge any secrets I might have been privy to, including Allison’s thoughts.
“You were great friends with her, Sam. She told me that you and she were even closer than you and I are now.”
I was about to make a snide remark that maybe Allison and I weren’t as close as she thought, but I caught the hurt look in her eye. Allison was my best friend, and I trusted her with my life. Simple as that.
“And I trust you, Sam. With mine.”
I nodded, and we continued jogging, the full afternoon sun hitting us at an angle. I felt... uneasy, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Without this magical ring, I would be feeling a great deal of pain. Now, I just ran with a bearable sense of discomfort.
I glanced at Allison. “Millicent and I were really as close as you say?”
“Yes, Sam. And it breaks her heart that we aren’t together again and that...” she let her voice trail off.
“We will never be together again?”
“Yes, Sam.”
“How’s Ivy working out?”
“She’s eager. Impetuous. Gifted. So far, a good fit. But, according to Millicent, we’re not quite as powerful as we had been with you. The three of us, Sam... the three of us could take on whole armies in the past. Could take down kingdoms. You should hear Millicent’s stories of our victories.”
“And of our defeats?”
Allison nodded. “There were many of those, too. And most were not pleasant at all.”
“Why doesn’t Millicent come around?” I asked.
“I asked the same question, Sam. Although she is getting better and better at manifesting—and there are times you would swear she was a flesh-and-blood woman—she doesn’t feel that she is strong enough to...”
“Resist Elizabeth?” I asked.
“Resist you, Sam. She says there will come a time when you will fully utilize all that Elizabeth can offer you—and powerful, wide-ranging telepathy will be part of it.”
I opened my mouth at that, then closed it again. “How does she know that?”
“As a spirit... she has access to possibilities.”
“Like Nostradamus?” I asked.
“Something like that, yes. She has seen a number of possibilities for you, Sam. And in one of them, you have fully accepted all that Elizabeth can offer you.”
“You mean Elizabeth has taken me over?”
“In one such scenario, yes. In one, you have lost, and Elizabeth has won. But in another... in another, you are a sort of a team, and you are damn near impossible to stop.”
“Jesus,” I said, and as I uttered the name, I felt a shift in me. Elizabeth didn’t like the name Jesus. She shied away from it, sinking deeper into the darkness. Good to know.
We jogged in silence, and I found myself thinking long and hard about a trio of witches, born together throughout the ages, fighting the good fight against the powers that be—and a darker enemy yet. Millicent had purposely come forth into this incarnation before, and lived a full, rich life, all while Allison and I bided our time... wherever spirits bided their time. Heaven? Yes, maybe. The plan this time around had been to have Millicent available to us in spirit—and thus available to far more knowledge than we would normally have access to. It was a noble plan... until I went and got turned into a vampire. Never fear, there was an understudy in the wings, a fourth girl who was often reincarnated with us, a sort of helper. That fourth girl was Ivy Tanner, and thus she was invited to take my place. I wasn’t sure I liked her either, come to think about it.
“I think it’s cute when you get jealous, Sam.”
“Oh, shut up.”
She grinned and jogged easily next to me. Her caramel skin glistened. My own mostly pale skin glistened too. I felt sunburns come and go, come and go, over and over and over again. But yet my skin mostly remained alabaster white. When I finally got out of the sun, any sunburn that lingered would disappear like water evaporating on hot pavement.
“Tell me about your client,” said Allison. “The creator.”
And so I did. According to the Librarian, there were only so many creators. Most creators didn’t know they were creators. More often than not, they tended toward the arts; in particular, writing and filmmaking, although a handful of them had created particularly immersive video games. The particularly immersive part was the key, for the creators among us had a unique gift. A very, very unique gift.
“They create worlds?” asked Allison, grabbing my arm and pulling me to a stop. She had timed it perfectly, for there was a short, wind-blown, stunted tree next to us. We each opened our water bottles, took a swig, and leaned against the tree.
“It’s complicated,” I said. “But that’s the whole of it.”
“You mean real worlds?”
“I mean real worlds. It’s complicated,” I said again.
“Then uncomplicate it, Sam. Because this is big. And it’s kind of freaking me out.”
I explained it as best as I could. According to Maximus, there were only a half dozen or so creators in our world at any given time. Almost none of them were aware of their talents, which was not necessarily a bad thing.
“They are accidental creators?”
“In a way, yes. Although their works of art are no accidents.”
“Sam, I need to be clear here. Are you telling me that Charlie Reed, the guy we met just the other night, can create... people?”
I took another swig of water and grinned at her. “Not just people, Allie. He can create whole worlds.”
Chapter Eighteen
Tammy liked to test herself.
Most often, she liked to test her range, especially since it always seemed to be expanding. These days, she was certain it was about a mile in either direction, although she wasn’t entirely sure how far a mile was. People who drove cars always seemed to know how long a mile was, and since she was supposed to get her driver’s license soon, maybe she would soon know just how far a mile was. Heck, maybe it was even two miles!
She shrugged at that. One, two, or even three, it didn’t really matter. She only knew that it was far. Like real far.
Even now, with her tuners (as she thought of it) stretched out as far as they could go, she was fairly certain that she was picking up the thoughts of a homeless man crossing the street in front of the Hungry Bear on Harbor and Bastanchury. His thoughts were faint, almost too faint to hear, but she tuned into them anyway, because why not? She was bored, sitting here alone on her front porch, with the sun angling directly into her eyes, while her mother was off jogging with Allison, and probably drinking too much—and certainly talking too much.
The man crossing the street was hungry. Tammy couldn’t yet feel others’ emotions—she tried to do that once, when she had heard about ‘empaths’—but she could certainly hear his thoughts, and he was wishing like crazy that someone would come out of the Hungry Bear and maybe give him their leftovers. God, he was so hungry. He wasn’t sure when he’d last eaten. And then his thoughts briefly spun out of control and she saw static, and she was pretty certain the man was insane. In her mind’s eye, she briefly saw what he saw: the restaurant and customers and cars and static. Now he sat on a step, near the restaurant, and hoped for help.
Tammy tuned out again. The homeless guy was bumming her out.
The Hungry Bear was, like, far away. A long, long walk for sure. Even a long bike ride!
Tammy was certain her range had just increased again, even from the last time she tested it just a few days ago. There was, of course, something else she’d been meaning to test, something that even she was kind of scared to test.
But, what the heck? No time like the present, as her mom always said.
That coming from someone who was immortal. From someone who had all the time in the world. And Tammy knew her mom was immortal, too. She knew it, and could see it. Her mom, like, never aged. Never even a little. Her mom still looked as young as ever, all the way back as far as Tammy could remember. Tammy knew her mom had been attacked when she was thirty-one years old. That had been over ten years ago. Tammy, now at sixteen-years-old, knew that she would someday look the same age as her mom. And then, after that, Tammy would start looking older than her mom.
So weird, she thought, as she looked now for her first victim.
She found it within seconds. It was a busy sparrow working its way through the neighbor’s tree, twittering occasionally, hopping from branch to branch, pausing briefly and cocking its little head this way and that.
Tammy tuned into it.
Or tried to.
She got nothing. Static, if anything. The same kind of static she had just gotten from the homeless guy. She wasn’t sure what the static meant. Maybe she wasn’t receiving the signal correctly? She focused more, and found herself squinting. A small noise came from somewhere at the back of her throat. Jesus, was that a grunt? She didn’t know, and didn’t really care. In fact, there was only one thing she cared about, and that was the bird sitting on a nearby branch, presently grooming its wings.
You’ve really gone off the deep end this time, Tam Tam, she thought. The deep end of what, she didn’t know. Just another stupid saying adults had.
Deep end or not, she didn’t care. It was fun exploring her gifts. It was fun, quite frankly, being her. In fact, despite all the crazy, gross and illegal things she’d heard in hundreds if not thousands of people’s minds, she would still want to be herself over anyone else on the planet. Including Allison!
Her mind was drifting. She knew it. She focused again, squinting more, and, yes, there was another small grunt at the back of her throat. She didn’t know why she grunted, but it seemed to clear her mind.
Focus, Tammy. Focus.
She heard... something. No, she felt something. Something powerful. Something nearby. Something, somehow, above her, too. No, around her. But that didn’t make sense. She focused some more, and felt it again. Yes, definitely above her, and maybe around her too. But she was sketchy on that last part, as it didn’t make sense. More than anything, she sensed patience. An eternal patience. And something else.
Possession. Not like the kind of possession Mother or Kingsley or Fang dealt with, but ownership. Whatever was above and around her felt entitled to something. Whatever that something was. And just as she pondered the sensation, Tammy knew immediately what it was. Something nearby felt entitled to her mother. Felt as if it owned her mother. It felt very strongly about this. But it was so patient. So... damn... patient.
And then she lost it, whatever it was. She tried to capture it again, but it seemed just to elude her. Whatever it was, she suspected it was still nearby.
She knew her mother had made an arrangement with her one-time guardian angel, Ishmael, to watch over the two of them; in particular, Anthony, since, supposedly, Tammy still had her own guardian angel. Tammy wasn’t sure what to think about guardian angels. She never heard them or saw them or felt their presence. She probably would never have believed in them, if her own mother didn’t have, like, a weirdo relationship with one. Yes, Tammy had seen the angel in her mother’s memory. And Ishmael was, well beautiful. Lordy, he was handsome. Heck, if she had an angel just like Ishmael, she would sure as heck choose him over the hairy Kingsley. Then again, Kingsley was sort of hunky in his own way. And, for all she knew, he was just as strong as any angel.
