The Messenger

21

After the doctor left, Amanda went looking for Tyler and found him in the library. He was sitting at a large desk, bent over some paperwork. He had changed clothes, and she suddenly felt grubby still wearing the clothes she had put on this morning. He wasn’t dressed up, but the jeans and long-sleeved shirt he wore looked good on him.

Shade had been sleeping on a rug before the fireplace, but he came awake when she entered, and wagged his tail. At the thumping sound, Tyler looked up, saw her, and smiled. She felt her breath catch.

“Hello, Amanda. Have you had dinner?”

“No, not yet,” she said. “I’m not very hungry.”

He apparently didn’t believe her, because he picked up the phone and called the kitchen, asking that some sandwiches be brought up to the library. After hanging up, he moved from behind the desk and led her to one of the sofas in front of the fireplace. He paused to gently take her hands in his, and turned them palm up.

“Do the scrapes hurt?”

“It’s really nothing. I’ll be fine. Brad’s the one I’m worried about.”

He let her hands go and motioned for her to be seated. To her disappointment, he sat at the other end of the sofa. Yet there was something in the way he looked at her that made her decide she needed that distance if she was going to concentrate on the conversation. Did he need it, too?

“How is your cousin doing?” he asked, bringing her thoughts back to Brad.

“He’s asleep now, I’m glad to say. I’m supposed to wake him in a few hours because he may have a concussion, but I wish he could just rest. You talked to the doctor?”

“Yes. He was worried, as I think we all are, about how Brad obtained some of his injuries.”

“Did Brad tell you who hurt him?”

“No, although from what I could gather, it has something to do with our friends from the desert.”

“The men in the truck?” she asked, bewildered.

“Yes. He kept apologizing to me, saying he never would have told them I left the party if he had known what they had in mind.”

“But then-how would Brad know Sam’s relatives?”

“I don’t think he does. Although that’s not certain-I couldn’t get very clear information from him. Did you have any luck?”

“No. He isn’t making a lot of sense. I’m really worried about him. Whatever drug was in his system seems to have worn off, but he’s still confused. The doctor said it might be because he hit his head.” She paused. “I called Rebecca, but I couldn’t make her understand that he’s been hurt. She’s-not too sober at this point.”

“Eventually she’ll come looking for him, I suspect.”

“Not right away, I hope.” Seeing his look of surprise, she said, “They’re brother and sister. When they get together, it doesn’t take long before they bicker. He’s in such bad shape, he needs to rest. I don’t think her company would do him a lot of good right now.”

“Hmm. Maybe we won’t press her to come here, then. Instead I’ll ask Alex to try to discover where he has been.”

“Do you think she can do that? I’d really appreciate it.”

“She’s very good at her work. What else did the doctor say? I should ask first-do you feel comfortable with this doctor, or would you rather have someone else in to see Brad? Are you all right with Brad staying here, or do you want to move him to a hospital?”

“Oh, the doctor is wonderful. I like him a lot. If you don’t mind keeping Brad here, I think it would be best. It’s quiet, and the doctor thinks the best thing is for him to be kept as calm as possible, to let him rest. And Brad knows Ron, so he won’t have a lot of strangers around him like he would in a hospital.”

“Yes, I think you’re right. Right now Ron is sleeping. I’ve asked Alex to send him to us when he wakes up, so that you can tell him about your cousin.”

“Thanks, although I don’t know if I’ll be able to explain much to him. Brad seems so scared.”

“Yes, I noticed that, too,” he said. “Someone has terrorized him. But I couldn’t make sense of what he tried to tell me about who it was.”

“Did he say something about a dark cellar, and a voice, and something rotting?”

“Yes. But he couldn’t say where the cellar was, or whose voice it was. He said he had been beaten by ‘Daniel and Evan.’ Are those names familiar to you?”

“No. I have no idea who they are.”

“Hmm. We’ll have to wait and hope he can tell us more after he’s rested.”

“Yes, I guess so. And please-I’ve asked the doctor to send his bill to me, but he said I’d have to work that out with you. So let me know how much it is, and I hope you’ll let me know of any other expenses so that I can pay for anything this costs you-”

“Don’t worry about it. Since I injured Brad, I’m happy to help pay for his care.”

“You injured Brad! Oh no-he hurt you! Did the doctor look at it? Did you need stitches?”

She heard the slightest hesitation before he said, “No. I’m fine, really.”

“Tyler-”

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

There was a light tap at the door, and Tyler moved to open it for a middle-aged man bearing a tray laden with sandwiches, fresh fruit, and two glasses of milk. He set it on a table at one end of the library. Tyler introduced the man as Ben, a member of his staff.

“We have soft drinks or wine or beer, if you’d prefer to drink something other than milk, miss,” Ben said.

“Milk is fine,” she said. “Thank you.”

Ben, assured that nothing else was needed, left the room.

She sat down and began to eat one of the sandwiches. “These are really good,” she said. “I guess I’m hungry after all.”

“Good.” Tyler cut an apple into neat pieces and placed them on her plate. “Ben’s an excellent cook.”

“Did you meet him through your work?”

“Yes, a little indirectly.”

“I have a feeling there’s a story here. Were you at the deathbed of one of Ben’s family members?”

“No. I was at the deathbed of his former employer.” He fell silent for a moment, then said, “I suppose most of this is public knowledge, so I won’t be breaking confidences. What the public doesn’t know is the background I’ll give you. When he lay dying, Ben’s former employer was anxious for my help because he wanted to confess to poisoning his first wife. He committed the murder in order to be free to marry the woman who became his second wife. Ben had been convicted of the crime.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Yes. Fortunately, the man’s second wife-to whom he made this confession-did the right thing. Her soon-to-be-late husband told her where he had hidden a written statement and evidence that would clear Ben’s name. The widow could have refused to be helpful-destroyed the statement and evidence, and avoided the scandal that followed. But even though it was difficult for her emotionally and in every other way, she led the fight to free Ben.”

“Did you testify about it?”

“No. That would have been a little awkward.”

“Oh-yes, I can see that.”

“Once she made up her mind, she was unstoppable.”

“Is Ben bitter about what happened to him?”

“If he is, he hides it from me. He has every reason to be, of course. Even though eventually he was released and there were public statements about his innocence, he found it difficult to find work.” He paused and smiled. “That was my gain. I hired an excellent personal chef.”

He took a bite of one of the sandwiches. Amanda breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“What?” he asked.

“I was starting to wonder if I was going to be the only one eating.”

He smiled. “No, I can’t resist Ben’s cooking.”

“Oh.” She took a deep breath and straightened her spine. “Well. There’s a reason I’m relieved to see you eating.”

He raised a brow in inquiry.

“I-no, you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think that’s likely. What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve been wondering if you’re, like, um-a vampire,” she said in a rush.

He tried to suppress a laugh and failed. “Really? Just wondering? You’d have dinner with a vampire?”

“Well, not that I was convinced you were, but-”

“My teeth seem a little pointed and sharp?”

“No! And I’ve seen you walk around in the sunlight, but-”

“I think there may even be a little garlic in the chicken sandwiches.”

“Yeah, well-”

“And I’m sure there’s a mirror around here somewhere that would show I have a reflection.”

“Okay, okay. No need to rub it in.”

“Sorry.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That grin isn’t exactly repentant.”

“No, sorry.” He suddenly grew serious. “There are questions you have about me, I know. I stand a much better chance of having you decide I’m crazy-or worse-when I answer them. But ask away.”

She had dozens, but where to begin? “After dinner,” she said firmly. “Then I’ll ask.” He didn’t rush her. She let him finish his sandwich, and they moved to the sofa again, sitting at opposite ends. Shade looked between them, as if sensing their tension. But he didn’t move from the rug.

“Okay,” she said. “Twice now, I’ve seen you injured, but you seem to recover faster than is humanly possible.”

He stayed silent.

“Well?”

“What’s the question? Am I human?”

“No-yes-oh, start with telling me if I’m right. Is that true-do you heal fast?”

“Yes. I don’t recover instantly from every injury, but what would require months of convalescence in another person generally takes only a few hours of rest for me.”

She swallowed hard. “Oh.”

He frowned, and his gaze left hers. He watched Shade, who had lowered his head to his forepaws. After a moment he said, without looking at her, “Go on.”

“What about disease?” she asked.

“I haven’t suffered an illness in years. Many years.” She thought he sounded unhappy, but she couldn’t understand why. Since she didn’t know if she’d ever work up the courage to ask him these questions again, she persisted.

“Can you heal other people? Did you heal Ron?”

“I have no power to heal anyone. Ron’s recovery was his own.”

“But you gave him hope.”

He shrugged. “If so, it had nothing to do with any extraordinary power of mine.”

She thought for a moment, then said, “Last night, in the desert, I thought you were dead. Were you?”

“For a time, yes, I believe I was.”

He still hadn’t looked at her, and now she thought that was just as well. It was one thing, she realized, to insist to yourself that you had seen someone revive from death. It was another thing to hear the previously dead man say it was true.

“How is that possible?” she asked.

“If I told you I don’t know,” he said, “would you believe me? For the most part, that is the truth. There is a history I can give you, but that history doesn’t really explain the-let’s call it the process. So, in fact, I don’t know how it works. If I could get it to stop working, I would.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

At last he looked toward her. “Amanda, there is nothing-absolutely nothing-I long for more than death.”