Team Human (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Hard Out There for a Vamp

T
he courtyard had dozens of trees in it, possibly in an attempt to make the center look like a friendly and welcoming place. Sadly, only two had any leaves left on them, and those leaves were shaking violently in the brisk wind. A few dead leaves lay on the top of our picnic table. The spell of lovely fall weather had obviously ended, though at least it wasn't raining. I was glad of my coat.

Kit shivered in his. “Tell you what,” he said. “When I'm a vampire, I will not miss being cold.”

I didn't answer. It would only lead to another fight as I listed all the wonderful things he would miss when he was a vampire. Such as those warm kisses he'd mentioned.

Kit leaned toward me. “I hope you don't think I'm being overly curious, but I was wondering—why are we here?”

“Anna's worried about her mom.”

“Right,” Kit said slowly. “Who's Anna?”

Yes, I could see how the whole situation might be incomprehensible from Kit's point of view.

“My other best friend,” I explained. “The one who's not in love with a vampire. Her father—”

“Ran away with a patient from the clinic. I got that.”

“Her mom's been kind of out of it ever since. She's also the principal of our school, and she and Francis seem to be afraid of each other. Or something. It's weird.”

I kept handing the boy who'd been raised by vampires more opportunities to think I was strange. I was pretty surprised when the smile spread across his face. Not the “Come on, smile too, you know you want to” smile, but the slow “Isn't that amazing” smile.

Actually, since he was looking at me, I guessed it was the “Aren't
you
amazing” smile.

It was a good smile.

It made me want to kiss him again.

“So you're investigating,” Kit said with glee. “You're an amateur detective! I love it!”

I grinned and wished I'd detected the weather well enough to bring a hat and scarf. My ears were getting cold. “Something like that. I've kind of always been the person who solves problems. Believe it or not.”

“Oh, I believe it,” Kit said. “From what little I've seen of you—you're very capable.”

“Thank you.”

Adam emerged from the center in a big coat and a wonderfully warm-looking woolen hat. He looked completely cozy, and yet so rumpled and nice, I didn't even want to steal his gloves.

Much.

“Hi there,” he said, sitting down and pulling out his sandwich and taking a bite.

We returned his hi. “I'm Mel,” I told him. “And this is Kit.”

“I'm her trusty sidekick,” Kit said, grinning.

“That must be fun,” Adam observed. “I'm Adam. You have questions? Fire away. I'm afraid I can only take twenty minutes. We're short staffed right now. Usually there's two of us at the desk.”

“Is it usual for the patients to be so shouty?” I asked.

Adam gave a rueful smile. “It's usual for all the patients to be agitated, human or vampire. But, hey, they pay me really well. I'm one of the few receptionists to last longer than a week.”

“How long have you been there?” Kit asked.

“Ten years,” Adam answered in a matter-of-fact way.

“Wow,” I said, trying to imagine dealing with shouty people for ten years. Yet another job to cross off my list.

“I like it. The doctors are mostly great. Like I said, they pay me well to be their receptionist-slash-secretary-slash-troubleshooter. And the patients are fascinating. I've started writing a novel, but I worry no one will believe it.”

“Is the novel about human doctors running away with their sexy vampire patients?”

“Oh, no, everyone would believe that,” Adam said, smiling again. His eyes crinkled up behind his glasses. “Though it's actually fairly rare. It's happened twice in my time here. Though, frankly, I still find it very hard to believe Dr. Saunders ran off with Rebecca Jones.”

I hadn't heard her name before. She'd just been the man-stealing vampire, Anna's horror in the night. Now she had a name: She was a person.

They're people, Kit's voice said in my head, and I cast a guilty look over at him. He looked back at me wide-eyed, obviously expecting me to carry on with my fine detecting self.

“Was she very beautiful?” I asked, thinking of Principal Saunders's thin, haunted face.

“I suppose she was,” Adam answered slowly, as if he wasn't convinced. “She was very sick. She'd been in and out of psychiatric treatment for twenty-three years, ever since she transitioned. It seems so unlikely to think of Dr. Saunders being attracted to her, or acting on that attraction if he was. She was clearly obsessed with him, yes. Transference is very common, and—well, everyone wants to believe being loved will change their lives.”

I thought of Cathy and Francis.

“Rebecca wanted to change her life more than most,” Adam said, sounding tired and sorry for her, for Rebecca in particular, even after ten years of patients. “So she would come by when she didn't have an appointment, try to meet him as he left work. But Dr. Saunders was one of the best at handling that kind of thing. He was a total professional. He never gave the slightest hint of returning her feelings. I'd never have believed he would leave his wife and little Anna. I can still hardly believe it—I mean, he emailed his letter of resignation—but Principal Saunders called up and told us herself.” Adam sighed. “I shouldn't be telling you any of this, but—I miss him.”

I stared at the white plastic tabletop, pitted with the weather. “So does Anna.”

“Poor girl. It's an awful way to lose your father. He hasn't been in touch at all?”

“He texts.”

“Harsh,” Kit muttered.

Kit's voice reminded me that I was supposed to have my detective hat on.

“Have you seen Rebecca Jones since?” I asked. Tracing Rebecca would lead to Dr. Saunders, and that might give Anna some answers, at least.

Adam shook his head. “She never returned to the clinic either. Not that she would, what with having her own therapist on tap now. So to speak.”

I shuddered at the image.

There was a brief, uneasy silence.

“So—what are the events you've borrowed for your book that we wouldn't believe?” Kit asked. I could tell that he was quite sure
he
would believe it, having grown up with vampires.

“You know that some vampires can't adjust to being vampires? They cling to human things. Try to carry on as if their life is exactly the same?”

We both nodded. I thought of the jogger in the Shade.

“One of the things that those patients find hardest to deal with is that they can't laugh.”

I looked at Kit out of the corner of my eye. He was actually wearing an expression of studied indifference, with an edge of boredom, as if to say that anyone who knew anything about vampires knew that.

“I've lost count of how many patients we've had who perform surgeries on their throats trying to make themselves able to laugh again. Some of them get backyard operations from disbarred surgeons. Respectable surgeons won't do it because it can't be done.”

“Oh,” I said.

I felt sick. Kit looked it.

“They heal, of course. Being vampires. But they keep on trying. A lot of those cases end in suicide.”

Vampire suicide is very easy. All they have to do is walk out into the sun.

“Do you lose many patients?” I asked reluctantly.

I didn't want to look at Kit, and yet I couldn't help it. I didn't want to think of Cathy, but I couldn't stop.

Adam nodded. “There are some humans who should never become vampires,” he said, and I could have kissed him. Kit was listening and looking grave. “They can't live without the sun, without laughter, without pain. I know that sounds odd. A life without pain sounds great, doesn't it? But too many of our patients say it leaves them empty, feeling nothing at all.”

“But you only see the worst cases, right?” Kit asked. “Lots of new vampires adjust fine.”

“Sure,” Adam said. “It's a skewed sample. There are some who thrive as vampires so well, they never come to us. But the human-to-vampire adjustment is difficult even when it goes perfectly. Not enough people who want to transition realize that. They romanticize it. They tell themselves it's a gift, that it will solve all their problems. That attitude's a large part of why this clinic and clinics like it exist.”

“I have a friend who wants to transition,” I said. “I think she needs to talk to you.”

Adam looked mildly surprised.

“Well, it's a condition of getting the license that she have a minimum of three sessions with doctors like ours. Trust me, they'll tell her all about it.”

“I hope she listens.”

I didn't care who made her see reason, as long as she saw it.

“Is there a particular type who adjusts better to becoming a vampire than others?” Kit asked.

“Some think so. Dr. Saunders used to say that not having much of a sense of humor was a big plus for a successful transition. Having a strong enough reason to become a vampire is also key. But, mostly, being more in love with death than life is the biggest help. You know the type.”

I wasn't sure I did.

“That's my twenty minutes,” Adam said. “Back to work. I—it would be great if you didn't mention this conversation to anyone like Leila Saunders. It's not exactly professional of me to tell you all this, and she and I had a few words over what I told the cop: that I couldn't believe Dr. Saunders would run away with a patient.”

“Told … the cop?” I repeated.

“Officer de Chartres,” Adam said. “Now that's a vampire lady who seems well adjusted. But she was bothered by the case, just like I was. She came back and talked to me a few times. I think her superiors had to pretty much slam the case closed on her. Well. Me being shocked isn't going to help Anna, is it? And that's what I'd really like to do. Call me if you have any more questions. It's been nice to meet you, Mel. Give Anna my love.”

“I will.”

He nodded at Kit and disappeared into the building.

“Officer de Chartres,” I said, and looked at Kit. His mouth was a thin, flat line.

“That's my mom,” Kit told me.

I wasn't all that surprised—there had to be a connection between Francis and Principal Saunders somewhere, although I didn't have the faintest idea what it meant—but I was startled to see how upset Kit looked.

“And … ?” I asked delicately, trying to look as if I could be trusted with any clues he might possess.

Kit had his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat.

“That guy doesn't know what he's talking about,” Kit said. “Mom has a sense of humor. So does Francis. Even Minty does, though it's definitely of the drowning-puppies-how-hilarious kind.”

Oh. So this wasn't about Anna at all.

“Uh-huh. Minty begins to grow on me,” I lied.

I hadn't noticed much of a sense of humor in Francis, but I wasn't going to argue with him. Kit looked bleak.

“That was not fun,” he said. “Did it help you with your investigation?”

I thought of Mom, Dad, and Adam Wasserman, and how surprised they had all been about Dr. Saunders, about how even Kit's mom didn't believe it.

But that was how Principal Saunders said it had happened.

Maybe she was lying.

Maybe she had a good reason to lie? If that vampire had kidnapped her husband, and said she'd kill him if Principal Saunders didn't lie, that would explain everything.

But if it was true, how could I fix it? It would be a problem for the cops.

I didn't have any evidence to show them. The police were unlikely to launch a rescue mission based on a teenage girl's wild guesses.

“Hard to tell,” I said carefully.

Kit continued to look bleak. “Huh.”

“How do you feel about some hot chocolate?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful and afraid I was failing miserably.

Kit smiled, though it was unconvincing. “Sounds great,” he said.

One more thing to cross off the careers list. I didn't think either of us had a future on the stage.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Kit at Kafeen Krank

K
it was as much out of place at Kafeen Krank as I'd been at Francis's fancy coffee shop. Times about a million. He looked at people talking to each other, tearing apart muffins and cupcakes as they spoke. I wondered if he'd ever seen this many people eating at once.

A baby cried. Kit flinched and looked around as if it had been a gunshot, which made me wonder how many babies he'd heard crying in his life.

“Kit,” I said. “Maybe this wasn't such a—”

“Mel!” Ty shouted.

I looked in the direction of the shout and saw Ty sitting at a table with Anna and a guy I thought was from the soccer team. Anna, who despite being superhot is mysteriously shy around guys, looked very pleased to see me. They both waved.

“I'm going to do some detective work of my own and intuit that those are your friends,” Kit said. He took a deep breath and lifted his chin. “Well. Why don't we go see them?” He hesitated. “Unless you're embarrassed to be seen with me, that is.”

I think he meant it to come out as a joke, but it didn't quite.

Was it reasonable for me to be embarrassed? He didn't know how humans worked. He was from bizarro world, vampire world, a world I had no interest in being near.

But he was funny, and he was nice. We might come from different worlds, but we laughed at the same jokes.

“No,” I decided. “I'm not. Let's go over.”

I meant to touch his hand as reassurance, but he misunderstood and slid his hand into mine, which felt remarkably good. I blushed a little. We went to the table holding hands.

Our accidental hand-holding count was up to two. Doing it once might be carelessness, but doing it twice made the claim it was accidental seem less likely. So did my extreme consciousness of his hand right there in mine. I wasn't going to let go anytime soon.

Ty and Anna both noted the hand-holding, of course. My friends, the gossip fiends.

Ty didn't look entirely pleased. Of course, he hadn't been thrilled when I was dating Ryan. It's not that he's pining for me. (Ha! Far from it.) But you know that feeling when you see an ex with someone new. It feels like they're winning the breakup.

Anna raised her eyebrows, and while Kit was nodding at the boys, she mouthed, “He's hot.”

It's especially like winning the breakup when your someone new is hot.

I grinned and mouthed, “I know” and then when Ty glanced at me, I said, “Hey, guys! This is Kit.”

Anna obviously recognized the name. Her face wiped itself of expression. It was like seeing a computer crash, the screen going abruptly blank.

“Hi, Kit,” Ty said. “I'm Ty, this is Jonathan.”

“Just call me Jon. 'Sup?” said Jon. He was sandy blond, cute in that scruffy soccer-boy way. I wondered if Ty was trying to fix up him and Anna. Everyone was looking a bit self-conscious.

“Kit?” asked Jon. “Weird name.”

“Uh,” said Kit. “My mom says I was named after Christopher Marlowe.”

“Huh,” said Jon.

I shared a grin with him over his sneaky phrasing. Then I realized everybody was looking blank about the Christopher Marlowe thing.

Maybe if he'd been a famous Elizabethan soccer player …

“Old dead playwright,” I explained.

We grabbed two hot chocolates and pulled up chairs. Ty asked Kit if he played soccer.

“No,” said Kit. “I did play volleyball once, though. Beach volleyball.”

“Right … ,” said Ty.

At which point, Anna broke in: “Kit was raised by vampires.”

She looked at him as if he'd committed a crime. I'd reached for Kit's hand again without thinking about it. He grabbed hold, and I squeezed.

“Whoa,” Ty said. “Seriously?”

“Uh, yeah,” Kit said. “My mom's a vampire.”

Jon frowned. “So you don't, like … take after her, or something? My mom says I'm all my dad's side of the family.”

“I'm adopted,” Kit told him.

“Oh,” said Ty. “Well. Cool. We have a vampire friend, don't we, guys? His name's—”

“Francis,” said Kit. “He's part of my shade. He helped bring me up.”

“Dude, that is weird,” Ty observed in a pained voice, and for a wild minute I thought Ty was talking about a human guy referring to “his shade.” “No offense,” Ty said hastily. “I've got a vampire aunt. It's a bit strange, though, thinking of the fact that our Cathy is dating someone who used to change the diapers of someone her own age.”

“I am certain Francis would never dream of performing such a menial task,” Kit said, tilting his chin and speaking in a beautifully modulated English accent. “There is the additional fact that it would be exceedingly aesthetically unappealing, and Francis is a great lover of beauty.”

It was exactly like Francis. The boys burst out laughing, and Kit started and then beamed, his hand relaxing in mine. Even Anna smiled.

“So,” Kit said. “The television is my window into all things human. There's loads of sports on it, and I decided not to take on too many. Soccer was one of the ones I skipped. How do you play?”

The boys plunged into action. Ty said, “Okay. Okay, so if this marshmallow is the ball, and this saltshaker is the goalkeeper, and this packet of ketchup is—”

Normally, I would've been happy to join in the soccer conversation. But soccer isn't really Anna's thing, and I wanted to talk to her.

I leaned back in my chair, regretfully pulling my hand from Kit's.

“Hey,” I said in a low voice. “I went and talked to Adam Wasserman today.”

“My dad's secretary?” Anna bit her lip. “Why?”

“I wanted to follow up every lead,” I said quietly. “I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about you, with the whole Cathy thing.”

Anna smiled faintly. “I knew you hadn't.” She leaned in closer, over the yells of “Offside! That ketchup is totally offside!” and said, “I'm sorry I burst out with—that about Kit.”

“It's okay,” I said.

“He seems nice,” Anna offered.

She was looking at me, waiting for an explanation or just wanting to talk about boys, and I was trying to think of a way to ask her something awful.

“At least he's not a vampire,” she said.

“Not yet,” I muttered.

“What?” Anna asked.

“Oh, nothing. Adam's a really nice guy.”

“Did he tell you anything useful?”

“He was very surprised by the way your dad left. By how sudden it was. That he didn't even come in to say good-bye or stay to help his patients adjust to a new doctor. Adam said everyone was surprised.”

“Yes.” Anna's mouth twisted. “My parents were so in love. No one could believe it.”

“When's the last time you heard from your dad?” I asked, wishing there was a more delicate way to phrase it.

“When school started, he texted to wish me luck with my senior year. I was too upset to reply. I know I should have. But he hasn't texted since. Some father, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said. Now that I was questioning Principal Saunders's versions of events, I was finding it very hard to imagine Anna's dad being so neglectful and, well, cruel. “Do you think, maybe …” I trailed off. “Never mind.”

I couldn't help thinking about Rebecca Jones howling at Anna's house, scratching up the door. The chill from earlier was back, even in this hot, crowded coffee shop full of yelling and laughter. I shivered, and Anna saw it.

“What?”

“Your dad was always so nice,” I said. “Remember when he made us the cabbage costumes?”

Anna smiled sadly.

When Anna and I were thirteen, we were cabbages in the school play (don't ask), and my parents both had big cases on, so Dr. Saunders made my cabbage costume. He said it was no trouble. Made us laugh at our cabbage humiliation. It had been a lot of trouble. Those cabbage leaves had been gigantic.

I'd always liked him.

“I don't get him running away like this. Being so cruel to you. It's not like him.”

“It's okay, Mel,” Anna whispered. “I guess he was too much of a coward to tell me, to explain things. Some midlife crisis, huh? We all know boys, I mean men, can be selfish and awful.”

“Is that what your mom says?”

“No. Mom doesn't talk about it. Not since she brought me back from camp.”

I frowned.

“I'll be okay, Mel. It's my mom I'm worried about. She loved him so much, you know? I don't think she'll ever get over it.”

I wished I knew exactly what “it” was. Some of the “its” I was thinking of were so terrible, and I didn't know how to suggest to Anna that her father might not have hurt her deliberately.

That someone might have hurt him instead.