Haunted

CHAPTER 60

I’M SITTING BY MAX’S BEDSIDE. IT’S BEEN TWO DAYS and his condition has not changed. Loss of blood and the damage done by a jacketed bullet to his internal organs make his prognosis iffy at best.

I can’t leave him. As far as I know, he has no family. No one has showed up to visit except fellow DEA agents. They come to check on him and pay their respects. Capturing Pablo made him a hero.

But at what cost?

I’ve had lots of time to sort through the events of the last few days. Vampire has never been so virulent and aggressive as in that hangar. I don’t regret anything that happened, but I wonder if I’ll always be able to exert control over her. We are two sides of a single coin but one seems to turn up slightly more often. Right now, it’s the human side. But I can’t forget the thrill I felt as vampire, making Ramon pay, chasing and killing Pablo’s men.

I, the human me, was there inside, but I didn’t try to surface. Didn’t try to temper or restrain vampire. It felt too good to let go. Adrenaline and blood make a heady vampire cocktail.

Then there was Luis. I was strictly human when I shot him to make him talk. I was human when I dropped that grenade on the drug truck, knowing there were men inside.

Do I regret doing any of those things?

No.

Should I feel guilty?

I look at Max, as pale as the white hospital sheets. Tubes in each arm.

If I’m honest, no. I don’t regret one drop of blood I spilled—or drank.

My thoughts turn to Culebra. The way he telegraphed an inner peace when he left with Adelita. It strikes me that he may see her as a chance to make up for losing his own daughter. For being responsible for the death of his family.

My cell phone vibrates, telling me I have a message. I turned off the ringer when I came into the hospital. Now I check the display and when I see who the call is from, my shoulders bunch.

Stephen.

We’ve been playing telephone tag since I got to McAllen. I checked into a motel near the hospital and tried to call him right away. The call went directly to voice mail. Then I called his sister in San Diego. I got a very chilly reception from her. “Stephen is in Washington,” she said abruptly. The “as if you care” part left hanging in the air like an icicle.

Since then, Stephen and I keep missing each other.

I sigh and get to my feet. If I call back right now, I should reach him.

It’s time.

I step out into a sunny Texas afternoon and walk to an outside patio area off the hospital cafeteria. There are a few occupied tables but most are empty so I choose one in a far corner and press Send.

Stephen picks up right away. There is a long silence before he finally breaks it. “Anna.”

I let another long moment pass before I get the courage to say, “Hi.”

Hi. Really great.

Stephen’s sigh resonates so much emotion through the phone line that I cringe. Disappointment, sadness, anger, disillusionment. All in one exhalation of breath. All directed at me.

I say the only thing I can. “I’m sorry.”

No reply.

“Are you in Washington?”

“Didn’t you speak with my sister? You know I am.”

Crap. “Well. I just called to tell you I’m sorry. I never intended for this happen.”

“For what to happen, Anna? For you to disappear out of my life with no explanation? For you to go days without letting me know what you were doing or if you were living or dead? You know, it’s been in all the newspapers. How you and your DEA buddy were involved in taking down Luis and Pablo Santiago and dismantling their cartel. Quite a story. I wish I could have covered it.”

“Stephen, I didn’t know it was in the papers. I was never interviewed by anyone except DEA agents. I never spoke to the press. We didn’t dismantle the cartel. You know how impossible that would be. It’s all hype.”

Another loud sigh. This one of impatience and fury. “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you are safe. I’m sorry about your friend, Max. I hope he recovers and I hope things work out for you.”

“Work out? You hope what works out?”

“You and Max. That was an interesting human-interest element of the story. Two former lovers reunite to battle against the forces of evil. Nice touch.”

Now it’s my turn to breathe fire into the phone. “There is no Max and I. Goddamn it, I don’t know where the papers got this shit. But that’s what it is. Shit.”

“Yeah. Well, whatever. Nice knowing you, Anna. Maybe our paths will cross again someday. I just hope it’s here, on Earth, in a restaurant maybe and not in a fight to the death battle against some otherworldly creature you’ve pissed off. One of those in a lifetime is enough.”

“Stephen, you are not giving me a chance to explain—”

But he’s gone. The click of his disconnect is final. As final a sound as I’ve ever heard. Fucking final. Fucking final. Fucking final.

I’m left staring at the phone, emotions running the gamut from rage to immense sadness to . . .

Relief.