Rachel's voice brought me up from the depths, like a diver heading for the light and air. I opened my eyes to find her face a few feet above mine.
'Stan?'
'Yeah, okay.'
'It's done, Stan. I mean… Sligo. I…'
'I know. I heard.'
'And I got Christine down and cut her loose. The rope had silver worked into it, and she had burns where she was tied up.'
'Fucker. Maybe you shouldn't have…'
'She's still bleeding, Stan, from where he cut her. I thought vampires healed quickly, from non-mortal wounds.'
'Not when it's silver… or wood. Sometimes they heal, sometimes don't. Can still die, later. All depends…'
'On what? Depends on what?'
I let air out in a long, loud sigh. 'Check Karl again, will you, Rachel? Please?'
She stared down at me for a little, then said, 'Sure. Be right back.'
And she was, too. 'Stan?'
Her face was sad, on top of everything else she'd gone through.
'Dead?' I asked her.
'No, but his pulse is even weaker. I… don't think he's got long, Stan. I'm so sorry.'
I nodded, which made my head hurt more, but I didn't care. I had to push through the pain and dizziness and nausea. I had something important to do.
I asked Rachel, 'Can you move Christine? Bring her over here?'
She bit her lip. 'She's dead weight, Stan, or very nearly. I can't carry her, and no magic to help. And the bleeding… if I even try to lift her…'
'I understand.' I commanded my brain to work, to think. 'Okay, here's what you do. Get one… those big altar cloths. Put it on floor, next to her. Roll her on to it, careful. Then grab the cloth. Drag it. Drag her. Okay?'
'I understand what you mean. The travois principle. I can probably do it, but, Stan, is it worth it, just to bring her over here? I could hurt her more.'
'Don't bring… over here. Next to Karl.'
Like I said, I wasn't tracking too well. But Rachel's face was close to mine, and I thought I saw it register surprise, then doubt, then what I'm pretty sure what was determination. Then she was gone, without a word.
I faded away again, but came back when Rachel's voice, very close, said, 'Stan? It's done. I've dragged her over to where Karl is. I don't think I hurt her.'
'Good. Thank you.' I opened my eyes and looked at her. 'Rachel, how many steps you figure it is, from here to there?'
She looked up, then back. 'Five, maybe six.'
'Okay. Help me up.'
Rachel got me to a sitting position again, then I said, 'No, all the way. Wanna stand up.'
'Stan, I'm not sure-'
'Gotta tak to Christine. Quickest way over is walking. Too weak to crawl, anyway.'
'Stan, don't be stupid. If you can't crawl, what makes you think you can walk six steps, even with help?'
'Because I have to.'
I dropped heavily to my knees next to Christine, the impact sending new jolts of pain through me, especially my head. I wanted to keep going downward – all the way to the floor and blessed unconsciousness, where I wouldn't have to think any more. But I stayed there, swaying a little, kneeling next to my vampire daughter.
Christine was still naked. Every inch of her that I could see was either filthy, or bloody, or burned, or some combination. Blood was seeping out of the three carved symbols, and there was a slow but steady flow from the stomach wound.
I leaned over as far as I could without falling on top of her. 'Christine? Can you hear me? Christine?'
Her eyes were crusted over with dried tears, but she blinked a few times, then opened them. 'Daddy?'
'Hi, baby. Don't try to move. You've been hurt pretty bad.'
'I know. Hurts inside. Burns. Daddy, that man, where-'
'He's dead, baby. True dead. He won't hurt you anymore.'
She smiled at me. I hadn't seen that smile in a long, long time.
'I know enough,' I said, 'about vamps – vampires to realize that you need blood, a lot of it, and soon. If you're gonna have a chance to heal. Otherwise… ' I let my voice trail off.
'We're s'pposed to heal. It's… our nature.'
'Not when it was done with silver – and that's what the sick fuck used, baby. He cut you and burned you with silver, and it won't heal by itself. Not unless you feed.'
'Guess you'd know,' she said, so soft I could barely hear her. 'I musta skipped that part… of the vampire manual.' The smile returned, just for a second.
I made myself not break down, or pass out, or change my mind. I made myself continue.
'Karl, my partner, remember him?'
'Yeah, sure.'
'He's over there.'
She moved her head slowly and looked. 'Is he…?'
'No, he isn't, not yet.'
She turned back, and stared at me, confused and afraid and in pain.
I turned to Rachel, who was kneeling close by. She looked at me, then at Christine, then Karl. Then back at me. Biting her lower lip, she nodded.
I didn't need her permission, I knew that. But I was still glad to see that nod.
I looked down again at my daughter.
'Christine, honey…' My throat was clogged, and I had to stop and clear it. 'Christine, there's something I want you to do…'
Time passed, as it has a way of doing. I gave depositions to half a dozen law enforcement agencies about certain events taking place at the Scranton Water Authority's pump house on a moonlit night in June.
I also gave a lengthy deposition to a Grand Jury that was considering whether to indict Rachel Proctor for the murder of two police officers. No indictment was handed down, since the 'demonic possession' defense is widely recognized by the law in Pennsylvania, and most other states. Rachel is back at work as a consulting witch to the department. She keeps threatening to turn me into a toad, but she's just kidding around. I think.
A couple of witchfinders who had been making a nuisance of themselves around Scranton disappeared without a trace. McGuire's received a few palls from their boss, the Witchfinder General. Every time, he tells the WG that he's got no idea what happened to them. The last call, McGuire floated the theory that Ferris and Crane had decided to chuck the witchfinder business and open up a little antique shop in New Hampshire, someplace. Or maybe Delaware.
I spent four days in the hospital for treatment of severe concussion. I was released under strict doctor's orders to take it easy for a while. That worked out okay, since I spent the next three weeks on administrative leave while giving all those depositions.
Lacey Brennan came to visit me while I was in the hospital. Twice.
When the Powers That Be were as satisfied as they were likely to get that I hadn't broken any major laws, I went back to work with the Supe Squad. I've had to make some adjustments in my work schedule, though. Instead of a strict 9pm to 5am routine, McGuire lets me get my shift in between sunset and sunrise, no matter what times those may be. My partner needs to stay out of the sun, and he sleeps during the day, anyway. Despite the weird hours, we're still a pretty good team. We've cleared more than our share of cases, and busted a lot of bad supes.
I try to get home a little before sunrise every day, work permitting – so I can say 'Goodnight' to my daughter before she heads down to the basement of our house for her day's rest.
Lots of changes, not all of them easy to make – but life is change, and adapting to it is one way of proving to
