'You mean, you don't want to believe it. Look at me. Please. Just so that I can show you something.'
Her teeth, of course. The canines were abnormally long; not outright Dracula fangs, but certainly very pronounced. They looked sharp, too.
Penny giggled stupidly, and Carmine said, 'If you still won't believe, then there's only one other way I can prove my bona fides.'
The giggling stopped and Penny eyed her suspiciously. 'What's that?'
'Begin the treatment.' Carmine raised her gaze meaningfully upwards, in the direction of the bedroom. 'And before you shout at me again, consider: I can't do anything to damage him, because he's already terminally damaged. So what have you got to lose?'
Penny's rational self — what was left of it — said: this is completely insane. I'm talking to a woman who claims to be a vampire, and claims she can give David his life back by turning him into one, too. And part of me wants that ludicrous impossibility to be true, because anything's better than losing him, and so here I stand on the verge of saying, yes, go ahead, then; let's see if you really can do it !
She heard herself say aloud: 'Go ahead, then. Let's see if you really can do it.' She turned away from Carmine and stared at the wall. 'As you said, what have I got to lose? The most likely scenario is that you're barking mad, and you'll jump around and shout mumbo-jumbo, and nothing will happen. But okay. Why not? I wouldn't have put that ad in pleading for a cure if I hadn't been ready to try just about anything.' She stopped then, and frowned. 'What will you actually do?'
'Bite him,' said Carmine levelly. 'That part of the myth is accurate. The first session won't do much he'll need several but it will set the ball rolling, so to speak. You might even find his health starts to improve straight away.'
'Sure.' Penny waved a hand. Unreal. Maybe I've flipped, and it isn't happening at all. What the hell ? 'Go on, then. Yes. Go on.'
Carmine wouldn't let Penny accompany her upstairs. They argued about that, but in the end Penny gave way. Instead she paced the hall, listening but hearing nothing, until footsteps moved overhead to the bathroom. There was a splashing of water, then Carmine came back down the staircase.
'Is that it?' Penny asked. She had half expected to see some change in the woman. But apart from the fact that her cheeks looked a little less pale than before, there was nothing discernible.
'For the time being,' Carmine told her. 'I'll go now. See how he is over the next forty-eight hours.'
She took her coat from the hook and started to put it on. 'Wait,' Penny said.
'Yes?'
'Why are you doing this? I mean, — if what you claim is true, and you are a a' She couldn't quite bring herself to utter the word.' There's got to be something in it for you.'
'There is,' said Carmine. 'Money.'
It was the last answer Penny had expected, and she blinked, thrown. 'What?'
Carmine shrugged. 'Everyone has to earn a living. If your husband improves, and you decide to go on with the treatment, then I'll expect you to pay me a fee.'
'What sort of a fee?'
'I usually charge ten thousand. That's assuming the treatment is completed; if you decide to stop at any stage, we'll work out a percentage.'
'Ten thousand ?'
'I don't wish to be rude,' said Carmine, 'but what price would you put on your husband's future?'
When one thought about it, it was, of course, a perfectly reasonable business deal. The car had cost twice that, and the market value of the house was in a different league altogether. As Carmine pointed out, what price David's future? None the less, in her naivety Penny had assumed that Carmine must be motivated by some unspecified altruism, and to find out that she was as hard-nosed as any showroom salesman or estate agent was something of a shock.
'It's' She laughed, choked, collected herself. 'It's not exactly the NHS rate, is it?'
'No,' Carmine agreed. The outer edges of her mouth twitched faintly. 'Strictly private, I'm afraid.'
The car could go. It must still be worth at least eight thousand. Two more wouldn't be impossible to find.
'All right,' Penny said. '
Carmine produced a silver-edged business card. 'My office number's on it,' she said. 'Call me the day after tomorrow, and we'll take it from there.'
Penny looked at the card. ' 'Carmine Smith, Consultant' That's what you call yourself, is it?'
'It's a useful word. Covers a multitude of sins.' The hint of a smile increased and became faintly wicked. 'Goodnight, Penny. I may call you Penny now? We'll speak soon.'
She saw herself out.
David Blythe did not wake that evening, but slept through the night, as peacefully as a child, without the aid of drugs. With movies in mind, Penny examined his neck for puncture marks. She found nothing, and went to bed in the adjoining room, where she had long periods of uneasy wakefulness with bouts of bad dreams between them.
David woke shortly after seven, and told her that he was feeling very little pain. The smallest hint of colour alleviated the grey of illness in his face. He slept again through the morning. At lunchtime he ate half a bowl of soup, and didn't vomit it back. Then he slept again, ate a little more, and had a second peaceful night.
By the following morning Penny had forgotten the forty-eight-hour agreement and at 10:00 a.m. she was dialling the number on Carmine Smith's card.
