Counselor of the Damned Read online

  “I’m sorry. You’ve helped him more than you know. I only ask you not to become so focused on helping him change the things about himself he doesn’t like, that you fail to consider he may need to accept those things and stop feeling guilty about who he is.”

  Tegonni gripped the phone. Ms. Preston’s words sounded like something she would say to her trainees, but Fernando’s situation was different.

  “Just consider the possibility, Dr. Ellis. Please.”

  “No harm in exploring all options.”

  “Thank you. Good day, Doctor.”

  “Goodbye, Ms. Preston.” Tegonni hung up with more force than necessary. How dare the woman suggest she was mishandling Fernando’s sessions? Who is she anyway? Just some assistant? What does she know about Fernando’s personal struggles?

  Tegonni groaned and leaned back in her chair. “Focus on the issue.” Hanna Preston’s relationship with Fernando was none of her business. She couldn’t discount the woman’s concerns out of pettiness. Or was it jealousy? She ran her hands over her face. Okay, objectivity.

  It always comes down to the blood drinking. Over the last six weeks when she’d asked about how he was doing with his new diet, he’d said, “Better than I expected.” That sounded encouraging to her, so she hadn’t pushed for details. Now, she realized, his answer was relative. If he’d expected the substitute to be completely inadequate, then his answer wasn’t saying much.

  Was the change to chimp blood impossible? Setting him up to fail was the last thing she wanted to do. Not only would it destroy his faith in her, but worse, in himself. However, he hadn’t been substituting long enough to determine its efficacy. Tegonni believed drinking human blood was a habit, not an intrinsic trait. A little backsliding was to be expected. It didn’t mean he was working against his nature.

  But she had to consider the possibility Ms. Preston was right. Doubt crept into Tegonni’s mind. She had no second course of action if the blood substitute didn’t work. Tonight she’d ask Fernando exactly how the chimp blood was or wasn’t working. Together they could figure out how to support him while he broke his…addiction. They had to figure this out, because if he couldn’t adjust, she had no way to convince Matanji he was worthy of redemption. And that was currently her only plan to convince Fernando not to kill himself.

  No pressure.

  * * * *

  Despite plaguing her the whole afternoon, all worries about Fernando dropped from her mind as the dimly lit sanctuary engulfed her with its arches and vaulted ceilings. The comforting hush was almost palpable, and the colored rays of streetlights shone through the tall stained-glass windows, warm and cheery. Like other old churches of its time, it had been built to inspire awe, and it succeeded. Beyond the impressive architecture, the place had the subtle, blissful tingling she associated with being in the presence of the Lephiri. Heaven was in this place.

  And Fernando spent a lot of time here.

  A demon would be destroyed by the divine energy. It wouldn’t kill, or even damage, a vampire, but it couldn’t feel very good. As she closed her eyes and basked in the euphoric glow, she wondered what it felt like to Fernando.

  When she fluttered open her eyelids, her view of the altar was blocked by a broad chest clad in an unbuttoned shirt. The deep maroon of the fabric complemented the tone of his dusky skin. A hint of cologne teased her nose. Her stomach tightened, and not just because he’d surprised her. She squashed her body’s desire. She shouldn’t feel that way about him. Heaven help me. Suppressing a wince, she imagined Matanji up in Heaven, ears perked at the sound of her prayer. Never mind, I’m fine.

  Readjusting her grip on the small cooler in her hand, she said, “Fernando, you startled me.”

  “Forgive me, senhorita. I should have made some noise for your human senses.” He gestured to the cooler. “May I?”

  “Of course.” She handed the blood over, but didn’t yet ask how it was working for him. She wanted to talk about Matanji’s concession first. If he went for it, motivating him to work out his challenges with the blood substitute would be easier.

  “Thank you. You’ve been very kind to continue bringing this to me. I hope you don’t mind the change in venue tonight?”

  “No.” She looked around the pews. No one was present right now, but the church was open to the public. “But should we go in back for privacy?”

  Fernando surveyed the sanctuary, a peaceful expression lighting his face. “No. If you do not mind, I would like to sit here for a while. We can go elsewhere if someone comes in.”

  Tegonni took a seat in the nearest pew. She hoped his desire to stay wasn’t him wanting to punish himself. “Does it hurt?”

  He tilted his head toward her as he adjusted his designer slacks and sat. He stowed the cooler beneath the bench.

  She gestured around them. “The energy here. I know most vampires don’t like it.”

  He stared at the altar with a puzzled expression. “It usually does hurt, though not intolerably so. Like…pins and needles.”

  “You said usually. Something’s changed?”

  “Yes. Since I’ve started with the blood substitute, I have no discomfort. Only a peaceful presence. Part of me wishes it could go on.” His voice sounded dreamy.

  Tegonni’s heart swelled. This unexpected benefit of the substitute was encouraging. Surely it outweighed the drawbacks. “Maybe it can. I want to talk about alternatives to your plan to take the Eucharist.”

  He settled his arm along the pew and angled his body toward her. “I wondered when you would debate my decision to die. I must warn you that you will be wasting your time.”

  “Please, will you hear me out?”

  “Of course. No real harm in wasting time.”

  At least he’ll listen. “The Lephiri are interested in your case. My mentor is impressed with your faith and dedication.”

  His eyes narrowed. “But?”

  She stared at him. “Did you hear what I just said? A Lephiri has praised you.”

  He smiled. “Forgive me. I am pleased. It’s just that I hear what you aren’t saying as well. There is a ‘but’ coming, yes?”

  She steeled herself to tell him the bad news. Hopefully he wouldn’t be so upset he couldn’t hear the good. “They can’t restore your soul.”

  He closed his eyes. “So I am right. Nothing can be done.”

  She gripped his arm. “I said they can’t redeem you, not that they don’t want to. Can it be enough to be seen as worthy in Heaven’s eyes?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” Tegonni gave him a few moments as he remained silent and contemplative. Finally, he stood. “Such serious talk is best done over wine. May I interest you in a nightcap? One of my favorite wine bars is close by.”

  Tegonni opened her mouth and then closed it. He was asking her out for a drink?

  Rich laughter accompanied his grin. “Have I surprised you, Doctor? You do realize vampires imbibe liquids other than blood?”

  “Yes, I know. I’m not sure going out on a—” Her cheeks heated as she floundered for a word other than date. “That going out socially is appropriate.”

  He held out a hand. “Relax. How can your professional honor be tarnished by a glass of wine with a client your colleagues don’t know about?”

  He had her there. But she’d know.

  “Or perhaps your professional honor is not what you are concerned about. Shy about stepping out with a vampire should we run into anyone you know?” He still smiled, but his head tilted as he watched her. He wanted her answer.

  “They wouldn’t necessarily know what you are. You look more human than other vampires.”

  “Physically. But if an aura reader took a look at the energy patterns around me, they’d know.”

  He was right. Though few Lightworkers went around indiscriminately reading auras, most of them had the ability. She wasn’t sure what to say. How would she handle running into someone from work? Looking at him, hand still politely held in invitation, she allowed herself
to see him as other than a client. As an acquaintance, a friend. Being seen with the handsome hotel manager was certainly no cause for shame. The thought gave her a warm glow. However, he was more than that. Fernando Amaral she would be happy to have a drink with, but a vampire not so much. She realized with a start that she didn’t think of him as a vampire. How could she help him accept himself if she didn’t accept the most basic fact about him?

  She stood and took his hand. “I have no qualms about being seen with you, Fernando.” She ignored the rest. It was her issue, and admitting her thoughts to him would not be helpful. “Seeing you in a more relaxed atmosphere will help me know you better.” And give her further insight on how much his problems consumed his life. That was always difficult to know when clients, by design, were focused solely on their issues while in sessions. Yes, she liked this idea.

  His expression didn’t change, his eyes watching for something. Deceit? However, he took her arm.

  She glanced at the pew. “What about the cooler?”

  “I’ll send my driver in to get it. The wine bar is so close, I thought we’d walk.”

  “Sounds nice.” She let him lead her out of the comfort and safety of the church. A driver? His hotel offered some nice perks.

  Fernando waved at a shadow, which then resolved into a short, stocky man. Fernando stepped aside to talk to him. “Phillip, will you please get the case Dr. Ellis brought for me and put it in the car? Third row from the back.”

  “No problem,” Phillip said. He frowned when Fernando told him they were walking, but bowed before heading into the church for the cooler. Guess he takes his job seriously. He did look kind of grim in general.

  As they walked, the spring night enveloped them in warmth, a light, cool breeze swirling in counterpoint. The church sat midblock in a quiet residential area, but at the corner, the main street was hopping with folks looking for happy hours, ethnic food, or coffee shops.

  They passed a specialty tea shop, and Tegonni’s eyes zeroed in on a colorful display of new bubble teas and mini cakes. Yum.

  Fernando noticed. “Hungry? The bar has award-winning tapas, but if you’d prefer to stop here—”

  “No, just ogling.” She laughed. “Nat jokes that I’m positively British in my adoration of tea.” When she saw his raised eyebrow at Nat’s name, she quickly explained. “He’s a friend and colleague.” Why was she clarifying? And why did his pleased nod please her? She pushed it aside. “Anyway, wine and appetizers are fine. Lead on.”

  “I don’t care for tea myself,” he said as they strolled. “That’s mostly Hanna’s influence, with her devotion to herbal-tea remedies. Whatever their medicinal value, they are unpalatable.”

  Despite the reminder of yesterday’s phone call, Tegonni laughed. “What could she possibly be treating you for? Vampires don’t get sick.”

  “Well, she isn’t treating the common cold.” They approached a knot of boisterous suit-clad professionals apparently out on a barhop. Fernando slipped an arm around her shoulders and guided her through the lively crowd. She leaned into him, enjoying the gentlemanly gesture. “Hanna has created a special concoction for me to ease my cravings.”

  Tegonni’s throat tightened. Calm down. Doesn’t mean the substitute is a failure. “Are you still taking it?” She wanted the answer to be no. Wanted him to tell her chimp blood worked like a miracle, but—

  His laugh held a sardonic edge. “In double doses. Though I believe the effect is mostly placebo.”

  Damn. Ms. Preston—Hanna—was right about the cravings, but that didn’t mean she was correct about them being impossible to overcome.

  They arrived at the wine bar, a cute little place tucked between a rowdy sports bar and busy Thai restaurant. Popular too. Rather than wait for a table, they sat side by side at the bar. Tegonni stared blindly at the menu as she brooded over the cravings issue. Perhaps the tea was the answer. Except, if it were working, would Ms. Preston have brought the issue up?

  Fernando’s rich voice flowed over her in amused tones. “From the expression on your face, I’d say the menu is deeply offending you. Shall I take it up with chef?”

  Embarrassed, she put it down. “No, I—of course not. I’m just—” She paused, reluctant to hear his answer to the question she had to ask.

  “Just?”

  Clasping her hands on top of the menu, she focused on him. “How bad are your cravings? Are they tolerable?”

  He chuckled. “You do worry. Well, don’t. I have been dealing with this for quite a few centuries, you know.”

  “I know. However, you haven’t been attempting to survive on a substitute.”

  Taking her hand, he gave her a light smile. “They have increased, of course, but nothing I can’t handle. Now”—he gave her hand a pat and then picked up the drink menu—“how about we forget my problems for a while and enjoy some wine? May I choose a bottle for us?”

  Tegonni’s hand tingled where he’d touched her. Ignoring the pleasant if inappropriate reaction, she refused to be distracted. “Fernando, we’re here to talk about my mentor’s proposal.”

  “And you may trust that I am mulling it over in the back of my mind. Meanwhile, the rest of me is enjoying your company.”

  Frowning, she stared at him, wondering if she should push him.

  “Agonizing over what to order?” His tone was teasing.

  With a sigh, she gave in. “Too bad you can’t suggest something.”

  He chuckled. “Can’t I?”

  She gave him a smirk. “I’m sure you know what’s good but not from personal experience.” As soon as she said it, she realized she had no idea what she was talking about. She winced. Well, even therapists fell victim to popular culture and stereotypes. “I’m sorry. Dracula doesn’t eat. Do real vampires?”

  He chuckled again. “Yes, indeed, we do in fact eat. We’re not as dependent on it as humans, and it’s…shall we say processed differently in the body. However, if I were to go without food for a significant length of time, I would weaken just as you would.”

  Fascinated, Tegonni turned on her stool to face him. “How long?”

  He considered. “I’m very old, and the need declines with age, so I’d guess I could go perhaps as long as a year.”

  She gaped. As much from the fact he ate at all, as from the fact that he could go a year without doing it. She hadn’t realized how ignorant she was about vampires.

  He ordered for them and through most of the meal—and a bottle of very good wine—allowed her to quiz him on his eating habits, favorite meals and such. As they shared a rich, warm molten lava cake, she paused midsentence to let the sweet, moist treat dissolve on her tongue.

  “Your expression is more enticing than the dessert.”

  She licked the melted chocolate off her lips, enjoying herself too much to be embarrassed. “Chocolate is another vice. One I live with happily.”

  “I understand. My desire for chocolate can get quite unruly at times.”

  “As bad as your craving for blood?” she blurted. Maybe she’d had too much wine. Sobering, she put down her spoon. “Sorry, I—”

  He put down his wineglass, his smile gone, though he didn’t exactly look angry. “It’s all right. I know your job is to ask these questions. Even if I don’t wish to answer them.”

  She truly hadn’t meant for the conversation to come back to his blood problem, but he was right, pushing him was her job. She forged ahead. “I have to ask, are things worse for you since I put you on the chimp blood?”

  He steepled his fingers, a tiny smirk on his lips. “You are making me drink it, are you? Ruining my life.” He actually snickered.

  Tegonni’s hands worried at the stem of her glass. “You know what I mean. Is it working?”

  Leaning against the bar, he supported himself on one elbow as he looked at her. He didn’t answer right away. She realized she was holding her breath and forced it out. Please, answer yes.

  Finally he spoke. “It’s perfect for what I need it to
do, which is release me from drinking human blood until I take the Eucharist or touch Holy Fire. So yes, it is working.”

  “I thought we were discussing alternatives.”

  “Yes, but my goals haven’t changed.” He touched her shoulder. “Tegonni, I thank you for your aid, but you can’t take responsibility for my life or death. It’s my decision.”

  “I’m not trying to make decisions for you.”

  “Aren’t you? Do you not feel burdened to change my mind?”

  She looked away.

  He tapped his fingertips on her shoulder. “As I thought.”

  “I don’t want to offend you, but I can’t honestly say I will stop trying to change your mind.”

  “I’m hardly weak-minded, so your efforts are not intrusive. However, I worry for you. I hate to think how crushed you will be when you fail.” His voice caressed her, gentle in tone.

  Did she detect real concern for her? Her stomach flipped. She liked the notion, but she also knew she shouldn’t. Responding only to his words, she chuckled. “Don’t be too certain. I can be very persuasive.”

  “I’m sure you can.” He returned her laugh. He moved his hand from her shoulder to play with the curls of her hair. He watched the strands move through his fingers. Now he was just flirting. She should stop him, no matter how nice it felt.

  His eyes refocused on hers, and his warm smile threatened to melt her resolve. “You are a compelling woman. Strong, beautiful, caring. If things were different, if I were different…” He leaned in, his breath sweet with the wine they’d been drinking.

  Crap. Too far, too far! “Fernando, wait.” She pulled away. “I’m flattered, but things aren’t different. You are a client, and flirtation is outside the bounds of that relationship.” She gave a sharp nod and may have ruined the image of firmness she attempted to project by downing the rest of her wine in one long gulp. She didn’t care. Her heart hammered, and her skin felt hot. He’d almost kissed her. This gorgeous, Latin, modern-day gentleman whose voice made her weak. And she’d stopped him. Was she a saint or an idiot? Or just a Lightworker who liked her job?