Free Crave by Karen E. Taylor Page A

when I climbed into the back seat, I rolled down the window and breathed in the night air appreciatively.
    Managing to make the cab driver understand my destination, I finally arrived at the dreary brick building with barred windows. I paid the driver, watched him drive away and walked up the steps to the outer door. Pausing to take a deep breath, I sighed and opened the doors to the institution that had held a crazed Mitch not so long ago. The nurse at the reception desk greeted me with a warm smile, and I laughed inwardly at the difference between her and Jean, Mitch’s favorite nurse, who, we discovered later, was also a member of the Cadre. I wondered how Jean would take the news that we were back in town, and together; how she would react to the fact that Mitch had been transformed.
    The current nurse interrupted my thoughts. “May I help you?”
    â€œYes, I’d like to speak with Dr. Samuels if he’s in.”
    â€œHe is.” She picked up the phone. “May I give him your name?”
    I nodded. “Deirdre Greer.”
    There was no recognition of the name in her eyes, she merely smiled again and buzzed Sam.
    â€œYes?” Sam’s voice sounded tired and slightly depressed.
    â€œThere’s a,” she stopped and glanced at my left hand, seeing my wedding ring, “Mrs. Greer here to see you, Dr. Samuels. Shall I show her back?”
    â€œMrs. Greer?” he questioned, paused and then laughed. “Oh, yeah, of course, Mrs. Greer. Certainly, Susan, bring her back right away.”
    The nurse got up from her desk and motioned me to follow her down the hallway.
    Sam stood waiting for me just inside his office door. “Deirdre,” he said, all traces of weariness vanished from his voice, “when did you get back? Is Mitch with you?” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, then took my arm and guided me into his office, closing the door behind him.
    â€œHello, Sam,” I said, settling into the chair facing his desk, wondering why I had felt the need to come here. “Mitch is in town, but didn’t come with me tonight.”
    Sam sat down behind his desk and his eyes raked my face. “Then I guess this isn’t just a social call, is it?”
    â€œWell, no,” I started, “I don’t quite know why I’m here, except for the fact that I needed to talk to someone. And you seem to be the only person that I know and trust in this city who’s not dead and not a . . .”
    He gave me a quick glance, reached into his top drawer for his ashtray and lighter, opened a new pack of cigarettes, and offered me one. It was a ritual we’d instated while Mitch was a patient here and signaled the switch from social pleasantries to serious discussion. I accepted the cigarette and he lit mine, then lit one for himself. He inhaled deeply, then blew the smoke out before speaking again.
    â€œNot a what, Deirdre?”
    â€œNot a vampire,” I said in a small voice.
    â€œYou have trouble saying that word, don’t you? A problem admitting to anyone, even yourself, what you are?” His manner became at once professional. “Would you like to talk about why this is?” He took another drag on his cigarette, paused, then choked a bit as the ultimate meaning of my words seemed to hit him. “But you said Mitch is here with you. You can trust him, for God’s sake, and he’s not a . . .”
    I laughed a bit at his hesitation. “You see, Sam, I’m not the only one that seems to have a problem with the concept. But unfortunately, Mitch is a vampire, now.”
    â€œJesus.” He stubbed out his cigarette, only half-smoked. “How did that happen? I wouldn’t have thought that you could do that to him, knowing the way you feel about your life.”
    â€œIt’s a long story, Sam.” I took a drag on my own cigarette and flicked the growing ash into the ashtray. “And,” I had a sudden