Part 12 (1/2)

I reply: FRIEND OF GLORIA.

Jason's answer comes scrolling back: WOT FRND?

My fingers tap out: SOME1 TRYING 2 HLP HER.

Jason: PRUV IT.

Me: GLORIA HIRED ME.

Jason: 2 DO?

Me: FIND OUT WHO REALLY KILLED YOUR DAD.There is a pause here, so long I break it by typing: JASON, R U STILL THERE?

Finally, I get a response: CAN WE MEET?

Me: THE SOONER THE BETTER.

Jason: NOT 2DAY. 2MORO MORN?

Me: WHR & WEN?

Jason: 9 A.M. LESTAT'S? KNO IT?

The character name I know, any Anne Rice fan would. A place with that name? I type: NO.

Jason replies: COFFEE SHOP. ADAM'S AVE.

A coffee shop named Lestat's? And I'm being invited there? Oh, the irony. I type back: C U @ 9.

I'm ready to log off when one more message comes back: DON'T TELL ANY1.

I have to smile at Jason's dramatic parting shot. I suppose he doesn't want his stepmother to know he's consorting with the enemy.

Which begs the question: why is he?

I'll get the answer tomorrow morning.

My thoughts s.h.i.+ft back suddenly to Sandra. Now that I understand she's the source of this-whatever it is-I have to know how she's doing it. If it's not a spell, what? Power of suggestion? Can she tap into my s.e.xual psyche and feel the hunger? At this moment, the image of her in my head is powerful enough to make me tremble. Is there a way to block those message receptors?

Words from the book spring unbidden: How best to protect yourself from werewolves? Stay away from them.

The office phone rings and I glance at the caller ID. Then at my watch. Yikes. I s.n.a.t.c.h up the receiver, ”Sorry, Mom. Time got away from me. I'm on my way.”

She laughs. ”Good. We're giddy with excitement over here. Our lives are about to change. Your life is about to change. Hurry, Anna. We're waiting for you.”

Giddy with excitement? Change my life? My mother is not one for hyperbole but here she is, sounding for all the world like a spokesperson for Publishers Clearing House. Is there a goofy-looking guy with bad hair and a toothy grin holding balloons and a big cardboard check lurking on our front porch?

”You didn't enter a sweepstakes, did you?”

Again, the silver lilt of her laughter. ”Better. I'm not going to tell you anything else. You need to come home. Now.”

”Okay. On my-”

But she's already rung off.

Weird. Very weird.

CHAPTER 23.

MOM, DAD AND TRISH RUSH OUT OF THE FRONT door and spill down the porch steps like lemmings over a cliff. I've barely gotten out of the car before I'm surrounded. They crackle with excitement. I feel it on my skin. Little electric shocks like static from a light switch.

”Whoa.” I hold up both hands. ”What's going on?”

Mom recovers first. She puts an arm around Trish's shoulders. ”Anna, you won't believe what happened today.”

”A lawyer came,” Trish interjects, hopping around like an eager puppy.

”With news,” my dad adds.

”From France,” Mom says.

”We're going to live there,” Trish says. ”All of us.”

”In a chateau,” Dad says.

”Oh, Anna,” my mom gushes. ”It's so wonderful. We've inherited a winery.”

A winery?

It takes some doing, but I finally get my family corralled and back up the porch steps and into the house. They never stop babbling.

All three. All at once. I've never seen my parents so animated. Trish? She's jumping up and down.

I scoot them over to the couch and hold up a hand. ”Sit.”

They do, still chattering like agitated squirrels.

”Quiet.”

The prattle dies away, leaving me staring at three glowing faces, bright with expectation and antic.i.p.ation. They're waiting for me to ask questions. I hardly know where to begin.