Christmas Moon

You there, Fang?



I'm always here for you, Moon Dance.



Oh, cut the crap. Half the time, you've got a woman over there.



Not as frequently as you think, Moon Dance. And not since we've met.



But that was over six months ago.



It was.



But why?



It seems the right thing to do. Besides, I've lost interest in dating in general.



Since you met me?



That might have something to do with it, Moon Dance. But don't flatter yourself. Perhaps it was time for me to slow down, to take stock of who I am and what I want in life.



You want to be a vampire.



There was a short pause before he wrote: Among other things.



I did not have to dip very far into Fang's mind to know he was referring to me. Truth be known, I didn't much enjoy dipping into Fang's mind. His mind was not healthy, although he was doing an admirable job of dealing with his many issues. I found it ironic that the one mind I was most linked to was a deeply troubled one.



I felt him probing my mind in return and let him do it, giving him access of the events of the night before. A moment later, his words appeared in the IM chat box.



You have got to be kidding, Moon Dance.



I'm not.



Now I have to compete with a freakin' angel, too?



Despite myself, I laughed. I wrote: You're not competing with anyone, Fang. I'm with Kingsley. Happily with Kingsley.



Is that what you told Captain Ahab?



Ishmael, I wrote. And yes. After I spent about three minutes getting over my shock...and another two minutes convincing myself I wasn't dreaming, I told him I was happily with Kingsley.



And how did he take it?



He laughed and said he was infinitely patient, that we had all eternity.



Since when do angels cavort with vampires?



He calls himself a watcher.



Either way. I don't like it, Moon Dance.



I didn't think you would.



I need to look into this.



I figured you would.



Was he handsome?



I thought about it, still reeling from the encounter, still wondering if this was all some elaborate practical joke, and, as always, still wondering if I was still back at the hospital, lying comatose after my attack seven years ago. For now, though, I recalled Ishmael's emerald eyes and quiet strength...and the love that emanated from him seemingly unconditionally.



I thought about it some more, then wrote: He was radiant.



Ah, shit.