About This Book
That was the quotation he'd read. It had started him working on the problem again. A new approach now. Before, he had stubbornly persisted in attributing all vampire phenomena to the germ. If certain of these phenomena did not fit in with the bacilli, he felt inclined to judge their cause as superstition. True, he'd vaguely considered psychological explanations, but he'd never really given much credence to such a possibility. Now, released at last from unyielding preconceptions, he did. There was no reason, he knew, why some of the phenomena could not be physically caused, the rest psychological. And, now that he accepted it, it seemed one of those patent answers that only a blind man would miss. Well, I always was the blind-man type, he thought in quiet amusement. *** As I walk to the front desk I'm suddenly aware of how much effort I made to look nice even though nothing was going to happen. The receptionist tells me what room Mrs. Burroughs is in. I pace around the grounds debating something and then I give up and walk to the room and knock. When Blair opens the door I walk in past her. "What are you doing?" I ask. "What do you mean?" "It's not going to happen." "What's not going to happen?" "This." I make a tired gesture with my arm across the suite. "That's not why we're ..." She looks away. Blair's wearing loose cotton pants and she has no makeup on and her hair's pulled back and whatever work she has had done you can't tell and she's sitting on the edge of the bed next to a Michael Kors bag and she's not wearing her wedding ring. "It's just a suite that Trent keeps," she says. "Yeah?" I say, pacing. "Where's Trent?" "He's still upset about Kelly Montrose," Blair says. "They were close. Trent represented him for a while." She pauses. "Trent's helping plan the memorial." "What did you think was going to happen?" I ask. "Why am I here?" "I don't know why you keep - " *** "It's not going to happen, Blair." "You can stop saying that, Clay," she says, an edge in her voice. "I know."
