mother. Blocks. Yep. Vamps happily blocked their thoughts when they didn’t want anyone to know what they were thinking. But to block memories? Well, we constantly erased mortals’ memories to keep our existence a secret. Obviously my mum had done a number on Jerry. But could she undo the damage? Would she?
“You’re speaking nonsense. What is a trauma?” Jerry jumped up and began to pace the room. “How did I get it?”
“It’s an event, a bad thing that happened to you. You returned to the family home because something bad happened in America, right?” Bart was up now, keeping pace with Jerry as they walked the perimeter of the large room.
“So Gloriana says. But she claims it was a lover’s quarrel. I’m a warrior. A bad thing to me is losing a battle. My horse being shot out from under me. I’d think those things would be a trauma to me, not crying about my unfaithful girlfriend.”
Bart shot me a hard look. “You’re probably right.”
I refused to hang my head or pull a scarlet letter out of my new designer bag. Instead I cleared my throat. “Well, Jerry, you did take the news I gave you pretty hard. But the memory loss…” I shook my head. “Beats me why it’s hanging around.”
“Men don’t usually think that way, Jerry. A woman lets us down? We move on. But being stabbed by a family friend would certainly be traumatic. The fact that what you’ve blocked out is only your time with Gloriana…” Bart glanced at me. “Well, it’s suspicious.”
“Thanks a heap. I’m sorry, but I didn’t do this.” I glared at Cait when I saw her start to say something. “Jerry, you need to let Bart hypnotize you. Maybe that will unlock your memories.”
“He explained that craziness. But I won’t be stuck with his needle.” Jerry had a mulish look. “Maybe I don’t need to remember those years. I rode in Bart’s blasted machine here. I suppose I’ll get used to these times. Eventually.” He rubbed his forehead again. “If there just weren’t so many holes in my head.” He tried to laugh. “Shit. You know what I mean. Like how the castle got in such bad shape. This America you keep talking about. It’s too blasted much!”
“You’re right. It is too much to just forget. And there’s no need for needles. I can hypnotize you after you’ve had some glasses of fine Scots’ whiskey. That should relax you enough for me to get you under.”
“Under? What will I be under?” Jerry looked around the room. “This all sounds like more witchcraft.” He held out his hand to his sister. “Caitie, what do you think of this hypno-thing.”
Cait rushed to take his hand. “It’s worth a try. It won’t hurt you. It can be very relaxing. I’ve done it myself.” She smiled at Bart. “I had a fling with an associate of Freud’s in Paris. I’ll try almost anything once.”
“Good to know.” Bart walked to a crystal decanter and glasses sitting on a sideboard against the wall. “I know most vampires don’t drink alcohol, but I’ve done experiments. This won’t hurt you. It’s smooth and should go down easily. Gloriana?”
“What the hell? My night can’t get any worse.” I sat in a chair after it became clear that Bart was going to persuade Jerry to lie back on the sofa. I held the glass of whiskey, sniffing it and wondering if I could really drink. My friend Israel Caine was a recovering alcoholic. I sure wasn’t going to share Bart’s discovery with him. I thought about mentioning that Ian had brought up some of the same theories and cures Bart had, but figured throwing in the name MacDonald now would put Jerry off the whole thing.
Jerry tossed back his first glass with a sigh then held out the empty for a refill. Before long he was stretched out, his boots off so he didn’t soil the fine velvet.
I sipped the drink. It burned going down but I enjoyed the idea of getting falling down drunk. Not yet. Not when there was a chance Jerry might wake up and know me. Really know
“You’re speaking nonsense. What is a trauma?” Jerry jumped up and began to pace the room. “How did I get it?”
“It’s an event, a bad thing that happened to you. You returned to the family home because something bad happened in America, right?” Bart was up now, keeping pace with Jerry as they walked the perimeter of the large room.
“So Gloriana says. But she claims it was a lover’s quarrel. I’m a warrior. A bad thing to me is losing a battle. My horse being shot out from under me. I’d think those things would be a trauma to me, not crying about my unfaithful girlfriend.”
Bart shot me a hard look. “You’re probably right.”
I refused to hang my head or pull a scarlet letter out of my new designer bag. Instead I cleared my throat. “Well, Jerry, you did take the news I gave you pretty hard. But the memory loss…” I shook my head. “Beats me why it’s hanging around.”
“Men don’t usually think that way, Jerry. A woman lets us down? We move on. But being stabbed by a family friend would certainly be traumatic. The fact that what you’ve blocked out is only your time with Gloriana…” Bart glanced at me. “Well, it’s suspicious.”
“Thanks a heap. I’m sorry, but I didn’t do this.” I glared at Cait when I saw her start to say something. “Jerry, you need to let Bart hypnotize you. Maybe that will unlock your memories.”
“He explained that craziness. But I won’t be stuck with his needle.” Jerry had a mulish look. “Maybe I don’t need to remember those years. I rode in Bart’s blasted machine here. I suppose I’ll get used to these times. Eventually.” He rubbed his forehead again. “If there just weren’t so many holes in my head.” He tried to laugh. “Shit. You know what I mean. Like how the castle got in such bad shape. This America you keep talking about. It’s too blasted much!”
“You’re right. It is too much to just forget. And there’s no need for needles. I can hypnotize you after you’ve had some glasses of fine Scots’ whiskey. That should relax you enough for me to get you under.”
“Under? What will I be under?” Jerry looked around the room. “This all sounds like more witchcraft.” He held out his hand to his sister. “Caitie, what do you think of this hypno-thing.”
Cait rushed to take his hand. “It’s worth a try. It won’t hurt you. It can be very relaxing. I’ve done it myself.” She smiled at Bart. “I had a fling with an associate of Freud’s in Paris. I’ll try almost anything once.”
“Good to know.” Bart walked to a crystal decanter and glasses sitting on a sideboard against the wall. “I know most vampires don’t drink alcohol, but I’ve done experiments. This won’t hurt you. It’s smooth and should go down easily. Gloriana?”
“What the hell? My night can’t get any worse.” I sat in a chair after it became clear that Bart was going to persuade Jerry to lie back on the sofa. I held the glass of whiskey, sniffing it and wondering if I could really drink. My friend Israel Caine was a recovering alcoholic. I sure wasn’t going to share Bart’s discovery with him. I thought about mentioning that Ian had brought up some of the same theories and cures Bart had, but figured throwing in the name MacDonald now would put Jerry off the whole thing.
Jerry tossed back his first glass with a sigh then held out the empty for a refill. Before long he was stretched out, his boots off so he didn’t soil the fine velvet.
I sipped the drink. It burned going down but I enjoyed the idea of getting falling down drunk. Not yet. Not when there was a chance Jerry might wake up and know me. Really know
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