Last Vampire 6(6)

"Nice," Seymour says behind me.



"Get those two weapons," I say as I drop to my knees and examine Heidi's headless corpse. "We are leaving here in a few seconds. Her partners must be nearby."



"Understood."



While Seymour goes off to collect the two ray guns, I rifle through Heidi's clothes, coming up with a wallet and a passport. These I will study later. Feeling her from neck to foot, I find nothing else on her person. Seymour is quick on his feet. Already he stands behind me with the matrixes in his hand.



"Who was she?" he asks.



"I haven't the slightest idea." I stand. "Let's get out of here."





2





The following morning I sit beside Paula Ramirez on the edge of Emerald Bay in the area of Lake Tahoe. The sun is brilliant in a clear cerulean sky. Inside Paula's house, Seymour sleeps, a young vampire still allergic to the sun. Now the sun doesn't affect me in the slightest, and again I must credit this to my daughter's blood. Even the burning Surya, the sun god, could not intimidate the Dark Mother, Kali. Kalika's ashes rest in a vase that sits beside me in the sand. I have brought the vase with me from the house. I don't know why. Except I still miss her so, my beautiful, mysterious daughter, killed by a Setian.



Paula holds her three-month-old son, John, and listens as I describe what happened in Los Angeles. I have driven all night to reach Paula. The infant kicks his bare feet in the cold water. He looks and sounds happy. I am happy just to see him. He always has that effect on me. It was this child's blood that brought Seymour back from the dead. Yet I did not take John's blood—once I had saved him from the Setians—to save my daughter. I knew it was not what she wanted. But I ask myself over and over how I could not have wanted it.



Unfathomable Kalika, Kali Ma, where are you now?



I finish my tale and Paula sits quietly staring at me with her warm eyes.



"She said she saw you before," she finally says. "Do you think she was lying?"



"It was impossible for me to tell if she was telling the truth or not," I explain. "She seemed to operate under a psychic shield. It was very strong—even I could not penetrate it. Certainly I could not bend her will to mine."



"But there wouldn't be any reason for her to lie about such a detail."



"Perhaps. But still,I don't remember her."



Paula stares out over the sparkling water at the small island in the center of the bay where Kalika met her end. "You know I have begun to remember many things, Sita,"she says softly.



I nod. I've suspected for a while that certain memo­ries were returning to her, but I have waited until she felt ready to talk about them.



"Suzama?"I say.



"Yes. I remember Suzama."



I suspected this, but still the statement is stunning to me. Paula remembers Suzama, my mentor from my time in ancient Egypt, because she is the reincarnation of Suzama. It is the only logical explanation, and I ask her to confirm the truth for me. Paula shakes her head.



"We may be the same from life to life," she says. "But we are also different. Do not expect Suzama to answer when you speak to me. Her time was long ago."



I probe deep into Paula's brown eyes and feel a rush of joy, and of sorrow. "But she is in you," I protest. "A part of me must have known that from the beginning. When I met you at the bookstore, I knew I could not leave you. You are Suzama, the great oracle. Can't you just admit it?"



She is flattered by my praise, and yet unmoved as well. "Perhaps I can't because I'm not able to see what happens next." She pauses. "Yet I knew, when you were down in Los Angeles, that you would confront something very old."



I lower my voice. "Then you know who she was?"



She shakes her head. "I have a feel for her, that is all." Reaching down, she touches the clear water, then feels John's feet to see if they are getting cold. She adds in a serious voice. "Interesting how she men­tioned the harvest."



"Yes. I didn't understand that. What harvest was she talking about?"



Paula is thoughtful, her eyes focused far away, as Suzama often was.



"There is a time coming soon," she says, "when everything will change. I have seen this in what people call visions, but which aren't visions at all. People will either move forward or else repeat what they have already done.



I have to think about this.



Suzama never made casual prophecies.



"What will people move forward to?" I ask.



"An entirely different type of life. One we cannot even imagine as we sit here. Those who do go forward will live in light and bliss."