Page 7 of Smokescreen (Knight & Daywalker)
Also, he lived less than ten minutes from where I was, which was important, given the fact that my little friend was seriously injured.
His was one of the last estates on the road before reaching town, with a huge wrought iron gate with a loopy B on it. I stopped at the intercom outside and pressed the button, and a moment later, a voice came over the staticky speaker that had probably been installed in the seventies. “Flynn Knight? That you?”
“It is, sir. I’m sorry to bother you, but I need your help.”
He didn’t demand any more information than that, and a second later, the gate began to rumble open. I breathed a sigh of relief. My mother had taken me to Doc throughout my childhood, so while we weren’t best friends, I thought I knew him well enough to know he would help if he was asked. Also, that much trust from my mother? That meant something.
He’d been my pediatrician, since he was the best doctor my mother knew.
That made him one of two people I was aware of who might know anything about my parentage, a list I still wasn’t on.
On the other hand, maybe he didn’t know any more than I did. We had never discussed it, and I doubted he—or any vampire—would tell me anything my mother didn’t want me knowing.
I revved my engine and started up the long drive, only taking a moment to look back at the ancient security setup. Doc was all about his safety and privacy, almost a hermit these days.
Maybe he could use Davin’s help with a newer, faster, less creaky system. At the very least, Davin could probably get Doc a better speaker.
The house itself was classic Californian architecture: the mission revival style, with enormous swathes of stucco and hugerecessed arched windows and doors. Just like the buildings on the black and whiteZorroTV show I’d watched as a kid.
Doc had come down the front stoop while I was riding up the driveway, and stood under a pair of swaying palms at the edge of the walk. “What can I help you with, my boy?”
“I’m sorry for bothering you, Doc,” I said, pulling my bike to a stop and dismounting, even as I opened my jacket and reached in to pull my hat out. “Some asshole in front of me on the road hit this little lady, and you were the only person I could think of who might be able to help.”
Without hesitation, Doc leaned in to look at my hat, and the kitten nestled there. He grimaced and looked back up at me. “They just drove off and left her like that?”
“They did.”
His eyes narrowed and he shook his head, tutting. “Karma gets those people, you know. Maybe not tonight, but sometime.” He motioned toward the house. “Let’s get her inside, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Inside, we laid her on his enormous butcher block kitchen table, and he gently lifted her out of my hat, then set her atop it, a makeshift little kitten bed. “There’s some salmon from a dinner party I had last night,” he told me, motioning toward the fridge. “Get it out for her while I do this. Healing always leaves a body starved.”
I crossed to the fridge, and sure enough, there was a covered dish of salmon, and one of asparagus. That and the remnants of a few bottles of wine were all that was in there, because, well, vampire, but that was okay. Serendipitous, even, that he had food on hand that he himself wouldn’t eat.
I pulled out a whole serving of salmon, which was about the size of the kitten’s head, but what did I know about how much kittens ate? They had to grow a lot pretty fast, didn’t they? Maybe four ounces of salmon was normal dinner for a kitten.
“Oh, she’s a strong one,” he mumbled behind me. He sounded as though he was surprised, which was odd. The man was over two hundred years old, so I doubted there was much out there that could shock him. Most vampires in my experience were like jaded teenagers, with all the ennui and nihilism that entailed.
On the other hand, Doc had never been quite so stereotypical. He was a rich old man who never had to do anything again in his unlife, but he still worked sometimes as a doctor.
Well, old man was also sort of a misnomer. I thought of him that way because I’d known him all my life, but he’d been turned in his thirties, so he didn’t look much older than I did, with long sandy hair, brown eyes, a strong tan that hadn’t faded with his turning or the years since, and what looked like premature crows feet and laugh lines. He had grown up before the era of sunblock, he’d told me as a child, and I would do best to remember that and do better for myself.
It was the kind of object lesson that worked well on me, and I always carried a bottle of sunblock when I was going to be outside in the daytime.
Yeah yeah, so I was a little vain.
Wasn’t everyone, just a little?
I grabbed a plate from the cupboard and slid the square of salmon onto it, returning to the table and setting it next to where Doc was working. He was combing the familiar iridescent ribbon of body magic through her whole tiny form, a centimeter at a time, so slowly I could barely see him moving.
Every now and then he stopped and grimaced, and I suspected he was internally laying a curse on the car that had hit her, which, fair enough. Me too.
Finally, he stopped, shaking his head. For a second my heart twisted, convinced he was going to say it was too late, and he couldn’t fix it without using up all her energy and killing her.
But then he slumped into one of the chairs and motioned to the salmon. “I’ve done all I can. I used up all her reserves. It’s up to her now. The bones are knit and the organs are all functional, but it used everything she had.” He blinked again and shook his head. “Which was a lot, for a tiny thing like that. More than some people I’ve known.”
“Animals will always surprise you,” I said, smiling down at her.
Once more, she blinked her clear blue eyes open, this time sleepily instead of pained.
