Dr. Farkas Read online

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  A couple of nights after my appointment, Dr. Farkas showed up unexpectedly at the hospital blood clinic. His office still hadn't called about a follow-up appointment, so I'd assumed his platelet research hadn't panned out, and I was pretty much resigned to never hear from him again.

  I'd had a couple of days to get used to the idea of dying, and I learned that I'm nothing if not adaptable. So, although I wasn't thrilled that I'd never see my forties or fifties or get married or have grandkids or anything else old people fondly reminisce about, I would accept it. Quit my job? Why? I hadn't won the lottery. I still didn't know exactly when I would die. If I could help out the staff and still pay my rent, then I would keep working. Besides, going to my job lent a sense of normalcy to my upended world. And, even though I wasn't at my best, how much brains did it take to stick a needle in a patient's vein and fill vials with blood?

  Dr. Farkas looked kissable, and lickable, and all the other -ables you want to add, dressed in black Armani and wrapped up in an expensive-looking wool coat. All dressed in black like that—did I mention the black Oxfords?—and stubble darkening his face, he looked like the freakin' reincarnation of Johnny Cash, minus the arrogant sneer and the slung-over-the-shoulder guitar.

  "Ms. Andrews, we have to talk."

  Good evening to you too, doctor. "I'm sorry, but I'm working," I replied.

  "I insist. It's very important."

  I asked him to wait while I dropped off the small basket of vials from my last patient and signed out for my break. When I turned around to look for him in the waiting room, Dr. Farkas was standing so close that I bumped into his chest. My hand went to his—I quickly discovered—rock-hard abs as I steadied myself and regained my balance. He remained silent and unmoving, the corners of his mouth twitching, as he looked down at me. Maybe he was waiting for me to remove my hand, something I was in no hurry to do.

  We took the elevator down to the basement cafeteria. "I've only got fifteen minutes," I warned. As I ran a hand through my disheveled hair, I wondered what could possibly drive him out to see me so late at night. Maybe my tests showed another fatal disease that he'd missed the first time around and he just couldn't wait to tell me the news.

  Dr. Farkas insisted on paying for my coffee, and he bought a bottle of water for himself. A lot of the cafeteria tables were occupied, even in the middle of the night. We sat down at a vacant table surrounded by techies dressed in a rainbow of hospital whites, pinks, and greens, quietly talking amongst themselves.

  "Isn't it a little late for a house call, Doctor?" I glanced at my watch: 3:35 a.m. No wonder he wore that haggard look. He either wasn't getting enough sleep or he wasn't eating enough veggies. And his skin was so pale, he seemed even more in need a healthy dose of sunshine and vitamin D than I did.

  "Call me Jakob, please," he said, staring into my eyes.

  "All right, Jakob." It felt strange to say his name aloud and to his face. Over the past couple of days, I'd angrily called him so many other names, none of them very nice. But I'd also whispered his name at night, tucked into my bed, imagining what treasures I might uncover beneath those dark clothes of his.

  "I've been thinking a lot about you, Abigail."

  I scalded my tongue on the coffee and stifled a swear. Finally, I asked, "What about me, specifically, have you been thinking . . . about?"

  "Specifically? Your cure." He brought the bottle of water to his lips as he read my reaction.

  A cure? Huh. "Thanks?" I finally said, unable to pin much hope to his words. After all, I was part of the medical community. I knew the same facts he did about leukemia. At this advanced stage, there was no cure. New platelet research or not. I'd seen the numbers. In fact, I would have to stop working soon. I was getting too tired to be on my feet all night. Food held no interest for me, and, when I did eat, I managed only small portions, which didn't help any to keep my energy up. At the rate I was shedding the pounds, though, Jenny Craig would've been proud of my weight loss journey.

  "Are you open-minded?"

  "Do you mean, do I want to be healed with crystals and pyramid power?" I snorted. I worked with doctors all day long, and, believe me, my car mechanic was smarter than some of these quacks.

  "I'm proposing a radical cure, but I need your permission to try it."

  It was almost cute the way Jakob spoke, so formal, as if he were asking me to the prom. A couple of temporary 'cures' flashed through my mind, the thoughts burning my face.

  "Okay, I give you my permission to try, but it's not gonna change anything. I'm still dying" at a rate of eight million cells a second "and there's nothing you, or anyone else, can do about it." I could feel those busy white blood cells multiplying out of control throughout my body as I sat there and sipped hot coffee.

  It took a minute before he spoke again. "Don't do it for my sake. Do you want to be cured?"

  "Of course."

  "Wonderful!" Jakob smiled, as if I'd revealed to him the secret of winning the State lottery. "So, what would you be willing to do?" he asked.

  Hello. Was he looking to hook up with me? "What do you have in mind, Doctor?" I asked, willing a seductive wickedness into my voice. Why was I flirting with the man who'd recently pronounced my death sentence? Was it because Dr. Farkas had long eyelashes and a toned body? Maybe. On second thought, no. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can do this," I said.

  Jakob brought the water bottle to his lips again as he considered my protest. He set the bottle down and said, "Perhaps if I explain further."

  I downed the rest of my bitter coffee and tapped my watch. "Two minutes. Then I've gotta fly."

  He took my hand and stroked it, making me think of his hands on other parts of my body. "We both know how dire your situation is, Abigail, but whether you believe me or not, I think I can provide a cure for your condition. But it's unconventional."

  Honestly, I thought he was full of it, but the dying part of me was desperate enough to consider that it might be possible. An unconventional cure? Maybe he had discovered some cutting-edge hematology treatment, or he wanted me to try a holistic healing program from India or California.

  He leaned closer, and I caught a glimpse of my future in his square face and full mouth. "You see, Abigail, I'm a vampire."

  He. Was. A. Vampire? "Really, Dr. Farkas? And how will that miraculously heal me? Or does a low red-blood count taste sweeter?" I fumed as I drew back from him and took my hand with me.

  He did a passable impression of a fish out of water, mouth silently gaping, as he searched for words to counter my violent outburst.

  "I have to go," I said.. "Tanjana, my night-shift partner in bloodletting, can be a real bitch about long breaks, unless they're hers, of course." I got up, and Jakob rose too. I wondered if there was a full moon tonight. It always brought out the crazies.

  He chuckled as if I'd said something funny. "Let's go into all the details later. We should meet again tomorrow."

  Why did the good-looking doctor turn out to be such a nutcase? "No. I can't. I work tomorrow."

  "I know you do. Can we meet your shift?"

  I couldn't very well stop him from showing up at the hospital, could I? "Sure," I replied, "why not?"

  He bent down and whispered in my ear. "I should also mention that there would be some traveling involved with the procurement of this cure."

  The aroma of his spicy, exotic aftershave filled my nose. Electricity zipped through my body, warming me all over. "Traveling?" I squeaked.

  What was my problem? Was I suddenly fourteen again, getting all weak-kneed around a man who paid the slightest bit of attention to me? I mean, a vampire who paid attention to me, offered me a cure, promised some traveling?

  "Yes. I'm afraid I can't stay here much longer."

  "Why? Does the AMA frown upon vampire practitioners or is it because there are too many werewolves around here, Edward?" He looked confused, leaving me to appreciate my own lame joke.

  Jakob held my wrist while he pe
rformed a quick scan of the cafeteria. When he focused on me again, I swear, I nearly swooned. I'm talking Brad Pitt to the power of a hundred. "If I'm to cure you, we'll have to start our search in Europe," he said.

  Start in Europe! For years I dreamt of a European vacation. Paris, Vienna, Rome, any place where I could get lost in foreign talk, different shops, strangers' lives.

  "Europe. All expenses paid?" I asked shrewdly. Phlebotomists don't earn as much as you'd think.

  Jakob chuckled. With a gracious sweep of his hand, he included my airfare and hotel. "You would be my guest. We'll talk more tomorrow. Sleep on it," he added.

  Before I could agree or disagree, he'd disappeared. I felt my cheek, and my fingers came away smelling of his aftershave.

  Even though I didn't really believe that Dr. Jakob Farkas was a vampire, the whole encounter left my imagination running wild. Maybe it was the hope of a cure he'd dangled in front of me. Or maybe it was that I found him very attractive and wanted to take him home with me. I wouldn't have minded trading a couple hours of much-needed sleep for some vampire lovin'!

  A couple of hours later, I left work. Even though dawn wouldn't break through the cloudy gray sky for a bit yet, I realized I'd lived through yet another night shift.

  Of course, I didn't sleep at all that day, thinking too much about Jakob's proposition. It didn't help that the sun decided to make a special appearance, turning my bedroom into an explosion of bright light. The same questions kept circling around my tired brain: Was Dr. Jakob Farkas a scam artist, going around offering snake oil to the dying? Why was he lavishing such attention on me? Love? Lust? Redemption of some kind? And what was the deal with that whole vampire story? Didn't he know I was desperate enough to consider going anywhere with him, even, especially if he wasn't a vampire?

  I dragged my butt into the hospital that night, still undecided about what I would tell Jakob. As it turned out, I didn't have to tell him anything. I didn't stop running from one patient to the next, and, before I knew it, I was once again gathering up my things at the end of the long shift and getting ready to go home.

  Jakob's no-show left me surprisingly disappointed. He wasn't waiting for me at the doors either, and by the time my feet hit the sidewalk I thought I'd surely seen the last of him. Too bad. I must've convinced him I was too hard to catch. Well, I'd have to get a referral to see another hematologist.

  But, no. Here he was, appearing out of thin air and falling in step beside me like a handsome Grim Reaper in unrelieved black. In contrast, I still wore my maroon scrubs beneath my winter jacket.

  He took my cold hand, and I welcomed his silky touch. I like a man who takes charge, even if that man's hand is stone cold.

  There's not much that's open at four thirty in the morning, so I took him to a nearby coffee shop.

  We sat down at a wrought-iron table. Folk rock ballads streamed from a radio behind the counter. The aroma of ground coffee and fresh-baked pastries stirred my appetite, and I ordered an éclair with my coffee.

  I kept surveying the room, afraid I'd run into someone I knew, as if Jakob and I were sharing more than just a table and a couple of coffees.

  "So, have you given any thought to my idea?"

  Straight to the point. I like that, too. "Which point was that, again? The vampire thing or the traveling?"

  He humored me and winked. "The traveling."

  "Yeah, I have, but I don't understand about having to travel to Europe. With FedEx and the Internet, why do you, we, need to travel anywhere? St. Luke's is a world-class teaching hospital. What's in Europe that can't be done here to cure me?" I don't know how I managed to ask this with my exhausted brain screaming at me the whole time to shut up and not spoil my chances to travel overseas.

  "We can't stay here because the information I'll need to cure you isn't located here," he said.

  Did I detect some impatience in his voice? "Where is it, then?"

  "In Europe. Like I told you."

  "But I don't see why . . . " Oh, what the heck. "Sure. Whatever. I'm too tired to argue." The way I saw it, I either went with him or I didn't. It came down to a question of trust, and how I chose to spend the rest of my life. As it was, I had nothing better to do around here except die, so my schedule was pretty much open. No regrets, right?

  I bit into my creamy éclair. I loved French pastry, the more calorie-laden, the better.

  "That stuff will eventually kill you, Abigail," Jakob said with a straight face.

  "Ha ha ha. Funny." I shot him a withering look as I took another big bite of confectionary sugar and lard. He waited while I chewed and swallowed.

  "But tell me this. I'm sure there are plenty of others around Scranton on their deathbeds. Why not offer to heal them instead?"

  Jakob leaned forward and reached for my hand. He flashed me a smile, and the appearance of long teeth startled me. Had he got trendy canine implants?

  "I'm in love with you, Abigail." His voice barely carried the short distance between us. "I've loved you since that day you walked into my office. You're all I can think about. You're all I want to think about."

  Vampire In Love With Phlebotomist. It was romantic, in a Weekly World News kind of way.

  "Oh my, I've never been wooed by a vampire before," I said, my laughter covering up the thrumming of my heart. No one had professed their love for me in a quite some time. My hairstylist declared his love, but I think he loved my hundred-dollar cuts more than me. "But what's love got to do with my cure?"

  I didn't want to annoy Jakob, but I reserved the right to not be messed around with, especially since I was the one dying. I had no patience for all the deathbed good fortune that he was bringing my way. Love. Cure. Traveling. Vampire.

  "It's not that easy to explain."

  "Try me," I said, frowning.

  "I am going to cure you, but—" He paused. "I can't do it right now. I haven't fed in over a century," he finally admitted.

  Of course I knew he wasn't a vampire, but I still pulled my hand away when he said that. "I understand. I personally can't go more than three or four hours without a bite," I quipped.

  Jakob chuckled as he wrapped his free hand around the steaming cup of coffee in front of him. "Don't worry, Abigail. If I can go a hundred years without feeding and still work with blood every day, then I think you're safe."

  Of course, a vampire would say that.

  "I love you," he repeated. "I love everything about you. Your beautiful smile. The way you smell. How your eyes sparkle like diamonds. I need to save you. But first, I need you to save me." He extended his hand, and I took it.

  The man sure had a way with words. His closeness had me nearly swooning in my chair, almost overcome by lovey-dovey feelings. Vampire love would save me from my fatal illness. Go figure. "So, Jakob, what are you proposing?" I asked, stroking my neck, taunting him, daring him to attack me in public. "That's how it works, isn't it? You bite me, I go through a couple of minutes of discomfort, and then I become a vampire too, and I'm cured. Right?"

  "No. There are complications."

  "What complications? Is it because I'm Catholic?" My hand went to my neck, where a small pewter cross swayed.

  Jakob remained frozen in shock before exploding in a deep laugh that eventually faded to a rumble. "No, not at all. Trust me, if you had an ounce of faith in the Risen God-Man," he pointed to the cross, I'd have no choice but to fall in love with someone else."

  What was he saying, that I didn't have any faith?

  He continued, "No, The issue is that I may have done some structural damage to myself by not feeding for so long. I first need to start feeding again."

  I slid my chair closer and once again offered him my neck. "It's okay, Jakob. Go ahead. Just don't hurt me," I whispered and closed my eyes. Even though I was joking, my voice trembled.

  He grazed the skin covering my carotid artery with those canines of his, and I shivered. Then he pulled away.

  He chuckled. "Sweetheart, you watch too many movies.
Yes, your blood would provide a much-needed meal for me, but all it would do for you right now is get you killed. Once I've replenished my body, and regained my powers, then I'll be able to start looking for your cure. Turnings don't happen as frequently as you think. And there's more to them than simply biting you on the neck. They're complicated affairs, and I've never turned anyone."

  "No? Why not?"

  "I've never felt the desire to add another being to our kind. Until now. Of course, that doesn't mean I haven't heard of the existence of ancient myths and legends explaining how to do it. I'll have to start my research in Europe. I know your time is limited, so we have to hurry."

  "Whoa!" I held up a hand. "So, let me see if I understand this. You've been starving yourself for a long time, for whatever reason, and you want to cure me, because you love me, but you have to cure yourself first?"

  He nodded.

  "Okay, so let's assume you can cure yourself. Then what happens?"

  His cool hand slid around my neck, and he pulled me closer, until our foreheads touched. He whispered, "Heal me. Then I'll heal you." My cheeks heated up as I reacted to his touch. I bit my lower lip so hard that I tasted blood. Jakob became agitated and leaned away, but not before I heard a low growl.

  I pictured myself roaming all over the world, forever, as one of the undead. With Jakob by my side, I admit the prospect held some appeal. But if I was to be alone forever, though . . . not so much. There were so many questions I should have asked, but didn't.

  Again, as if he'd read my mind, he said, "Once you're healed, you'll have to decide what you want to do with your new life."

  "What about my family?"

  "I don't think you'll want to be near them. The turning changes people. You'll look physically different, not to mention that it's going to take some time before you learn to control your appetite so that you can be near people without feeding on them. I love you, Abigail, and I want you by my side forever, but I won't hold you back, if that's what you're afraid of. You have my word." He placed a hand over his heart in a modified Scout's Honor gesture.

  No one would miss me if I decided to embark on this last adventure. I hung out or went shopping with Suzie and Carole, other real bloodsuckers like me working at the clinic. But they had kids and Significant Others and lives of their own. As for Mom and Dad, well, that was a whole other story.

  "We'd be gone for a few months," Jakob said.

  I realized those few months would probably be the rest of my life. Did I want to stay here and mope until the day I died, or did I want to see the world on Jakob's arm?

  "This isn't a decision to be made lightly. I've been alive for so long, Abigail. The world has changed many times over. You can't imagine what it feels like to watch dynasties rise and fall, while one keeps existing. My friends and family died so long ago; I barely remember them. I'm alone in this world. Alone and lonely. I am the last of the Kethules."

  "Um . . . I don't know what a Kethule is."

  "An old tribe. It's not important right now. But it would become your new family if you took my cure."

  "So, you're lonely and tired of existing? Is that why you've been starving yourself all these years?" One hundred years, my brain whispered.

  "Short answer: Yes."

  Apparently, it took a lot to kill a vampire.

  "Are you reconsidering my offer?" he asked, trying to decipher whatever expression he saw on my face.

  I patted his concerns away. "Of course not. Traveling in Europe with a suicidal vampire searching for some mythical cure? Sign me up!"

  We kissed to celebrate my decision. Our lips touched, and I immediately became light-headed. I couldn't tell if he had taken some of my precious life with that kiss or given me an overdose of his. We both wanted more. His lips parted and so did mine. The kiss deepened. I gasped when the points of his razor-sharp teeth pricked my tongue.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I sat back in my chair. I'd never been kissed like that before. I still felt as if I might faint at any second. And Jakob looked troubled, his hand shook as he held his coffee, creating tiny concentric ripples on the surface.

  He seemed to need a moment to collect himself. When he spoke again, he added some conditions to my joining him: I'd have to travel light—ready to move at a moment's notice—and I couldn't correspond with anyone. No letters to friends. No phone calls to family. No Facebook. No Twitter or Pinterest. Well, now I wondered if Dr. Jakob Farkas wasn't a serial killer maneuvering to get me alone with him so that he could do me . . . kill me, that is.

  Hey, I watched Dexter. I knew how some of these psychos worked.

  When I objected, Jakob claimed it was because he was being followed—hunted, was the actual word he used—and he couldn't take any chances that someone would intercept my dispatches and track us down. Great. My traveling companion was a paranoid schizophrenic vampire!

  It dawned on me—once I heard all the conditions—that if I left with Jakob, I would be leaving Mom and Dad, and never see them again. Maybe this was an easier way to say goodbye. They'd taken the whole our-daughter-is-dying-from-leukemia drama pretty hard, and this way I could spare them the drawn out, grisly end. They probably wouldn't even miss me, they'd be so busy playing bingo and shopping and, you know, getting on with living.

  The rest of my meeting with Jakob turned into an awkward Speed Dating kind of interview:

  Did I smoke? No.

  Drink alcohol? Some. I liked Australian Chardonnay and Cosmopolitans.

  "No more," Jakob announced.

  "Why not?" I challenged.

  "You'll need to stay sharp. I can't have you drunk, for your own safety as well as mine."

  "Any medication?" he continued.

  "Nope. Nothing."

  "Nothing? Not even birth control?"

  My face burned as if it were two inches from the sun. "No, no birth control." Not that it was any of the good vampire doctor's business, but I didn't hook up with men that much, what with my working mostly nights and actually having some standards. Plus, our local priest constantly reminded our congregation every Sunday of the Church's official position on the whole pre-marital sex issue. Truth be told, maybe I wasn't the best Catholic around and lacked faith—according to Jakob—but I did try to be good most of the time.

  Finally the embarrassing Q&A ended. I left the coffee shop as I tried to silence the shrill voice in my head telling me I should stay home for the little time I had left to live. If . . . when I got sick in Europe, I'd be in serious trouble. What if I was too ill to make my way back home before Jakob could heal me? What if he was using me to cure him, and then he'd dump me, his own cure for me just a lie, a ruse?

  After all, just how trustworthy were vampires supposed to be?

  So much for the voice of reason. The next day, I said my goodbyes at the clinic and left on a sabbatical of sorts, claiming I was going on a genealogical trip to Europe. Everyone was nice enough to pretend I wasn't dying. There was even chocolate cake! And, due to my excellent attendance record—not one sick day in almost five years; irony pretty much rules my life—Dr. Kaleekal, the blood clinic manager, promised to hold my job. As if I'd ever return to work.

  Even though it was against Jakob's rules, I mailed Mom and Dad a goodbye note telling them I was leaving to do some traveling, I loved them, and I'd miss them. I didn't say where I was going, since I didn't even know myself. And, of course, I didn't mention Jakob or the kooky I'm-Gonna-Be-Saved-By-A-Vampire project.

  Then I left my old life behind.