Blood Song

by Lynda Hilburn

Other books by Lynda Hilburn

  All available to buy: https://www.lyndahilburnauthor.com/books.html

  Kismet Knight, Vampire Psychologist series (in order):

  Devereux: The Night Before Kismet

  The Vampire Shrink

  Until Death Do Us Part

  Sex in a Coffin

  Blood Therapy

  Other paranormal tales:

  Diary of a Narcissistic Bloodsucker

  Undead in the City

  Vampires! A Bundle of Bloodsuckers

  Blood Song

  Dream Vampire (by Lauren J. Hunter)

  Read on for a sample from:

  Blood Therapy

  and

  The Vampire Shrink

  Blood Therapy

  Book #2: Kismet Knight, Vampire Psychologist series

  Reaching out to an old friend...

  A half-hour later I sat at my desk, drinking coffee, and eating a banana-nut muffin, while I fired up my laptop.

  Since I was willing to do anything that might help my situation, I’d put the diamond cross back on after my shower, along with the pentagram necklace. I should have felt relatively safe because the sun was out, but I no longer had any pretense of thinking I knew what was, or wasn’t, possible in the world of the vampires.

  I toyed with the cross, grabbed my phone, called Alan’s cell, and went to voice mail.

  “Hey, Alan. It’s Kismet. I need to talk to you. Please call me back as soon as you can. It’s important. You have all my numbers. Bye.”

  Last we’d spoken, he was still in Sedona following Lucifer’s trail of drained bodies, while at the same time continuing his search for his mother – his mother the vampire. On Halloween, he’d told me his childhood story of her disappearance. He’d never gotten over her abandonment and had become a forensic psychologist, joined the FBI and devoted himself to exploring the strange and unusual in hopes of catching another glimpse of her.

  “Come on, Alan. Call me,” I said to the silent phone. “Where are all my alleged abilities when I need them? Seems like I ought to be able to contact you psychically. Well, hey, let’s give that a try.” I held my hands out, palms up, adopting what I thought might be a mystical pose, and said, “Ohm, ohm. Alan! Ohm, ohm. Call me now!”

  I’d just taken a breath to laugh at myself when the phone rang. I jumped in my chair.

  “Hot damn!” I read the caller ID screen and saw Alan’s name. I scooped up the phone and answered. “Alan? Is that you?”

  “The one and only.”

  “You got my message?”

  “Message? No. I haven’t had time to check my voice mail today. I was out all night riding with some cops, and just got up a while ago. Now I’m sitting in a coffee shop, updating my notes, and I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to call you. Weird, eh?”

  Actually, it’s excellent. Maybe I finally have a reliable skill!

  “Yeah, weird. But I’m glad you called. Do you have a few minutes? What time is it there in Sedona?”

  “As of two days ago, I’m no longer in Sedona.” A small crash echoed through the phone. “Shit!”

  “What was that?” I took a bite of muffin.

  “I just managed to spill my coffee on myself and drop the mug on the tile floor. That was the clatter you heard. What a mess. Hold on...”

  “Do you need more napkins, sir?” a young-sounding voice said in the background.

  “No. I’m good, thanks.”

  “Would you like a coffee refill?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Alan?”

  “Yeah, I’m here – looking like I wet myself – but I’m here.” His mouth shifted away from the phone. “Thanks, I’ll try to hang on to this one.” He cleared his throat. “So, like I said, I left Sedona. A few days ago I started hearing rumblings about activities in San Francisco that sounded like our repulsive, bald, toothsome friend so I hit the road. I’m now staring out across the water at the notorious Alcatraz, and thinking life doesn’t get much better than this.”

  “San Francisco? I just saw something about serial killers there. Are you involved with that, too?”

  “No. I heard about it, but nobody’s said anything. I’ve got my hands full with Stink Vamp and the six deaths I’m sure he’s involved with, and as psychologically interesting as it would be to chase some version of Hannibal Lecter, I can only handle one fiend at a time. Of course none of the locals have put the pieces together about the six drained bodies yet, so I’m the only one who knows that there’s a supernatural angle.”

  “Well, as awful as this sounds, if you have to track him somewhere, I can’t imagine a more beautiful city.”

  “Yeah, it’s great. I’ve spent a lot of time here over the years. And let me remind you that you have a standing invitation to come and visit, wherever I am. I’d be glad to show you the town.” He laughed. “And the inside of my comfortable hotel room. We could tour this side of the bed, then that side, then the table in the corner...”

  Nope. Let’s not go there.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Okay. What’s up? You didn’t give me any grief for the hotel room remark. Is something wrong? What was your message about?”

  “I saw Lucifer.”

  “What do you mean?” The easy banter ended. His voice acquired a serious edge. “Where did you see him? My undead intel is pretty solid that he’s primarily killing on the West Coast.”

  I took a sip of my coffee to give myself time to decide what I wanted to say.

  “I’m sure you’re right. We both know vampires can be on the other side of the world or in another century from one moment to the next. There’s really no way for humans to track them.”

  “So, where was he?”

  “In Aspen. I went to a vampire wedding with Devereux last night, and Lucifer showed up in time to ruin the nuptials. It was bad enough that he was even there. But he seemed to focus on me. He stared and pointed before Devereux took off after him and both of them disappeared. Of course, he stank – engulfed in his usual horrible rotting-corpse, sewer-from-hell odor. I smelled him a few nanoseconds before I saw him. But just because he was there doesn’t tell us anything about where he is now.”

  It felt so good to be able to talk to someone who knew.

  “Yeah, you’re right about that. You said the last time we talked that you’re still getting voice mail messages from the Brother Luther part of the maniac’s personality. Is he still calling?” Another crash. “Turds! What the hell is up with me today? I just dropped my bagel plate. Damn tiny tables. I’m going to gather my stuff and walk back to the hotel room. Don’t hang up. So, about the messages...”

  “Uh, huh. He calls at least once per day. Same tirades as before. I’m going to burn in hell, satan’s whore, I’ll be punished, washed in the blood – same demented song. Sometimes he just sobs and says help me, help me, over and over. But I guess that’s the child part. I wonder if there are only three personalities, or if we’re in for additional surprises?”

  A door slammed.

  “All right. I’m back in my room. With my luck an earthquake will shove California into the ocean today, and I can’t swim. Hey, do you know what Skype is?”

  “Sure. I use it to meet with clients who can’t come to the office.”

  “Cool. I’m all set up for it, too. Why don’t we connect face-to-face, so to speak? I’ve turned on my computer and now I’m adding you to my contacts.”

  “Okay.” I put on my headphone microphone and made sure the camera was working. “I’m ready.”

  Alan’s smiling face popped onto my computer screen. Behind him was a nondescript tan motel wall with a colorful oil painting of downtown San Francisco. “Hello there, gorgeous.” He waved his fingers.

  “Hi, Alan. Nice to see you.” And it was. His eyes, always some variation of bluish-purple, or purple-blue, really stood out today against his faded tan, messy brown hair and five o’clock shadow. “You look a little
tired.”

  “Yeah. It’s been a rough few days. You, on the other hand, look great. So, picking up where we left off,” he frowned, “is this the first time you’ve seen Lucifer? You haven’t told me that he’s shown up before.”

  “Uh-huh.” I sipped from my coffee cup. “This was the first time. I hadn’t gotten complacent about him – I know he can materialize anytime he wants to. I’ve also thought I smelled him a couple of times. But I can’t stay in a constant state of terror. My heart can’t take it. I’ll stroke out or something.” I adjusted my microphone. “It’s not like I have anywhere to run to. I’ve been wearing the protective necklace Devereux gave me, and I know he has some of his vampires watching me. Maybe even some humans during the day. Normally that would annoy me, but anything that keeps the boogieman away is all right with me. Not being able to find Lucifer has really pissed Devereux off.”

  “What do you mean he can’t find him?” He glanced down at the coffee stain on his white T-shirt. “Isn’t that impossible? From what I hear, Devereux’s like the vampire Pope – infallible.”

  “Apparently not. He hasn’t talked to me about it, but one of his vampire friends said the entire community has been shocked by him being bested by Lucifer at the Vampires’ Ball on Halloween. I don’t think anything has ever rocked Devereux’s confidence like this. He’s been very moody. Angry. Gone a lot. Searching for Lucifer without any success.”

  “Really?” He moved closer to the camera. “That’s too bizarre. According to the vampire grapevine, Devereux’s the biggest badass around.”

  “Well, judging by what I’ve been hearing, there’s definitely a dent in his badass reputation. Vampires are saying awful things about him. I actually heard one guy at the party call Devereux a sissy. Which, now that I think about it, seems like a pretty sissy word for a vampire to use. And I’ll bet Devereux is trying to keep a stiff upper lip through this whole thing. No wonder he’s acting strange.”

  “Wow. That doesn’t bode well for the vampire community, since Devereux keeps them in check.” He paused. “Something else is going on here. You sound weird today. You’re not yourself, either. What’s up? Are you two still an item?”

  The Vampire Shrink

  Vampire in the Waiting Room...

  I met with a few more clients that afternoon and early evening and had just kicked off my shoes when I heard the door to the reception area open. I quickly scanned my appointment book to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anyone. Finding I hadn’t, I put my shoes back on and opened my office door.

  Sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting room was the very same gorgeous, blond-haired, leather-clad man I’d seen outside my building and in Midnight’s drawing.

  My stomach lurched and I think I gasped out loud.

  He stood when I opened the door and it was fluid motion, as if he had simply willed himself vertical. His body was all lean muscle radiating some kind of primal power. He moved elegantly over to me and gave a slight bow of his head. He offered the kind of smile that made my Inner Nerd want to fan herself and hide in the closet.

  Dressed in black, his snug leather pants, form-fitting silk T-shirt, and long leather duster gave the impression of high fashion rather than Harley-Davidsons.

  I froze in the doorway with my mouth hanging open, speechless, staring into the most amazing pair of turquoise eyes I’d ever seen.

  He picked up my hand gently and kissed the back, his lips soft and silky. “I am Devereux. Is this a good time for an appointment?”

  So many emotions slammed against each other inside me that I didn’t know which one to act on first. Fear decided to step to the front of the line and my mind began to weigh options in case the man physically attacked me. He didn’t seem menacing at the moment, but he was much bigger and stronger than me, and I hadn’t spent nearly enough time in the gym. Hell, I hadn’t spent any. Obviously, he had.

  My heart raced and I still hadn’t formed a coherent sentence or done anything beyond stare at him like a zombie. What was happening to me? My eyelids felt as though they were coated with cement, my jaw sagged open, the air suddenly became thick, and a sumo wrestler was pounding on my chest. The normal background white noise acquired a sharp edge and turned into a persistent buzz, vibrating in my ears. I felt as if I was in some kind of trance.

  “I am very sorry.” He took a step back from me and released my hand. “I have frightened you. That was never my intention – sometimes I forget how intense we can be. You must be a keenly sensitive individual. I will endeavor to control myself. Please accept my sincere apologies.”

  You will endeavor to control yourself? I’m the one having the meltdown here.

  He lowered his gaze for a moment, and when he met my eyes again, the tension drained from my muscles and I could breathe. It felt as though a switch had been thrown and I was once again in charge of my bodily functions. I could still hear the hum in my ears, but it had diminished in volume. I ran my tongue over my very dry lips.

  “You did startle me. I wasn’t expecting anyone this evening.”

  “Again, my sincere apologies.”

  Both times I’d seen this man, he’d caused my anxiety levels to blast through the roof. I wanted to scream at him that it was absolutely not acceptable he’d come unannounced to my office, and that his habit of lurking around me was going to earn him a trip to the police station. He was altogether too sure of himself. I wanted him to know he couldn’t just stroll in and expect me to drop everything and attend to him. No matter how gorgeous he was.

  Instead, I swallowed the irritation, opted for whatever remnants of professional demeanor I could summon, and said, “Well, Mr. Devereux, why are you here?”

  “Just Devereux.” He cocked his head and flashed that godlike smile again. “As I mentioned a moment ago, I had hoped this would be a good time for our appointment. I trust Midnight told you I wished to meet with you?”

  His voice was unusually pleasant. The timbre of it flowed through me like a favorite song, as if I were listening to him with my entire body. He had a lilting European accent, sounding almost old-fashioned, like he’d stepped out of another century. Strange how a voice could be so enticing.

  I closed my eyes and sniffed the air. What was that wonderful aroma? It seemed to hover around him like an olfactory aura. Maybe he used a special kind of soap or shampoo, something spicy and masculine and unusual.

  He brushed a finger lightly along my arm. “Dr. Knight?”

  My eyes flew open and I realized I’d been standing there, blatantly reveling in his scent, making sniffing noises. How embarrassing. What the hell is wrong with me? Come on, Kismet. Talking has always been your strong suit. Just one word at a time. Concentrate.

  “Yes.” I cleared my throat. “She did mention that you might call to set up an appointment. Would you care to schedule one for later this week?” I inhaled a deep breath and tried to remain professional.

  I was so nervous my stomach contracted, my hands were sweating, and my knee twitched. I’d always had a fear of small spaces, and something about this situation gave me that same closed-in panicky feeling. He had done nothing obvious to make me afraid, but my entire body felt as if it was waiting for some other shoe to drop. He radiated danger. Almost raw power.

  “Would it be terribly inconvenient for us to meet now, since I am here?”

  That voice. Maybe he was a hypnotist and he knew how to use it to put people under. It was so soothing, I could stand there and listen to it all night.

  I felt myself sliding down that slippery slope again and rallied. I needed to get this guy out of my office before I made a complete fool of myself.

  If I’d known I was going to have a mental breakdown today, I’d have penciled it into my appointment book.

  “I was just leaving. It would be much better if we could schedule another time –”

  He reclaimed the step he’d given up and stated, as if the outcome was already a foregone conclusion, “I would appreciate very much the opportunity
to speak with you about Midnight. I am concerned about her.”

  Through the cotton candy that had taken up residence in my brain, the voice in my head screamed NO! but my mouth said, “I guess I could give you a few minutes. Please come inside.”

  Please come inside? Hey, wait a minute – that isn’t what I meant to say. Where’d that come from?

  I backed away from the door, drawing it open so he could enter, leaving it ajar so he wouldn’t be encouraged to make himself too comfortable.

  I was about to invite him to sit down when I noticed he’d already seated himself in the chair I normally used. I realized he had no way of knowing that was “my” chair, but it still annoyed me.

  “Would you mind filling out a little paperwork for me?” Force of habit had me handing him a packet of papers on a clipboard.

  He took it. “My pleasure.”

  I sat across from him and studied him while he wrote. His hands were artistic-looking, with recently manicured nails trimmed close. He had very pale skin with a lovely translucent sheen to it, which gave him an ageless quality. It wasn’t often that I encountered someone with skin lighter than mine. His bone structure brought to mind the word chiseled. Perfect features. Almost too perfect.

  Midnight was right: his eyes were extraordinary. They were indeed aqua and beautifully shaped with long, dark eyelashes. I was surprised that his eyebrows and eyelashes were dark because his hair was so light, but the combination was very appealing.

  His thick, lovely hair flowed down over his shoulders to mid-chest. It looked soft and silky and very touchable. And his mouth... Studying his soft, full, generous lips caused a visceral reaction in me. I imagined the feel of them against mine.

  What the hell? Take a breath, Kismet. You’re in your office. This is a professional situation. Have you lost your mind? What you’re imagining is beyond inappropriate. Stop daydreaming about what you want to do to those lips and pay attention.

  As I raised my gaze from his mouth to his eyes, I found him watching me with an amused expression, apparently finished with the paperwork. Embarrassment warmed my face as I reached for the clipboard. For some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off him long enough to even glance at the forms he’d filled out.

  Why am I acting so weird?

  I took a slow breath and struggled to regain control of myself. “What concerns you about Midnight?”

  “Before we speak of that, would you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Well, you can ask. I can’t promise I’ll answer.”

  “Do you believe in vampires?”

  “What?” Surprise radiated up my spine and I stiffened in my chair. The buzzing in my ears got louder and I was suddenly very thirsty.

  He toyed with a beautiful antique medallion on a chain around his neck. “Do you believe what Midnight has been telling you?”

  Okay. Maybe he has a suggestion about how to help Midnight move beyond her vampire fantasy. He might be crazy, but maybe he can help.

  To steady myself, I stood and walked over to the small refrigerator in the corner of the room and selected two bottles of water. I set one of them in front of Devereux, opened the other for myself, took my seat, and drank deeply.

  Breathe. Just breathe. This can’t be hot flashes. I’m too young.

  “I can’t discuss anything that Midnight may or may not have talked to me about – it’s all confidential. But generally speaking, I can tell you that I’ve never seen any evidence to support the existence of vampires or any other supernatural beings.”

  “Ah.” The corners of his lips quirked up. “You are a scientist. Do you wish to see evidence?”

  I was getting that claustrophobic feeling again. Maybe this handsome man really was a nutcase and I’d allowed myself to be distracted by his obvious assets instead of following my professional instincts. I switched into the noticeably calm voice I used to soothe disturbed clients. “Is it important to you that I believe in vampires?”

  He threw back his head and laughed with pure delight. “I have never been called insane in such a lovely way ever before. I can assure you that it is of no importance whatsoever to me if you believe in vampires or not, but I think the information could prove useful to you. What if I told you that everything Midnight has shared with you is absolutely true?”

  Oh, geez. He’s a loon.

  “Since we can’t talk about anything Midnight might have said, I can only suggest that you tell me directly what you want me to know.”

  “I am a vampire.”

  Lynda Hilburn

  Lynda Hilburn writes paranormal fiction. More specifically, she writes books about vampires, ghosts, psychics, wizards and witches. After a childhood filled with invisible friends, sightings of dead relatives and a fascination with the occult, turning to the paranormal was a no-brainer. In her other reality, she makes her living as a licensed psychotherapist, hypnotherapist, professional psychic/tarot reader, university instructor and workshop presenter. Her first novel, “The Vampire Shrink” – which introduced us to Denver Psychologist Kismet Knight and a hidden vampire underworld – was released by Quercus/Jo Fletcher Books UK and Sterling Publishing, 2011. The second book in the series, “Blood Therapy,” released September, 2012 in the UK and February, 2013 in the USA. The third book, “Crimson Psyche,” will be published in 2014. Several more books are planned. Her short story, “Blood Song,” is part of the “Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance” anthology, April, 2009. For more information, visit Lynda’s website: www.lyndahilburnauthor.com

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