Crimson Psyche

by Lynda Hilburn

  I couldn’t help but smile: a gorgeous vulnerable, sad fallen angel was just too much for my Inner Therapist to ignore. I had asked him early on to explain why he was so stuck in the past, why he spoke with such a heavy accent, and used antiquated words. He told me he’d always preferred the past until he met me and had spent most of his time there. I thought he was talking about reliving memories, but he meant it literally. He said it was a matter of splitting his attention — of holding aspects of himself in both times and places. Uh-huh. Right. I added that to my list of things to figure out later. Soon I’d need a degree in Quantum Physics to be able to understand him.

  “Okay, oh, great and all-knowing Master, let’s kiss and make up. We’ll agree that I won’t psychoanalyze you and you won’t coerce me. Do we have a deal?”

  He lifted my hand and kissed the palm, his shining aqua eyes gazing at me from beneath long dark eyelashes. “We do, indeed.” A devilish grin slid across his lips and he leaned forward, pushing me back against the bed with his motion.

  I laughed and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close for a deep kiss. In the midst of appreciating the little lust fires breaking out all over my body, I heard a husky voice in my mind.

  “Dr. Knight. I had no idea you were so... passionate. What a conquest you will make.”

  What? That’s impossible. Vampires can’t access my consciousness any more. I froze in mid-writhe, reeled in the tongue I’d been exploring Devereux’s tonsils with and said against his mouth, “Conquest? Hallow?”

  Devereux jerked up and stared at me, a horrified expression on his face.

  “Why did you just say “Hallow” — are you talking about Lyren Hallow? How do you know the Slayer? What conquest?”

  My head spinning, disoriented, I mumbled, “Oh, yeah, I was supposed to tell you — I can’t believe I forgot... A day-walking vampire named Lyren Hallow called the radio program I was on this morning and said he’d come to kill someone I know. He said he’d heard of me, and—”

  Devereux vanished.

  Chapter 5

  “— wanted to meet me. Hey! What the hell?”

  I rolled off of the bed and walked from one side to the other, lifting the corners of the bedding to peek underneath, although of course I knew that was stupid, that Devereux wouldn’t be there. But I couldn’t stop myself from searching. I had to do something. After a few seconds, I stood naked in the center of the room, hands on my hips, scowling.

  He’d done lots of popping in and out since I’d known him, but he’d never simply vanished when I was in the middle of a sentence. How rude! Then I laughed at myself: as if vampires ever worried about impressing Miss Manners.

  His clothes were still on the floor where he’d left them, which meant — wherever he was — he was nude. I chuckled out loud, thinking about him showing up somewhere in the altogether. He must have been really upset about Lyren Hallow to suddenly blink out like that. It was rare for him to have such a strong reaction to another vampire.

  The edgy voice in my head a few moments ago had caused the same fuzzy reaction as it had during the radio program. The unusual tone of his voice had an oddly intoxicating effect on me, even more so than the vampire voices I was used to, and it was only after the fact that I felt creeped out by my uninvited visitor. I hadn’t been in any hurry to show him the door while he was slithering around inside my brain. So what did it mean, that a vampire could invade my mind anytime he wished, despite the protections I’d been given?

  “And what did he mean by conquest?” I asked nobody.

  Devereux popped back into the room a few inches in front of me. “He meant exactly what he said.” He collected his clothes and began dressing. “You should have told me immediately that you had been contacted by that madman and I would have taken steps earlier to protect you. I have been so distracted by having to mediate in a feud between two vampire covens that I did not realize Hallow had arrived during my absence, although I am certain he planned it that way. But that cannot be helped. I have made arrangements for you to move into my penthouse. We will go to your place first to gather clothing and supplies. You may return to your home when Hallow has been dealt with.”

  He bent down and retrieved my dress from the floor. “Here, put this on while I find your shoes.”

  Fetch. Heel. Roll over. Play dead.

  I took the dress, stomped to the bed and sat. Here he was, doing it again: proclaiming yet another crisis I needed to be protected from, exactly like the two thousand previous dramas that had turned out to be much ado about nothing.

  “Ignore him,” said the disturbing voice in my mind. “He is trying to control you again.”

  Huh?

  Devereux picked up my shoes and walked toward me. “Kismet, you are not dressed. What are you waiting for?”

  “I’m waiting for the courtesy of some answers,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “What was it you were saying earlier about not wanting to bully me? What do you call this?”

  An arrogant expression on his perfect face, he made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “We have no time for this now. It is important that you be somewhere safe, somewhere I can watch over you.”

  Imprison me, you mean. If I’m not careful, you’ll stick me in one of those old dungeons underneath the Crypt — entirely for my own good, of course. No way do you get to flick me off so easily.

  “Well, make time, your Majesty, because I’m not going anywhere,” I said with a strained voice, struggling to hold back a sudden tidal wave of anger. When had I lost control of my life so completely? I’d obviously been too accommodating. “Who is Lyren Hallow, and why is he such a big deal?” I demanded. “You called him the Slayer. What did you mean by that?”

  He glared at me, his own anger spiking. “You need to stop being unreasonable. I will tell you everything as soon as we are in my penthouse where there are magical protections in addition to vampire security. This is no time for you to misbehave.”

  My jaw dropped. “Excuse me? Misbehave?” My voice acquired banshee overtones. “You’re treating me like a naughty child again. Being older than dirt doesn’t give you the right to be condescending.” I redoubled my concentration on the hum, even though it hadn’t kept Hallow from intruding, and forced myself to calm.

  Devereux opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind, and sighed impatiently. “Please, put on your dress and shoes. I do not wish to transport you naked, but I will if necessary.”

  Okay, he’s still bossy, but at least he didn’t just zap us out of the room whether I liked it or not. Is that progress?

  I simmered, studying him for a moment, trying to figure out why he was so spooked. It would’ve been easy for me to launch into the next verse of our familiar song about his domineering attitude, but the expression on his face, his taut body language and the anxiety rolling off him in waves made it clear I wasn’t going to win this one.

  “Okay,” I said, sliding my dress over my head, “I’ll let you take me to my townhouse, since that was my destination anyway, but when we get there, we’re going to talk.”

  He gave a quick nod, then without even waiting for me to put my shoes on, he wrapped his arm around my waist and we rode the vampire express.

  We materialized in my living room and I swayed gently when he let go. It usually took me a moment to become steady on my legs. The experience reminded me of roller-skating when I was a kid: after wearing the skates for so many hours, navigating flat surfaces always felt weird. My depth-perception was out of whack now, my eyesight fuzzy.

  I padded over to the couch and flopped onto the cushions.

  Devereux followed me and gave me an annoyed glare. “What are you doing? You should be gathering your clothing. We must go to my penthouse.”

  I pasted on my best bland expression and spoke conversationally, trying hard to keep my inner she-beastie caged. “I told you. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on. You’ve got to admit that you’ve declared several emergenci
es in the short time I’ve known you, and all of them — since you disposed of Lucifer — were false alarms.”

  He opened his mouth, but I held up a finger.

  “For example, what about the time you woke me in the middle of the night, insisting I was in danger from one of your ex-lovers who happens to be a real Goddess? You said she threatened to set me on fire—”

  “Yes, I was given that information on good authority. Maeve is mentally unstable. I have seen what she has done to rivals in the past—”

  “But she didn’t do anything to me. And then shortly thereafter you stuck me in a sub-basement of the Crypt because you heard a rumor about a nonexistent vampire uprising. Or later, when you burst in on one of my evening therapy sessions, insisting the client in question was about to kidnap me so he could ask for a huge ransom.”

  He continued to glare.

  “Isn’t that true?” I stared up at him expectantly. “Or the time you hid me under the Eiffel Tower—”

  “The number of averted crises is irrelevant. All that matters is that you were safe.”

  “There were no crises to avert, and you know it. Every time, I argued that there was no cause for concern, but you wouldn’t listen. Admit it, you overreacted.”

  “I admit no such thing.” His chin jutted into the air.

  “You are essentially teaching me not to take you seriously.”

  “What? Do not be ridiculous — you must take me seriously. This situation is different.”

  “Yeah, that’s what you always say.” I patted the couch beside me. “Why does this Lyren Hallow upset you? Who is he? You might as well sit down and tell me, because nothing else is going to happen until you do.”

  He scorched me with his gaze for a few seconds, then raised one perfect eyebrow, sighed theatrically and sat next to me.

  “Well, maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks.” I grinned.

  “Dog?”

  “Never mind.” I imitated the dismissive gesture he’d used earlier. “Tell me about Lyren Hallow.”

  He held up his hand, palm toward me, his voice cold. “You must stop saying his name. In the magical world, speaking someone’s name is an invitation. It is especially important for you not to call him, since he has already accessed your thoughts and influenced your behavior, despite your reinforcements. You must discipline yourself to avoid even thinking it.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Nothing’s wrong with my behavior. This is my normal reaction to your bullying.”

  “Is that so, Doctor? You would not say your tone of voice is irregular?”

  “Hell, no!” I said, too loudly.

  “See what I mean? That is not your usual manner of speaking.”

  “Bullshit. Wouldn’t I know if I was behaving differently?”

  “Really? Were you aware of my effect on you when we first met last October? Did you realize that your heightened interest in sex and your increased awareness of men in general were caused by dormant desires I had awakened in you? At the time, you said you found yourself attracted to several men — in fact, you judged yourself harshly because of it.”

  “Are you saying you did something to me?” My fists clenched. “You caused my reactions?”

  “Yes, but not intentionally. I simply enhanced your... repressed... sexuality.”

  I had thought it was odd that I attracted so much male attention back then, and he was right about me being repressed, so I couldn’t really take issue with what he was saying. But how irritating that he hadn’t told me then — and how arrogant.

  “You could’ve said something, you know, instead of letting me beat myself up about it.”

  “Yes.” He shrugged. “I suppose I should have, but there has never been an appropriate moment.”

  My heart pounded. “Never an appropriate moment?” The pitch of my voice rose. Inhaling deeply, I took a few seconds to talk myself down from the rage cliff. “But you have plenty of time to warn me about this hunter guy? And why can he read my mind? I thought I was protected. That was the whole point of drinking the horrible blood smoothie Zephyr gave me.” I shuddered at the memory of the taste.

  Devereux closed his eyes for a few seconds, probably mentally counting to ten, or whatever vampires did to soothe themselves, then he refocused on me. “This individual is the oldest vampire on the planet, so old that I cannot even imagine the mind of such a creature. Something happens when one lives so extraordinarily long. A change occurs and time itself begins to distort the neurons, causing a stronger reliance on the old brain — the primitive mechanisms.”

  A tingle ran through me as I suddenly remembered what Dracul had said about there being another immortal much more powerful than he: his maker. Holy shit. My stomach clinched. A brain-damaged, nuclear-grade bloodsucker running loose, and focused on me. Could things get any worse? “Oldest vampire in the world?” I whispered.

  “As far as we know.”

  “What’s he doing here?” I asked.

  “Hunting, just as he said.”

  “You communicated with Victoria?” Did he contact her in his mind, or make an impromptu naked visit? She’s probably used to that.

  “Yes, we spoke mentally. She is amazingly good at cutting through vampire lies and deceit.”

  “Tell me about him.” I knew that sounded like a therapy line, but I really wanted to know why everyone was so nervous about this particular immortal.

  Devereux gathered my hand into his. Lecturing always calmed him. “Humans are predators, of course, and vampires even more so. In this ancient’s case, the rapacious instinct has been heightened beyond all known limits. The thinking part of his brain continues to evolve and expand, but it is governed by a dark, evil nature. He is, in essence, the perfect killing machine, but as the centuries wear on, he has become more violently sadistic. Merely destroying his human food no longer satisfies him. He requires ever-greater stimulus, and takes particular pleasure in torture and misery, so he has switched to butchering his own kind. To all intents and purposes, he is no longer a vampire, for he has mutated into something unknown: a malevolent other. He has a stable of female slaves to serve his needs, and he adds to it frequently.”

  He paused briefly before speaking, his eyes blazing murderously. “I believe he plans to add you.”

  My mouth fell open and goose bumps crawled up my arms. Will this frickin’ nightmare never end? Is every deranged bad guy in the universe after me?

  I reclaimed my hand and hugged myself to ward off the psychic chill. “Add me? Why would you think that? Hal— That guy hasn’t even seen me. What possible reason could he have for wanting me? Is it because of you?”

  “Perhaps partially, but you should not underestimate your notoriety in the vampire world. You are well known and it is quite possible that he is simply curious about you. Taking you from me would be icing on the cake, as they say. He might see you as a toy, a temporary distraction. Of course, by the time he finished with you, there would not be much of you left.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my mouth dry. I was afraid I already knew more than I wanted to.

  “I have seen the empty shells of the women Hallow leaves in his wake.” Devereux jumped up and started pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. “Their minds are useless and their bodies wasted. They have described their captivity in ways that sound like human heroin addiction: euphoria, pleasure beyond belief, followed by an aching need that never ends. Apparently, he can create such ecstasy that his victims would rather die than leave him. Inevitably, their bodies deteriorate as he depletes their life-force and thrusts them into madness.” He returned to the couch, his expression solemn. “That is why I became so upset when you said his name.” He tipped his head in a slow bow. “I apologize if I resorted to caveman tactics.”

  I squeezed his hand and gazed into his eyes. “Apology accepted. So, let’s say the energy sucker does intend to add me to his harem. Are you seriously suggesting that I hide out in your penthouse indefinitely? That I
never leave the building?” I spoke playfully, because of course it was beyond the realm of possibility that Devereux would propose something so unacceptably ludicrous.

  “Yes,” he said eagerly, “you understand! That is the only way for you to remain safe. Your office is only an elevator ride away, so there is no real reason for you to go anywhere else. I do not wish to curtail your freedom, but you see that it is necessary, and I must insist that you follow my guidance.”

  “Oh, my,” the strange intruding voice said in my head. “The lad has really stepped in it now. I’d be angry if I were you.”

  Damn right!

  “You must insist?” I clenched my hands in my lap and scowled. “So, you’re only willing to restrain your chest-beating instincts when it suits you? You really don’t see me as an individual at all, do you? Someone with her own goals and needs and desires? No. You see me only as some fated extension of yourself. What about all the other times you forced me to rearrange my life and my work because you thought I was in danger? Nothing bad ever happened, did it? So why should I listen now? How do I know this isn’t just another excuse for you to stroke your ego? Do you know for a fact that he’s interested in me? Nope, sorry. You’re just crying wolf — again. I won’t allow anyone to make my decisions for me.”

  I leapt up from the couch and stomped around the room. Devereux followed, then stepped in front of me. He grabbed my upper arms and tried to give me a shot of vampire voodoo with his eyes.

  “It is distressing that you cannot see how unlike yourself you are right now. But I am willing for you to be angry with me if it means you will remain unharmed,” he said, sounding calm and rational. “And even if I were ‘crying wolf,’ which I am not, I could live with that. We can return for your things later. I am taking you to safety now.”

  His gaze no longer produced the usual hazy, entranced feeling it used to. Instead, it sharpened my awareness of my anger, which felt pretty good.

  He slid his arm around my waist and I twisted away, pulling him off-balance. The shock on his face was almost comical and I laughed out loud. The Master wasn’t used to disobedience!