Crimson Psyche

by Lynda Hilburn

  Stress is an amazing thing: all that adrenaline pumping and cortisol surging.

  He reached for me again and I pivoted, shoving him with my hip. He growled and lunged and we performed a sweaty little grapple for a frantic few seconds. He tried to hold onto me without hurting me while I struggled to get away. I don’t know how we remained on our feet. At one point we each had handfuls of the other’s hair, and lots of snorting and grunting ensued.

  “Ahem.” Luna, Devereux’s hostile femme fatale assistant stood a couple of feet away, sneering. She had a habit of showing up unannounced and uninvited.

  “Forgive me for interrupting your disgusting little mating ritual, but the Master is needed. The truce between the covens has been breached and they’re at each other’s throats again. If you don’t mind, I’ll just go and stake myself now, which is the only way I’ll be able to rid myself of the grotesque scene I just witnessed, since it’s burned into my brain.” She vanished.

  Devereux disentangled himself from me, straightened his clothing and patted down his hair. I leaned forward, braced my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath.

  Wow — my visits to the gym have really paid off. I’ve got muscles!

  “We will follow Luna,” Devereux proclaimed, and he slid his arm around my waist again, preparing to transport us to his penthouse.

  “No!” I wanted to stay put and appreciate my new strength.

  Of course, he paid no attention. Then something strange happened. There was the usual hair-raising sensation always present when we blink from one place to another, but instead of landing in Devereux’s elegant living quarters, there was an itchy, tingling, pulling along my back, and then we were standing in my living room again.

  Whoa. I wasn’t an expert at undead transportation, but I didn’t think Devereux had planned that.

  “How did you do that?” he demanded, turning to glare at me.

  I’m sure I looked as confused as I felt. “Do what? I didn’t do anything.” Unless thinking I didn’t want to go and screaming No! counted — but why would it, since it never had before?

  He took a step back, his eyes distant and cold. “You forced us to return. How could you possibly know how to do that?” He growled low in his throat. “It was him. The situation is even worse than I feared. He has lent you his power, strengthened your mental and physical capacities, which were already amplified by the elders’ blood. He is not merely influencing you. He is controlling you.” He made an obvious effort to calm himself and stroked his hand over my arm. “You can rest assured that I will not allow him to interfere in this way. He will not be allowed to change you. But while I consider the best course of action, I would like you to come with me of your own free will. I can probably still force you to accompany me, but it would be highly unpleasant for both of us. Will you come?”

  I reached up and took his face in my hands, staring into his eyes. “Devereux, nobody is controlling me. You’re such a worrier. I know you want to protect me, and your actions are well-meaning. You don’t think I can take care of myself, and you’re probably right that I have a lot to learn about your world. But how will I ever learn about this twisted reality if you don’t let me make my own mistakes and explore my abilities in my own way? If you try to hold me captive, even kindly, I’ll come to resent you, and neither of us wants that. I need to stay here, in my own home, and make my own decisions, even if I screw up.”

  He wrapped his fingers around my wrists, brought my hands to his mouth and kissed one palm then the other.

  “For an intelligent woman, you are being incredibly obtuse.”

  My mouth opened and closed in indignation. In the middle of my inadvertent fish imitation, I tried to form a coherent sentence and failed. I pulled my hands away.

  Devereux stared down at me and I felt like a schoolgirl being reprimanded by the principal. “You have no idea what that lunatic can do, and instead of listening to me — someone who actually does know what the beast is capable of — you dig in your heels and resist. Your careless actions could cause both of us pain — or worse. Now, please, be the sensible woman I know you are and come with me.”

  “Being sensible is highly overrated.”

  Where did that come from? I didn’t mean to say that.

  I backed away and slammed into a strange vampire who’d just materialized behind me. The visitor didn’t even react to my stomping on his feet.

  Let’s see how many more vampires we can cram into this room.

  “Master, you are desperately needed. Things have taken a turn for the worse. They are calling for you.”

  Devereux snarled at the newcomer, “Yes, yes. Tell them I am on my way.”

  The messenger departed and I crossed my arms over my chest. My body language was clear: as far as I was concerned, the topic was closed. I needed a break.

  “This discussion is not over — far from it — but I must go. The conflict between the covens is fueled by those wishing to restore vampires to the top of the food chain again, who support Dracul’s campaign. No doubt you remember that issue was at the heart of the battle between us.”

  “How could I forget when he almost sucked me dry?” I hugged myself to ward off the sudden chill. “I thought the problem had ended with Dracul’s death.”

  “No. He created a growing cancer, so to speak, and as the leader of the opposition, I must intervene in person.”

  “Should I be surprised that you never mentioned a word to me about this continuing threat to mortals? What about your promise to tell me more about the preternatural world, to keep me in the loop?”

  “I tell you what you need to know.”

  “He doesn’t treat you like an equal at all, does he?” the now-familiar voice whispered in my head.

  No, he doesn’t.

  “I see. So you determine what I need to know.”

  “Let us not speak of this now. I must subdue the troublemakers. At least promise me that you will remain indoors tonight.”

  I smiled, promising nothing, and he grumbled something harsh-sounding in the strange language — Druidic? — he sometimes used. “The Slayer has made you incapable of rational thought, so I will take matters into my own hands. Like it or not, you will be protected.”

  He disappeared.

  Devereux’s suffocating behavior had gotten to the point that I had to take a stand, even if it seemed self-destructive, stubborn and stupid. I couldn’t continue to hide behind him. It had been my decision to involve myself in the vampire and vampire wannabe worlds, so there was no point in cowering and playing the Damsel in Distress. I had to learn to take care of myself or I’d spend the rest of my life being a victim.

  Thinking about cowering made me remember my unnatural altercation with Devereux. Something was definitely different. I remembered eagerly holding up my end of the tussle, even taking a sadistic pleasure in grabbing handfuls of that platinum hair. My temper had slipped its leash and run amok, and that was new for me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, but I couldn’t deny I’d enjoyed the exhilaration.

  “Hell, yes! Kismet Knight, Ass Kicker!”

  After the flurry of chaos, being alone in my townhouse was odd. The silence pressed against my ears, and the lack of drama felt empty rather than peaceful. Had I become addicted to the soap operas of the bloodsucking world? Was I hooked on the neuro-chemical rollercoaster?

  With those disturbing thoughts in my mind, I wandered over to my desk and sat. Extensive paperwork was a staple of my chosen career. As I started to rummage through the insurance forms and consultation requests on my desk, I suddenly remembered I’d left my briefcase, containing my current client files, at my office.

  Did I want to drive back over there, or—

  Damn! My driver’s license was in my purse, which was also still at my office. Then another revelation rolled over me: driver’s license, hell! — my car was still there! I pounded my fist on the desktop and belted out a primal scream. Good thing my neighbors were in Mexico. I should’ve sto
pped thinking about Devereux’s hormone-kindling face and body long enough to gather up my personal belongings. “Crap!” I slapped the desk again. “I wish I could just think myself there. A few minutes ago it was Vampire Central Station. Where’s a vampire when you need one?”

  I could even envision exactly where I’d left my possessions.

  As soon as I pictured them in my mind, there was that familiar swoosh, and I found myself in my office. Or I should say, sprawled on the floor of my office. It was like somebody had opened a cosmic door, positioned a foot on my ass and pushed me inside.

  Stunned, I sat up and gazed around. I’d landed next to the desk where I’d left my purse and briefcase. Apparently, just imagining the place I wanted to be was all it took to get me there now. I patted myself down, making sure all of me had arrived and reassembled in the correct order.

  After I mentally scratched my head for a few seconds, I burst out laughing. Devereux was going to have a stroke when he found out. Well, maybe not a stroke, because one had to be alive for that, but he’d surely suffer some kind of undead affliction. The idea that his destined beloved had developed her own superpower and might be able to survive day-to-day without his constant intervention would be as welcome to him as a broken fang.

  When my laughter died down, I sobered. I’d just done something impossible, and the cautious part of me pursed her lips and shook a finger in my direction. She didn’t think this situation was funny at all, and she was very concerned about the source of these new skills. She thought I ought to contact Devereux immediately and tell him about this surprising development. She was worried.

  Whoa. This is getting crazy. She? Isn’t she me? I should definitely call Devereux.

  But apparently not all of me agreed. In the midst of the anxiety, another opinion forced its way into the discussion and I felt myself smile, almost as if my facial muscles had a mind of their own. Why tell Devereux anything? Yes, the pleasure of watching the shocked realization blossom across his face would be entertaining, and there was no mistaking how exciting his temper tantrums could be, but why tip my hand? Why share this radically unexpected turn of events? An unfamiliar confidence filled me.

  Okay. The fact that my new skill allegedly came from Hal— from the ancient vampire Devereux had mentioned — was unsettling news. That would be the part my blond Adonis would hate the most. Who knew how long my ticket for Air Vampire would last? Shouldn’t I keep this little bit of freedom to myself? I wasn’t thrilled about how I got this ability, but as long as I had it, shouldn’t I use it? Besides, there was a more immediate issue to deal with: I had to find out if traveling via thought was a one-shot deal, or if it had a longer shelf life. Could I get myself home the same way I came, and would I be able to take my briefcase and purse with me? Burning questions. But if I popped home, my car would still be parked in the underground parking of the office building, so shouldn’t I simply take the easiest path and drive home, just be a normal human? Boring but practical.

  That’s what I did.

  On the ride home, I fantasized about thought travel. As outrageous as it sounded, it really wasn’t any more outlandish than most aspects of modern quantum physics. In fact, Einstein had speculated about the possibility of that very thing, so it really wasn’t surprising that vampires could manipulate energy. What was really odd was the fact that vampires existed, period. Devereux had promised to tell me the story of the original vampire, but so far he’d changed the subject whenever I’d raised it. Another mystery?

  It also occurred to me that I’d forgotten to ask Devereux about the deaths Mr. Roth had mentioned. I made a mental note to find out what he knew.

  When I arrived home, my townhouse was as quiet and bloodsucker-free as I’d left it. I strolled into the kitchen, rummaged through the refrigerator and grabbed the least rancid leftover container of Chinese food, found a lone fork in the sink and leaned against the wall to eat. I glanced down at my lovely black dress, now crumpled, and covered in lint and dust. I groaned. A greasy fat noodle dangling on the end of the fork made a run for it down the front of the soft fabric. Perfect.

  I pitched the empty box, stashed the fork in the dishwasher and shuffled over to the staircase leading up to my bedroom. A hot shower would feel like heaven.

  I’d climbed just a few steps when the doorbell rang. In my pre-vampire life, someone coming to my door was a normal, natural thing, no cause for alarm, but since I’d fallen into this alternate universe, nighttime visitors could be extremely bad news, sometimes downright hazardous to my health.

  I tiptoed over to the door and eyeballed the peephole. Someone was definitely there, but I couldn’t make out who it was. I reached over and flipped on the porch light, then peeked again. A tall woman with a waterfall of white hair stood there, smiling and waving.

  Chapter 6

  “Maxie? What are you doing here? How did you get my address?” I was sure the frown in my voice matched the one on my face.

  I’d cracked my front door open enough to stick my head out, but I hadn’t invited her in. What the hell was a reporter doing on my doorstep?

  Her smile widened. “I can find anybody’s address — I’m a bit of a computer geek. Actually, yours was easy. Did you know that the American Psychological Association lists member contact information online? And it’s only protected by the flimsiest of passwords. It’s child’s play, really. Can I come in?” She didn’t try to hide the fact that she was inching her shoe into the door crack.

  I tightened my grip on the handle and shifted my hip against the door. “I don’t think so, Maxie. I’m tired, and I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do. Why don’t you call me tomorrow?”

  She stuck her lower lip out in a pout. “I’ve left you several messages today, Doc — remember? We’re going to the vampire staking? I gave you directions, but then the location was changed, so I left you another message, asking you to call me, but you didn’t, so I thought I’d better hightail it over here and see if anything was wrong. Just being a concerned citizen, ya know?”

  Maxie’s energy was intense, chaotic. My stomach tightened.

  When I continued to stare at her, she pulled her foot away from the door. “I’m sorry, Doc,” she said contritely, “I do tend to come on too strong sometimes. I just got back from interviewing a pedophile and I had to hammer him with every aggressive interrogation technique I could think of. He finally caved, and it wasn’t pretty. I guess I haven’t finished decompressing. I’ve been meaning to work on my polite social skills. It’s on my list.” She smiled and studied me. “Seriously, I do apologize. I’d kill for a glass of wine.”

  If she really had just come from such a horrible interview, I could understand why I was picking up so many mixed energy signals from her. I was probably even sensing the perpetrator’s residue as well. I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to ask her in for some wine. In fact, that sounded pretty good to me too.

  “A pedophile? That had to be one miserable interview.” I pulled the door open in invitation. “How can you do what you do?”

  She stepped inside and gave a melancholy smile. “I could ask you the same thing, Doc. You have to listen to shitty stuff all the time. Mostly I just talk to people who claim they were experimented on in a spaceship or who saw Bigfoot — just your standard flaky loons.”

  I laughed, thinking about some of my clients’ fanciful tales.

  “Sit down, relax.” I pointed to the couch. “I’ll get the wine. Which do you prefer? Red or white?”

  “Red.” She sat, and I noticed for the first time that she was dressed in black leather, quite a change from the jeans and football T-shirt she’d been wearing earlier. There was no mistaking the model’s body in those tight clothes. Interesting choice for a work outfit. I wondered if the creepy interviewee had been intimidated by all that leather. Maybe that was why she’d worn it: dominatrix reporter. I glanced down at my dress and discovered the noodle that had made a suicide leap off my fork had sealed itself to my left breast. Although I don’t us
ually pay much attention to fashion, I do generally make an effort not to wear my food. I suddenly felt insecure in my messy threads next to Maxie’s easy perfection.

  I peeled the pasta off my chest, poured the wine and brought the glasses to the couch.

  “I take it you’ve never been to a vampire staking before?” Maxie asked.

  “As I already told you,” I sat on the other end of the couch and gave her a blank face, “I have no intention of going. We both know it will just be a lot of goth children, vampire wannabes and the mentally ill. No purpose would be served by my attendance.” Plus, I’d really had it with people forcing their opinions, desires and expectations on me. This was as good a place as any to put my foot down. I prepared myself to argue with Maxie, waiting for her to lob the next sally over the net to try to convince me that she was a better judge of how I should spend my evening than I was.

  She sipped from her wineglass. “Can I level with you, Doc?”

  No! Please don’t. I’m off-duty. Oh crap.

  Recognizing the same emotional vulnerability in her voice that I was picking up intuitively, I slipped into my professional persona and gave her my attention. “Of course.” Her vibrant personality crumbled in front of me and she suddenly looked very tired.

  She met my eyes and hers shone with moisture. “I don’t want to go to this ridiculous thing, but I have to. I’m in trouble at work — my job’s on the line. That’s why I asked you to go with me. I was just hoping for some company. For someone to... be there. I have lots of acquaintances, but nobody I can trust. I’ve got myself in some hot water financially. I made some stupid decisions, and if I lose my job, the whole house of cards will come tumbling down on me.”

  She heaved a sigh. “You seemed like such an understanding person that I guess I got carried away. I just wanted to hang out with someone I could be myself with, whatever that is. I’m great at putting on a tough façade, and I’m good at never letting anyone know how I really feel. Shit, I don’t even let myself know. But I can say for sure that I’m both burned out on my job and at the same time worried I’ll lose it. In other words, I’m totally screwed. And don’t even get me started about my boyfriend...”