As much as I wanted to put my stressful world on hold, my body reminded me that no matter how crazy things might be getting, I still had to pee.
I shuffled to the closet, grabbed my fluffy pink robe and as I scurried next door to the bathroom I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror over the sink. “Damn! It’s the Wicked Witch of the West.” I’d gotten my hair wet in the shower before climbing into bed and now my thick, dark curls stuck out in all directions like a fright wig. My skin was whiter than usual, but that was probably due to the shock of witnessing a murder and then being brain-slimed by the killer. It would’ve been unnatural to have no physical reactions to the insanity. I was surprised I was functional at all.
Craving caffeine, I headed down to the kitchen to load up my coffee machine. It felt odd to wake up this late in the day. My whole system was out of whack. I stood staring at the pot while the aromatic elixir brewed, as if my gaze could hurry it along.
I noticed my empty couch. If Tom had spent the day there, he’d left no evidence behind — no clothes on the floor or take-out food containers on the table. But I knew I hadn’t seen the last of him, not just because he had his own personal vampire transport service, but since he intended to use me to ingratiate himself with Devereux.
I’d just grabbed the handle of the coffee pot to pour my first brain-kicking dose of nirvana when there was a loud pounding on my front door. The sound startled me and I almost dropped the pot. “What the hell now?” I muttered, stomping over to the door as the banging continued. I flicked on the porch light, eyeballed the peephole and saw white hair.
Releasing the locks, I pulled the door open. “Maxie!”
She leapt inside, closed and locked the door, pressed her body against it and stared at me. She looked like I felt: her skin was pasty-white and there were dark circles under her bloodshot blue eyes. She had severe bed hair, and a pillow-crease across her cheek.
I touched her arm. “Maxie, what happened to you? Where did those idiots take you? Are you okay?”
“Yeah — no, damned if I know. That’s why I’m here. I hoped you could tell me what the hell happened to me.”
“Come inside. I need coffee. Do you want some?”
“Does a werewolf shit in the woods?”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” We shuffled like zombies into the kitchen and I pulled out a chair at the table. “Sit down. How do you take your coffee? Do you want something to eat? I’ve got bagels.”
“Black for the coffee and no for the food, but don’t let me stop you.”
I filled two mugs, carried them to the table and sat across from her. We each drank in silence for a few seconds, both understanding the importance of the sacred coffee ritual, and neither of us wanting to disturb the other’s ecstatic moment.
Finally she put her mug down, glanced at me and burst out laughing. “Have you seen your hair?”
I smiled, because I had. “Have you seen yours?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I didn’t take a shower or brush my hair or anything. I didn’t know what else to do besides come here.” Her eyes went vacant. “I only have sketchy memories of anything after those two satanic asswipes grabbed me from the mezzanine. I’m missing a lot of details — it’s like a portion of the videotape in my brain was erased. I just woke up about an hour ago in my apartment, still dressed in the clothes I wore last night, and I’m still not sure how I got there.” She stared down into her coffee. “Shit, Kismet. How the hell did they just appear like that? How did they get me down to my car? I have vague recollections of driving, but why would I just take off and leave you there? Jesus. I was so terrified when I woke up and thought about what they might have done to you. Especially after I guilted you into going.” She turned frightened eyes to me. “What happened?”
Without thinking, I almost blurted out the truth. I was right on the verge of unburdening myself about the existence of vampires, homicidal rituals and the reality of one psychotic, murdering bloodsucker in particular — I’d actually gone so far as to form the first word with my lips — when I remembered who I was sitting with, and, more importantly, what she did for a living.
I held Maxie’s gaze, adopted my most compassionate therapist expression and hoped Victoria had been exaggerating about my inability to bluff.
Maxie had told me she’d never found any evidence for the existence of the paranormal. She had also said she was worried about her job. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what she’d do with any information I shared. Even if she couldn’t prove anything I said, it wouldn’t matter. I’d be the story: just another chapter in the crazed adventures of a formerly respected local psychologist who’d gone round the preternatural bend. Given the rag she worked for, proof wouldn’t be an issue.
No matter how much I needed someone to talk to, I couldn’t put myself or my clients in jeopardy by indulging in loose lips.
I reached across the table and took her hand. “What do you remember?”
She studied my face for a moment, frowned and broke eye-contact, staring down at the table. She extricated her hand from mine and lifted her coffee mug. I got a sudden flash that Maxie was hiding something, which was weird, because I was the one trying to avoid telling any impossible tales.
This sudden intuitive flash about Maxie made me realize I hadn’t had any hits about her before — not even when we first met. I replayed our time together, trying to recall any instances where my psychic radar had given me insights about her, and drew a blank. I couldn’t think of any other time in my life when I’d been unable to sense someone’s emotions or read between the lines, especially since my skills had been given the elders’ upgrade. So either my empathic and clairsentient abilities were on the fritz, or Maxie shielded better than anyone I’d ever met.
She raised her gaze to mine. “I remember us lying on our bellies on the balcony, checking out the chubby guy being killed on the stage below — or pretending to be killed, whatever. Although the guy was pretty convincing. I’d just started snapping photos again when I was lifted off the floor by a couple of creeps in black robes, and there’s a page missing in my memory book at that point. I surfaced later, long enough to observe myself driving. But how the hell could I “observe myself driving”? What does that even mean? Did you see them take me?” She pointed to herself.
“Yes, I did. They must have sneaked up behind us because I didn’t hear them coming. There had to be a staircase up to the balcony from the main floor. Maybe they’d been watching us the whole time.”
“I don’t know.” She didn’t sound convinced. “I think I would’ve heard a couple of men creeping up behind me. I’ve got a black belt in paranoia — I’ve always prided myself on being able to sense the freaks before they get close enough to hassle me. Even if there was a staircase, that doesn’t explain why I don’t remember anything.”
I sighed. “Yeah, that’s true.” It was official: I sucked at lying. Dancing around the truth was making me feel like shit. Technically, I had no actual proof about why her memory was impaired, but I’d seen evidence of a certain bloodsucking sociopath’s mind-control abilities, and I knew full well he’d erased Maxie’s mental tapes. But as I wasn’t going to risk exposing myself and my clients to another media-blitz of ridicule and scorn I’d say whatever was necessary to point her in a different direction. And maybe I could manage to convince myself that I was protecting her from horrors she really didn’t need to know about.
“Do you think you might have been drugged?”
Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Drugged? How the hell could I have been drugged? I didn’t eat or drink anything — but hey, come to think of it, I was pretty hung-over when I woke up a little while ago.”
“It’s relatively easy to administer a sedative using a syringe. You might not even feel the needle. That would explain the memory loss.”
She stared at me with her mouth open. “Holy shit.” Her voice rose. “You mean those bogus little perverts might have taken me for some disgus
ting sexual reason? You’re saying they might have done something to me? That they—”
I raised my hands and cried, “Stop! Wait—” Way to go, Kismet. Make everything a thousand times worse, why don’t you. You are the worst liar on the face of the earth. “Listen, you said you woke up still wearing your clothes, didn’t you? So if they’d done anything to you, they probably wouldn’t have left everything on, right?”
She frowned. “Yeah, maybe...”
I lowered my hands and folded them on the table, just like a regular, non-lying person would do. “You don’t think you’ve been violated, right?” I’d better be careful. The last thing I want to do is plant the seeds of a false memory. I’m willing to lie, but I’m not willing to hurt her. Hallow said she drove herself home and I’m going to make myself believe that.
“No.” She shrugged. “At least, not physically, but if they didn’t do anything to me, why the hell would they drug me? And why didn’t they take both of us?”
My head spun. She was right. Why wouldn’t they have taken me, too? Unless I wanted to tell her about my meeting with the blood-covered genie vampire, I had to come up with another pack of lies, and immediately. It couldn’t be good that I was getting increasingly comfortable with creating blatant fabrications. I took a breath and waded back in. I’d need to roll my imaginary pant legs up pretty soon.
“I did hear one of them say the word reporter when they lifted you up.”
“Reporter? How the hell would they know I was a reporter?”
I reached out and touched her white curtain of hair. “That’s a little distinctive, wouldn’t you say? You said you’ve been covering these events for a while, so it makes sense that they’d know who you are, what you look like. Maybe they wanted you gone before they did whatever else they were going to do at their sick little performance. They could’ve seen you taking pictures.”
She stared at me. “What could they have been planning that would’ve been worth drugging me? What could a bunch of low-life losers be doing to warrant such a cover-up?”
Finally, something I could be truthful about. “I honestly don’t have a clue. You know more about their activities than I do.”
“Did you see anything after they took me?”
I shook my head, wondering if my nose was growing. “I was pretty stunned when they took you and I just stood there for several minutes, not knowing what to do. I was hoping you’d come back, I guess. Then the crowd downstairs started pouring out the front doors, so I left the way we came. By the time I got down the fire escape, all the bystanders had gone. I couldn’t remember the way at first so I wandered around for ages, searching for any sign of you or the car. When I finally got back to where you’d parked and you weren’t there, that’s when I called a cab. I didn’t want to leave until I was sure you’d gone. Luckily, the cab company knew where the condemned amusement park was.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You called a cab?”
“Well, yeah. What other choice did I have? You and the car were missing, so I could either put one foot in front of the other or call a cab. Since I had no idea where I was, walking home in the middle of the night really didn’t seem like a sensible option.”
Great. Throw in a little guilt to make her feel even worse.
She sighed and slouched back in her chair. “I told you I usually manage to get myself into trouble. I’m really sorry I dragged you into that mess. You must have freaked when you couldn’t find me. I promise never to nag you into doing anything you don’t want to ever again.” She locked eyes with me, her lips pursed. “Will you give me another chance, pal? Can we go have those margaritas and listen to that jazz sometime? Or did I scare you off?”
Shit. I don’t feel like much of a pal right now — more like something scraped from underneath a toenail.
I gazed at her exhausted face, found my compassion and smiled. “I’d love to do the margaritas and jazz sometime. I listen to some pretty strange tales in my office every day. It isn’t so easy to scare me off.”
“That’s great.” She grinned and rose slowly from the chair, as if her muscles were sore. “I’m going to take off now. I’ve still got to come up with some kind of story for the magazine.” She snorted. “I’ll just make something up — nobody will know the difference. And I’m sure you have plans with that gorgeous blond rich guy. I hope you’ll trust me enough at some point to introduce us. I promise not to ask any obnoxious reporter-type questions. If his face looks half as good up close as it does in a camera lens, I might have to give you a run for your money.”
“We’ll see.” I laughed. “Devereux’s a pretty busy guy. I never know when he’s going to show up, but if the opportunity presents itself, I’ll be glad to introduce you.”
She hobbled to the front door. “Thanks. You’re being a good sport about the whole abandoning-you thing. I won’t forget it. I’ll be in touch. See ya.”
She left, closing the door behind her, and I hurried over and locked it.
I really felt terrible about lying to Maxie. I knew it was for a good cause, but I didn’t care for the ease with which the fictions had rolled off my tongue. I’d always worked hard to be an ethical person, so what did it mean that I could set those standards aside so easily? What was I becoming?
I went back to the kitchen, refilled my coffee mug, and grabbed a bagel from the counter. As I sliced it, toasted it and slathered it with cream cheese I thought about all the madness that had taken place during the previous twenty-four hours — and then, like a slap to the head, I realized that I hadn’t called the police about Carson’s body. I must have brain damage. Bagel forgotten, I jumped up, found the phone and checked the time. At least sixteen hours had passed since I transported myself home. Maybe someone else had notified the authorities already?
Or maybe there was a rotting DJ corpse in the funhouse.
I sat at my desk and fired up the computer. If the body had been found, there would be local news stories. I searched the newspapers’ websites and came up empty. Googling Carson brought up lots of hits, but they were all about his radio antics. I even scanned the obituaries without finding a familiar name.
Since it didn’t appear anyone had reported Carson missing, let alone dead, I decided to drive to a convenience store and use the pay-phone to make an anonymous call. No matter what my opinion might be about the rude radio host, I couldn’t just forget his crucified and eviscerated body was dumped at the amusement park. Surely he must have family or friends, someone who cared about what happened to him?
I moved a couple of steps from the desk and once again slammed into the chest of the silver-eyed devil, who’d popped into my personal space, grinning, silent as death.
I gasped and reflexively tried to back up, but he grabbed my arms, holding me with unyielding fingers. It was a good thing I’d recently emptied my bladder, or I would have peed on the carpet like the possessed girl in The Exorcist. The vampire’s energy felt dark and dangerous, which pretty much described his appearance as well. He’d replaced the genie pants with tight jeans and a red T-shirt tucked in at his trim waistline. His unnaturally long, dark hair flowed down his muscular chest. The fiend was even more gorgeous than I remembered.
He tilted his head from side to side, and studied me. “Dr. Knight — or may I call you Kismet, since we’ve become such good friends?” His deep voice caused my ears to buzz and goose bumps to rise on my skin. He released my arms and stepped away, then strolled in a circle around me. “Obviously you weren’t expecting company. What on earth is that appalling pink thing you’re wearing? And I must say that whoever did your hair should be gutted.” He laughed, the sound both pleasant and terrifying.
I licked my lips so I could speak. “What do you want?”
He smiled, exposing impressive fangs. “I want so many things, my sweet Kismet. And I intend to have all of them. But you were doing so much mental fussing about the remains of our dearly departed that I felt duty-bound to come and inform you the matter has been dealt with. Ther
e is no reason to involve human police. I might have need of that location again so I would prefer it to remain undisturbed.”
He inched in closer and riveted his gaze on mine. I lost control of my muscles and bones. He slid an arm around my waist and caught me before I collapsed. My heart sped up, beating so frantically I feared it would burst out of my chest. My breathing went shallow and my limbs were heavy. Holding me with one arm, he untied my robe and slid the fabric off each shoulder, leaving my naked body exposed.
I wanted to scream, to fight, to do anything except stand there, frozen, but my brain was off-line. Bubble-wrap filled the places in my skull that were formerly occupied by my cerebral cortex, firing neurons and brain chemicals.
He leaned in, his soft hair streaming across my body, and kissed me. His touch was electric, jolting me as if I’d come in contact with a live wire. Currents of energy flowed along my skin, pulsating in the area between my legs, and I moaned. I didn’t know where his other hand was — it was everywhere at once. I’d never had an orgasm while paralyzed before. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but somehow it was happening. He eased the pressure of his kiss, flicked his tongue along my lower lip, shifted his mouth down to my neck, and bit me. The sensation of his fangs penetrating my vein was indefinable. If I’d experimented with hallucinogens, I might have had something to compare the sensations to, but since I hadn’t, I simply surrendered into the ecstatic bliss vibrating through my body. It was as if my neck had become a hyper-potent erogenous zone. My body convulsed with the most powerful orgasm I’d ever experienced.
The rational part of me made futile attempts to gain control, but as whimpers erupted from my lips, the rest of me wondered who was making all the noise. He drew me in tight against him while he fed. I’m not sure I would have moved, even if I could.
Then everything went dark.
Chapter 11
Silently arguing with myself about whether or not waking was worth the effort, I swam against the tide, forced myself to become fully conscious, and opened my eyes. For the second time, Luna’s face peered down at me. She didn’t speak, her expression was solemn and serious, but for a moment, her eyes sparkled with glee.
Crimson Psyche Page 15
