Crimson Psyche

by Lynda Hilburn

  “Thanks for that.” I slid my hand down his chest. “I know he’s a pain, but he’s a familiar pain.”

  We wrapped ourselves in big soft towels and walked over to the multi-sink vanity stretching the length of one wall. While Devereux used the dryer on his shining platinum hair, I bent over and toweled my curls dry. It was weird to be doing such normal, human things with a vampire. The first time I’d watched Devereux brush his teeth I was fascinated. I guess I hadn’t thought about the undead having dental hygiene routines, but it made sense. How else would one get rid of blood-breath?

  The towel covering my body fell away as I leaned into the mirror to finish putting on my makeup. I felt Devereux’s gaze on me before receiving verification in the mirror. He met my eyes, a wicked expression on his face.

  “Don’t look at me like that, or we’ll never get out of here,” I said.

  He grinned as he brushed his long hair. “Oh, yes, I meant to ask about the reporter you mentioned — Maxie? She must be quite a unique person for you to befriend her so quickly. What is it about her that caused you to let down your guard? You are usually more reserved and introspective about new people.”

  Reserved and introspective were understatements. Sometimes I got so overwhelmed by the intense psychic energy in my environment that I exhibited all the symptoms of Social Anxiety Disorder. It wasn’t that I didn’t like people — there were many therapists who didn’t — or even that I was afraid of them. It was more that I couldn’t shut them out. I couldn’t turn off my emotional radar. The more extreme the situation, and the more people in the room, the stronger my reaction. Being constantly bombarded by a continuum of feelings was oppressive, but he’d asked a good question. What was it about Maxie? Why had I let her in? I must be lonelier for human connection than I realized.

  For some reason, I’d been dreading this discussion. What did I want to tell him about her? I didn’t really know much about the crazy woman. If her “organized crime” theories were any indication, she obviously didn’t have a very good opinion of him. I probably should have mentioned her journalistic speculation about the source of his wealth and power, but I couldn’t, and I wasn’t sure why.

  “Maxie is a character — she’s sort of wild and uninhibited. I never know what she’s going to do next. Since I’m more reserved and structured, maybe that’s her draw for me — someone to nag me out of my comfort zone.” I grinned and glanced at him. “You’d probably like her. She’s very beautiful: tall, and built like a swimsuit model.”

  He paused in his hair brushing and raised an eyebrow.

  “But the main attraction is her knee-length white hair,” I continued.

  “White hair? I somehow got the impression that she was a young woman, perhaps your age.”

  “Yes, she is. She said something caused her hair to turn white overnight, but since that can’t really happen, I’m assuming there was a trauma at some point, severe enough to trigger such physiological changes. She hasn’t shared that secret with me yet.”

  He dropped his towel, which was highly distracting. “I imagine it would take a powerful situation to change a mortal’s hair that way. I know of cases where physical transformations have occurred due to magic, but I am sure there is a less mystical explanation for your friend’s situation.” He faced me, his tall, muscular frame reflected in the various mirrors, and I felt the need to fan myself.

  “Please excuse me while I transport to my room on the other side of the penthouse and dress. I shall return.” The spot where he stood was suddenly vacant.

  If it wouldn’t have messed up my freshly applied makeup, I would have splashed cold water on my face. Devereux was temptation incarnate, but since we obviously had company to greet and runny mascara wasn’t a desirable option, I opted instead to stroll into the closet to find something appropriate to wear for the occasion — whatever that occasion might be.

  Devereux enjoyed assigning his female devotees the task of filling my closets with expensive clothing. When I first discovered my fashion bounty, I was annoyed. I thought it was simply another way for him to exert control, to override my choices in favor of his own. And when his helpers disclosed they’d been spying on me — following me in person and observing my dreams — I thought he’d crossed the line between indulging me and manipulation. But it didn’t take long for me to understand this wasn’t about control. He really did derive great pleasure from showering me with gifts. Several of his undead elves mentioned the fun they’d had in the process too, so I stopped complaining about my constantly growing wardrobe. I accepted the clothes in the spirit they were offered and counted myself lucky. If truth be told, my own fashion education left a lot to be desired. I’d long ago faced the fact that, while I had many skills and abilities, choosing the best clothing for my body type wasn’t one of them. Somehow I’d missed the junior high class on “Being a Cosmo Girl.”

  Who knew I’d turn out to be Alice in a twisted Wonderland instead?

  After debating between a sophisticated ankle-length gown of dark blue velvet or my version of hipster black leather pants that matched Devereux’s, I chose comfort and pulled on a pair of probably overpriced jeans. Strappy sandals and a pale blue cashmere sweater completed the ensemble.

  Never confident about my clothing choices, I stood in front of the three-sided floor-length mirror to make sure I really was acceptably attired, and tried a few moves I’d learned in a jazz dance class once. I’d just glanced down to pull the protective necklace from underneath my sweater when I sensed someone behind me. Fearing the worst, my head jerked up and my breath caught — until I saw Devereux’s grinning reflection. I blew out so much air my lips flapped like a horse. I pressed my palm against my heart, as if that would slow down the frantic rhythm.

  “Shit, Devereux!”

  “Forgive me for frightening you.” His grin melted into a frown. “I did not try to sneak up on you. You were so engrossed in your selection process that you did not hear me reenter the room. And truthfully, it was very pleasant watching you when you were not aware of my presence.” The grin reappeared. “I especially enjoyed the dancing. I have only seen you dance once before, so it is always a pleasure. But I do apologize for causing you distress.”

  “You scared ten years off my life. Next time clear your throat or cough or something, would you?”

  He was wearing dark brown leather pants and a black silk T-shirt. Nobody could fill out a T-shirt in the elegant way Devereux could.

  He bowed from the waist, his silky hair falling forward. “I will endeavor to make more noise, and I will see what I can do to return the stolen ten years to you.”

  I started to laugh, but his overly serious face stopped me. “What do you mean? You’re joking, right? That’s just an expression.”

  “As we have discussed before, time and space are not the rigid constructs mortals believe them to be. Sometime in the near future I will be pleased to demonstrate, but now we must go.”

  He took my hand and we walked together through the bedroom, along the hallway and into the large living room I’d previously described as the dentist’s waiting room from Purgatory. It was anything but sterile and empty now. The room was filled with people — er, individuals I’d never seen before. All eyes locked onto us as we entered.

  “Thank you for coming, my friends,” Devereux said, his presence dominating the room. “You are aware of the current situation, and I appreciate your willingness to help strengthen our protections.” He released my hand and placed his palm in the center of my back, gently urging me forward. “For those of you who have not yet met her, I am pleased to introduce my mate, Kismet. It is for her safety we gather tonight.”

  I curved my lips in what I hoped was a sincere smile.

  His mate.

  Hearing the words surprised me, because I thought we’d agreed to discuss the ramifications before going public with the title. I was still trying to understand what it meant to him and why it was so important.

  As one, the gr
oup of strangers bowed or curtsied. “Lady Kismet,” they said in unison.

  Lady Kismet? What the hell was going on now — were all vampires so melodramatic? Why was I always the last one to get the memo?

  I glared at Devereux, and he gave a subtle shake of his head, indicating I shouldn’t say any of the hostile words struggling to explode out of my mouth. He’d definitely been around his minions and handmaidens too long.

  One minute I was his equal and the next his property, or at least that’s how it felt.

  A creepy-looking short fat vampire approached. His stringy, grey hair flowed down over the shoulders of a standard black Dracula cape. He briefly fixed his bulging light-green eyes on me before extending his hand to Devereux. As he reached out, his cape fell open, exposing naked, wrinkled flesh. “Master Devereux, I am honored to have been summoned for this ritual and to have been entrusted with the creation of the powerful ceremony we will participate in tonight.” His unidentifiable accent was so thick I could barely understand him. Of course, the fact that his fangs were fully extended, causing a lisp, didn’t help. He smiled at me, and I hoped the movement of my lips resembled something friendly in return. His belly was the biggest I’d ever seen on a vampire. His transformation must have happened suddenly, because I couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to live for centuries as an undead smelly, greasy-haired, street-person version of Santa Claus.

  Devereux grasped the rotund man’s hand. “Prospero, my friend. Welcome to my home. I would like you to meet Kismet, the one for whom I have been waiting.”

  The greasy fellow flipped the edges of his cape behind him, giving me the Full Monty, and my gaze shifted to his crotch in spite of myself. Unlike most large midsections, his bulged out like a pregnant woman’s rather than the droopy, cover-the-penis kind of flabby flesh, so his substantial pride and joy was evident for all to view.

  Obviously noting the path of my gaze, he grinned and winked.

  Ewww.

  Executing a theatrical bow, he lifted my hand and kissed it. “We all rejoice at your arrival, M’lady.”

  “Prospero? Isn’t that the name of one of Shakespeare’s characters in The Tempest?”

  “Yes.” He chuckled. “I heard he featured me in one of his little tales. I absolutely must read it one of these days.”

  He dropped my hand and addressed the small crowd. “Take your places in the circle.” Giving me his attention again, he flicked the cape completely off his shoulders and it pooled on the floor at his feet. “Follow me.”

  I glanced at Devereux, who was trying unsuccessfully not to smile. He nodded in the direction of the flat buttocks swaying ahead of us. I was amazed by Prospero’s ability to remain vertical with nothing to balance the back of his body.

  “Prospero is a very powerful magician,” Devereux whispered to me. “He is my friend, but never be alone with him. His weakness for beautiful women is well known and he has a remarkable ability to entrance. Women have been known to fall at his feet after one glimpse of his fully erect organ.”

  I stifled a grin and whispered back, “I’ll make every effort to control myself.”

  Even if his fully erect organ breaks into song, I’m not going near it.

  As we approached the waiting circle of vampires, I noticed the familiar floating candles and the fact that everyone had undressed.

  Wait a minute.

  Prospero glided over to me, surprisingly graceful. “Allow me to assist you, M’lady.” He started tugging my sweater over my breasts.

  I grabbed the wool, pulling it into place again. “Hey! Knock it off! What are you doing?”

  Prospero backed away, shocked.

  Devereux had peeled off his T-shirt, and was unbuttoning his leather pants. “The ritual Prospero has created requires bare skin to be most effective. I apologize if I forgot to mention that.” He didn’t sound in the least sorry.

  I didn’t know which stunned me more: the fact that Devereux actually thought I’d get naked in front of a group of strange vampires, or his effortless ability to lie through omission. Did he think being the Master gave him carte blanche in his dealings with me?

  “Stop!” I pointed to the zipper he was lowering on his pants. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to take my clothes off in front of all these strangers. Hell, even if I knew them, I still wouldn’t take my clothes off. Don’t you know me any better than that?”

  Okay. There was one part of me now who was more than willing to get naked whenever possible, but for whatever reason, she hadn’t recently tried to force her way out, and I wanted to keep it that way.

  Devereux stepped toward me. “If Prospero believes nudity will enhance the power of the ritual, I trust his judgment enough to follow his recommendations. I will be here to watch over you. The ritual will be brief.”

  He simply wasn’t listening to me. So what else was new?

  “Why do you think a ritual is going to help, anyway? Isn’t it clear that Hallow can do whatever he wants? Nothing anyone has done so far has kept him away. What is the point of this?”

  “The point is that each new ritual brings more power to our defenses.” His voice floated over me, attempting to soothe. “We already have the building well protected, which is why Hallow could only transport himself to the roof.”

  “What?” A chaotic collage of images crashed into my brain and I slapped myself on the forehead, any calming effect of Devereux’s voice completely negated. “Shit! How could I have possibly forgotten to tell you about the most horrible part of my evening? What’s the matter with me? How can I have repressed the horror of watching Hallow rip the head off one of my clients — in front of me?” My voice was shaking with emotion. “You think he can’t come into your building? That your incantations and rituals are effective? My office is a bloody mess — and poor suicidal Jerome, who actually was about to drain me dry so you would kill him, got his wish: death by maniac.”

  Devereux stared at me, frozen, his mouth open, before he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me against his chest. “Come.”

  Chapter 19

  Stale air blew against my face as we transported to my defiled office. It was worse than I remembered. Jerome’s headless body lay crumpled where Hallow had thrown him, blood congealing in a wide circle under the ragged edges of his neck. I had no idea how much blood a formerly human body contained, but whatever had been left in Jerome’s corpse after Hallow drank his fill had soaked into the blue carpet, leaving horrible brown-red stains.

  Jerome’s head, his eyes wide, staring like a macabre Halloween mask, had rolled under an end table. Death had restarted his aging process and he now looked much more his true age, which was at least seven decades. His usually slicked-down hair was white and it spiked up in all directions, as if he’d been electrocuted.

  The stench in the room reminded me of a similar vampire-created scene some months earlier, when my previous office had been defiled by another young male body. I pressed my hand to my nose and mouth to filter the worst of the odor.

  Devereux navigated us next to my desk, where we weren’t directly in the bloody remains but still had a bird’s-eye view of the destruction. He was strangely calm. He released me and surveyed the carnage. After a couple of minutes he turned to me, his usually entrancing voice flat, and said, “You were correct. Our rituals are meaningless. From now until Hallow is disposed of, you will not be left alone. I will no longer depend only upon magic and vampire powers. Now it must be the force of my will against his.” He stared off again, lost in thought.

  Hearing the almost hopeless tone of Devereux’s words frightened me more than anything. Without acknowledging it to myself, I had always assumed he’d prevail somehow, conquering the challenger and restoring my normal life, but his voice told a different story. Maybe he was no longer sure he could defeat the fiend, or perhaps he’d finally come to the conclusion that I wasn’t worth all the trouble. What if Hallow really could capture me? Had all the choices in my life brought me to this da
rk crossroads?

  I started to wonder what I might have done differently. It was easy to second-guess myself about my involvement with the hidden world of the vampires. The minute I realized the ramifications of my new career choice I should’ve closed up shop and relocated. My life was much simpler — not to mention safer — before I blundered into this parallel universe.

  But that was all blood under the bridge.

  Devereux slid his finger along my cheek, drawing my gaze back to his. “The fear is radiating out of you. I swear you will not be harmed. We will find a way to destroy Hallow.” His voice had reclaimed its polished texture and it flowed over me, the once-again assured sound calming my anxiety. He pointed at Jerome’s body. “Your client must have been relatively young as a vampire, for his body did not immediately crumble into dust when Hallow decapitated him. The older the vampire, the quicker the body decomposes. In this case it will disintegrate over the next few hours. If you watch closely, you can see the process beginning.”

  I followed his pointing finger to the grey substance gathering at Jerome’s feet and shook my head. Devereux was good at raising issues in order to distract me from dwelling on unpleasant realities. It was gratifying to realize how well he knew me now. As long as I had something logical to hide behind — a cerebral topic to discuss — I would be able to maintain some semblance of composure.

  “I didn’t know that.” Okay, we could stand over Jerome’s remains and discuss the mechanics of vampire death as if it were just another seminar topic. I was great at denial. But I probably wouldn’t ever be comfortable with the cold, calculating, analytical view of death most vampires held. They didn’t really attribute much value to life of any kind. Devereux was more in touch with his emotions than any male I knew, alive or undead, but even he was able to compartmentalize his feelings. “The only other vampire I saw die was Bryce, after I cut his head off. He disintegrated into dust right away.”

  “Yes, I imagine he did,” Devereux said. “He was very old.”