Crimson Psyche

by Lynda Hilburn

  I wasn’t quite as naïve as he assumed, but if allowing him to think so gave me any advantage whatsoever, I’d gladly play along. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll walk away with the strongest, most pure lýtle I’ve stumbled upon in many a century, and your friends — well, let’s just say they obviously won’t be making it through the night.” He reached out and grasped my hand and pulled me up from the bed. I knew it wouldn’t do any good, but I resisted, trying to delay the inevitable as long as possible. He grinned, not deflected in the least. “Jolly good, Doctor. You’ll find I enjoy a vigorous struggle. Unfortunately, the fight usually goes out of my guests much too quickly. So, please. Go ahead, arouse me. Soon you’ll be just another docile slave. While it is my intention to suck the life force out of you, I will also miss it when it’s gone. One of the little paradoxes of my existence, but never fear. I plan to savor you slowly.”

  He must have noticed my shivering, because he gave me a surprised look. “Once again I have been a poor master. Since temperatures don’t affect me, I had totally forgotten you might find this room a bit brisk for your tastes.” He grinned. “I can rectify that.”

  Pulling me along behind him, he traversed the room, holding his flame aloft, and paused every couple of feet, igniting the wicks of row after row of tall candles until the entire space was ablaze with light.

  “The witch told my lýtle to provide lots of candles, and my slave is nothing if not obedient. We might as well ignite them. I do want you to enjoy your last few hours in Denver.”

  Huge paintings depicting various sex acts sprang to life on the suddenly visible walls of the subterranean den of iniquity. Hallow pointed to one in particular and chuckled. “That should give you a glimpse of your future.”

  The scene he’d indicated was of a woman on her knees in front of an abnormally well-endowed male who held her hair clasped tightly in one hand while he forced his obscenely large organ into her mouth with his other.

  I gagged in sympathy, and cringed as Hallow slid his hand up my arm.

  Taking advantage of his relaxed grip, I jerked my arm away. “You’ll never force me to do that — I’d rather die.”

  He laughed as he reclaimed his grasp. “Force you? On the contrary, my dear doctor, you’ll be begging me.”

  I shuddered in trepidation, fear crawling up my spine, as Lust danced a celebration boogie in our shared inner sanctum.

  Devereux, we’re under the city, downtown.

  “All the comforts of home,” Hallow said as he propelled me toward a fireplace carved into the back wall. He bent over, touched his candle to a clump of newspapers in the hearth and the fire caught.

  Black smoke billowed into the room before it was sucked away and I started coughing. The fireplace must have a chimney leading up to the fresh air. I hadn’t noticed if the room we’d landed in earlier had a fireplace, but there had to be one on the topmost floor. Hope momentarily glimmered. Wouldn’t someone notice smoke coming from this supposedly empty place?

  My optimism died as I remembered all the businesses above us. Nobody would have cause to think anything about smoke coming from a stray chimney. What was unusual about that? Many of the buildings in this area had been made into lofts, purchased by trust-funders or Internet millionaires — not the kind of residents who devoted a lot of time to pondering the goings-on of the neighbors.

  Hallow dragged me back to the circle and gave me a shove, causing me to fall onto Victoria’s cold, still form. I quickly crept away from her, not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable, or cause any more pain than she’d already endured. The monster gazed at me with his hypnotic eyes.

  I tried not to meet them.

  “Are you as excited as I am?” He cocked his head and adopted a serious expression, as if he thought I’d actually answer his ridiculous question. “I have one last task to complete and then your new life will begin. Since your friends aren’t brilliant conversationalists tonight, you can spend the next little while contemplating how you can be of greater service to me.” He leaned forward, his veil of dark hair swinging down in front of him, and gave a maniacal grin. “Think hard, now. There’ll be a quiz later.

  “Oh, by the way, you can stop trying to contact Devereux telepathically. The witch’s marvelous magic stops everything, including communication.” He gave an exaggerated frown. “This just isn’t your day, is it?” Ear-splitting laughter burst from his throat before he vanished, and the sound echoed after he was gone.

  I’d already figured out the futility of trying to contact Devereux, but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to stop me from flinging message-filled bottles out into the cosmic sea.

  Searching for escape routes, I noticed the entrance to the staircase was only a few feet away. Either the devil was absolutely confident I wouldn’t try to leave, or he’d arranged it so I couldn’t. Only one way to find out. I jumped up, climbed the stairs two at a time and smashed into a cushioned barrier at the top — maybe the outer layer of the invisible beach ball I’d been trapped inside.

  I slid my hands along the oddly pliable magical force field protecting the upstairs room. It gave when I pushed on it, but it wouldn’t allow me to move forward. This must be what Hallow meant when he said he’d compelled Victoria to use her abilities to seal the area. Of course, the maniac could pop in and out at will. Too bad I couldn’t—

  “Yes!” I yelled down to unconscious Victoria. “What if he forgot he gave me a ticket for Air Vampire?” Was I still able to transport myself? I quickly retraced my steps and moved toward the circle, visualizing the interior of Devereux’s penthouse, then froze. Wait — it couldn’t be that easy. Hallow was insane, but he wasn’t stupid. What if I was able to blink out, but smashed into the plastic beach ball again, only this time at the speed of light? Would I be pulverized into unrecognizable atoms?

  How could I help Victoria or Tom or anyone if I was dead? I glanced from one friend to the other and I realized it was a no-brainer. I simply had to try.

  I closed my eyes, picturing Devereux’s dining room. I recalled the wonderful breakfast buffet his helpers had prepared for me a couple of mornings ago, and sighed at the memory. I imagined the aroma of the coffee, the taste of the fresh baked goods, the sweetness of the strawberries, melons and grapes, and waited for the familiar sensation of freefall.

  Nothing happened.

  I filled in even more details and tried again.

  Nothing.

  Imagining myself in my own townhouse had the same result.

  Damn.

  My flight had been canceled.

  “Fuck.” I stood for a moment, hugging myself and trying not to panic. I ran to the fireplace, dropped to my knees in front of it, and tried to project my voice up the chimney flue. “Hello? Can anybody hear me?” I grabbed a piece of wood from a pile on the hearth and banged it against the brick. “Please call the police. 9-1-1!” I shouted, repeating every emergency phrase I could think of before the smoke from the small fire made me cough and my eyes water.

  Using my sweater to blot the mascara-tinged tears running down my face, I backed away and hurried to the wall, moving clockwise around the periphery, checking for any sign of light or air. I climbed over abandoned furniture and broken sculptures, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. I searched behind the paintings and found nothing but insect nests, dislodging several bugs. I fanned them off as they headed for my face. “Yuck! Now to add a cherry to the shit sundae, there’s going to be a plague of locusts.” I would have laughed at myself if the situation wasn’t so terrifying. After circling the room several times, I plopped down next to Victoria, laid a hand on her cold arm and worked to clear my mind. I couldn’t allow myself to be overcome by fear. “I’m sorry, Vic. I don’t know what else to do.”

  Suddenly Victoria groaned and pulled against her restraints. I gasped as pain knifed through my body — her pain — as sharp as if it were my own. We had similar psychic abilities, so I guessed proximity had made the sensory co
nnection between us even deeper than it usually was.

  “Victoria?” I scooted close, angling my head so my ear was near her mouth. Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the torture Hallow had inflicted upon her, I had to take a few deep breaths to remind myself that I should distance emotionally, that I wouldn’t be any help to her if I became further enmeshed in her misery. Almost like a physical act, I mentally pushed myself back from the waves of pain. My nose clogged up, and it took all my control not to cry.

  She groaned again, and her eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. Her beautiful exotic eyes were bloodshot, the pupils dilated. “He’s not” — the tip of her tongue struggled to moisten her lower lip — “what you think,” she whispered.

  “What do you mean? Who’s not?”

  She coughed, wincing with pain.

  Shit. She was in bad shape.

  I raised my head, scanning the area to see if I’d missed anything helpful — water, blankets — but I didn’t really expect to find them. Unless they were accustomed to spending time with humans — live humans — the undead rarely took our needs into consideration, and even less so if the bloodsucker in question viewed humans as fast food.

  Victoria kept trying to speak, even though it was taking a lot out of her.

  “Hold on a minute, Vic. Let me see if by some miracle I can find an old tapestry or something to cover you with. You’re freezing.”

  I sprang to my feet and rushed through the tall candles, widening my search until I reached the edges of the room again. Along the far wall I reinvestigated the bounty of old couches, chairs and tables which had been piled together. On top were a few heavy rugs of varying sizes.

  “Score! I found a couple of small rugs, Victoria,” I announced breathlessly. “They’re filthy, but they’ll keep out some of the draft.”

  I’d just grabbed the rugs to retrace my steps when my eye caught sight of a can sitting on the floor. I lifted the half-full container. Diet Coke. Why would Hallow have a half-empty can of Coke? I’d never heard of a vampire ingesting anything but fresh blood. I sniffed the contents. It smelled like Coca-Cola. I tipped the container so the light would shine on the surface to make sure there was nothing floating there, that no one had used it as an ashtray, but it appeared to be cigarette-butt-free. I finally took a tiny sip. It really was a flat-tasting Diet Coke.

  There was no telling how long it had been sitting there, but it would be better for Victoria than nothing.

  I crushed the rugs to my chest, tightened my grip on the can and hurried back to the circle. I set the can safely out of the way, then spread the rugs over her. Retrieving the Coke, I slid my arm under Victoria’s neck, and lifted gently. “I know this probably is going to taste horrible. You’re not much of a soft drink fan as it is, but it’s wet, and judging by the lack of dust on top, it hasn’t been sitting here very long.” She nodded and parted her lips to accept the liquid.

  I could still pick up her anguish like a background hum.

  She swallowed a few times, then cleared her throat. “You have to resist him,” she whispered. “He can only take you if you offer yourself freely. It’s all a lie.” She tried to lift her head, but the effort was obviously painful because she gasped and closed her eyes.

  I hovered, worried. “Victoria? Please don’t close your eyes. I’m afraid you won’t open them again if you do—”

  She slowly opened her eyelids again and gave me a trembling smile. Her voice was thin and hoarse. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let any bloodsucking asshole take me out.” Her expression grew serious. “Remember what I said: he’s cursed. Not what you think. Don’t choose him.”

  Choose him? Why would she even suggest such a thing? Hallow had probably given her something to cause her pupils to dilate and make her say such strange things. “I promise I won’t choose him,” I said gently. “You never need to worry about that. I know he’s a monster.” I studied her eyes. “He gave you a drug, didn’t he? That’s why you’re so lethargic.”

  “No.” She coughed. “He’s a drug. His bite—” She went still except for her eyes, which shifted back and forth as if tracking something. “He’s coming.”

  “How do you know?” I whispered, scanning for any signs of the crazed vampire.

  “My body knows — it craves him. It can feel him approaching. Hide the can. I’ll pretend to be asleep.”

  I grabbed the soda, hurried to the nearest piece of furniture against the wall and thrust it behind, then I ran back and collapsed onto my knees by her side, whispering frantically, “Can you release the magic spell you created? Is there something I can do to help?”

  Almost immediately, I was startled by Hallow’s enticing voice. I leapt to my feet. “Well, what have we here? Pretending to be asleep, is she?” He materialized nearby, clutching a semi-conscious Luna under his arm. “Tsk-tsk, my dear doctor. I see you’ve misbehaved. Didn’t I tell you to leave the witch uncovered?” He barked out a laugh. “As if the rugs will warm her while she lies on the equivalent of a block of ice.”

  I gazed down at Victoria. Her eyes were huge, lips parted.

  Hallow dropped Luna, who fell to the ground with a loud thunk. He squatted next to Victoria and stared into her eyes. She lost consciousness again, her head flopping sideways. “I can’t have her screaming again,” he said, sounding very matter-of-fact. “I would hate to lose control of myself and kill her before I have made full use of her.”

  He stood effortlessly. “I brought you some company.” He pointed at Luna. “Letting her watch the finalé is the least I can do, after her recent service.”

  Luna roused herself enough to wrap her arms around Hallow’s ankles, whining, “Master, please! You need me.”

  He glared down at her. “I haven’t had a slave who was worth a shit in centuries.” Leaning down, he lifted Luna by her shirt and flung her across the room. She landed near Tom’s bed. She was no longer whining.

  He cast a glance back over his shoulder. “Oh, yes, speaking of slaves — I have a surprise for you.”

  He stepped aside and as he laughed again, sending chills down my spine, he sailed his arm in a wide arc, pointing to the person I hadn’t noticed waiting patiently behind him.

  Maxie.

  I gasped, pressing my hand against my wildly pounding heart. “Maxie? Jesus!” My brain spun, unable to cope with the fact that Hallow had kidnapped yet another of my friends — another mortal he could torture. Blood covered her forehead and coated her tangled white hair. Dark circles underscored lifeless eyes in her pale, blank face. She stood silent, her fuck you T-shirt half-untucked from her jeans, her shoes missing. But at least he hadn’t killed her back at the penthouse.

  “What have you done to her?” I demanded as Hallow leaned in to study the expression on my face. “There was no reason for you to capture anyone else. You’ve already got me.”

  It was strange. He seemed to be overly interested in my reaction to his newest insult. I inched toward Maxie, wanting to touch her, to let her know she wasn’t alone, but Hallow stepped in front of me.

  “No, not yet. Let me get comfortable first.”

  “Comfortable how? For what?”

  Chuckling, Hallow jumped over Victoria, fetched a chair from against the wall and placed it where he could see both Maxie and me. When he sat, he sent up a cloud of dust.

  “All right. I’m ready. You can continue now.”

  Something was wrong. He was even more pleased with himself than usual. I studied his face, trying to figure out what kind of trap he intended to spring, but his wide smile told me nothing. I gazed back at Maxie, who stood silent, empty.

  Had he already drained her and somehow animated her corpse to fool me into thinking she was still alive? Was that even possible?

  I reached out and touched her arm, and immediately, her face blurred. As I watched, her features shifted, melting like wax. The pale skin, dead eyes and dark circles morphed into her usual flawless skin, bright blue gaze and silly grin. Her blood-free white hair was onc
e again perfect.

  She laughed. “Good ta see ya, Doc.”

  Instinctively, I jerked back.

  What the hell just happened to her face?

  “Maxie? Are you okay?”

  Am I hallucinating?

  She slid her gaze to Hallow, who got to his feet, strolled over and threw his arm around my shoulders. “I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced to my current lýtle.”

  Chapter 22

  My brain started spinning, my mouth went dry and I stopped breathing. His words struck me like a verbal punch to the gut. All I could do was stare at the smiling woman in front of me. It took forever before I could speak, though it was probably only seconds.

  “Your lýtle? Maxie?”

  Hallow cocked his head and made a tsk noise, faking sympathy. He patted my shoulder. “Oh dear, I can’t even begin to imagine how betrayed and disappointed you must feel. Allowing yourself to make a new friend, only to discover she’s been spying on you all along — using you, taking advantage of your good nature — what an evil creature she must be.”

  A tear rolled down my cheek before I even realized I was crying, but once the weeping began, I was overcome. I didn’t even try to hold back, or worry about what an unprofessional image I might be presenting. What was the point? As I sobbed, I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my sweater.

  It was clear that from the moment Hallow had entered my life he’d been in control. Nothing Devereux or anyone else did, especially me, had had any effect on the lunatic’s actions. I would have laughed at my own stupidity if his machinations hadn’t been so horrifying.