Dark Harvest

by Lynda Hilburn

  The huge main room was filled with bodies—some alive, some otherwise—many dancing to the thunderous beat of the musicians. One of the many great things about The Crypt was all the cozy little nooks and crannies scattered along the walls, not to mention the ornate balconies of various sizes, some small enough to fit only one table. There were lots of places for romantic rendezvous, sexual assignations, and under-the-table drug deals. It was easy to find a private space for pretty much anything you wanted.

  Standing at his post just inside the entrance was Devereux’s doorman, er, door vamp. The first time I saw Ankh, his ghoulish, creepy appearance made my skin crawl. He was very tall, cadaverously bluish-white with badly discolored teeth and fangs. His obsidian eyes were oddly sunken into his face and underscored with large, dark circles, making it appear as if he wore a perpetual Halloween mask. His head was mostly bald except for a thick, dark braid that burst forth from the top of his skull, reminiscent of the style often worn in movies about famous Egyptian pharaohs. His lanky frame was shrouded in a long, black robe. I’d asked Devereux why he stationed such a distasteful-looking specimen at the entrance to his business, and he’d said Ankh had the gentlest, most loving temperament of any vampire he’d ever met. Turns out the large fellow provided excellent customer service. That’s what I got for judging a vamp by his cover.

  Ankh bowed from the waist. “Good evening, Doctor. The master said you were expected.” I nodded. He turned to Victoria and gave the same bow. “And Victoria, a pleasure as always.”

  “Hello, Ankh.” Victoria smiled. “It’s lovely to see you. You’ve got quite a crowd here tonight. Do you think we’ll have any luck finding a place to sit?”

  He nodded. “The master reserved a table for Dr. Knight. I’ll just call someone to escort you.” He raised an arm into the air, signaling an invisible helper.

  I grasped Victoria’s hand and pulled her behind me as I headed for the throng. “That’s okay, Ankh. We’ll just dive in and take our chances. Thanks.”

  Victoria gasped and tried to free her hand from my grip, but couldn’t. I enjoyed the powerful feeling of towing her through the crowd. My surprising, new physical strength was exciting.

  I navigated us to the long, sarcophagus-shaped bar ensconced along one wall of the spacious room. All the stools were occupied, and I’d just started thinking about the most fun way to clear off a couple so Victoria and I could sit, when a woman with neon pink hair smiled in my direction, exposing tiny fangs. She slid off her stool, pulled her raven-haired companion from her perch, and pointed at the empty seats. She shouted over the music. “Please. Take our stools. Tell the master we were happy to help you out. My name is Dark Widow and this is Wynd. Tell him we’re at his service.” They giggled and darted off into the crowd.

  Devereux always managed to surround himself with female devotees who were willing to do anything just to be in his vicinity. I guess I couldn’t blame him for taking what was offered. No doubt, he wanted me to become his groupie, too. Well, the master was in for a big disappointment. But if his handmaidens wanted to kiss some master ass by sucking up to his significant other, that was fine with me.

  Victoria had been silent during our trip through the club. She’d even stopped resisting and trying to break free. She watched the stool swap, her lips pursed. I climbed up onto my seat, not bothering to tug the short skirt down, and patted her chair. She situated herself, a very serious expression on her face. She leaned in, speaking directly into my ear because of the noise. “Kismet. Has anything unusual happened? Have you had contact with anyone … dangerous?”

  Not wanting to spend any more time talking about such a boring subject, I chose to ignore her questions. Instead, I pinched the fabric of Victoria’s shimmering black and gold goddess dress between my finger and thumb. “Holy shit, I didn’t notice before. That’s an incredible dress you’re wearing. Are you meeting some mysterious stranger here at the club tonight?”

  She frowned, no doubt understanding my distracting maneuver. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am meeting someone. But now I think I ought to stay with you. Something’s not right.”

  “No way, my witchy friend. I’m not letting you play mother hen with me when you could be kicking up your heels with Mr. Right. Or Mr. Right Now.” I laughed, and signaled the bartender. “I want to hear all the details tomorrow.”

  “Really, Kismet.” Victoria sighed, meeting my gaze. “I don’t want to be a wet blanket, but you’re not yourself. I mean, literally. Your aura feels completely different to me. As if you’re actually someone else. Have you been in touch with Hallow? Has he done something to you?”

  I shook my head and grinned. “Not that I know of, but anything can happen.”

  “What can I get for you?

  I turned toward the smooth voice and smiled. My evening had just gotten a lot more interesting. “Wow. You look just like …”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I know. Johnny Depp. But trust me, I’m much older.” He smiled, the tips of fangs glistening in the overhead light.

  I leaned forward, bringing my knees up onto the stool so I could get a better view. “Hmmm. What can you get for me? Let me think.” I slid my hand on top of his and tapped my fingernail on his cool skin. “When’s your next break?”

  “Kismet,” Victoria interrupted. “I don’t think Devereux would like you distracting his employees. You wouldn’t want to get Nigel in trouble, would you?” She wrapped her fingers around my arm, as if she worried I’d fall.

  I kept my gaze on the eye candy in front of me. “Would you like to get into some trouble, Nigel? We could just sneak away for a few minutes and discuss the issue.”

  He laughed. “Trouble, I could deal with. But if I laid one finger on Devereux’s woman, he’d rip my heart out of my chest before I even thought about unzipping my pants. I think that’s a little too much danger for this vampire. I’m a mellow bloodsucker. Besides, I’m happy here. I don’t want to mess things up. So. What else can I get you, besides me?”

  I pouted and he laughed again. I sighed, thinking that—thanks to my unexpected muscle—I could probably drag him from behind the bar, find a cozy hideaway and indulge myself for a few minutes. But they were right. Maybe he wasn’t the best candidate. But, damn, he was gorgeous.

  “Okay.” I smiled. “If I can’t have you, I guess I’ll have a couple of shots of tequila.” I turned to Victoria. “What do you want?”

  “I’d like a glass of red wine, please, Nigel.”

  “Coming right up.” He trotted off to fetch the drinks. The view was arousing.

  “Victoria?”

  I swiveled my head to check out the owner of the deep, sexy voice. A tall, distinguished man wearing a dark suit, red shirt, and silver tie stood behind me. My ass was still swaying in the air from my attempt to crawl across the bar, so I plopped it down onto my heels.

  “Winston.” Victoria’s face lit up. “It’s so good to see you. Let me introduce my friend, Dr. Kismet Knight.”

  He turned to me, bowed his head, and smiled. Fangs. His dark eyes twinkled. “I have heard of you, Dr. Knight. It’s lovely to meet you in person.”

  I sat properly on my stool and gave him a friendly smile. Anyone who could animate Victoria’s face like that was aces in my book. His shoulder-length, salt-and-pepper hair made him appear to be somewhere between forty and fifty. I hadn’t met a vampire that old before. Not that forty-something was old, but most vampires were brought over sooner. I wondered what his story was.

  Nigel brought our drinks, winked at me, and bolted away. He must have seen the gleam I’m sure I had in my eyes.

  I slammed the tequila shots, one after the other. “Wow. Those were tasty. I think I’ll get a couple more. You two go on and find a romantic corner.” I saw Victoria’s smile slide into a frown and patted her arm. “Seriously. I’m just letting off some steam. I’ll go find the lord and master shortly, but before that, I want to dance! It’s been ages since I let my Inner Wild Woman out.”

  Victori
a gave Winston a pained look, as if she were trying to telepathically communicate something she didn’t want to share with me. “I think we should invite Kismet to sit with us while she waits for Devereux to arrive, don’t you, Winston?”

  “Certainly.” He smiled, oozing charm. “What man wouldn’t be pleased to have a beautiful woman on each arm?” He extended both elbows, either waiting for us to grab on, or preparing to flop his arms in a chicken imitation. I laughed. He cocked his head, a confused expression flowing across his handsome features.

  “I’m sorry. I have a weird sense of humor. Seriously. I don’t want to go and sit with you until my owner comes to fetch me. I want to have some fun. So, run along.”

  They both stared at me, so I added emphasis. “Really.”

  Winston bowed, put his arm around Victoria, and guided her across the room. She glanced back once, her face an unhappy mask.

  I climbed back up on my knees, plopped my chest on the bar, and hollered, “Nigel! More alcohol, please!”

  He ambled over. “Do you want another tequila shot?”

  “Hey, no fair reading minds.”

  He smiled as he poured the potent liquid into my glass. “It doesn’t take a mind reader to know that you’ll probably find the trouble you’re seeking. I heard that a certain ancient vampire hunter is in town and he’s taken a fancy to you. If you’d heed a word of advice, I think you should be more careful than usual. Something evil is percolating, if you know what I mean. If even half the legends about Hallow are true, he’s a deranged vampire. You’d do well to stay out of his path.”

  I reached over and stroked his pale cheek, giving him my brightest smile. “Are you sure you don’t want to duck out for a few minutes?”

  Nigel gently removed my hand from his face. “Dr. Knight. Because I know how crazy Devereux is about you, I wish you’d take my warning seriously. Hallow has come to kill someone. If the rumors are right, it might be someone close to Devereux. I’d suspect it was you if you were a vampire, but the situation is very ominous. Why don’t I send someone downstairs to find Devereux for you?” He stared into my eyes, making a valiant effort to entrance me. “You really don’t want to dance tonight. You want to be a good little human and stay out of trouble.”

  I laughed and he backed up, surprised. “That was awesome, Nigel. Ineffective, but awesome. I’m not that easy to buzz. But I do appreciate your concern. I’ll tell Devereux what a darling you are.”

  I downed the shot, jumped off the stool, and waved good-bye to Nigel over my shoulder.

  The band was playing an upbeat, heavy-rock number and I stood on the edge of the dance floor, jiggling in place. My stiletto heels gave me the height I needed to see over the heads of the crowd, which made it much easier to scan the area for potential dance partners. Lyrics from an old song my father loved—something about a stranger across a crowded room—popped into my mind as I laid eyes on the dark-haired cover boy strolling in my direction.

  My face didn’t feel big enough to hold the smile that spread my lips. Oh, yeah. Things were definitely looking up.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Hey, pretty lady. I was just standing over there, thinking I’d like to find someone soft and curvy to dance with, and there you were. We must’ve been destined to meet, wouldn’t you say?” He spoke with a subtle Western twang.

  I just couldn’t stop smiling. The sweet young thing probably wasn’t even twenty-one. I wondered how he’d gotten past Ankh. The band had paused long enough for the musicians to suck on various beer bottles before launching into the next tune, so I was able to hear my new companion without any need for him to yell.

  “My, my. Aren’t you adorable?” I trailed a fingernail down the front of his shirt. “What’s your name, handsome?”

  In my stilettos, I was almost six feet tall, but my sumptuous companion didn’t seem intimidated by my Wonder Woman stance. He wore cowboy boots with a heel that elevated him a couple of inches over me. His slender, toned body was showcased perfectly in the jeans and black T-shirt he wore. The yummy stranger ran his fingers through a mass of thick, dark, shoulder-length hair. Blue eyes gazed soulfully from beneath thick lashes. I was certain there had to be a Stetson on the front seat of his truck. He grinned. Fangless. “I’m Trevor, Trey to my friends.” He offered his hand for me to shake.

  What a delicious morsel. I clasped his warm hand and held on, pulling him closer. “Well, Trey. I don’t know if you’ve got a thing for older women because of unresolved mother issues, or if you just want to play with fire, but I’m ready.”

  The drummer counted time, raising his drumsticks over his head, and the first chords of a classic Led Zeppelin tune split the air.

  I tugged Trey onto the dance floor. He registered surprise, but quickly boogied into the spirit of things. We elbowed our way through the fray, moving to the powerful rhythm. He was a natural. Watching his slim hips undulate was a treat for the eyes. And the libido.

  We rocked to the driving beat, and by the time the song—extended by a series of long instrumental solos—ended, the temperature in the club had spiked into the tropical range. We grabbed onto each other, laughing. I slid my hands down his shoulders, appreciating the fine muscle tone. He leaned back and grinned, shifting his gaze down to my breasts. The look on his face made it clear he believed he’d scored and his orgasmic dreams were all about to come true.

  I hadn’t decided yet if I wanted to slip away with the luscious lad or not, but I was enjoying the feel of his hard body next to mine. He bent forward and kissed me. He smelled like fresh, young male, and I had a quick fantasy about licking my way down his muscled frame.

  The band began playing a slow song, and Trey pulled me in, his obvious erection pressed against my stomach. He tilted his head, aiming his lips in my direction, when an arm snaked around my waist from behind, pulling me backward and lifting me a couple of inches off the floor.

  “Hey! What the …”

  Thanks to his distinctive medallion, I quickly recognized the feel of the chest my back was pinned against. Trey’s eyes went glassy and his mouth slowly sagged open. A velvet voice cut through the music.

  “Thank you for entertaining my fiancée, my friend. I was delayed in arriving and it was most kind of you to make sure she enjoyed herself. Here.” Devereux shifted me to his hip, as if I were an unruly toddler, and handed Trey several business-card-size pieces of paper. “These will provide complimentary drinks for you and a guest for the rest of the night. Go now.”

  Trey shook his head vigorously, gave a blank stare, and shuffled off the dance floor.

  “You can put me down now, Mr. Party Pooper.”

  He released me. “Pooper?”

  I pivoted, prepared to give him hell for ruining my high school fantasy, and smiled instead. My hormones said, “Yippee!” What a gorgeous hunk of manhood. A platinum-haired, high-fashion leather god. My hands caressed his chest, sliding along the soft fabric of his silver, silk T-shirt. “Never mind about pooper. Dance with me.”

  He studied my face, his expression serious. “I cannot read you. Something is very wrong.”

  “Oh, come on, blondie.” I reached up and clasped my hands behind his neck, molding my body to his. “Stop whining and dance.”

  He wrapped me in his arms and began swaying to the music. After a few seconds, I felt a tingling along my scalp and leaned back far enough to meet his eyes. “Are you doing something? My head feels funny.”

  He gazed at me with such intensity my knees went soft and he had to tighten his hold to keep me on my feet. “I am using all my power to scan your memories and your thoughts, and it is as if they are enshrouded in an impenetrable haze. I can sense vague pictures, but nothing makes any sense. I have never experienced this before. Do you know why I cannot penetrate your mind?”

  I blinked a few times, trying to dissipate the woozy feeling, and laughed. “I’d rather talk about you penetrating something else. Here I am, all dressed up just for you, and you’re talking about mind readin
g.” I threaded my fingers through the long, soft strands of his hair. “What’s it going to take to get you in a romantic mood?”

  The music stopped and Devereux frowned. “Come.” He gently released my arms from around his neck, grabbed my hand, and tugged me through the crowd. We hurried to the door leading down to the lower level of the club. He nodded at John the vampire addict, whose job it was to keep humans away from the secret portions of the building. John opened the heavy door and we stepped inside. Instead of climbing down the steep stairs, Devereux encircled my waist with his arm and thought us into his private bedroom.

  The large room was actually more like a combination studio, ritual space, and sleeping area than an actual bedroom. I had asked him if he really slept there instead of in a coffin, and he’d just smiled without answering. Funny how he was so close-mouthed about anything to do with his own life, but insisted that my brain be an open book.

  Everything was pretty much as it had been the last time I’d visited. Devereux was an accomplished artist and his paintings filled the walls. A corner of the room was devoted to art supplies, empty canvases, and easels holding works-in-progress. He’d hung the portrait he painted of me—supposedly eight hundred years earlier—in a prominent place, with special lighting above and below. It was displayed alongside the portrait of his mother—the dead one who’d showed up in the flesh at a ritual to welcome me to the family.

  Long tables cluttered with bottles, ornate boxes, candles, and New Age paraphernalia shared the space between the art supplies and the bed. A beautiful, large, amethyst ball balanced on a golden pedestal in readiness for future casting. Apparently, Devereux was a well-known seer. He’d told me the strange bottles contained herbs and other ingredients for his magic spells and potions. I thought he was kidding, and that his hocus-pocus was a silly hobby, but he disavowed me of that notion. In fact, he’d done things for which I had no rational explanation. Not that I had a rational explanation for the vampire thing, either.