Dark Harvest

by Lynda Hilburn

  “Have me? What happened? Why do I feel so terrible? I drank your blood?” My voice sounded feeble.

  He frowned. “What is the last thing you remember?”

  I tried to concentrate through the cotton candy in my head. “I was at home, getting ready to do some paperwork. I’d decided to spend a quiet evening there. How did I get to The Crypt?” I glanced down again. “Where are my clothes?”

  Devereux gazed at me with such tenderness that it frightened me. Almost as if he pitied me or was avoiding telling me an unpleasant fact I needed to know.

  A feeling of panic overwhelmed me, and I tried to wiggle out from under his restraining hand. “Why are you looking at me like that? Tell me what happened. Am I dying?”

  He gave a gentle smile and stroked his hand along my hair. “No. You are not dying. I will not let anything bad happen to you. But this is a serious situation and it is best if you return to sleep for a few more hours.”

  What did he mean, a few more hours? Was he saying I’d already been out that long? I opened my mouth to argue, and met his eyes. The beautiful blue-green swirled in a hypnotic pattern and I drifted away.

  I’m in a hazy, surreal, sunset-tinted landscape, standing in a white, multi-columned structure high on a mountaintop. A fragrant breeze blows through the open building, causing my white filmy gown to mold itself to my body. I stare out at the expansive horizon, mesmerized by the ethereal, magical view, breathing in the rarified air. Feeling light—free.

  Sensing a presence, I shift my gaze away from the stunning scenery, and turn to the handsome figure lounging against a column.

  “Ah, there you are, Doctor. It took me a while to break through all your savior’s spells and incantations. I must tell you, this adventure is turning out to be even more exciting than I expected. I had no idea Devereux had become so powerful. What a treat for me to defeat such a vampire. It’s a shame he isn’t the one I’ve come to harvest.”

  “Hallow? Where am I?”

  He ambles toward me, smiling, his long hair fanning out in the wind. “Mount Olympus, of course. The home of the gods. Or at least one god.”

  “You’re a god?”

  His smile spreads wider. “Unavoidably.”

  “Why am I here?”

  He saunters in a circle. “I’m preparing you to be my next lýtle.”

  Wary, I turn to follow his motion. “Your what?”

  “ Lýtle. It’s an Old English word. It translates as female slave, but I’ve given it much richer meaning over the centuries.”

  I shake my head. “This can’t really be happening. I’m not going to be anybody’s slave. This is a delusion. A dream, right?”

  He stops moving and stands in front of me. “Let’s just say it’s a dream dimension. The actual explanation would raise too many questions, and I must return you to your body before you become too attached to this reality. It isn’t your time to transition yet, but I couldn’t resist claiming you again, just to confound the magicians. And speaking of your knight in shining armor, I have masked your memories of our time together. He will not be able to sense them unless you think of them first.”

  He steps close, pulls me against his body, and stares at me with his shimmering silver eyes. “I am curious about my unexpected interest in you. I hadn’t anticipated I’d find you intriguing. It seems I desire more than your blood and obedience. I’m curious about my odd reactions. It isn’t often anything surprises me.”

  “Don’t you already have a harem of women who do whatever you want? Why would you want someone who would rather die than willingly submit to you?”

  He laughs. “That is no doubt one cause for the fascination. It will be exciting to break you.”

  He cocks his head and lowers his mouth to my neck. I feel the sharp points of his fangs slice through my skin and I groan, my knees going soft. He wraps me more tightly in his arms and I feel the pressure of his lips sucking blood from my vein. A full-body orgasm radiates through me and I writhe, gasping. He raises his mouth from the punctures and brings his lips to mine. His lips are soft and warm. They taste of my own blood, and that excites me. My heart pounds madly, my breath comes in rapid pants.

  He releases me, and I stumble, grabbing onto a column to steady myself. A depraved smile quirks his lips. “I’m afraid I’m spoiling you for anyone else, my dear doctor. Fantasy sex is definitely in our future. Long and slow. But, alas, not today. Go back now. Return to your body. And remember my touch. Yearn for it.”

  Feeling like I’d dived into deep water, then fought my way back to the surface, I opened my eyes. It only took a few seconds to recognize I was wearing a bright red, satin nightgown and lying on the huge bed in Devereux’s room. Soft light glowed from candles hovering in the air. I would have assumed I was still dreaming—or insane—if I hadn’t seen a similar impossibility months before at one of the vampire coven’s rituals.

  Remnants of the odd dream flickered across my inner movie screen. In my mind’s eye I could still see the achingly beautiful colors flowing, one into another, along the celestial canvas. My body remembered the feel of the soft air against my skin. My eyes memorized the brilliant white of the marble columns. And my soul yearned for … what? Hallow? How could I yearn for him? No. That wasn’t possible. Even the thought of feeling desire for the beautiful demon filled me with shame. What had the murdering psychopath done to me?

  Raised voices floated into my awareness, jarring me out of my reverie. Familiar voices. I lifted onto my elbows and watched Dr. Sex pace back and forth in front of Victoria, who sat in the large, throne-like chair Devereux claimed was almost as old as he was.

  Since the room was apparently vampire-free, that meant the sun was up. I had no idea how long I’d been sleeping, or what day it was. I had a full schedule of clients for Monday, and I was worried I’d abandoned them.

  “It wouldn’t have hurt him to listen to me for a few minutes. This is very important. I’m certain if he lets me explain my situation, we can come to a mutually beneficial outcome. I’m not used to being dismissed that way,” Tom ranted.

  Victoria tried to whisper, but her anger made the volume louder than she probably intended. “You’re lucky he even let you stay here while Zoë sleeps. If I hadn’t convinced Devereux that, despite your complete and utter self-absorption, you are Kismet’s friend, you’d have had your memory altered and been on your way back to Los Angeles. Count yourself lucky that I was here to speak for your pitiful self.”

  Tom flicked his hair behind his shoulder, and adopted his most pompous tone. “I’m not self-absorbed. I’m focused. There’s a difference.” He paused, planting his fists on his hips. “And why the hell can’t I get out of this dungeon? All the vampires are dead to the world—even the one everybody is afraid of. Why are there guards on the doors? What good are human guards going to be, anyway?”

  Victoria stood and faced him. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an annoying habit of talking when you have no knowledge to back up your words? You ramble endlessly. Pointlessly. It’s very irritating.” She stepped closer into his much-cherished personal space.

  “The guards are on the doors for Kismet’s protection, you idiot. The grotesque vampire in question doesn’t follow any rules, including being unable to function during the daylight hours. There is no limit to what he can do. He can crawl into her mind and make her behave in ways she ordinarily wouldn’t. She could try to leave. From what I’ve seen, she might even attempt to overpower us. We’re here to protect her.” She poked her finger into his chest and he swatted her hand away.

  “Of course, the idea of doing something for someone else is probably a foreign concept to you, but if you want to go through with your absurd plan, you should probably pay attention to what Devereux says. No matter who turns you, you’ll still start out at the bottom of the undead totem pole. You’ll be somebody’s flunky for at least a little while. I suspect that will be a humbling blow to your astronomical ego.” She shook her finger in his face. “I barely
know you and I’ve already been tempted several times to turn you into various barnyard animals. I don’t understand how Kismet tolerates you. Or Zoë.”

  Tom’s voice rose in pitch. “You don’t know me well enough to speak to me that way. You’re just a receptionist or clerk, aren’t you? Where do you get off …”

  Their argument was getting old. It was time to press the pause button. “Hey! You two are going to wake the dead.”

  Both their heads swiveled toward me, and Victoria scurried to my bedside.

  “Kismet!” She wrapped her fingers around one of my hands. “Thank the Goddess you’re awake! We were all so frightened. Nobody knew what the lunatic had done to you. How do you feel?”

  Tom angled tentatively in my direction, peeking around Victoria, stealing little glances at my face.

  “What lunatic? I feel fine. I don’t understand why I’m in Devereux’s bed instead of my own.” Tom still hadn’t moved any closer to me. “What are you doing, Tom? You’re acting even more bizarre than usual. Why are you hiding?”

  He sidled next to Victoria, frowning. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to attack anyone else like you did Devereux.”

  “What?” I glared at him. “I didn’t attack anyone, especially not Devereux. Victoria, what’s he talking about?”

  She turned her head and cast a frosty gaze at Tom. “As usual, he’s just yapping to hear the sound of his own voice.”

  “She did attack him! Are you going to lie to her?”

  I sighed. Their imitation sibling rivalry was making my head hurt. I fell back onto the pillow. “Okay, stop. Please. Victoria, just tell me. I don’t remember anything since I was in my living room, preparing to work at my desk. Did I have some kind of breakdown? Did someone spike my coffee? Did Devereux bring me here? What day is it?”

  She paused, a conflicted expression on her face. “It’s Sunday, late afternoon. You’re probably afraid you missed your client appointments. Don’t worry, you didn’t. Everything’s fine. Besides, even if you had, I would’ve contacted all of them to reschedule.”

  I patted her hand and smiled, relief washing over me. “Thank you for being such a good friend. So, what about the rest of my questions?”

  “I don’t know how much I should tell you.” She frowned. “I don’t want to upset you or make things worse. All I know is what Devereux told me.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Well?”

  She nodded. “Do you remember Devereux saying that Hallow had already begun influencing you? That you weren’t … yourself?”

  “Yes. I remember he said that, but it didn’t make any sense. Are you saying that’s what happened? Hallow has been controlling me?”

  “My theory is he began entrancing you when he called the radio show, and Devereux agrees with me.” A thoughtful expression crossed her face. She pursed her lips and faced Tom. “Dr. Radcliffe? Would you mind telling the guards at the door that we need human food and drink down here? Ask one of them to go upstairs with you and bring supplies.”

  He raised his nose into the air. “You don’t give the orders around here. Why don’t you go?”

  Victoria shifted her eyes in my direction, then to Tom. I received her silent message. “Come on, Tom. Help me out here. I really am thirsty.” I gave him my best puppy dog look.

  “Yeah, sure. Don’t think I’m buying that story for one minute. I know you want to talk about me when I’m gone, but I’m used to that. I often inspire jealousy.” He stomped off toward the door.

  The expression on Victoria’s face gave me a good idea about what she intended to say, so I beat her to it. “Yes. I know. He’s an ass. An insufferable egomaniac. But we’ve known each other for so long, believe it or not, he’s my oldest friend. Actually, he’s the closest thing to a brother I have—well, okay, maybe a third cousin twice removed who’d sell me to white slavers for a shot of Botox—but let’s both pretend he’s not the biggest dickhead in the universe for now.”

  She shook her head. “Come on, Kismet. Level with me. How could you have lived with someone like Tom? I know he’s handsome, but didn’t he drive you insane?”

  I thought for a moment. “Yes. He really did.” I grinned. “But I met him when I was in grad school, and I was young, insecure, and shy. He was already the wunderkind—the golden boy of the psychology department. I was shocked and flattered by his attention. He was so popular; I mostly just trailed around after him, allowing his life to become mine. It took me a while to realize how empty the relationship was. It wasn’t his pomposity that broke us up. It was his infidelity. He just couldn’t resist a pair of perky breasts.” I laughed. “After we broke up and I stopped pretending not to see the obvious, I actually started to enjoy him. Mostly. He’s much worse when other people are around than when it’s just the two of us. Maybe he doesn’t think I rate the full obnoxious act. Sometimes he can actually be fun to spend time with. But if you ever tell him I said that, I’ll lock you in a room with him!”

  We both laughed, then became serious again. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

  She scooted a chair to the edge of the bed and sat. “We both know that Devereux—delightful soul that he is—has a tendency to be a little arrogant. It never occurs to him that his view of something might not be universal. He’s convinced that Hallow’s only communications with you have come through your dreams.”

  I nodded, recalling the mountaintop scene. “Hallow has been in my dreams.”

  She folded her hands on her lap, nodding. “I can’t read your mind as Devereux does, but I have various psychic abilities, and my strongest gift is the same as yours: clairsentience. I simply know things. And sometimes I’m clairvoyant. That’s how I’m aware you’ve had more contact with Hallow than merely through dreams. I saw you on a stage somewhere with him, both of you covered with blood. Then I saw him again in your townhouse. I watched him bite you.” She hesitated, frowning. “That part was very sexual. Despite what Devereux might believe, Hallow seems to have unlimited access to you, no matter how many magic spells and vampire enchantments are involved. Do you remember any of what I described?”

  I stared at her. The stage was probably at the amusement park. I definitely remembered that. How could I forget witnessing a murder? But I drew a blank about him being in my house.

  “Yes.” I nodded, licking my very-dry lips. Anxiety twisted my stomach and I couldn’t make eye contact with Victoria. “I do remember being in an abandoned building with Hallow. He killed the radio host who’d been so obnoxious that morning. He made me look at the body. He said he’d done it for me.” I raised my gaze to hers. “But I have no memory of him being in my home. Are you sure you saw that? Maybe you were just afraid it might happen and you imagined it?”

  “I wish it was my imagination, but unfortunately I’m sure. Do you remember coming to The Crypt last night and being rather … rowdy?”

  “What do you mean?” I touched her arm. “Are you saying I came to the club under my own power? Why don’t I remember? Did you come with me?”

  “No. I met you on the front stairs. You definitely weren’t your usual self.”

  “What did I do? Pick a bar fight? Take off all my clothes?” I cringed and briefly covered my eyes with my hands. “No, wait, I’m not sure I want to know. Just tell me that I didn’t do anything to humiliate myself personally or professionally.”

  She shrugged. “No fights. No nudity. You were simply … uninhibited. You did a fair bit of flirting. But there was no harm done. All of Devereux’s employees are aware of Hallow’s presence, and his effect on you.” She paused. “And I need to confess something. Nigel and I were so worried about you that we went to find Devereux and, well, I’m afraid I’m the one who said you were behaving like a hormonal adolescent. He told me he mentioned it to you, although I know you don’t remember anything that happened while you were at the club. But still.” She lowered her gaze and shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted Devereux to understand that the demon’s influence ha
d caused you to regress to a younger, more primitive part of your consciousness, rather than have him think your normal personality had made those decisions. Do you forgive me?”

  I pulled a corner of the blanket up and flipped it over my head, trying to hide from my imagined misbehavior. “Of course I forgive you.” I mumbled through the cloth. “I’m sure the label was accurate. I’m just confused. I don’t know whether to be embarrassed that everyone knows what’s happening to me except me, or happy that I didn’t do any irreparable damage.”

  She tugged the blanket away from my face, and squeezed my hand. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” A slow smile slid across her lips. “You did seem to be enjoying yourself. You’ve got quite a way with men. You were just about to add another boy toy to your collection when Devereux showed up and brought you down here. Then, from what I heard, things got a little … out of hand.”

  My heart started to beat faster. A feeling of dread trickled through my body. “Is that what Tom was talking about? Did I actually attack Devereux?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Devereux didn’t tell me everything, but at some point in your … intimacies … you broke a glass vase, cut his skin, and drank his blood. That’s why you were unconscious.”

  I sat up like my upper body was spring-loaded. “Holy shit. Did I hurt him?”

  “No. He probably healed immediately. But you were knocked out, and Devereux doesn’t know what other effects his blood will have on you. But he did discover that, for some bizarre reason, his blood deepened Hallow’s control over you. Devereux said he could sense an even more powerful presence in your energy field. Maybe it’s because both of them are old and—who knows?—maybe old blood, is old blood.”