Dark Harvest

by Lynda Hilburn

  I never wanted it to end.

  Loud voices startled me from my orgasmic dream. I opened my eyes—which I hadn’t realized I’d closed—to find several vampires in a circle around us. I tried to focus my eyes and hadn’t even had time to wonder if Devereux was there, when he leaped on Hallow, grabbing him from behind.

  I collapsed onto the floor.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I lay boneless on the ground. Orgasmic aftershocks reverberated through me while my brain smoked a mental cigarette.

  A series of clamorous noises finally penetrated the fog in my head. I turned my gaze toward what sounded like rabid wolves fighting over a deer carcass, and goggled at the sight of Devereux and Hallow locked in immortal combat.

  Their mouths were stretched in lethal snarls, long, sharp fangs exposed; silky hair flying.

  In the face of so much preternatural insanity, all I could think about was how beautiful they both were.

  I rolled onto my side and raised myself into a sitting position. Even that small movement was harder than it should have been. It was as though my muscles had forgotten their programming, or the bridge between the thought and the action had been washed away in the unnatural, hormonal flood.

  The lustful part of me—or the hormonal adolescent, as Victoria called her—still quivering in the afterglow, wanted to leap into the fray, seize Hallow, and force him to pierce my neck again with his paroxysm-inducing fangs. She was annoyed that her good time had been interrupted.

  But the logical part—my Inner Psychologist—was scowling, arms crossed.

  A temporary impasse. My psyche was at war with itself again, and I wasn’t sure which part of me would prove to be the victor.

  No telling what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten distracted. One of the vampires in the circle—a male I hadn’t seen before—reached out to help me up. I stared at the pale hand for a few seconds before grabbing onto it. I didn’t hesitate only because he was a stranger, or because I was busy having a lust-instigated psychotic break, but also because I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me if I managed to become vertical. His hand was unpleasantly cool and I released it as quickly as I politely could, giving him a nod of acknowledgment. I had a momentary thought about how it no longer seemed unusual or frightening to me to be surrounded by vampires. That couldn’t be good.

  I backed against the railing and gawked at the spectacle.

  Inhuman growls, snarls, and hisses erupted from the fighters, the bizarre sounds causing a temporary itching sensation on my skin—like hundreds of tiny bugs crawling on the surface. The unpleasant sensation wasn’t too much of a surprise, since I’d witnessed copious evidence of the ability of a vampire voice to elicit pleasure or pain.

  Watching them was very exciting for one part of me and terrifying for another. Devereux and Hallow tore at each other’s throats, carving bloody gashes that immediately healed, only to be ripped open again. God-like zombies. One second they wrestled on the ground, then the next they levitated in the air, before smashing one another savagely into the nearest wall. I’d never seen anything as viciously, primitively violent. Their shirts were shredded and discarded.

  In the midst of the carnage, Hallow laughed, which obviously incited Devereux. With renewed vigor, he wrestled his opponent to the ground, displaying impressive skills and power. A flash of confusion shadowed Hallow’s face at Devereux’s surprising abilities. Watching the two of them, muscles straining and rippling across sculpted shoulders and chests, was confusing. One part of me found it arousing, but my more rational aspect—the one who couldn’t imagine life without Devereux—was terrified that the ancient monster might prevail. I gasped in fear.

  My inadvertent sound must have distracted Devereux, causing him to shift his gaze to me and to lift his hands from Hallow’s neck, where he’d been gouging at the flesh of the madman’s throat. In that instant, Hallow vanished, reappearing next to me. That was odd. Couldn’t Hallow transport himself while Devereux focused on him? Was it Devereux’s physical touch keeping Hallow from blinking from one place to another? Or was it Devereux’s attention?

  Hallow shook his head, blood spraying from his long hair like water shaken off a wet dog, and spoke in a booming voice, “What marvelous entertainment you’ve provided, Devereux. I can’t remember when I’ve had such a rousing time. I look forward to our next rendezvous, but I have much to complete before ending my work here.” He grabbed my hair and pulled my face to his, pressing his lips forcefully to mine before releasing me just as abruptly. Lust donned her party dress and grabbed her coat, ready to check into Hotel Hallow, while the other—cautious—part held a metaphorical bucket of cold water at the ready.

  Devereux sprang to his feet and growled, recapturing my gaze, chanting in the strange language he used when working magic, as he stalked like a dangerous predator toward us. Hallow bowed from the waist and laughed again, pointing at me. “I will leave her in your care for a while longer.” He raised an eyebrow. “If she’s willing to stay. But don’t get too comfortable. She’s mine now.” He disappeared.

  Enveloped in a strange fugue, I had the odd, dissonant sense again—the schizophrenic need to be with Hallow and to run from him. My two conflicting parts jockeyed for position while arguing in my head. Having two, clear aspects take center stage was definitely new. And frightening. I’d always been aware of—and comfortable with—my inner cast of characters. Like everyone, I had certain characteristics that dominated my psychic landscape. But my sub-personalities usually took turns sitting in the driver’s seat. I now had two pilots in my consciousness cockpit, neither wanting to relinquish the controls.

  I had to believe the compassionate, wise part of me would find a way to triumph. All other outcomes were unimaginable.

  Victoria’s description of my behavior at Devereux’s club—and my inability to remember the time in question—was classic dissociative amnesia. That was bad enough. But this was different. I was fully aware of both parts of myself, and their differing agendas. I feared I’d detoured onto the entrance ramp to madness.

  Looking like a bomb-blast victim at a cover model convention, Devereux studied me for a few seconds before flicking his fingers in a dismissive gesture at his companions. “Leave us.” They did.

  His clothes were torn and bloody, his hair coated with thick red liquid, but his body showed no physical damage from the undead brawl he’d just participated in. He put his arm around my waist and propelled me toward a wooden bench against a brick wall. When we sat, I slumped against him, mentally and physically exhausted.

  Lust strolled over to a shadowy corner of my psyche and stood waiting, an amused expression on her face. She let me know she wasn’t going anywhere, but she would allow me the illusion of control. For the moment. I wondered what would happen if I couldn’t retain my portion of our joint reality. Would she simply take over my whole personality, or would the entire structure collapse?

  I shifted my gaze to Devereux’s serious profile. Lust peeked over my mental shoulder to leer at his glorious, bare chest before she retreated back to her patch of darkness, laughing.

  “What the hell just happened?” I raised my fingers to the throbbing bite on my neck and they came away bloody. Touching the wound caused my body to spasm dramatically, as if the memory of the orgasm was still there, eager to rejoin the party. Devereux grabbed me, steadying me on the bench. I held my breath, waiting for my alter ego to do something outrageous, but she only watched, impish smile in place. What was she up to?

  Devereux smoothed a strand of hair from my cheek. “The demon has reestablished his influence over you. I can sense the chaos in your mind, but your thoughts remain obscured.”

  I shivered—either from the cooling temperatures of the evening or in reaction to Hallow’s bite—and Devereux lifted me onto his lap, holding me tight against his chest. “Come. We will return to the penthouse.”

  “No. Not yet. Let’s sit here for a moment and enjoy the night.” I didn’t want to go back insi
de the building. The fresh air felt good in my lungs and the open sky gave me a sense of normality. Whatever that was. Lust stepped forward inside our shared mind, tapping an imaginary watch on her wrist. What the hell was that supposed to mean? How bizarre was my mental meltdown going to become?

  If I survived having two, radically different personalities, I’d never question my dissociated clients’ accounts of their experiences ever again. I wondered if Dr. Jekyll had to consciously live through the exploits of Mr. Hyde.

  Devereux rocked me gently for a few seconds before he spoke again, his cheek resting against my hair. “I must accept full responsibility for what has happened to you. I refused to see what was clearly in front of me. I knew Hallow was powerful and that he used his wiles to ensnare women, but I believed my vampiric abilities and magical skills could keep him in check. He is more dangerous now than he was the last time I encountered him. I was overconfident and you have paid the price.” I started to sit up, and opened my mouth to assure him I knew he’d done everything he could, but he pulled me close against his body. “Wait, please. Let me finish.” I shut my mouth and relaxed. He obviously needed to talk. “Victoria shared some of her concerns with me about Hallow. She spoke of her visions—how she had seen Hallow in your townhouse and on a stage of some kind with you. She said she saw him bite you. I was so certain that my spells would protect your home, that I did not consider the possibility that Hallow is not subject to any rules—human, vampire or magical. Even after she shared her insights, I did not take action quickly enough.” He was silent for a few seconds. “I am angry because I do not know how to protect you from his malicious intentions. In all my eight hundred years I have rarely been bested. It is a bitter fruit to swallow.”

  He went very still, his breathing and heartbeat growing faint. I knew those human-like functions were under his direct control, and I wondered if he’d simply forgotten about them.

  Hoping to break whatever introspective spell he’d woven around himself, I spoke louder than necessary. “Can I sit up now?” In his intensity, he’d been holding me so tightly, I was sure there’d be bruises on my arms.

  He released his grip, shook his head, and heaved a huge sigh. “Yes, of course. I apologize. Once again, I have behaved obliviously. You must truly think me a thoughtless cave dweller by now.”

  His heart jolted back to life in his chest, and I could feel his breath against my hair. He’d told me he only bothered with things like breathing when he was around me or another mortal. I appreciated his efforts, because I certainly took breathing for granted and didn’t think I was ready for him to constantly remind me of his corpseness. There was no need for me to give him any lectures about his previous arrogance, or his tendency to gently bulldoze, because he was being harder on himself than I would’ve been, so I tried to lighten the mood.

  “Oh, yes. You’re a regular Fred Flintstone.” I laughed.

  “Fred Flintstone?” He lowered his voice and locked eyes with me, as if the topic warranted the utmost seriousness. “Is he one of your clients?” Articulating the words very clearly in his antiquated manner, he invested them with great importance. I laughed. How he’d managed to become the successful billionaire he was, functioning in the modern century, was a mystery, since his education about anything he didn’t consider pertinent was meager. But I guessed someone of Devereux’s age and temperament might find society’s focus on the superficial to be uninteresting.

  He obviously doesn’t have a television in his coffin.

  “No. He’s a cartoon character. But that’s not important.” I knew he was going to take offense and ask if I thought he was one, and I didn’t want to go there. “I don’t think you’re a thoughtless cave dweller, although if you’d asked me that a couple of days ago, I might have given you a different answer.”

  He recognized the humor in my face and smiled. “Yes. And I would have deserved it.” His expression became serious again. “I have since discovered that Hallow created the trouble between the two vampire covens I have been attempting to resolve. His mind control abilities are second to none. He knew exactly how to distract me, and I was a fool to allow myself to be manipulated. In my mistaken belief that, as the master of the largest coven in this part of the country, I was the only one who could settle the dispute, I walked right into his clever ruse. It is true that the covens were in need of mediation, but only due to his intervention. I should have realized this much sooner. And I should have been more available to you. I should never have left your side.” He kissed my forehead.

  My therapeutic lecture on the parental roots of the tendency to “should” oneself sprang to mind. Apparently I couldn’t ever stop being a therapist, even in the midst of a psychic brain split—but I didn’t think he’d appreciate the unofficial counseling session. He was being so sweet and beating himself up so badly, I thought it was time for me to own up to my own participation in the problem. Damned ethical training.

  “Well, as fascinating as your self-flagellation is, I have to admit I didn’t make it easy for you to remain by my side. And I didn’t listen to you when you said Hallow was influencing me. I had no idea what you meant then, but I do now. I wasn’t aware of his ability to force me to forget my logical, practical self, and to become a more primitive aspect of my nature. I didn’t realize he was a literal monster until I watched him kill the radio show guy in front of my eyes.”

  He went still. His relaxation immediately morphed into rapt attention as his body adopted a rigid posture. “What do you mean? When did you witness such a thing?”

  The cool air—and the energetic buzz of Devereux’s impending anger—was becoming uncomfortable and I needed a few minutes to organize my thoughts. For the first time I noticed my feet were bare and wondered what had happened to my shoes—as if my brain needed something simple to focus on. “If we’re going to have that discussion, I want to go back inside.”

  Without a word, he gathered me into his arms, stood, and transported us to my bedroom in his penthouse.

  I expected him to launch right into demanding to know how I’d seen the radio host die, but he surprised me by smiling and changing the subject. I didn’t know what to make of the rapid mood shift. But since I was currently the Queen of Split Personalities, I didn’t see how I could point any fingers at him.

  His gorgeous eyes twinkled. “We are both blood-covered, which I am sure is a greater burden for you than for me. I am, after all, very comfortable with the familiar substance.” He gave a dazzling smile. “Perhaps we should discard our soiled garments and shower before we continue our discussion.”

  No matter what else is happening, a guy is always a guy.

  My eyebrows shot up. “Is that your way of asking me to have sex with you? In the midst of all the insanity we’re dealing with? After the fight you just had?” Lust drew my attention by jumping up and down, clapping her hands. She started unbuttoning her blouse, a wide smile on her face.

  I thought he’d make a lighthearted remark, perhaps toss out a double entendre, but he became serious again—almost sad.

  “At this moment, I am at a loss to know how to proceed. I want to keep you safe, yet short of holding on to you physically, I am without options. I will, of course, strengthen your protective necklace—which, by the way, is probably the reason the lunatic was not able to completely take you over again tonight—and cast all the appropriate spells. I will station vampire guards at every entrance, and I have ordered the building’s security heightened in every way. The truth is that I need to reclaim you. Physically. Emotionally. And I need to find myself again. I know that sounds primitive and like something Fred Flintstone would do.” He grinned when he said the last. “But I need to rebuild our emotional bond, to soothe my own yearning as well as protect you. And, yes”—the brilliant smile was back—“of course I always want to have sex with you.”

  Gazing up into his sparkling aqua eyes and blood-clumped, platinum hair, I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

  “So, t
his would be sex for magical purposes?”

  He gave a brief nod. “It could definitely be considered such.”

  “Some men would be too upset after the evening we’ve had to concentrate on sex.”

  He gave a slow blink, the corners of his mouth curving. “I am not a man. I am a vampire. A very old vampire. Rest assured that concentration will not be a problem.”

  His tone of voice played along my body like warm hands. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. At that point it didn’t matter which part of me was rolling out the welcome mat. Our nipples were hard.

  The scientist part of me remembered that I’d often had discussions with clients about the difference between male and female sexuality, and how men felt most connected during the sex act. Devereux needing to reconnect that way made total sense. As always, his self-awareness was impressive, and his ability to share himself with me emotionally was one of my favorite things. How could I resist such a perfect male? Even if he was a chest beater on occasion?

  “Well, then.” I gave what I hoped was a come-hither look. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of not holding up my end of our emotional bond. I guess I’ll have to suffer through another glorious Devereux orgasm. Only in the name of soothing you, of course.” Maybe he was more brilliant than I thought. Was he suggesting sex to positively distract me?

  He threw back his head and laughed, the sound tickling over me like soft feathers, as he walked us into the lovely bathroom. “Of course.”

  Lowering me to my feet, he cocked his head. “Your beautiful blue dress is ruined. That is another score I will settle with the demon. A replacement will be arranged.” He bent down, grasped the hem of my dress, and began tugging it up my body. I raised my arms in the air, letting him pull what was left of the masterpiece over my head. He dropped it on the floor, leaving me standing in my blue silk bikini panties, matching bra, and protective necklace.