Dark Harvest

by Lynda Hilburn

  “I didn’t know that. The only other vampire I saw die was Bryce, after I cut his head off. He turned to dust right away.”

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

  I scanned the room, becoming aware of splashes of blood on the walls and the ceiling. “What should I do about poor Jerome and the ruined carpet? Is there someone I can call?”

  Thinking about having the carpet cleaned reminded me that I needed to read Jerome’s file to check for relatives and friends to contact. I’d never lost a vampire client before and I wasn’t sure what the proper etiquette was. “Is there something special we can do for Jerome? A service, or something?”

  Devereux tilted his head, studying me. “What would be the purpose of a service? He was dead before he was destroyed. I am sure all his human friends and relatives are long since departed, and vampires don’t require those kinds of ceremonies.” He saw me frown. “But, if it would make you feel better, we can bury his ashes. I will have his remains collected, and you can tell me what arrangements you would prefer. As for the carpet, it will be replaced immediately, and the room will be restored to its previous condition. There is nothing for you to do. I have already summoned the necessary assistance. Let us return to the penthouse.”

  He circled my waist with his arm, gathered me against him, and we rematerialized in the penthouse living room, near the naked vampires who stood talking in groups, like an undead cocktail party.

  Prospero strode over, arms raised in the air. “Devereux, is it true? Has the monster breached our defenses? If that is the case, I must rethink our ritual.”

  Devereux laid a hand on the rounder man’s shoulder. “Yes, my friend. It is unfortunately true. It seems important now that I concentrate on other methods for keeping Kismet safe. But I would be most grateful if you and all those gathered here would continue the ritual on our behalf. I welcome your wisdom and assistance.”

  “Consider it done.” Like the director on a movie set, Prospero leapt into action, assigning positions, discussing strategies. Once again, I was surprised by his grace and agility.

  Devereux strolled over to fetch his discarded T-shirt, and slid it over his head. It was a shame to cover that pale, muscular chest, but I took his action as verification of a change of plan. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. What was my role in the war of wills?

  A low hum emanated from the participants in Prospero’s ritual. Each vampire in the circle stood with his or her arms straight out in front, palms up. Perhaps my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn the air around the group began to shimmer. It reminded me of waves of heat rising off asphalt in an urban August. I was so fascinated by the subtle phenomenon that I startled as a rumbling, raspy voice reverberated within inches of my ear.

  “Master, there is a human downstairs—a dame—who claims she’s a friend of Dr. Knight’s. She insists on speaking with her. Shall I erase her memory and send her away?”

  I turned toward the voice, expecting to find a big, hulking body to match the meaty tone, and almost laughed out loud at the short, slender man dressed like a gangster from the 1930s. A fedora hat rode his head at a jaunty angle, and an unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth, the rolling paper obviously stuck to his lower lip, allowing him to speak without dislodging the well-used prop.

  “Who is it?” I asked the messenger.

  He continued to speak to Devereux instead of acknowledging me. “She says her name is Maxie. I’ve never seen white hair on a young dame before. She’s quite a looker. Seemed rattled, though. Nervous. What do you want me to do with her?”

  Devereux shifted his attention to me. “Do you wish to see her? I am not sure it is wise to bring her into a penthouse filled with vampires. After all, she is a reporter.”

  “Yes, she is, but she’s also a friend. A very persistent friend.” A member of a very small club, indeed. I thought for a moment. “Is there a room we can use that’s separate from the rest of the area? Somewhere she won’t see your other guests?”

  “You may use the library.” He pointed. “It is isolated from the rest of the penthouse and accessible only from this recessed alcove.” He walked to a wall panel near the front entrance, touched an intricate pattern etched into the rich wood, and a door slid sideways. He extended his hand, inviting me to investigate. “I keep many rare editions of my favorite books in this room. Some of the documents under glass are so ancient and fragile that exposure to the air would destroy them.” I poked my head inside the open door. “It would be best if your friend did not spend much time viewing the contents of the room. She would have many questions about how a humble club owner managed to own priceless books and artifacts.” He smiled and gave a quick bow of his head.

  “Humble club owner? I don’t think anybody—reporter or not—sees you that way. In fact, Maxie told me you’re widely considered to be a powerful mob boss.” I chuckled. “And after seeing the fellow doing the Sam Spade impersonation, she’s probably more convinced than ever.”

  “Mob boss? No wonder I draw so much media attention. And I thought it was merely due to my good looks and personal charm.” He grinned a little boy grin.

  He did have those things in spades. The sweetness of his smile took my breath away. How was it that he’d been a vampire for eight hundred years and such innocence could still shine forth from him at the most unexpected moments? Weren’t vampires supposed to be evil? Wasn’t that the common assumption?

  Was Devereux an exception and the maniac the rule?

  “Ralph, please bring Dr. Knight’s guest up to the library. There is no reason to entrance her or erase her memory. Escort her directly to this room. Be vigilant. I understand she is very curious and does not have much use for authority.”

  I smiled. That was a pretty good description of Maxie.

  “Shall I await her arrival and introduce myself, or would you prefer me to leave the two of you alone?” Devereux pointed back toward the rest of the penthouse.

  I stared into his mesmerizing turquoise eyes and remembered I’d promised Maxie she could meet him if an opportunity presented itself. Was it dangerous for Devereux if I exposed him to Maxie’s relentless quest for a story? Maybe she was so caught up in thinking he was involved in organized crime, she’d miss the bigger scoop.

  “Would you like to meet her?” I decided to leave it up to him. Maybe he had better things to do. Or maybe I didn’t want to take responsibility for any of the ways the situation could go to hell.

  “I admit to being curious about the woman who persuaded you to befriend her. I would enjoy meeting the white-haired swimsuit model.” I elbowed him in the ribs and he chuckled. “Ah, here they are now.”

  Ralph held Maxie’s arm, clearly restraining her rather than politely guiding. “Here ya go, doll.” He nodded at Devereux, turned, and moved back toward the elevator. I’d half-expected him to say something Bogart-ish, but he probably wasn’t aware he was impersonating anyone. Thanks to my father’s obsession with the actor’s noir films, I knew more than I wanted to.

  Maxie wore tight jeans and an equally snug white T-shirt with the words fuck you printed across her braless breasts. Her wild mane flowed, loose, down her back. Yes. Definitely swimsuit-model material.

  She shot me a fierce glance. Annoyance blanketed her face as she shook her arm, obviously trying to restore the circulation. The shaking came to an abrupt halt when she noticed the tall, blond, leather god who’d moved to stand in front of her. Devereux was only a couple of inches taller than Maxie in his boots, and she was able to meet his eyes directly as she grinned at him, extending her hand, bad temper forgotten.

  Devereux gave her one of his dazzling smiles.

  “Wow.” She grasped his offered hand, throwing her shoulders back to better present all her assets. “The famous Devereux. World-renowned entrepreneur and billionaire. Major stud muffin. You’re way hotter than your sizzling photos. If you ever tire of my conservative friend here, I’m happy to send in the
second team. You’re so cute, I’m downright speechless.”

  He bowed. “Apparently not.”

  I waved my hand in front of Maxie’s eyes. “You wanted to see me?”

  She blinked and slid her gaze to me, her anger taking a curtain call.

  Devereux kissed my cheek. “If you’ll forgive me, I have business to attend to.” He nodded at Maxie, his gaze lingering a few seconds. “It was … interesting to meet you. I trust our paths will cross again. Have a fruitful visit.”

  Ever graceful, he turned and walked away. Maxie’s mouth sagged open as she watched his slim hips and firm rear end exit the hallway.

  I poked her arm to get her attention. “Let’s go in here.” I pointed in the direction of the tasteful couches and chairs in the library.

  “Jesus.” Maxie’s eyes tracked the rows of ceiling-high shelves, filled with old books, artwork, and antiquities. “He’s got a frickin’ museum in here.”

  She wandered over to the glass cases Devereux had asked me to keep her away from, and I followed her, took her arm, and tugged her over to one of the dark leather couches scattered around the center of the room.

  “Hey, what the hell?” She glared at me with total focus this time as I dropped us both onto the cushions.

  “What are you so pissed about?” I shrugged. “What’s happened?”

  After a brief pause, she blurted, “So, he’s one, isn’t he? Nobody human is that beautiful.”

  Shit. “He’s one what?”

  She sneered. “Don’t give me that crap. No wonder you laughed when I said he was into organized crime. You knew he was sucking the life’s blood from innocent humans, literally. I felt him trying to entrance me. It almost worked. Some fucking friend you turned out to be. You knew all the time. The Vampire Psychologist. You knew they existed. You lied to me. That’s what happened at the amusement park, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Damn … damn vampires took me.”

  She was so upset she stumbled over her words. I had to know how much she’d discovered. I couldn’t betray Devereux and my clients based on something she might only know a little about.

  “Maxie, stop, please. Tell me. What happened? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I laid my hand on her arm and she threw it off.

  “You can stop lying now. I know. The whole, miserable secret is out.”

  “What secret?” What the hell happened?

  “You’re probably worried that I’m going to tell the world about your vampire lover. Wouldn’t it just serve you right if I wrote about him? His entire operation would have to fold. He’d have to skulk off into the night with the other bloodsucking fiends. Maybe someone would even take him out with a sharp stake. Hey, fuck that. Maybe I would.”

  “Maxie! Breathe. Tell me what happened.” My heart pounded against my chest. Anxiety twisted my gut. I wasn’t afraid for Devereux as much as I was terrified about what he’d do to Maxie if she really had the goods on him. I hadn’t ever asked him how he dealt with humans who discovered his existence. Did he kill them? Oh, wait. No. I forgot. He could simply erase her memory. I let out the breath I’d been holding. Maybe everything wasn’t lost.

  Well, if he could make her forget anyway …

  We sat glaring at each other for a few seconds and I broke the ice. “Okay. Tell me how you found out.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. She gasped. “What? You’re not going to deny it? You’re not going to use some psychobabble on me—some therapy speak—to convince me I’m delusional? You aren’t going to tell me I’m hallucinating?”

  “No. Tell me what happened.”

  She’d apparently expected a lot more resistance and it took a few seconds for her to regroup. “Well, okay then.” She briefly grabbed my hand, surprise and skepticism flashing across her face. “Are you saying there really are vampires, then? You’re admitting it?”

  “Yes.” I thought she might calm down faster if I kept things simple.

  She opened her mouth in a silent ah. “Holy shit. I hoped I was wrong.”

  Settling into full therapist mode, I stared at her, waiting for her to say whatever she needed to say.

  “You’re going to stare at me until my brain explodes, aren’t you? I had a nice head of steam going—feeling all self-righteous for being lied to—and now that I got what I wanted, I don’t know what to say. Give me a minute to sort out my brain cells.”

  I waited.

  “Damn, that staring thing is creepy, Doc. It’s a wonder your clients don’t off themselves right in your office just to get away from your eyeballs.”

  I slowed my breathing to help calm her.

  “Okay, okay. After I tried to tell you about Devereux and you didn’t believe me, I went back to The Crypt a couple of times to do a little creative eavesdropping. Mostly all I ran into were wannabes with their pitiful play-acting. But while I was sitting there I saw a really studly guy doing his goth thing, but he didn’t look like the other wannabes. Did I mention he was exceptionally hot? Anyway, he took a woman into one of the private areas upstairs. The little cubbyholes covered by velvet curtains.” She jumped up and paced in front of the couch.

  “I’d heard that you could find pretty much anything at The Crypt: drugs, sex, cults, satanism, torture, bondage, cutting—you name it. I followed them and stood next to the curtain of their little hideaway. There was a space between the curtain and the wall, so I could see them clearly. They got naked and were fucking their brains out. I watched for a few minutes …” She stopped in front of me and held her hands out a foot apart, palms facing each other. “Hey, this guy was hung like a stallion”—she resumed pacing—“and I was just about to return to my listening post downstairs when the guy rears up and sinks his fangs—fake, I thought—into the woman’s neck. She screamed and pushed at him, which caused him to lift his mouth for a minute. Blood gushed out of the holes he’d made. She was flailing and carrying on, and he grabbed her face to hold it still, looked into her eyes, said something I couldn’t hear, and she went limp. He resumed sucking on her neck, while he had a magnificent, grunt-filled orgasm.” Maxie must have burned off sufficient nervous energy, because she reclaimed her seat on the couch next to me.

  “As soon as he was finished spewing, he stood and started getting dressed. Quicker than I could see, he slashed the curtains back and smiled at me, his long, bloody fangs slowly retracting into his gums. I turned to run away and he grabbed me and pulled me inside the cubby. He asked if I was a vampire groupie and said if I wanted to donate some blood, he’d be happy to take advantage of my offer. He had a creative suggestion for a new moisturizer for my hair. All of a sudden, I got super dizzy and started thinking what a good idea it would be to have that guy suck on some part of my body. I almost took my clothes off, and I would’ve, if the woman lying in the booth hadn’t groaned and sat up. Her movement seemed to snap me out of whatever the guy did to me. I bolted out of the cubby, down the stairs, and out of the club.

  “The tall, skeletal bouncer at the door must have seen me run out—oh, holy shit, I just realized that isn’t a costume the guy is wearing. He really looks like that—and sent someone to follow me out. I thought at first the guy, a real cutie who resembles Johnny Depp, wanted to make sure I was okay. But right away he started trying to lock eyeballs with me, so I knew he was trying to control my brain and make me forget what had happened. I ran away from him, too, and came here.”

  I wondered if Devereux knew how many predators were using his club for feeding purposes? I really hoped he didn’t know.

  “I’m glad you came here. I don’t blame you for being freaked out. But I have to ask. How do you know the fangs weren’t fake and the guy wasn’t just a sick psycho who enjoys torturing women and drinking their blood? Lots of humans are that screwed up. What made you assume he was a real vampire?”

  “Yeah, that’s the million-dollar question, Doc. As the most skeptical reporter in the universe, that was my first assumption. But it was just the strange feeling of it. The surreal texture. Like I was i
n a wide-awake nightmare. I know that doesn’t sound like me, but it’s true. I just knew I was with something other.”

  “So, does this mean you’ll be doing an exposé about the vampires of Denver?” I frowned. “Will you destroy everything Devereux has built here? Force my clients—many of whom were turned against their wills—to go into hiding again?”

  “Time out, Doc. Don’t try to make me feel guilty for exposing these undead predators to the human world. Sure, maybe a few aren’t monsters. Or, at least not complete monsters. But others are. Are you going to try to convince me that all these vampires are just humans with fangs?”

  “No. They definitely aren’t that. But they all aren’t killers, either.” I thought about Hallow, the one who was, and I sighed. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Your reaction threw me. I thought you’d tell me more lies, so then I could get pissed off and write the biggest story of my career. But you had to go and screw up my plans. I still want to know one thing: did you lie to me to protect Devereux? Or just because you didn’t trust me?”

  Since she wouldn’t remember any of our discussion later, I figured I might as well stick with the truth.

  “Both, actually. What would you have done in my place if you met a tabloid reporter hunting for a juicy story? Someone you liked, but hadn’t known very long. I couldn’t take the chance that you’d write about me and Devereux, or that you’d expose my clients. And then there was the equally important issue of keeping you safe.”

  “Keeping me safe?” She sat up straighter. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m still new to this whole bizarre world, and the last thing I wanted was to draw someone I liked into the madness. The less you knew, the better. It was the only way to keep you out of danger. As you said, vampires aren’t just humans with fangs.”

  “What do you mean? Is there some kind of badass vampire causing trouble? Is that why Devereux’s watching you like a hawk, er, bat?

  When I didn’t say anything, she shook her head. “Still don’t trust me, eh? What do I have to do to prove I’m in your corner?” She held out her wrist. “Do you want me to take a blood oath that I won’t write about your main squeeze?”