Zephyr shook his head. “I will consider your request for additional information at another time. Right now we have enough to deal with.”
Pouting, I sat back in the seat. I knew I was acting like a child, but I was so tired I didn’t care.
“Okay. So is there anything I can do to protect my brain? Anything in addition to the technique a friend taught me?”
“Ah, yes.” He stroked the long ends of his moustache and looked at me. “Cerridwyn: she is a personal favorite. Very talented. I am glad you followed through on the suggestion I planted in Agent Stevens’ mind and called her. I made sure the sound magic she taught you was potent. It makes things much easier for me.”
“You know Cerridwyn?” Am I caught up in some vampire conspiracy?
“No conspiracy, and no, I have not had the pleasure of meeting her in person, but I intend to. Anyway, back to your dilemma. The elders spent quite a lot of time discussing the best way to keep your gray matter healthy despite all the challenges you present. It finally came down to a single solution: you must drink the blood of the elders yearly.”
“What? Oh my God!” My heart tripped. I leaped out of the chair and backed away, bumping into the nearest bookshelf. “That’s ridiculous. Why would I do that? Wouldn’t that change me into a vampire?” Instead of helping, this meeting with Zephyr was pushing me over the edge. All the fear he had diminished earlier now came rushing back.
He sat silently for a while, watching me. “Please.” He pointed to the empty chair. “Come back and sit. I probably should not have said that quite so directly. I do understand that humans have many misunderstandings about the transformation process.”
When I didn’t move, he smiled gently. “Sincerely, you will feel better after you learn the facts. I know that is how your mind works. Let me remove your fear again.”
Trembling, I inched over to the chair and sat. What else could I do? There was no way for me to get out of the underground cavern without vampire aid. Where the hell was Devereux when I needed him?
Zephyr traced his finger across my forehead, then touched it to the center of my chest. The relief was so powerful and immediate, it made my eyes water. I sat just breathing for several seconds, feeling perspiration gathering under my arms.
“There. That is better. Your heart is slowing. Now let me explain.”
I licked my dry lips and nodded.
“Even with your unique energy frequency pattern, had you not taken any vampire blood the spell alone would protect your brain from physiological damage for the rest of your mortal life. But because you drank from Devereux and others, and you intend to spend a lot of your time in close proximity to such a powerful Master, that normal solution will not work. We all agree that the only way to safeguard your mind is to make you a little less human, by casting the spell on our blood and having you drink small amounts of it regularly.”
Will this nightmare never end?
A jaw-cracking yawn reminded me how utterly exhausted I was. Struggling to focus, I said, “But why do I need to drink blood? Why will that make a difference? Isn’t there some other magical remedy?”
“That is the magical remedy. Blood is the most powerful magic of all.”
Shit! This is lose-lose-lose. If I do nothing and keep working with vampires, my brain will disintegrate. If I do nothing and walk away, Lucifer will get me. If I take the remedy, who knows what I’ll turn into?
“That’s really the only way? What will it do to me, exactly?”
“The main purpose of the blood is to allow the spell to be effective. The combined strength of four elders will override the control Devereux has exerted, in addition to adding protection, which will include not being overwhelmed by fear in the presence of vampires. You will probably be a little stronger, your intellect a little keener, and your inherent abilities more substantial.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. What’s the downside?”
He stroked his moustache again. “Since this particular situation has not arisen previously, we are not sure what the side effects might be. Although according to our visions, there is no obvious change in you or your life if you take our offer.”
I gulped. “No obvious change? I guess that means I don’t grow fangs or sprout bat wings. What are some not-so-obvious possibilities?”
He raised a shoulder. “It is likely you will continue to attract the supernatural, perhaps to an increased degree. Whatever it is about you that appeals to the otherworldly might continue to grow, which could mean you will find yourself in more non-ordinary situations.
“Another benefit might be that your tendency to psychically know things will extend to vampires. Thus far, you have been limited to sensing humans. You might view such an ability as a professional asset.”
“What about strong vampires being able to read my mind? Especially Devereux. Would that ability be blocked?”
“It would be … mediated. As you learn to perfect the technique Cerridwyn taught you, and create healthy boundaries for your thoughts, most vampires will be unable to read you. Young ones cannot, anyway. Dominant vampires like Devereux will still be able to plunder your safeguards if they choose to, but even Devereux will not be able to pick up your thoughts if you remain unemotional and practice the sound trance. It is emotion that unlocks the gates to your interior world. With our spelled blood, all your barriers will be reinforced.”
I sat quietly, trying to sort out all the conflicting thoughts and emotions. Assuming my brain would be healthy, the decision finally came down to whether or not I wanted to continue working with vampires. And whether I wanted to try to sort out things with Devereux. If so, I had little choice but to accept Zephyr’s bizarre offer.
“You said you’ve looked at my future.”
“Yes. The most likely future if you drink our blood.”
“Can you tell me if I’m still with Devereux then? If—”
He shook his head and held up a hand. “No. That is not something we can discuss, only whether you wish to accept our solution.”
“Can I sleep on it?”
“You must decide now. The elders applied the spell to the blood we collected a short while ago. It is best to drink it while it is fresh and the spell is potent.”
Yuck. Drink. Fresh blood. I never thought I’d think those words together.
“But wait—can’t you give me some time to mull over the options then bring me back to this moment again afterward? The spelled blood would still be fresh.”
He gave a quick grin. “Very good, Doctor Knight. That is absolutely true. But”—he leaned in and frowned—“how do you know we did not do that already and this is your agreed-upon decision point?” He chuckled. “Besides, as important as your brain’s health is to you, I do not share your feelings in the matter. I have given as much time to this situation as I care to.” He sat back in his chair, touched the table with his thumb, and a beautifully crafted silver cup appeared, about the size of a small to-go coffee. He lifted it, turned the handle toward me, and offered it. “Drink and save your brain, or walk away and take your chances with Dracul’s servant Lucifer.”
Thoughts pinged across my mind like the metal ball in an old pinball game. I tried to see another way out, but there wasn’t one. Nobody, including me, believed I had a prayer of surviving Lucifer’s fixation without help. Devereux’s help. I met Zephyr’s eyes, then grasped the cup and brought it close enough to see the contents. The cup was half-full of dark liquid.
I looked up at Zephyr again, my lips already pursing in anticipation of the thick, coppery taste. “Really?”
He nudged the cup to my mouth. “Really.”
I closed my eyes, held my breath, and slammed the blood. The taste was as unpleasant as I remembered from the ritual. As soon as I swallowed, my entire body began to tingle, and I experienced a burst of energy—my exhaustion suddenly becoming a vague memory.
He took the cup from my hand, and it disappeared. “Good. Now I will return you to your world. Come.” He
rose and guided me up from the chair. I barely stood before the air blew against my face and we were once again in my hotel room.
I quickly looked over at the bed to see if Alan was still there. He was. And the clock showed the same time it had before I left. Still feeling remarkably energized, I smiled at Zephyr. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
He took a step back.
“Can I call on you if I have questions or if something else weird happens?”
“Absolutely not.”
“No? Why not? What would be the harm?”
“As I said before, we rarely intervene in human affairs. Had there not been a benefit to vampires, we would never have contacted you. You must figure out the rest yourself.” He bowed again, then held up his index finger. “Do not forget to practice the sound magic. Without it, there will always be a weakness in your boundaries.”
And he was gone.
Unsettled, I went to the window and stared out at Central Park. I’d just turned and bent to remove my shoes when the woman in the red nightgown ran through me. I gasped at the freaky sensation, surprised again that a ghost had touched me physically. “Help me! You’ve got to help me! I don’t want to die!” Startled by the sound and forgetting for a second that it was an illusion, I covered my head with my hands to protect it from the shattered glass as the apparition leaped out into the night.
Not only had she touched me, she’d talked to me. That was new and definitely unwanted. Obviously the elders’ blood had kicked in already
and opened me to expanded madness.
In the sudden silence afterward, I laughed, sounding crazy to myself.
Well, what else is new?
I shuffled over to the bed, climbed in without taking my clothes off, and listened to Alan’s snores for a few seconds before I sank into oblivion, dead to the world.
Chapter 17
The phone ringing jolted me into wakefulness, and I grabbed the handset and mumbled, “Hello?”
Someone breathed for a few seconds, then hung up.
“Great. My morning pervert wake-up call.”
Alan snorted, then rolled over, and went back to sleep.
I replaced the phone and sat up, waiting for the expected hangover to wrestle me down. There was no getting around the fact that I’d drunk a disgustingly unhealthy amount of wine last night, and by rights I should feel terrible.
But I didn’t. In fact, I felt great. Thanks to Zephyr and the blood.
Oh, hell. The blood.
I didn’t want to think about the blood, so I shifted my focus and stared at my bed companion, trying to sort out all the different feelings I had about him and our almost-sexual encounter. I had to admit I’d been relieved by not having to make the decision. I guess I just wasn’t ready emotionally to let go of Devereux yet. I tugged the sheet up over Alan’s arm.
Was I attracted to him? Absolutely. Did I love him? Apparently. I stroked a finger through his hair. Was it the same kind of love I felt for Devereux? I didn’t know how to answer that. Love was different in every relationship, wasn’t it? That’s what I told my clients.
Being with Alan was comfortable and fun. He made me laugh, and we had so much in common—plus he knew about the vampires and all that entailed. If he ever decided to become less of a workaholic and settle down with one woman, I could do a lot worse than share my life with him. At least he didn’t try to control me, and he wasn’t hazardous to my mental health.
And there was no way for me to be sure how much of my former lust for Devereux had been due to his influence on my brain versus authentic emotions. What would happen now that Zephyr had given me the elders’ blood to drink and told me the hum would keep my brain safe and less readable? Did I want to find out what was real between Devereux and me?
The flutter in my stomach said yes.
But it didn’t matter what I wanted. Devereux and I had broken things off, and then he’d found me with Alan and leaped to all the wrong conclusions. I didn’t expect him to show up anytime soon. Besides, he had no idea I’d discovered a way to protect myself, and he was in denial about his effect on my brain anyway.
Once again, everything had changed. My life felt like an unsolvable puzzle. Or a mass of tangled Christmas lights.
A heavy sadness settled in, and my eyes teared.
Light snow was falling. The overcast day was cold enough to etch frost around the edges of the glass. I eased out of bed and padded over to the window, appreciating the early-morning stillness and glad the woman in the red nightgown had taken a break.
Her expanded manifestation last night after I drank the foul blood concoction had been an unpleasant surprise. In fact, now that I thought about it, my reawakened ability to see ghosts hadn’t really been fully revived until after I drank the blood at that ritual last October. Great. If things kept going the way they were, I’d be able to give James Van Praagh and John Edward a run for their money. I didn’t want to see dead
people.
I turned and strode toward the bathroom to shower and dress. A newspaper had been shoved under the door, and I picked it up, noting the date. Friday. The day for my vampire-wannabe presentation to my peers at four p.m. My heart tripped. Even though nothing unexpected had occurred with my colleagues, I was still anxious about their reaction to my lecture. I hoped I could find a way to make an academic paper on bloodsuckers sound professional.
When I tossed the newspaper on the foot of the bed, something white floated out and landed on the floor. A quarter-sheet of copy paper. I bent to retrieve it and read the message printed in large type: You aren’t fooling anyone. I’ll expose you. Wait and see. It was unsigned.
What now? Fooling about what? The paper must have become stuck to the newspaper and gone to the wrong room. Or it was just a stupid joke.
I flung the note onto the bed, dashed into the bathroom, and closed the door.
After I finished my shower and got dressed, I walked back into the main area to find Alan talking on his cell, watching television. He gave a thumbs-up to my black silk pantsuit, then pointed to a table holding a carafe of coffee and cups. He must have called room service.
“That’s horrible news. I’m sorry to hear it. Thanks for contacting me. What? No. I don’t know exactly when I’ll be back. I’ll let you know as soon as I can. Yeah. Thanks, Detective. Me, too.” He disconnected.
I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him. “What?”
“Fuck.” He sighed and let his head drop back against the headboard. “That was Detective Andrews from San Francisco. There’s been another murder.”
“No! Another therapist?” Was anyone ever going to be able to end Lucifer’s killing spree?
“That makes eight therapists.”
“Another dark-haired woman?”
“Yes. Andrews said the governor is demanding they hold a press conference and release all the details later today. It’s really going to hit the fan.”
Holy shit! I didn’t know any therapists working in San Francisco, but regardless they were colleagues—colleagues who looked like me—who’d been murdered by a supernatural monster. They were symbolic representations of me! How was I supposed to live with that?
“Are you going back there?” Even though I was ambivalent about us, the idea of Alan returning to the ass-kicking detective made me itchy.
He must have heard something in my voice. “No. There’s no reason to—I already know who the bloody perp is, but I can’t tell them. I’m better off here playing bodyguard to the monster’s obsession.” He gave a wicked grin. “Love the jealousy, though. Nice boost to the old Stevens ego.”
I didn’t bother insisting I wasn’t jealous. I had no idea what I was, so I just glared at him for a few seconds. “I met Zephyr last night.”
“What?” He jerked the cup he was raising to his lips, splashing coffee down his chest. “Damn! That’s hot.” He grabbed some tissues from a box on the nightstand. “You met Zephyr? Where was I?” He sipped from the cup then set it down.
<
br /> I rose and fetched a cup for myself before answering. “He popped in after you went to sleep, and he did something to you so you wouldn’t wake up until this morning.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I can’t tell you how tired I am of being managed by vampires. Devereux merely flicks a finger at me, and I’m out of commission on the floor, then Zephyr renders me unconscious while he absconds with my roommate. You must think I’m one useless son of a bitch.” He scowled.
It really was difficult to win pissing contests with vampires.
“I don’t blame you for being angry—I’d feel the same way—but you know it’s impossible for a human to have an equal playing field with a vampire. I’m actually grateful you finally understand what it’s like to be a pawn on their undead chessboard. It really sucks.”
He picked up his cup again. “Yeah, I know. Did you see the library? Tell me everything.”
And I did, while he listened with his mouth open.
When I finished talking, he remained silent for a minute, then bolted off the bed and paced, butt-naked. “Holy fucking cow. I can’t believe it.” He combed his fingers through his hair while he roamed around the room. “Every time I think I’ve got a grip on the basic level of weirdness we humans haven’t been privy to, the floor drops out from beneath my feet and I’m free-falling again.” He plopped down on the edge of the bed next to me.
Good thing my cup was empty or I’d have been covered in coffee. I tried to keep my eyes on his face. Apparently, when Alan got excited, all of him got excited.
“Okay, so there’s a motherfucker of a secret place under the mountains in the Andes filled with a mind-blowing array of artifacts, buildings, et cetera. Zephyr told you about an old group of vampires called the elders, which includes Dracul.” He slapped his hands on his thighs, causing what was now an impressive erection to bob in his lap. “Shit! Dracula! The real article! And he hit on you! Wow! I wish I could have just five minutes with him. I have so many questions.”
“Yeah.” I stood and walked to the couch under the window, shifting my field of vision. “He borrowed Zephyr’s über-ability to control minds and he made me lust after him. I actually remember thinking it would be a good idea to roll around on the floor of the cavern with him before Zephyr snapped me out of it. You’d better be careful what you wish for. I got the sense that Dracul’s sexuality is pretty flexible.”
Blood Therapy (Kismet Knight, Ph.D., Vampire Psychologist) Page 24
