Blood Therapy (Kismet Knight, Ph.D., Vampire Psychologist) (10 page)

A half hour later I was sitting at my desk, drinking coffee and eating a banana-nut muffin while I fired up my laptop.

Since I was willing to do anything that might help my situation, I’d put the diamond cross back on after my shower, along with the pentagram necklace. I should have felt relatively safe because the sun was out, but I no longer had any pretense of thinking I knew what was—or wasn’t—possible in the world of the vampires.

I toyed with the cross, grabbed my phone, called Alan’s cell, and went to voice mail. “Hey, Alan. It’s Kismet. I need to talk to you. Please call me back as soon as you can. It’s important. You have all my numbers. Bye.”

Last we’d spoken, he was still in Sedona following Lucifer’s trail of drained bodies while simultaneously continuing his search for his mother—his mother the vampire. On Halloween, he’d told me his childhood story of her disappearance. He’d never recovered from her abandoning him; he’d become a forensic psychologist, joined the FBI, and devoted himself to exploring the strange and unusual in hopes of catching another glimpse of her.

“Come on, Alan. Call me,” I said to the silent phone. “Where are all my alleged abilities when I need them? Seems like I ought to be able to contact you psychically. Well, hey, let’s give that a try.” I held my hands out, palms up, adopting what I thought might be a mystical pose, and said, “Ohm, ohm. Alan! Ohm, ohm. Call me now!”

I’d just taken a breath to laugh at myself when the phone rang. I jumped in my chair.

“Hot damn!” I read the caller ID screen and saw Alan’s name. I scooped up the phone and answered. “Alan? Is that you?”

“The one and only.”

“You got my message?”

“Message? No. I haven’t had time to check my voice mail today. I was out all night riding with some cops and just woke up a while ago. Now I’m sitting in a coffee shop, updating my notes, and I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to call you. Weird, eh?”

Actually, it’s excellent. Maybe I finally have a reliable skill!

“Yeah, weird. But I’m glad you called. Do you have a few minutes? What time is it there in Sedona?”

“As of two days ago, I’m no longer in Sedona.” A small crash echoed through the phone. “Shit!”

“What was that?” I took a bite of muffin.

“I just managed to spill my coffee on myself and drop the mug on the tile floor. That was the clatter you heard. What a mess. Hold on—”

“Do you need more napkins, sir?” a young-sounding voice said in the background.

“No. I’m good, thanks.”

“Would you like a coffee refill?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Alan?”

“Yeah, I’m here—looking like I had an embarrassing accident—but I’m here.” His mouth shifted away from the phone. “Thanks, I’ll try to hang onto this one.” He cleared his throat. “So, like I said, I left Sedona. A few days ago I started hearing rumblings about activities in San Francisco that sounded like our repulsive, bald, toothsome friend, so I hit the road. I’m now staring out across the water at the notorious Alcatraz and thinking life doesn’t get much better than this.”

“San Francisco? I just saw something about serial killers there. Are you involved with that, too?”

“No. I heard about it, but nobody’s said anything. I’ve got my hands full with Stink Vamp, and the six deaths I’m sure he’s involved with, and as psychologically interesting as it would be to chase a real-life version of Hannibal Lecter, I can handle only one fiend at a time. Of course, none of the locals have put the pieces together about the six drained bodies yet, so I’m the only one who knows there’s a supernatural angle.”

“Well, as awful as this sounds, if you have to track him somewhere, I can’t imagine a more beautiful city.”

“Yeah, it’s great. I’ve spent a lot of time here over the years. And let me remind you that you have a standing invitation to come and visit, wherever I am. I’d be glad to show you the town.” He laughed. “And the inside of my comfortable hotel room. We could tour this side of the bed, then that side, then the table in the corner. …”

Nope. Let’s not go there.

“Gee, thanks.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Okay. What’s up? You didn’t give me any grief for the hotel room remark. Is something wrong? What was your message about?”

“I saw Lucifer.”

“What do you mean?” The easy banter ended, and his voice took on a serious edge. “Where did you see him? My undead intel is pretty solid that he’s primarily killing on the West Coast.”

I took a sip of my coffee to give myself time to decide what I wanted to say. “I’m sure you’re right. We both know vampires can be on the other side of the world or in another century from one moment to the next. There’s really no way for humans to track them.”

“So where was he?”

“In Aspen. I went to a vampire wedding with Devereux last night, and Lucifer showed up in time to ruin the nuptials. It was bad enough that he was even there, but it looked like he focused on me: he stared and pointed at me before Devereux took off after him and both of them disappeared. Of course, he stank—engulfed in his usual horrible rotting-corpse, sewer-from-hell odor. I smelled him a few nanoseconds before I saw him. But just because he was there last night doesn’t tell us anything about where he is now.”

It felt so good to be able to talk to someone who understood.

“Yeah, you’re right about that. You said the last time we talked that you’re still getting voice mail messages from the Brother Luther part of the maniac’s personality. Is he still calling?” Another crash. “Balls! What the hell is up with me today? I just dropped my plate. Damn tiny tables. I’m going to gather my stuff and walk back to the hotel room. Don’t hang up. So, about the messages …”

“Uh-huh. He calls at least once per day. Same tirades as before. I’m going to burn in hell, I’m Satan’s whore, I’ll be punished, washed in the blood—same demented song. Sometimes he just sobs and says
help me, help me
, over and over. But I guess that’s the child part. I wonder if there are only three personalities, or if we’re in for additional surprises?”

A door slammed.

“All right. I’m back in my room. With my luck an earthquake will shove California into the ocean today, and I can’t swim. Hey, do you know what Skype is?”

“Sure. I use it to meet with clients who can’t come to the office.”

“Cool. I’m all set up for it, too. Why don’t we connect face-to-face, so to speak? I’ve turned on my computer, and now I’m adding you to my contacts.”

“Okay.” I put on my headphone microphone and made sure the camera was working. “I’m ready.”

Alan’s charming face popped onto my computer screen. Behind him was a nondescript tan motel wall with a colorful oil painting of downtown San Francisco. “Hello there, gorgeous.” He waved his fingers.

“Hi, Alan. Nice to
see
you.” And it was. His eyes, always some variation of bluish-purple or purple-blue, really stood out today against his faded tan, messy brown hair, and five o’clock shadow. “You look a little tired.”

“It’s been a rough few days. You, on the other hand, look great. So, picking up where we left off”—he frowned—“is this the first time you’ve seen Lucifer since Halloween? You haven’t mentioned him showing up before.”

“Uh-huh.” I sipped from my coffee cup. “This was the first time. I hadn’t become complacent about him—I know he can materialize anytime he wants to. I’ve also thought I smelled him a couple of times. But I can’t stay in a constant state of terror. My heart can’t take it. I’ll stroke out or something.” I adjusted my microphone. “It’s not like I have anywhere to run to. I’ve been wearing the protective necklace Devereux gave me, and I know he has some of his vampires watching me. Maybe even some humans during the day. Normally that would annoy me, but anything that keeps the boogieman away is all right with me. Not being able to find Lucifer has really pissed off Devereux.”

“What do you mean, he can’t find him?” He glanced down at the coffee stain on his white T-shirt. “Isn’t that impossible? From what I hear, Devereux’s like the vampire Pope—infallible.”

“Apparently not. He hasn’t talked to me about it, but one of his vampire friends said the entire community has been shocked that Lucifer bested him at the Vampires’ Ball on Halloween. I don’t think anything has ever rocked Devereux’s confidence like this. He’s been very moody. Angry. Gone a lot. Searching for Lucifer without any success.”

“Really?” He moved closer to the camera. “That’s too bizarre. According to the vampire grapevine, Devereux’s the biggest badass around.”

“Well, judging by what I’ve been hearing, there’s definitely a dent in his badass reputation. Vampires are saying awful things about him. I actually heard one guy at the party call Devereux a
sissy
. Which, now that I think about it, is a pretty
sissy
word for a vampire to use. And I’ll bet Devereux is trying to keep a stiff upper lip through this whole thing. No wonder he’s acting strangely.”

“Wow. That doesn’t bode well for the vampire community, since Devereux keeps them in check.” He paused. “Something else is going on here. You sound weird today. You’re not yourself, either. What’s up? Are you two still an item?”

I unconsciously lowered my gaze for a few seconds and tried to dislodge a nut fragment caught in my teeth with my tongue. Any other time I would have found some way to change the topic or distract him from talking about Devereux, but I needed his help so I decided to suck it up and be honest. I brought my eyes back to meet his. “I don’t know what we are. I haven’t told you much about the
reality
of being with Devereux.” I fell silent again for a few seconds and picked through the muffin remains on the plate.

“Kismet?” He leaned close. “What the hell? I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this. Come on, spill. Has something happened to you?”

“Do you remember telling me when we met that you’d like to have Devereux take over your mind, just to see what it would be like? You said you’d like to experience being under a powerful vampire’s control. I wasn’t sure if you were kidding or not.”

“I don’t remember saying that specifically”—he shook his head—“but it sounds like me. I probably wasn’t kidding. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well, I know exactly what it’s like.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds.

“Are you talking about him being domineering and controlling, which I think is no secret to anyone, or something else?” he asked.

“All of the above. Ever since I met him, whenever he came near me I turned into a hormone-driven zombie. I simply lost control of myself. Lost myself. He said it was only a matter of time until I got used to his vampire intensity and that I’d acclimate. Looking back, I always thought my outrageous attraction to him was legitimate—that he just rang my chimes. I thought it was exciting to be so over-the-moon about someone. But after what I found out last night, I don’t know anymore.”

“What happened last night?” he said sharply.

“Anne Boleyn, who’s an old friend of Devereux’s, apparently, told me she clearly senses that my brain has been altered. Compromised. I’ve been having bad headaches. She explained there’s nothing to be done about it—powerful vampires simply affect and overwhelm humans that way, and I’m guessing the effect is cumulative.”

Silence.

“Alan?”

He held up a hand. “Hold on. You said Anne Boleyn?
The
Anne Boleyn? She’s a vampire?”

“Yeah, and remind me later to tell you who else I met. You won’t believe it.” He was quiet again for a few seconds, just staring. “Alan?”

“Yeah.” He slapped his palm against his forehead. “I just can’t get past the Anne Boleyn part. If I hadn’t seen all the outrageous bull in the vampire world that I’ve seen, I’d think you were lying or jerking me around. But I believe you. Damn. That’s something. Anne Boleyn. So, she said your brain has been altered. That can’t be good. Is that why you’re so upset?”

“Well, yeah!” I sat back in my chair. “Wouldn’t you be upset if you discovered that the choices you’ve made weren’t really your own, but rather a product of mind control? Even if the mind control wasn’t intentional?”

“How do you know it wasn’t intentional? Are you that sure of Devereux?”

“No!” I shook my head. “I’m not sure of anything anymore. Anne said Devereux has no idea how manipulated I am by his vampiric voodoo. He thinks he’s in total control of himself. She said he’s in denial. So not only am I in constant fear of Lucifer coming to snatch me away, now the head-honcho vampire I thought could protect me can’t, apparently. Maybe. And even if Devereux could fight off Lucifer, being around him wigs my brain. This is a lose-lose proposition.”

“Wait a minute.” He gave me his all-knowing FBI agent look. “Even though you’re upset, you don’t sound like somebody whose brain cells have been scrambled. Are you only a space-case around vampires?”

“Mostly around Devereux and other strong vampires, but Anne did something last night to clear away all the vampire influence. I’d say I feel like myself, but that’s not true. I feel like a stronger version of myself today, as if all those crazy experiences strengthened me somehow. She said she’s given me a few days to figure out if I want to continue in the world of the undead. But her clearing did nothing to ward off Lucifer. My choices still suck.” I braced my chin on my hand and frowned.

“Why would she want to help you? Maybe she just wants to get you away from Devereux.” He picked up a small package of crackers with an airline logo on the wrapper, no doubt acquired during his last flight, and held it up to the camera before ripping open the paper. He bit into an orange-colored treat and crunched loudly.

I smiled at him before answering. “She said she just likes to rock the boat. But it’s equally possible she wants me to go away—she said she and Devereux spent some time together centuries ago. Maybe she isn’t over him. Whatever. Regardless, my brain is my own for a little while. I don’t know what I’ll do when her hocus-pocus wears off.”

“Well, damn.” He licked crumbs off his fingers. “There’s got to be another answer. Maybe there’s some way you can learn to protect yourself. I have to believe that each species evolves the characteristics and traits necessary to survive predators in its environment. What about that psychic you met, the one you said was talented? You told me she knows about the vampires. Maybe she’s heard of something that might help you.”