Blood Therapy (Kismet Knight, Ph.D., Vampire Psychologist) (24 page)

She laid her hand on his arm. “No, Alan, that isn’t what happened. But my becoming a vampire is indirectly Colin’s fault.”

“What—”

“Please. Let me tell the whole story.” She looked into Alan’s eyes, and he relaxed back into the cushions, unclenching his hands.

Impressive. She transformed his anger.

“As I said, Colin is a good man but he makes poor decisions. He involves himself with dangerous individuals. He makes lots of enemies. It was one of those enemies who turned me. Actually, he and his gang left me for dead to punish Colin. You were their next target.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Colin killed all the vampires who attacked me, then he took me to Denver to ask for help from an old friend who is Master there.” She looked at Alan, then at me. “I believe you know Devereux.”

We both stared at her, and finally I spoke: “What a small world.”

Her expression told me she knew exactly how well I knew Devereux.

Returning her attention to Alan, she said, “You went to live with my sister in Jersey, where you wouldn’t draw the attention of any of Colin’s other enemies. Devereux helped with that, too, by casting some magic to hide you and keep you safe from vampires in general. It took me a long time to recover. Years. At first I was an animal, filled with bloodlust. Eventually I regained the ability to be around humans. Without Colin and Devereux, I wouldn’t exist at all.”

“Well, that explains why Devereux was willing to talk to me when I met him. The bastard already knew me and didn’t say a word about it.”

“I asked him not to, and he agreed to keep my secret.”

“Yeah.” He stared off into space for a few seconds. “I’ll deal with him later. But when you got better, why didn’t you contact me?”

“By then I believed it was best if you thought I was dead. I didn’t know you’d be so tenacious about uncovering what really happened to me, and since you were never sure I’d been turned, I just kept quiet. But as I said, I watched over you as soon as I was able.”

“What about the night in the bar here in Manhattan back when I was in college, when I saw the two of you, and you ran away?”

“We ran because Colin couldn’t face you. He knows what losing me did to you, and he holds himself responsible.” She looked at me. “He always had a tendency toward depression and anxiety, and has been despondent and guilt-ridden ever since I was turned against my will. He never wanted that for me.” She smiled sadly. “He’s the one who never recovered. I actually tried to get him to go and see you, but he wouldn’t.”

“He
should
feel responsible. He
is
,” Alan said. “So he’s missing—what’s that about?”

She stood and marched back and forth, much like her son had earlier. “I don’t know. He simply didn’t come home at dawn two days ago.”

Alan made a disgusted sound. “He probably just took off. Greener pastures. More sheep to fleece.”

“Stop,” Olivia said, her eyes narrowing, her body taut. “I understand that you’re hurt, and you can be as angry at me as you like, but I won’t have you disrespecting Colin. He’s been wonderful to me, and something is wrong. He’d never stay away by choice.”

I wasn’t sure if I should interrupt, but a lot of strong emotions were about to combust between them. They’d have to cope with them all, but maybe now wasn’t the best time. “How can Alan help you, Olivia?” I asked.

They both shifted their attention to me, the tense moment broken.

She sat and took his hand. “I want you to find him, Alan. You’re not only an FBI agent—you’ve become a talented vampire hunter. Please help me.”

“Find Colin? I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Olivia stood and held out her hand to him. “I’ll tell you everything. Come with me.” She pulled Alan up off the couch into a hug, and they vanished.

“Bye,” I said to the now-empty space, remembering my hope that coming to New York City would take me away from all the vampire madness. I laughed at the naïve notion. And of course Devereux was a participant in this East Coast brand of bloodsucking chaos as well.

Thinking about Devereux made my stomach tighten. He wasn’t human, and it wasn’t likely I’d ever truly understand him. Who knew how many secrets he carried? But it didn’t matter since we had decided to break things off. I kept forgetting.

Forcing myself to push him out of my consciousness, I focused on Alan again. I understood Olivia’s fear about her mate, but was it safe to thrust her son into a situation involving yet more homicidal vampires? Not even close.

Restless, not knowing how I could help Alan, I wandered over to the window and sipped my wine while watching the lights of Manhattan. Despite my attempt to distract myself, a vision of Devereux’s face suddenly popped into my mind, and I felt overwhelmingly sad. As professionally important as the last almost-three months had been, they’d been personally disastrous. Could I step away from the vampires? As I wondered that, another question arose that took my breath away. Would the vampires
let
me step away now I knew of their existence?

I anxiously pondered that horrifying question for a couple of minutes until a stomach growl brought me back to the present. I hadn’t really eaten anything substantial since morning, and, with nothing to soak it up, the wine had gone to my head. At least eating was something I was in charge of, an activity
I
could control.

I shook off the fearful new possibility and focused on the reality of food. I freshened up, grabbed my briefcase, and headed out for the hotel restaurant. Maybe I could get some work done.

The line for the dining room was long again, and I considered going out and looking for a less-busy option within walking distance or just calling room service, putting on my Freud pajamas, and staying in for the evening.

“Kismet!” a familiar voice said.

Michael, my seatmate from the airplane, trotted out of the restaurant, waving at me. “There you are! I didn’t see you all day—we must have attended different workshops. I’m just finishing up—please join me.”

Amid grumbling from the people ahead of me in the line, I accom-panied Michael back to his booth, which was tucked into a dim corner. All that was left of his meal was a half-empty cocktail.

How did he see me from way back here? I suppose there
is
a somewhat direct line of sight to the waiting area
—if you’re leaning out of the booth, that is. …

I joined him. “It was pretty lucky you were able to see me from way back here. Who knows how long I would’ve had to wait for a table?”

“Okay”—he gave a charming grin—“I’ve been found out. I asked for this booth on purpose so I could watch for you. I called your room earlier and there was no answer, and for some reason the voice mail option was disabled. I enjoyed our conversation on the plane so much I hoped to have some time with you tonight. It’s rare to find another clinician who works with the type of clients I see.”

Well, he likes guys, so we can just be friends. No drama. He still doesn’t make me nervous, so I must have him firmly in the buddy column. What’s the harm, right?

“I enjoyed our conversation, too.”

The waiter came and handed me a menu, then stood patiently next to the table. I ordered coffee and a big chef salad.

“Are you sure you want to sit here while I eat? You were probably ready to leave.” Actually, I was too hungry to care if he sat with me or didn’t.

“I’m sure. I don’t know anyone else here, so I’ll try to make my company pleasant enough that you’ll tolerate me.” He smiled and made excellent
eye contact.

Okay, he’s flirting with me, isn’t he? Or is this just his personality?

“Where’s your friend—the one you were meeting here? Did he decide not to come?” he asked.

Where
is
he? I wish I knew.

My food arrived and I dug in, glad it had come quickly. “He’s here but was called away on a case.”

“Oh—is he a local psychologist who had to have someone hospitalized or something? Or is he so well known that his talents are in demand even here?”

How much should I say? Does it really matter?

“He’s a psychologist, but he works as an FBI profiler.” The food had begun to relax me.

“Wow. That sounds exciting. I hope I get to meet him while we’re here. Does he share your interest in vampire wannabes? I’ll bet he encounters all kinds of fascinating cases.”

“He’s pretty open-minded.”
Time to change the subject.
“So, tell me about the workshops you attended today.”

We spent the next hour discussing the sessions we’d attended. He was right—it was rare to encounter another psychologist with similar interests and client demographics. Talking to him was pleasant, and it wasn’t a hardship that he was easy on the eyes. I found myself laughing more than I had in days. Maybe he and I could schedule informal consultation and supervision with each other when we got back to Denver. It really would be great to have a professional friend. Hell, I could invite Ham, and we’d have a weird little mini-coven.

“Can I admit something to you?” he said, lowering his voice.

Uh-oh. Do I really want to hear whatever it is?

I picked up my coffee cup and drained it. “Okay,” I said, not sounding sure at all.

“Actually, I need some advice. Peer consultation.”

“What kind of advice?”

“I’m being stalked by a client.”

“What?” I almost tipped over the water glass I’d just reached for. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

“All right, Doctor Parker.” I relaxed back into the soft booth cushions. “I’m all ears.”

He sighed and played with an unused spoon. “A few weeks before I went on sabbatical at the meditation center, one of my clients finally became overt in his attempt to convince me to have sex with him.”

“Is it safe to assume that kind of behavior is part of his diagnosis?”

“Yes. I see many GLBT clients, some of whom aren’t comfortable with themselves or their orientations, so it’s not unusual for them to act out their concerns and insecurities in session. That’s normal.”

“It’s normal for all clients.”

“You’re right. But this particular client was different. He exhibited the most extreme sex addiction I’d ever worked with. From the moment he walked into my office, I became his object of fixation.”

“That doesn’t sound good. What happened?”

“He physically assaulted me, and afterward he begged me for forgiveness. He swore he’d stay away from me and seek treatment elsewhere if I didn’t file a police report. I agreed. Looking back now, I can see he was more disturbed than I thought, and I was wrong not to go to the authorities. A couple of weeks later, he filed a grievance against me, saying I’d abused him. My license is currently in review.”

“No way!” I sat up straighter. “That’s terrible, Michael. I’m so sorry. Did he hurt you?”

“Not physically. I was able to fight him off and force him out of my office. But the fact that I missed the severity of his illness makes me doubt myself. That’s really why I went to the center—I didn’t have the confidence to continue with my private practice. My partner broke up with me because of the stress.”

“Oh, Michael, I don’t know what to say. Is there anything I can do to help?”

He smiled, a glimmer of the familiar charm peeking through. “Just listening is great. I haven’t told anyone—it’s a relief even to say the words to someone.”

“Do you think you’ll lose your license? Can you prove your innocence? Once there’s a legal proceeding involving the two of you, confidentiality is no longer a concern.”

“I’m confident I’ll keep my license. Turns out I’m not the first therapist he filed a grievance against, nor the first he assaulted. But the experience has been traumatic and overwhelming. I decided this was a good time to work on the book I’d had on the back burner for years. I’m not sure I want to work in private practice anymore.”

“I can’t blame you for that. What a horrible experience. Nobody recovers quickly from that sort of ordeal.” I wished I could tell him about the time bloodsucking Bryce came to my office and bit me, intending to drain me dry. Or when Lucifer kidnapped me from outside the Crypt. Or about finding a dead body in my office. He’d never believe me, which was understandable, because all those situations had been totally unbelievable. My heart went out to him, but without bringing up vampires, there wasn’t much I could say.

“Okay.” He ran his fingers through his hair as he gave a bright smile. “That’s enough depressing talk. I didn’t mean to turn our dinner into a therapy session.”

I patted his hand. “You didn’t. I’m glad you told me—thank you for trusting me.”

We sat silently for a couple of minutes.

“This has been so nice, I hate for the evening to end,” he said.

“Me, too.” I folded my napkin, then rifled through my briefcase looking for my wallet. He probably felt exhausted from talking about the incident again.

When I set my credit card on the table, he picked it up and handed it back to me. “No. I insist on buying your dinner, modest as it was. Please, put your card away.”

“That isn’t necessary, Michael. Really. I can write it off as a business expense.”

“Regardless. I still want to treat you—please let me.” He gave me his adorable puppy-dog look.

I laughed. “Okay. I wouldn’t think of depriving you of the opportunity to spend your money.”

“Good. Do we really have to go our separate ways now? Are you tired? Maybe we could find a nightclub or something. Go dancing.”

“Nightclub? Hmm. I haven’t been dancing in, well, I don’t remember the last time. Do you think there’s something in walking distance? I’d really like to get out and stretch my legs.”

“Let me ask at the front desk. I’ll bet there’s something. I don’t want you to think I’m a coward, but is it really safe for us to be walking the streets of New York City at night? I’ve heard stories. I’m afraid all my talents are in my head rather than my fists. I don’t know if I could adequately defend you. Maybe I should ask about the safety issue, too.”

Yikes. He’s really afraid. Who would’ve guessed? His negative experiences obviously drained his confidence. I hope
I
don’t have to protect
him
. I’m too tired for that. But is this really a good idea? With Lucifer darting through time and space, I’m never safe. Michael is both a friend and a therapist. Would Lucifer go after him? Should I tell him about the therapists being murdered in San Francisco, even though the cops haven’t released the information yet?