Crimson Psyche (20 page)

Recognizing the glassy-eyed stare of a self-induced regression, I angled my chair close to hers, plucked a couple of tissues from the nearby box and gently patted her arm. “Everything’s okay, Shirley. You’re a wonderful girl, and you didn’t do anything wrong. Here, let me clear those tears away.” I took the opportunity to wipe her runny nose as well as her face, then curled her fingers around a clean tissue. “You’re safe now, Shirley, and no one can hurt you. No one can make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

She turned vacant eyes to me. “He was a monster, you know. A bloodsucking demon waiting to sneak into my room. I can’t sleep because he’ll come again. He always comes.”

I spoke softly. “He can’t come any more, Shirley, because he’s dead. Your father is long-dead, and he can’t ever hurt you again. Do you believe me?”

She nodded, scraping her lower lip with her teeth. “What about the aliens? Are they going to abduct me again?”

“No, the aliens won’t return either — but Shirley, you’ve got to promise me that you’ll take your medication every day. It helps to keep the monsters and aliens away. Will you promise?”

An innocent expression flowed across her sixty-five-year-old face and she smiled sweetly, appearing almost childlike. “I promise, Dr. Knight. You take such good care of me.”

I met her eyes, letting her see the compassion in mine. “It’s my pleasure. I’d like your permission to call your daughter later today, to talk about your medications. Is that okay with you?”

Tilting her head, she thought for a moment, then smiled again. “That’s fine. My daughter

Sonia is such a good girl. No vampires or aliens will ever hurt her, will they, Dr. Knight?”

“No, Sonia’s safe and well.”

She licked her dry lips and I shifted my gaze toward the water cooler. “Would you like some water before you go?”

She stood and flexed her hands, which had been clenched so tightly the veins almost popped out. “No, thank you. I’ll see you next week.”

I rose and walked her to the door. “Shirley, do remember you can always call me if you have a bad night. You don’t have to wait for our next appointment. I’m always here for you.”

She said thanks and left.

I went to my desk and thought about Shirley’s delusions, the results of her horror-filled childhood, as I jotted notes in her file. As was so often the case, her psyche had compensated for the painful traumas by creating metaphorical fantasies — frightening,
non-ordinary
males who invaded her life and assaulted her body, beings who overpowered and victimized her.

Vampires had nothing on sadistic bastards like Shirley’s father.

***

The café was busy, with a line snaking out the front door. I started by being polite, asking the people blocking the doorway to please excuse me, and when that didn’t work, I began pushing my way through. In the end I managed to get inside the actual restaurant with only a tender arm to show for my efforts. I searched the area for Maxie, who was so much taller than most of the other people milling around that she was easy to spot. I headed in her direction, but instead of greeting me and taking me to her table, she grabbed my arm and towed me behind her as she ploughed through the swarms of people back toward the entrance, stopping only once we’d reached the sidewalk in front of the café.

“Hey, Doc, good ta see ya. You’re lookin’ righteous today. Love the outfit.” She gestured over her shoulder. “This place is a madhouse, no place to sit. There’s some kind of meeting going on — Adult Children of Fucked-Up Alcoholic Vegetarian Alien-Abducted Cross-Dressers or something. Let’s head out. I know a place where we can have a private conversation.”

That’s the second time she’s mentioned my clothing. She’s definitely acting strange.

I glanced at my watch. The nervous energy radiating from Maxie was definitely increasing. “Where is this place? I have a client in forty-five minutes. Maybe we should just stop at a deli, grab a sandwich and talk in the park.” I shaded my eyes from the sun and scanned the horizon. “It would be great to sit outside for a while. The weather’s perfect.”

She tugged on my arm again as she motored down the sidewalk. “Naw. I need a beer and the dive we’re going to is filled with low-life scum, which is appropriate for our topic of conversation.”

Low-life scum appropriate for our topic of conversation?
What the hell did that mean? Was there even a dive bar in this trendy part of town? I’d never had any reason to know the answer to that question and I was even less interested in finding out now. I wrenched my arm out of her grip. “Maxie, stop. I don’t want to go to some crappy bar. I’ll wind up smelling like cigarette smoke. Some of my clients are allergic to it.”

“Nope.” She mimicked smoking a cigarette. “No ciggie smoke. Haven’t you been paying attention? Almost the entire state of Colorado is smoke-free now. It’s illegal to light up anything in public. Although I can’t promise you won’t emerge wearing
Eau de Low-Life.”
She laughed at her own joke and took a right turn into an alley.

I stopped at the opening of the narrow passage. “No shit, Maxie, cut it out. I really don’t want to go to a bar. I need to go back to my office. What the hell is wrong with you?”

She breathed fast, then pursed her lips and stared off for a few seconds while she visibly struggled to calm herself. “Okay. Have it your way, Doc. I thought you might need a drink after I tell you my news. I’m clumsy with this pal stuff, but I just wanted to be supportive. I meet a lot of my sources in that bar, so I’m a familiar face and they leave me to my business. Plus it isn’t likely we’d run into any of Devereux’s flunkies in that kind of shit-hole.”

The alley was in the shade, and the sudden lack of the sun’s warmth caused me to shiver. Of course, the chills might also have been triggered by the creepy, somewhat sinister ambiance of our off-the-beaten-path location. My solar plexus tightened and a headache which had just started poking my eyeballs with a screwdriver picked up a jackhammer and got serious. My breathing sped up. I was becoming more annoyed by the second. Being surrounded by so many domineering people was getting very old. Did I have a sign on my back that said: “Easy mark, take advantage”? My voice held a layer of frost. “Well, what’s the big announcement? I can’t imagine you could have heard anything about Devereux. He’s a very private man.”

She raised her chin and crossed her arms over her chest. “I wonder how well you really know him. Rich guys have a tendency to think they own the world, that they can do whatever they please. And mostly, they can. I just happened to be at the Crypt, interviewing a vampire wannabe who hangs out there, and I overheard a couple of goth types talking about a dangerous guy who’d come to town. Sounded like they were talking about a hitman. Anyway, one said he’d heard Devereux hired the killer. There’s some bad blood between the gorgeous rich guy and one of his managers, a woman named Luna. They told me Devereux hired the thug to erase his problem. They said it wouldn’t be the first time he had someone killed.” She paused, studying my face. “I’ll bet you didn’t know any of that stuff about your
private man
.”

My stomach clenched with anger and I pressed my lips together and matched Maxie’s arms-across-her-chest stance. Why the hell did she need to repeat these ridiculous rumors about Devereux. Was she trying to upset me? Was she jealous that I had such a romance? She kept mentioning his money. Did she fantasize about hooking a wealthy fish?

But right behind the anger was distress as I allowed the remote possibility that her assertions might be accurate to wash over me. The mention of trouble between Devereux and Luna made my head hurt. He
had
been treating her harshly of late, but he couldn’t possibly have hired Lyren Hallow to kill Luna. I refused to believe Devereux could hide something so important from me — although he did have a habit of not telling me the whole story about anything, and there was no doubt strangeness was definitely afoot. Did he want me to stay away from Hallow so I wouldn’t stumble onto the truth? Was that why he went nuts every time we talked about the psychopath? I shivered. If Devereux could lie to me like that, then I didn’t know him at all.

My face must have reflected the emotional rollercoaster I was riding because a self-satisfied smile spread across Maxie’s lips.

“Well, well.” Her arms relaxed. “I see my little newsflash didn’t come as a complete surprise to you.” She paused, frowning. “I know it’s not my place to be asking a psychologist questions like this, but if Devereux is doing anything to you physically, I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me. After all, I came clean about my own bad-tempered boyfriend.”

I experienced a moment of confusion before her meaning sank in, and with that realization, my eyes opened wide. “Doing anything physical — are you talking about
violence
?” I shook my head from side to side. “Devereux would
never
do anything to hurt me. In fact, he’s— ” Once again, I found myself almost spilling my guts to Maxie, very nearly disclosing the truth about the strange universe in which I now lived, and details of its undead inhabitants. Either she was one hell of a good reporter, or my boundaries were well and truly ruptured.

She leaned in, her eyes riveted on mine, smelling a story. “He’s
what
?”

I heaved a sigh, determined not to be overwhelmed by my emotional reactions to what Maxie was saying. “He’s very gentle and loving — overprotective, in fact.”

Unless I’m deluding myself.

“I don’t have to tell
you
that isolating and dominating the woman is part of the cycle of abuse.” She frowned and shook her head; she must have seen something on my face. “Don’t get more pissed off, but this isn’t the first time I’ve heard something negative about Devereux. It’s common knowledge that he’s a powerful figure, dangerous mobster eye-candy. So far, nobody’s been able to come up with any firm evidence to link him to organized crime, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Organized crime? Holy shit, is she ever tuned to the wrong channel!

I smiled. “Devereux isn’t a mobster.”

Maxie smirked and raised one eyebrow. “And you know this because—? Wait, I know. Because he
told
you. The standard line. Damn. So even a psychologist can be taken in by a great face and a hot body.”

I was tempted to defend Devereux — and myself — but there was no point. I couldn’t disclose the truth to Maxie, and the explanation she’d come up with was as good as any. “You can think what you like. He isn’t abusing me, and I’ve seen nothing to lead me to believe he’s involved in organized crime.” I paused, then, adding some razor blades to my tone, said, “Not that it’s any of
your
business, but right now, we’re simply enjoying each other’s company. We’ve made no commitments for the future.”

At least I haven’t.

An emotion resembling sadness shadowed her eyes. “Okay, I get it. It’s none of my business. But I care about you, Doc. Don’t shoot the messenger here. I’m just trying to be a friend. Yeah, I’m doing a fucking bad job of it, but I’m trying. I told you about Devereux because I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I’d been holding myself so tightly that I was getting pins and needles from where the circulation in my arms had been cut off. I shook my hands to restart the flow. I studied Maxie, trying to determine if she was playing me for future journalistic reasons or if she really cared. I was usually good at reading people, at sensing whether someone was telling the truth or not, but Maxie had been a challenge from the moment I’d met her.

She was either the best actress in the world, or I’d put my foot in it. Since I hadn’t made the best decisions lately, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. “I appreciate that, and I’m not mad. I want some time to process everything.” I checked my watch again. “I’ve really got to go. Next time, no mystery. If you have something to tell me, just blurt it out as you usually do.”

As I started to leave, Maxie hollered, “Hey, Ethel, are we still buds?”

“Yeah, Lucy,” I yelled over my shoulder, “we’re still... something.”

“... and I’m wearing a black silk teddy underneath this gorgeous dress. Would you like to see?”

The visual was so potent that I had to pretend to cough into my hand to cover the smile that quirked my lips. “No, thank you, Kenneth, but it’s great that you gave yourself permission to act on your desire to cross-dress. That’s a huge breakthrough.”

He peeked up at me coquettishly from beneath theatrical-grade false eyelashes and gave a shy smile. “Are you sure? I know we’ve only talked about my fantasies up until today, but I brought all my clothing and supplies with me — just in case I had the nerve to become Dolly, and at the last minute, I dashed into the bathroom down the hall and changed.” He laughed. “And I mean
really
changed.”

It was easy to smile at the mild-mannered bank executive who now sat before me dressed as his alter ego Dolly Parton, and not merely because of his costume. He’d only shared his secret a few weeks earlier, and I was glad he’d come out of the cubicle because he got such obvious pleasure out of the ritual of applying makeup, putting on his huge blond wig and stuffing his two hundred and fifty pounds into a low-cut, form-fitting, sequined outfit. We hadn’t yet discussed where his interest might lead.

“How does it feel to be Dolly?”

His face lit up. “It’s amazing — but I’m not wearing all the props today. When I’m home alone, I paste on long red fingernails and I use them as guitar picks to play my guitar, just like
she
does.” He slid his hands under the drooping fake breasts and lifted them with a sigh. “I need to find a much better bra. Dolly is very well-endowed, and most undergarments simply aren’t up to the task.”

“I’m sure you’ll find what you need. Maybe Victoria’s Secret would be a good place to try.”

Does Victoria’s Secret lingerie come in husky?

I checked the clock on the wall. “We’re out of time for today.” We both stood and he extended his hand for me to shake, as he always did. “I really appreciate you letting Dolly come today. It meant the world to me.”

I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. A little lighthearted relief in the midst of bloodsucking madness? I should be paying you!

“The session was powerful, Kenneth. I’m very proud of you.” I noticed he wasn’t carrying anything and wondered where his ‘regular’ clothes were. “Did you leave your business suit in the bathroom?” I smiled. “Your employees at the bank probably aren’t quite ready to meet Dolly yet.”

He chuckled. “Yes, all my stuff’s in the bathroom.” He pressed one hand to his bulbous breasts, fanned himself with the other and, in a high-pitched Southern accent, cried, “Gosh, golly, I hope it’s all still there!”

I walked him to the door, smiling. “See you next week,” I said as he wobbled down the hallway on his size-twelve stiletto heels.

A two-hundred-and-fifty-pound Dolly Parton with a moustache and goatee definitely qualified as the highlight of my day so far, but the sun hadn’t yet set, so who knew what the vampire portion of the program might offer?

***

Haunting harp music floated from invisible speakers in the elegant elevator as I rode downstairs to the lobby. After updating Kenneth’s case file, I’d wandered restlessly around my office, unable to settle, fretting about Victoria. It wasn’t like her to abandon her luxurious domain. True, I’d only known her for the few months since I’d moved into Devereux’s building, and in my line of work I was used to uncovering previously unknown aspects of people’s personalities, but I trusted my gut about her. And even if I disregarded my intuition, according to the vampire grapevine, her dedication and responsibility were legendary. She’d said she was fiercely loyal to her friends, and I knew she counted Devereux among that number, so she simply wouldn’t leave his building unattended.

Something bad must have happened. I couldn’t shake the idea that she was in danger.

Victoria’s beautiful, hand-carved desk sat forlorn, like an abandoned ship in a sea of imported marble. Thanks to the nocturnal requirements of most of the building’s tenants, the lobby was often semi-deserted, but Victoria’s absence exaggerated the emptiness. Her desk was the nerve-center of the realm. Devereux counted on the clever witch to keep his mysterious universe functioning while he sequestered himself away during the daylight hours. He’d mentioned once that discovering Victoria was an even bigger workaholic than himself was an unexpected bonus. She thrived on juggling multiple projects, and had even shown up for work once covered with fur from a spell gone bad.

My heels clicked on the polished floor as I approached her vacant desk and I paused for a moment, staring through the floor-to-ceiling glass that framed two sides of the lobby. The soft light reflected off the peaks of the distant mountains as the sun retreated. A rush of heat suffused my body and everything slowed. Victoria had once told me about an experience she called
stepping behind the veil
— entering a time-out-of-time. Her coven often created sacred space for spell-casting, and there was a distinct sensory trace left behind by the ritual. For the first time I understood what she’d been talking about. While I stood there, not one car drove through my line of sight on the busy street. As I centered myself in that odd stillness, my heart began to race and my stomach tightened with anxiety.

Fear.

The very air in the lobby was saturated with it.

Had Victoria left an energy echo for my benefit?

I circled the desk, studying the clutter of papers covering its usually pristine surface. Her favorite mug, which read, “My other car is a broom” sat half-empty on a napkin, next to a partially eaten muffin, and all of the drawers were open to varying degrees. Someone had obviously been rummaging for something. I had a sudden recollection of Maxie saying she’d gone through Victoria’s desk, searching for a keycard. Had she caused this mess? Was she that thoughtless? The distasteful possibility sat heavy on my chest. I really liked Maxie, but could she ever be trustworthy?

Without thinking, I sat in Victoria’s chair, and immediately sank into her energy. It surrounded me like warm water and I closed my eyes, dropping into the powerful vibe. Strobe-light visuals flashed through my mind like fragments of an LSD trip. None of the pictures made sense, but even though I couldn’t focus on the content, I was certain the scenes were about Victoria. The imagery was chaotic, surreal — darkly occult. I had no idea whether I was picking up her old memories or receiving information about her current whereabouts, but it felt ominous.

We needed to find Victoria, and quickly.

Maxie was right about my tendency to drift away with my eyes open because by the time I blinked and roused myself, the sun had gone completely behind the mountains and the orange-pink light show had morphed into red-purple. The coming of the night meant gearing up for the arrival of my first sanguinary client of the evening. Since they transported themselves directly into my office, I usually tried to be present to greet them. I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and scooted the chair back to rise. As I grabbed the edge of the desk, my gaze locked onto a long hair stretched along the scattered white papers.

I lifted it, letting it dangle down in front of my face. “Damn! I could make a hair sweater out of all the strands I shed in a single day.” Then I peered closer. My hair was long, even curly it hung halfway down my back. This hair was a similar color to mine, but much longer. And straight. I held it by both ends. If it wasn’t mine, and it wasn’t Victoria’s — her mane was golden — and it wasn’t the snow-white of Maxie’s, then whose was it?

Like a physical slap, a memory of Lyren Hallow leaning against a white column in my dream crashed into my awareness. His hair had been blowing in the breeze — his
very long
,
dark
hair.

I tensed. No. Devereux said the building was magically protected, so the murdering psychopath couldn’t have gotten into the building, could he? I couldn’t allow myself to believe that Hallow had anything to do with Victoria being missing-in-action, because if he was involved, the possibilities were too horrible to imagine.

I glanced at the ever-darkening sky, wrapped the long hair around my finger and hurried to the elevator. I pressed the button for my floor and closed my eyes, concentrating on sensing whether Devereux had risen yet. Damn him for not telling me where he spent his days. He knew I had clients this evening, so he wouldn’t stop by right away. “How am I supposed to tell him about Victoria?” I said to nobody.

“What about Victoria?”

I sagged with relief at Devereux’s voice and almost threw myself on him when he strode toward me, wearing his normal dark leather and a light green silk shirt. I wrapped my arms around his waist, crushing my cheek against his chest for a few seconds, breathing in his spicy fragrance. He held me close. It was wonderful to touch him. I hadn’t realized how frightened I was for Victoria. “She’s gone,” I said quickly. “Something awful has happened — I know it.”

Rallying from my mini-panic attack, I remembered what I’d found, released my grip on him and backed up a step. I held out my finger and unwound the dark strand. “Here. This was on her desk. Her morning tea and muffin were only half-finished, and everything was a mess. Someone had rifled through her papers.”

His face serious, he lifted the hair from my hand and studied it silently. Then he rubbed it between his thumb and first finger. “There is no life-force present. This hair did not come from a mortal.”

“It’s Hallow’s hair, I’m certain.”

His eyes narrowed as he raised them to mine. Strong negative emotion radiated from him and he spoke slowly, his voice low. “And how is it you are certain of this?”

Psychic abilities weren’t necessary for me to pick up that he was working hard to control his anger, and I considered taking another step back, but decided to hold my ground. Devereux was probably going to blow a fang because I hadn’t told him about the dream where Hallow declared himself a god — and I honestly didn’t know why I hadn’t told him — why it hadn’t even
occurred
to me to tell him, but none of that mattered now. But the only important thing was finding Victoria, alive and well.

My lips had gone dry and I had to lick them before I could speak. I didn’t think any explanation would satisfy him, but I pressed on, “It’s logical, because when I found the long hair, I remembered dreaming about him after you held the ritual for me in your room beneath the Crypt. In the dream his long hair fanned out in the wind, and it’s too coincidental to find such a hair on Victoria’s desk when she’s gone missing.”

He appeared deceptively calm, but his energy had sharp claws. “And why did you not inform me of this dream? We spent hours together last night. You had ample opportunity to share this information with me.” He paused, his features tightening. “Is it because you enjoy your time with him?” He tilted his head, studying me.

Startled by his intuitive question, I cleared my throat to give myself a few seconds to regroup. “No, of course not.” I gazed into his beautiful turquoise eyes, and recognized pain — and disappointment — there. “I just didn’t want to talk about Hallow any more. I didn’t want you to get upset again, like you are now.”

Devereux walked me to the elevator and extended a hand, frowning. “Come. See to your client. He is in your office. I will take care of everything else and we will continue this discussion later.”

I started to ask another question, but he vanished.

My stomach churning, I rode upstairs, then walked slowly to my office door. I’d forgotten to tell him about Maxie using the keycard to get into my office, and her theory about him hiring a hit man. But he’d been so upset, maybe I simply hadn’t had the courage to raise more issues.

Was he right about Hallow — was I enjoying my time with the devil? I couldn’t deny that studying such an ancient vampire was intriguing, and I probably wouldn’t get such an opportunity again, but were my motives only professional? For some reason, even thinking about Hallow caused my nipples to harden. Victoria said she’d seen us together at my house, and that it was sexual, so maybe I
had
been with Hallow and didn’t remember. Was that why my heart pounded at the thought of him? Was it a simple attraction to a handsome male, or was this beyond my control? Devereux said Hallow made women desire him like addicts craved heroin. It was terrifying to think that that the madman might still be controlling me. Had he planted thoughts of himself in my psyche? How much freedom of choice did I really have?
Who was in charge of me?
I shook my head at the strangeness of those questions.

***

As I walked through the waiting room and into my office, I plastered a pleasant smile on my face. Every light in the room was blazing, illuminating a small, thin man who sat huddled at the far end of the couch. He had the same haircut he’d originally gotten at school in the 1940s, parted on the side and slicked down. Even though he appeared to be in his thirties, he’d never developed socially or psychologically beyond late adolescence. He was afraid of everything — or at least he believed he was. He reminded me of the death-obsessed young male character in that quirky old cult classic
Harold and Maude
.

“I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, Jerome. I’m glad you made yourself comfortable.” I closed the door and sat in my chair. I swept my personal problems aside and focused on my client. The professors who trained us to cultivate a dispassionate professional mask would be so proud of me now, even if they’d never envisioned this particular clientele. But was
I
proud of me? I used to be so pleased at my ability to emotionally disengage, and now I found myself distressed by that same skill. I was certainly changing, but I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

“Is the hypnosis helping your fear of the dark?” I asked him. And then, “Are you still keeping a light on in your coffin while you sleep?”

Jerome shuddered visibly. His large brown eyes stared, unblinking, from his pale face. “The hypnosis isn’t helping yet. I keep telling myself that I’m not afraid of the dark, but
myself
isn’t listening. So, to answer your question, yes, I am keeping a light on. In fact, I saw a portable lamp on television that runs on batteries, so I sent away for several, and they’re working really well. Since my coffin is extra-large, I can pretty much stay in there all the time — except for when I need to get blood, of course.”