Crimson Psyche (21 page)

“Yes,” I agreed, “I suppose you could stay in your coffin all the time, but that’s not going to help your agoraphobia. Let’s talk about how you get blood now. Are you still ordering pizzas and feeding on the delivery people?” His expression told me what I needed to know. I couldn’t figure out why the pizza restaurants didn’t notice their drivers always came back in a dazed state from one address. Jerome must be better at entrancing humans than he let on.

He lowered his gaze to the floor and mumbled, “Yes. I know I promised I wouldn’t do that anymore, but I get so
hungry
. I don’t kill anybody, honest, but I
can’t
go out except to come here, Dr. Knight. I try to make myself, but my legs won’t work. Even though I live in a perfectly good basement apartment in one of the Master’s buildings, most days I can’t even make myself get out of my coffin. I think my depression is getting worse.”

Poor Jerome. We revisited the same emotional territory every session. Psychotropic medications didn’t work on the undead, so all I could offer were some behavioral techniques, which hadn’t been very helpful so far. “Do you
want
to get better, Jerome?” I asked suddenly. “Are you happy with the way your life — er, your existence — is?”

He sat silent for several seconds, then raised sad eyes to mine. “You know I never wanted to be a vampire. I’m simply not equipped for this kind of life. I was always a morning person. My stepfather only bit me to get rid of me. He thought I wouldn’t survive the transition.” He moved toward the window. “I wish I hadn’t. I’m miserable.”

Since none of my usual interventions were at all useful, I felt justified in grasping at straws. “Jerome, is there
anything
that would make you happy? Something you could get excited about? Life without a purpose, for mortals or vampires, can be empty. Is there anything you have passion for? Anyone?”

He turned to me, an odd expression on his face. “I’ll tell you if you won’t get mad.” He pursed his lips. “You aren’t going to like it.” His voice sounded even younger than usual, and he almost physically shrank into the cushions of the couch.

“Tell me,” I said gently. He was treating me like his mother again, which was normal in therapy, but I needed to figure out what had triggered the transference.

“I am passionate about figuring out a way to end this terrible existence.”

I nodded. “Well, if you’re miserable, I can understand wanting to relieve the pain.” I paused. “Have you figured it out yet?”

Does he have a plan to off himself — and is it even suicide if the person is already dead? How could I stop him, anyway? There’s no 9-1-1 to call, no undead suicide hotline. I’m not trained for this!

He suddenly became agitated, shifting his gaze back and forth between the carpet and my face. “I think so.”

The air thickened. My stomach clenched and goose bumps prickled my arms.
Holy shit. What’s going on now?

“What are you doing, Jerome?”

He stood and moved with vampire speed, looming over me, effectively trapping me in the chair. I tried to slide off the seat and onto the floor, but he jammed one of his legs between my knees. “You probably don’t know what Devereux said he’d do to anybody who hurt you. He was quite graphic about providing a quick and non-negotiable death. I’m sorry to involve you in this, because you’ve been very nice and I’ve enjoyed our time together, but it’s the only way. I just can’t take any more.” Dark red replaced the brown of his eyes and his fangs descended. “And if I’m totally truthful, I’ve had a few passionate fantasies about you, too.”

Fear tackled me. My heart began pounding and I started sweating as dread washed over me like a tidal wave. “Stop, Jerome! Don’t do this. I can help you. Things really can get better — please—!” I pushed ineffectually against his chest, but just as his teeth scraped my skin, he was suddenly gone, lifted away from me.

“I hate to interrupt this tender moment, but that had to be one of the biggest piles of melodramatic bullshit I’ve ever heard.” Hallow laughed, holding the struggling Jerome off the ground by the back of his shirt. “I suppose I could be a good sport and turn this pitiful specimen over to Devereux for disposal, but I’ve never been a team-player. Killing is so rewarding. I never waste an opportunity to revel in the thrill of the slaughter.” He glared at Jerome, who was making high-pitched keening sounds and flailing his arms and legs. “This whining sot is a blemish on vampires everywhere. He’s not even fit food. Besides, Devereux’s off following the trail of crumbs I scattered for his benefit. Although as I recall, he’s never really gotten into the spirit of the hunt. He’s always taking the joy out of everything with his lofty philosophies. But he’s adequately confused this time. He really doesn’t know how powerful I am, and that I’m confounding his magic. He’s a puppet on my string. He hasn’t even noticed how erratically he’s behaving. I say, what good is being a vampire, if you’re not going to be the meanest predator on the block? I like to set a bloody example.”

Hallow grabbed a fistful of Jerome’s hair and jerked my attacker’s head to the side with such force, and so quickly, that with a wet, bone-crunching, sickening sound it was ripped away from his body. Blood sprayed in all directions and I gasped as the viscous red fluid hit me in the face.

I screamed and frantically wiped at the blood dripping down my nose.

Hallow watched me for a few seconds, then gave an evil grin. “I always have such fun when I’m with you. It’s a pity we can’t leave today, but I have responsibilities to take care of. I’m sure you understand.” He glanced down at his hands, chuckling, as if he was surprised to find himself holding two parts of a ravaged vampire. He threw Jerome’s body on the floor and raised my former client’s severed head aloft, staring up at it. “Do you want this as a souvenir? After all, the unfortunate boy was just about to commit suicide by draining the therapist.”

He angled Jerome’s bloody head over his open mouth and drank the dripping liquid. Crimson streams spread down his face, through his hair and onto his shirt, saturating the dark fabric. He enthusiastically licked his lips and his fangs glinted menacingly from between them.

The horror of what Hallow had done upended my brain and I sat there silently, numb and incredulous. I stared at a ragged portion of Jerome’s spine protruding from the torn skin and my head spun. Realizing I was in shock and dangerously close to throwing up, I lowered my head between my knees and tried to breathe. I heard something hit the floor with a squishy crunch and the gleeful monster laughed. I shifted my gaze just in time to see Jerome’s head roll against the toes of my shoes. I groaned.

“I keep forgetting what sissies you humans are. One unexpected beheading and you’re reaching for your barf-bags. Let’s get you some air. I prefer your natural, sweet-smelling aroma.”

He lifted me from the chair, balanced my limp, nauseated body in his arms and transported us to the rooftop patio. Along with everything else about Devereux’s building, it was both lovely and utilitarian. Motion-sensing lights illuminated the space, which wasn’t really necessary since the moon hung low in the clear sky, only a couple of days past full.

I’d just cleared my throat to demand he release me when he did exactly that. My feet hit the floor and I steadied myself and stared at the bloodied fiend standing in front of me.

“Blood agrees with you, Kismet.” He grinned. “It brings out the blue of your eyes and the ivory tone of your skin. Of course, your beautiful dress is damaged beyond repair.” His silver eyes glistened. “I hope it didn’t have any special significance for you.” He stroked his hand down my breast over the ruined silky material. It didn’t take a huge mental leap to understand he knew the garment had been a gift from Devereux. Disgusted, I recoiled from his touch and jerked backward a step. “Get your hands off me, you bastard,” I gasped through the fear contracting my throat. My voice came out thin and high-pitched. Hallow’s energy was suffocating.

His grin expanded, and he grabbed my upper arm, hauling me closer. “I don’t think I will. As much as I enjoy your keen mind — and you know I’m looking forward to exploring your abilities — it’s probably time to shift to the next level of my plan.”

I tried, without success, to free my arm from his grip. “You’re not exploring
anything
about me, you homicidal psychopath. I’m not participating in any of your sick plans. You’re a delusional monster.”

His eyes wide, he shook his head, adopting an expression of innocence. “Is this all the thanks I get for keeping that irritating boy from tearing your throat out? Name-calling? My dear doctor, I would’ve expected much more gratitude — and subservience. Oh well, It’s clear I have my work cut out for me.” His eyes narrowed. “You will make a marvelous
lýtle
.” He leaned in. “And perhaps more.”

I kept struggling, but his fingers were steel. He stared at me with his cold eyes and my awareness fragmented. His hypnotic gaze locked on mine, pulling like a magnet, enticing me into his dark aura, and my knees buckled. Only his grip on my arm kept me from falling. One part of me remained conscious of the fact that I was on the roof of Devereux’s building, held prisoner by a killer, but another part — the one with the hard nipples and damp crotch — eagerly dived into the mercurial lure of his eyes, unable to concentrate on anything but the need for his hands on me. I was sentient enough to understand my level of danger, but unable — or unwilling — to turn away.

He held me tight against him, entwined his free hand in my hair and tugged my head back, exposing my neck. The smell of blood overwhelmed me.

“Soon your only purpose will be to serve me,” he whispered, his mouth against my ear, “and you will do so willingly, craving me above life itself.”

The words sent rushes of pleasure down my body. Almost painfully aroused, I groaned, surrendering the use of whatever bones still remained. The sane part of my brain frantically screamed, “No! I don’t want this! Stop!” The inmates had taken over the asylum.

Want this...

His soft tongue licked down my neck before he plunged his fangs into the rich vein pulsing there, and I screamed with the beginnings of an almost overwhelming orgasm that rumbled through my entire body, bombarding me with chaotic emotions. As the pleasure intensified, my muscles spasmed, shaking me violently, as if I were having a seizure.

I never wanted it to end.

Loud voices startled me from my erotic dream and I opened my eyes — which I hadn’t realized I’d closed — to find several vampires in a circle around us. I tried to focus my eyes and hadn’t even time to wonder if Devereux was there when he leaped on Hallow and grabbed him from behind.

I collapsed.

I lay on the ground as orgasmic aftershocks reverberated through me, my mind as boneless as my body while my brain smoked a mental cigarette.

A series of crazed noises finally penetrated the fog in my head and I shifted my gaze toward what sounded like rabid wolves fighting over a deer carcass. I goggled at the sight of Devereux and Hallow locked in immortal combat.

Their mouths were stretched in lethal snarls, their long, sharp fangs exposed, their silky hair, dark and light, flying about their heads.

In the face of so much preternatural insanity, all I could think about was how beautiful they both were.

I rolled onto my side and raised myself into a sitting position, but even that small movement was harder than it should have been, as though my muscles had forgotten their programming, or the bridge between the thought and the action had been washed away in the unnatural hormonal flood.

The lustful part of me — the hormonal adolescent, as Victoria called her — was still quivering in the afterglow. She wanted to leap into the fray, seize Hallow and force him to pierce my neck again with his paroxysm-inducing fangs. She was annoyed that her good time had been interrupted.

But the logical part, my Inner Psychologist, was scowling, arms crossed.

My psyche was at war with itself again, but it had reached a temporary impasse. I honestly wasn’t sure which part of me would prove to be the victor.

There was no telling what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten distracted. One of the vampires in the circle, a male I hadn’t seen before, reached out to help me up. I stared at the pale hand for a few seconds before grabbing onto it. I didn’t hesitate just because he was a stranger, or because I was busy having a lust-instigated psychotic break, but also because I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me if I managed to become vertical. His hand was unpleasantly cool and I released it as quickly as I politely could, after giving him a nod of acknowledgment. I had a momentary thought that it was no longer unusual or frightening to be surrounded by vampires.
That couldn’t be good
.

I backed against the railing and gawked at the spectacle.

Inhuman growls, snarls and hisses erupted from the fighters, and the grotesque sounds caused an itching sensation on my skin, like hundreds of tiny bugs crawling on the surface. That wasn’t too much of a surprise, since I’d already seen lots of evidence of how a vampire voice could elicit pleasure or pain.

One part of me found watching them very exciting, for the other, it was quite terrifying.

Devereux and Hallow tore at each other’s throats, carving great bloody gashes that immediately healed, only to be ripped open again. They were god-like zombies, one second wrestling on the ground, then the next levitating off the ground before they smashed one another savagely into the nearest wall. I’d never seen anything as viciously, violently primitive. Their shirts were soon shredded, then discarded.

In the midst of the carnage, Hallow laughed, which obviously infuriated Devereux. With renewed vigor, he wrestled his opponent to the ground, displaying truly impressive skills and power, and a flash of confusion shadowed Hallow’s face at Devereux’s unexpected abilities. Watching the two of them, their muscles straining and rippling across sculpted shoulders and chests, was horribly confusing. My wild side found it arousing, but my more rational aspect — the one who couldn’t imagine life without Devereux — was terrified that the ancient monster might prevail. I gasped in fear.

My inadvertent sound must have distracted Devereux, causing him to shift his gaze to me and to lift his hands from Hallow’s neck, where he’d been gouging at the flesh of the maniac’s throat, and in that instant, Hallow vanished, and reappeared across the room. That was odd — couldn’t Hallow transport himself while Devereux focused on him? Was Devereux’s physical touch keeping Hallow from blinking from one place to another? Or was it Devereux’s attention?

Hallow shook his head, blood spraying from his long hair like water shaken off a wet dog, and in a booming voice cried, “What marvelous entertainment you’ve provided, Devereux. I can’t remember when I’ve had such a rousing time. I look forward to our next rendezvous, but I have much to complete before ending my work here.” He materialized next to me, grabbed my hair and pulled my face to his, pressing his lips forcefully against mine before releasing me just as abruptly.

Fear flooded my brain and at the same time Lust donned her party dress and grabbed her coat, ready to check into Hotel Hallow, the other, cautious, part held a metaphorical bucket of cold water at the ready.

Devereux sprang to his feet, growling. He recaptured my gaze and, chanting in the strange language he used when working magic, stalked like a dangerous predator toward us. Hallow bowed from the waist and laughed again, pointing at me. “I will leave her in your care for a while longer.” He raised an eyebrow. “If she’s willing to stay. But don’t get too comfortable. She’s mine now.” He disappeared.

Enveloped in a strange fugue, I experienced that odd, dissonant sense again: the schizophrenic need both to be with Hallow and to run from him. My conflicting parts jockeyed for position while arguing in my head. Having two clear aspects taking center stage was definitely new to me, and it was frightening. I’d always been aware of my inner cast of characters, and comfortable with them. Like everyone, I had certain characteristics that dominated my psychic landscape, but my sub-personalities usually took turns sitting in the driver’s seat. I now had dual pilots in my consciousness cockpit, and neither wanted to relinquish the controls.

I had to believe the compassionate, wise part of me would find a way to triumph. All other outcomes were unimaginable.

Victoria’s description of my behavior at Devereux’s club, and my inability to remember the time in question, was classic dissociative amnesia — that was bad enough. But this was different. I was fully aware of both parts of myself, and their differing agendas. I feared I’d detoured onto the entrance ramp to madness.

Devereux looked like a bomb-blast victim at a cover model convention. He studied me for a few seconds before flicking his fingers in a dismissive gesture at his companions. “Leave us,” he ordered, and they vanished.

The remaining scraps of clothes were torn and bloody and his hair and skin were coated with thick red blood, but his body showed no physical damage from the undead brawl he’d just participated in. He slid his arm around my waist and propelled me toward a wooden bench against a brick wall. When we sat, I slumped against him, mentally and physically exhausted.

Lust strolled over to a shadowy corner of my psyche and stood waiting, an amused expression on her face. She let me know she wasn’t going anywhere, but she would allow me the illusion of control, for the moment. I wondered what would happen if I couldn’t retain my portion of our joint reality. Would she simply take over my whole personality, or would the entire structure collapse?

I shifted my gaze to Devereux’s serious profile. Lust peeked over my mental shoulder to leer at his glorious bare chest before she retreated back to her patch of darkness, laughing.

“What the hell just happened?” I raised my fingers to the throbbing bite on my neck and they came away bloody. Touching the wound caused my body to spasm dramatically, as if the memory of the orgasm was still there, eager to rejoin the party. Devereux grabbed me, steadying me on the bench. I held my breath, waiting for my alter ego to do something outrageous, but she only watched, her impish smile in place. What was she up to?

Devereux smoothed a strand of hair from my cheek. “The demon has reestablished his influence over you. I can sense the chaos in your energy field.”

I shivered, either from the cooling temperatures of the evening or in reaction to Hallow’s bite, and Devereux lifted me onto his lap, holding me tight against his chest. “Come. We will return to the penthouse.”

“No. Not yet. Let’s sit here for a moment.” I didn’t want to go back inside the building. Breathing the fresh air felt great, and the open sky gave me the illusion of normality, whatever that was. Lust stepped forward inside our shared mind and tapped an imaginary watch on her wrist. What the hell was that supposed to mean? How bizarre was my mental meltdown going to become?

If I survived having two radically different personalities running my body, I’d never again question my dissociated clients’ accounts of their experiences, I told myself fervently. I wondered if Dr. Jekyll had to consciously live through the exploits of Mr. Hyde.

Devereux rocked me gently for a few seconds before he spoke again, his cheek resting against my hair. “I must accept full responsibility for what has happened to you. I refused to see what was clearly in front of me. I knew Hallow was powerful, and that he used his wiles to ensnare women, but I believed my own vampiric abilities and magical skills could keep him in check. Even surrounded by my security force, you were not safe. He is more dangerous now than he was the last time I encountered him. I was overconfident, and you have paid the price.”

I started to sit up, intending to assure him I knew he’d done everything he could, but he pulled me close against his body.

“Wait, Kismet. Please, let me finish.”

I shut my mouth and relaxed. He obviously needed to talk.

“Victoria shared some of her concerns with me about Hallow. She spoke of her visions — how she had seen Hallow in your townhouse, and on a stage of some kind with you. She said she saw him bite you. I was so certain that my spells would protect your home that I did not consider the possibility that Hallow is not subject to any rules — human, vampire or magical. Even after she shared her insights, I did not take action quickly enough.” He was silent for a few seconds. “I am angry because I do not know how to protect you from his malicious intentions. In all my eight hundred years I have rarely been bested, and it is a bitter fruit to swallow. Even now, I doubt that I am immune to his powers. Like you, I have recently found myself behaving in ways that are unusual for me, as if the choices were not mine. My consciousness has been hazy. But I will continue to fight against his influence.”

Shit. That’s
very
bad.

He went totally still, his breathing and heartbeat growing faint. Those human-like functions were under his direct control, and I wondered if he’d simply forgotten about them.

In a bid to break whatever introspective spell he’d woven around himself, I said, louder than necessary, “Can I sit up now?” He’d been holding me so tightly, I was having a hard time breathing.

He released his grip and heaved a huge sigh. “Yes, of course. I apologize. Once again I have behaved obliviously. You must truly think me a thoughtless cave dweller by now.”

His heart jolted back to life in his chest and his breath wafted against my skin. He’d told me he only bothered with things like breathing when he was around me or other mortals. I appreciated his efforts, because I certainly took breathing for granted and didn’t think I was ready for him to remind me constantly of his corpseness. There was no need for me to give him any lectures about his previous arrogance, or his tendency to gently bulldoze, because he was being harder on himself than I would’ve been, so I tried to lighten the mood.

“Oh, yes. You’re a regular Fred Flintstone,” I teased.

“Fred Flintstone?” He lowered his voice and locked eyes with me, as if the topic warranted the utmost seriousness. “Is he one of your clients?” Articulating the words very clearly in his antiquated manner, he imbued them with great importance. How he’d managed to become the successful billionaire he was, functioning in this modern century, was a mystery, since his education about anything he didn’t consider pertinent was meager. I guessed someone of Devereux’s age and temperament might find society’s focus on the superficial to be uninteresting.

He obviously doesn’t have a television in his coffin.

“No, he’s a cartoon character, but that’s not important.” I knew he was going to take offense and ask if I thought he was one, and that wasn’t what I meant. “I don’t think you’re a thoughtless cave dweller, although if you’d asked me that a couple of days ago, I might have given you a different answer.”

He recognized the humor in my face and smiled. “Yes. And I would have deserved it.” His expression became solemn again. “I have since discovered that Hallow created the trouble between the two vampire covens I have been attempting to resolve.”

“What do you mean?”

“His mind-control abilities are second to none. He knew exactly how to distract and manipulate me, and I was a fool not to recognize it. In my mistaken belief that as Dracul’s previous adversary, I was the only one who could settle the dispute, I walked right into Hallow’s clever ruse, just as he intended. It is true that the factions were in need of mediation, but only because of his intervention. I should have realized this much sooner, and I should have been more available to you. I should never have left your side.” He kissed my forehead.

My therapeutic lecture on the parental roots of the tendency to “should” oneself sprang to mind. Apparently I couldn’t ever stop being a therapist, even in the midst of a psychic brain split, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate the unofficial counseling session. He was being so sweet and beating himself up so badly, I thought it was time for me to own up to my own participation in the problem.

“Well, as fascinating as your self-flagellation is, I have to admit I didn’t make it easy for you to remain by my side. And I didn’t listen to you when you said Hallow was influencing me. I had no idea what you meant then, but I do now. I wasn’t aware of his ability to force me to forget my logical, practical self and to become a more primitive aspect of my nature. I didn’t realize he was a literal monster until I watched him kill the radio show host in front of my eyes.”

He froze again. His relaxation immediately morphed into rapt attention as his body adopted a rigid posture. “What? When did you witness such a thing?”

The cool temperature and the energetic buzz of Devereux’s impending anger had become uncomfortable. I needed a few minutes to organize my thoughts. For the first time I noticed my feet were bare, as if my brain wanted something simple to focus on. I wondered what had happened to my shoes. “If we’re going to have that discussion, I want to go back inside.”