Crimson Psyche (23 page)

“Please excuse me while I transport to my room on the other side of the penthouse and dress. I shall return.” The spot where he stood was suddenly vacant.

If it wouldn’t have messed up my freshly applied makeup, I would have splashed cold water on my face. Devereux was temptation incarnate, but since we obviously had company to greet and runny mascara wasn’t a desirable option, I opted instead to stroll into the closet to find something appropriate to wear for the occasion — whatever that occasion might be.

Devereux enjoyed assigning his female devotees the task of filling my closets with expensive clothing. When I first discovered my fashion bounty, I was annoyed. I thought it was simply another way for him to exert control, to override my choices in favor of his own. And when his helpers disclosed they’d been spying on me — following me in person and observing my dreams — I thought he’d crossed the line between indulging me and manipulation. But it didn’t take long for me to understand this wasn’t about control. He really did derive great pleasure from showering me with gifts. Several of his undead elves mentioned the fun they’d had in the process too, so I stopped complaining about my constantly growing wardrobe. I accepted the clothes in the spirit they were offered and counted myself lucky. If truth be told, my own fashion education left a lot to be desired. I’d long ago faced the fact that, while I had many skills and abilities, choosing the best clothing for my body type wasn’t one of them. Somehow I’d missed the junior high class on “Being a Cosmo Girl.”

Who knew I’d turn out to be Alice in a twisted Wonderland instead?

After debating between a sophisticated ankle-length gown of dark blue velvet or my version of hipster black leather pants that matched Devereux’s, I chose comfort and pulled on a pair of probably overpriced jeans. Strappy sandals and a pale blue cashmere sweater completed the ensemble.

Never confident about my clothing choices, I stood in front of the three-sided floor-length mirror to make sure I really was acceptably attired, and tried a few moves I’d learned in a jazz dance class once. I’d just glanced down to pull the protective necklace from underneath my sweater when I sensed someone behind me. Fearing the worst, my head jerked up and my breath caught — until I saw Devereux’s grinning reflection. I blew out so much air my lips flapped like a horse. I pressed my palm against my heart, as if that would slow down the frantic rhythm.

“Shit, Devereux!”

“Forgive me for frightening you.” His grin melted into a frown. “I did not try to sneak up on you. You were so engrossed in your selection process that you did not hear me reenter the room. And truthfully, it was very pleasant watching you when you were not aware of my presence.” The grin reappeared. “I especially enjoyed the dancing. I have only seen you dance once before, so it is always a pleasure. But I do apologize for causing you distress.”

“You scared ten years off my life. Next time clear your throat or cough or something, would you?”

He was wearing dark brown leather pants and a black silk T-shirt. Nobody could fill out a T-shirt in the elegant way Devereux could.

He bowed from the waist, his silky hair falling forward. “I will endeavor to make more noise, and I will see what I can do to return the stolen ten years to you.”

I started to laugh, but his overly serious face stopped me. “What do you mean? You’re joking, right? That’s just an expression.”

“As we have discussed before, time and space are not the rigid constructs mortals believe them to be. Sometime in the near future I will be pleased to demonstrate, but now we must go.”

He took my hand and we walked together through the bedroom, along the hallway and into the large living room I’d previously described as the dentist’s waiting room from Purgatory. It was anything but sterile and empty now. The room was filled with people — er,
individuals
I’d never seen before. All eyes locked onto us as we entered.

“Thank you for coming, my friends,” Devereux said, his presence dominating the room. “You are aware of the current situation, and I appreciate your willingness to help strengthen our protections.” He released my hand and placed his palm in the center of my back, gently urging me forward. “For those of you who have not yet met her, I am pleased to introduce my mate, Kismet. It is for her safety we gather tonight.”

I curved my lips in what I hoped was a sincere smile.

His mate.

Hearing the words surprised me, because I thought we’d agreed to discuss the ramifications before going public with the title. I was still trying to understand what it meant to him and why it was so important.

As one, the group of strangers bowed or curtsied. “Lady Kismet,” they said in unison.

Lady
Kismet? What the hell was going on now — were all vampires so melodramatic? Why was I always the last one to get the memo?

I glared at Devereux, and he gave a subtle shake of his head, indicating I shouldn’t say any of the hostile words struggling to explode out of my mouth. He’d definitely been around his minions and handmaidens too long.

One minute I was his equal and the next his property, or at least that’s how it felt.

A creepy-looking short fat vampire approached. His stringy, grey hair flowed down over the shoulders of a standard black Dracula cape. He briefly fixed his bulging light-green eyes on me before extending his hand to Devereux. As he reached out, his cape fell open, exposing naked, wrinkled flesh. “Master Devereux, I am honored to have been summoned for this ritual and to have been entrusted with the creation of the powerful ceremony we will participate in tonight.” His unidentifiable accent was so thick I could barely understand him. Of course, the fact that his fangs were fully extended, causing a lisp, didn’t help. He smiled at me, and I hoped the movement of my lips resembled something friendly in return. His belly was the biggest I’d ever seen on a vampire. His transformation must have happened suddenly, because I couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to live for centuries as an undead smelly, greasy-haired, street-person version of Santa Claus.

Devereux grasped the rotund man’s hand. “Prospero, my friend. Welcome to my home. I would like you to meet Kismet, the one for whom I have been waiting.”

The greasy fellow flipped the edges of his cape behind him, giving me the Full Monty, and my gaze shifted to his crotch in spite of myself. Unlike most large midsections, his bulged out like a pregnant woman’s rather than the droopy, cover-the-penis kind of flabby flesh, so his substantial pride and joy was evident for all to view.

Obviously noting the path of my gaze, he grinned and winked.

Ewww.

Executing a theatrical bow, he lifted my hand and kissed it. “We all rejoice at your arrival, M’lady.”

“Prospero? Isn’t that the name of one of Shakespeare’s characters in
The Tempest
?”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “I heard he featured me in one of his little tales. I absolutely must read it one of these days.”

He dropped my hand and addressed the small crowd. “Take your places in the circle.” Giving me his attention again, he flicked the cape completely off his shoulders and it pooled on the floor at his feet. “Follow me.”

I glanced at Devereux, who was trying unsuccessfully not to smile. He nodded in the direction of the flat buttocks swaying ahead of us. I was amazed by Prospero’s ability to remain vertical with nothing to balance the back of his body.

“Prospero is a very powerful magician,” Devereux whispered to me. “He is my friend, but never be alone with him. His weakness for beautiful women is well known and he has a remarkable ability to entrance. Women have been known to fall at his feet after one glimpse of his fully erect organ.”

I stifled a grin and whispered back, “I’ll make every effort to control myself.”

Even if his fully erect organ breaks into song, I’m not going near it.

As we approached the waiting circle of vampires, I noticed the familiar floating candles and the fact that everyone had undressed.

Wait a minute.

Prospero glided over to me, surprisingly graceful. “Allow me to assist you, M’lady.” He started tugging my sweater over my breasts.

I grabbed the wool, pulling it into place again. “Hey! Knock it off! What are you doing?”

Prospero backed away, shocked.

Devereux had peeled off his T-shirt, and was unbuttoning his leather pants. “The ritual Prospero has created requires bare skin to be most effective. I apologize if I forgot to mention that.” He didn’t sound in the least sorry.

I didn’t know which stunned me more: the fact that Devereux actually thought I’d get naked in front of a group of strange vampires, or his effortless ability to lie through omission. Did he think being the Master gave him
carte blanche
in his dealings with me?

“Stop!” I pointed to the zipper he was lowering on his pants. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to take my clothes off in front of all these strangers. Hell, even if I
knew
them, I still wouldn’t take my clothes off. Don’t you know me any better than that?”

Okay. There was one part of me now who was more than willing to get naked whenever possible, but for whatever reason, she hadn’t recently tried to force her way out, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Devereux stepped toward me. “If Prospero believes nudity will enhance the power of the ritual, I trust his judgment enough to follow his recommendations. I will be here to watch over you. The ritual will be brief.”

He simply wasn’t listening to me. So what else was new?

“Why do you think a ritual is going to help, anyway? Isn’t it clear that Hallow can do whatever he wants? Nothing anyone has done so far has kept him away. What is the point of this?”

“The point is that each new ritual brings more power to our defenses.” His voice floated over me, attempting to soothe. “We already have the building well protected, which is why Hallow could only transport himself to the roof.”

“What?” A chaotic collage of images crashed into my brain and I slapped myself on the forehead, any calming effect of Devereux’s voice completely negated. “Shit! How could I have
possibly
forgotten to tell you about the most horrible part of my evening? What’s the matter with me? How can I have repressed the horror of watching Hallow rip the head off one of my clients —
in front of me?
” My voice was shaking with emotion. “You think he can’t come into your building? That your incantations and rituals are effective? My office is a bloody mess — and poor suicidal Jerome, who actually was about to drain me dry so you would kill him, got his wish: death by maniac.”

Devereux stared at me, frozen, his mouth open, before he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me against his chest. “Come.”

Stale air blew against my face as we transported to my defiled office. It was worse than I remembered. Jerome’s headless body lay crumpled where Hallow had thrown him, blood congealing in a wide circle under the ragged edges of his neck. I had no idea how much blood a formerly human body contained, but whatever had been left in Jerome’s corpse after Hallow drank his fill had soaked into the blue carpet, leaving horrible brown-red stains.

Jerome’s head, his eyes wide, staring like a macabre Halloween mask, had rolled under an end table. Death had restarted his aging process and he now looked much more his true age, which was at least seven decades. His usually slicked-down hair was white and it spiked up in all directions, as if he’d been electrocuted.

The stench in the room reminded me of a similar vampire-created scene some months earlier, when my previous office had been defiled by another young male body. I pressed my hand to my nose and mouth to filter the worst of the odor.

Devereux navigated us next to my desk, where we weren’t directly in the bloody remains but still had a bird’s-eye view of the destruction. He was strangely calm. He released me and surveyed the carnage. After a couple of minutes he turned to me, his usually entrancing voice flat, and said, “You were correct. Our rituals are meaningless. From now until Hallow is disposed of, you will not be left alone. I will no longer depend only upon magic and vampire powers. Now it must be the force of my will against his.” He stared off again, lost in thought.

Hearing the almost hopeless tone of Devereux’s words frightened me more than anything. Without acknowledging it to myself, I had always assumed he’d prevail somehow, conquering the challenger and restoring my normal life, but his voice told a different story. Maybe he was no longer sure he could defeat the fiend, or perhaps he’d finally come to the conclusion that I wasn’t worth all the trouble. What if Hallow really could capture me? Had all the choices in my life brought me to this dark crossroads?

I started to wonder what I might have done differently. It was easy to second-guess myself about my involvement with the hidden world of the vampires. The minute I realized the ramifications of my new career choice I should’ve closed up shop and relocated. My life was much simpler — not to mention safer — before I blundered into this parallel universe.

But that was all blood under the bridge.

Devereux slid his finger along my cheek, drawing my gaze back to his. “The fear is radiating out of you. I swear you will not be harmed. We will find a way to destroy Hallow.” His voice had reclaimed its polished texture and it flowed over me, the once-again assured sound calming my anxiety. He pointed at Jerome’s body. “Your client must have been relatively young as a vampire, for his body did not immediately crumble into dust when Hallow decapitated him. The older the vampire, the quicker the body decomposes. In this case it will disintegrate over the next few hours. If you watch closely, you can see the process beginning.”

I followed his pointing finger to the grey substance gathering at Jerome’s feet and shook my head. Devereux was good at raising issues in order to distract me from dwelling on unpleasant realities. It was gratifying to realize how well he knew me now. As long as I had something logical to hide behind — a cerebral topic to discuss — I would be able to maintain some semblance of composure.

“I didn’t know that.” Okay, we could stand over Jerome’s remains and discuss the mechanics of vampire death as if it were just another seminar topic. I was great at denial. But I probably wouldn’t ever be comfortable with the cold, calculating, analytical view of death most vampires held. They didn’t really attribute much value to life of any kind. Devereux was more in touch with his emotions than any male I knew, alive or undead, but even he was able to compartmentalize his feelings. “The only other vampire I saw die was Bryce, after I cut his head off. He disintegrated into dust right away.”

“Yes, I imagine he did,” Devereux said. “He was very old.”

I scanned the room, becoming aware of splashes of blood on the walls and the ceiling. “What should I do about poor Jerome and the ruined carpet? Is there someone I can call?” Thinking about cleaning duties reminded me that I needed to read Jerome’s file to check for relatives and friends to contact. I’d never lost a vampire client before, and I wasn’t sure what the proper etiquette was. “Is there something special we can do for Jerome? A service, or something?”

Devereux tilted his head, studying me. “What would be the purpose of a service? He was dead before he was destroyed. I am sure all his human friends and relatives are long since departed, and vampires don’t require those kinds of ceremonies.” He saw me frown. “But if you would prefer, we can bury his ashes. I will have his remains collected and you can tell me what arrangements you want. As for the carpet, it will be replaced immediately, and the room will be restored to its previous condition. There is nothing for you to do here. I have already mentally summoned the necessary assistance. Let us return to the penthouse.”

He circled my waist with his arm, gathered me against him and we rematerialized in the penthouse living room. The naked vampires stood talking in groups, like an undead cocktail party.

Prospero strode over, arms spread. “Devereux, is it true? Has the monster breached our defenses? If that is the case, I must rethink our ritual.”

Devereux laid a hand on the rounder man’s shoulder. “Yes, my friend, it is unfortunately true. It is important now that I concentrate on other methods for keeping Kismet safe. I would be most grateful if you and all those gathered here would continue the ritual on our behalf. As always, I welcome your wisdom and assistance.”

“Consider it done.” Like the director on a movie set, Prospero leapt into action, discussing strategies, assigning positions. Once again, I was surprised by his grace and agility.

Devereux fetched his discarded T-shirt and slid it over his head. It was a shame to cover that chest, but I took his action as verification of a change of plan, though I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. What was my role in the war of wills?

A low buzz emanated from the participants in Prospero’s ritual. Each vampire in the circle stood with his or her arms straight out in front, palms up. Perhaps my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn the air around the group began to shimmer, reminding me of waves of heat rising off the asphalt in August. I was so fascinated by the subtle phenomenon that I startled as a raspy voice rumbled within inches of my ear, “Master, there’s a human downstairs — a dame — who claims she’s a friend of Dr. Knight’s. She insists on speaking with her. Shall I erase her memory and send her away?”

I expected to find a big, hulking body to match the meaty tone, and almost laughed out loud at the short, slender man dressed like a gangster from the 1930s. A fedora hat sat at a jaunty angle and an unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth, the rolling paper obviously stuck to his lower lip, allowing him to speak without dislodging the obviously well-used prop.

“Who is it?” I asked the messenger.

He continued to speak to Devereux instead of acknowledging me. “She says her name is Maxie — I’ve never seen white hair on a young dame before. She’s quite a babe. Rattled, though. Nervous. What do you want me to do with her?”

Devereux shifted his attention to me. “Do you wish to see her? I am not sure it is wise to bring her into a penthouse filled with vampires. After all, she
is
a reporter.”

“Yes, she is, but she’s also a friend — a very persistent friend.” And a member of a very small club, indeed. I thought for a moment. “Is there a room we can use that’s separate from the rest of the area? Somewhere she won’t see your guests?”

“You may use the library.” He pointed. “It is isolated from the rest of the penthouse, and accessible only from this recessed alcove.” He walked to a wall-panel near the front entrance. When he touched an intricate pattern etched into the rich wood, a door slid sideways. He extended his hand, inviting me to investigate. “I keep many rare editions of my favorite books in this room. Some of the documents under glass are so ancient and fragile that exposure to the elements would destroy them.” I poked my head inside the open door. “It would be best if your friend did not spend much time viewing the contents of the room. She might have questions about how a humble club owner managed to collect such priceless books and artefacts.” He smiled and gave a quick bow of his head.

“Humble club owner? I don’t think anybody, reporter or otherwise, sees you in that way. In fact, Maxie told me you’re widely considered to be a powerful mob boss.” I chuckled. “And after seeing the fellow doing the Sam Spade impersonation, she’s probably more convinced than ever.”

“Mob boss? No wonder I draw so much media attention. And I thought it was merely due to my good looks and personal charm.” He gave a little-boy grin.

He certainly had those things in abundance. The sweetness of his smile took my breath away. How was it that he’d been a vampire for eight hundred years, yet such innocence could still shine forth from him at the most unexpected moments? Vampires were supposed to be evil — at least, that was the common assumption.

What I still didn’t know was if Devereux was the exception and the maniac Lyren Hallow the rule.

“Ralph, please bring Dr. Knight’s guest up to the library. There is no reason to entrance her or erase her memory. Escort her directly to this room — but be vigilant. I understand she is very curious, and that she does not have much use for authority.”

I smiled. That was a pretty good description of Maxie.

“Shall I await her arrival and introduce myself, or would you prefer me to leave the two of you alone?”

I remembered I’d promised Maxie she could meet him if an opportunity presented itself. Would it be dangerous for Devereux if I exposed him to Maxie’s relentless quest for a story? Maybe she would be caught up in thinking he was involved in organized crime she’d miss the bigger scoop.

“Would you like to meet her?” I decided to leave it up to him. He probably had better things to do. And if I were honest with myself, I didn’t want to take responsibility for any of the ways the situation could go to hell.

“I admit to being curious about the woman who persuaded you to befriend her. I would enjoy meeting the white-haired swimsuit model.” I elbowed him in the ribs and he chuckled. “Ah, here they are now.”

Ralph held Maxie’s arm, clearly restraining her rather than politely guiding. “Here ya go, doll.” He nodded at Devereux, and moved back toward the elevator. I’d half-expected him to say something Bogart-ish, but he probably wasn’t even aware he was impersonating anyone. Thanks to my father’s obsession with the classic actor’s noir films, I knew more than I wanted to.

Maxie wore tight jeans and an equally snug white T-shirt with the words
fuck you
printed across her braless breasts. Her wild mane flowed loose down her back. Yes, definitely swimsuit-model material.

She shot me a fierce glance, annoyance written large on her face as she shook her arm, obviously trying to restore the circulation. The shaking came to an abrupt halt when she noticed the tall, blond leather-clad god who’d moved to stand in front of her. Devereux was only a couple of inches taller than Maxie in his boots, and she was able to meet his eyes directly as she grinned at him, extending her hand, all bad temper forgotten.

Devereux offered one of his beguiling smiles.

“Wow.” She grasped his offered hand, throwing her shoulders back to better present all her assets. “The famous Devereux, world-renowned entrepreneur, billionaire and major stud muffin. You’re way hotter than your sizzling photos. If you ever tire of my conservative friend here, I’m happy to send in the second team. You’re so cute, I’m downright speechless.”

He bowed. “All evidence to the contrary.”

“I’d really love to interview you sometime. Come to think of it, I have a few minutes now if that works for you. Maybe we could go find someplace comfortable to talk.” She took a step closer. “You’re really a hot tamale. I bet you’re awesome in the sack...” Her voice drifted off as she stared at him again.

I waved my hand in front of Maxie’s eyes. “You wanted to see me?”

She blinked and slid her gaze to me, a lost expression on her face.

Devereux kissed my cheek. “If you will forgive me, I have business to attend to.” He nodded at Maxie, his gaze lingering a few seconds. “It was... interesting to meet you. I trust our paths will cross again. Have a fruitful visit.”

Ever graceful, he walked away, and Maxie’s mouth sagged open as she watched his slim hips and firm ass exit the hallway.

I poked her arm to get her attention. “Let’s go in here.” I pointed in the direction of the chairs in the library.

She shook herself, snapping out of Devereux’s trance. “Shit, he’s a
hunk
!” Her eyes tracked the rows of ceiling-high shelves filled with old books, artwork, and antiquities. “Jesus — he’s got a frickin’ museum in here.”

She wandered over to the glass cases Devereux had specifically asked me to keep her away from and I followed her, took her arm and tugged her over to one of the leather couches scattered around the center of the room.

“Hey, what the hell?” She glared at me with total focus this time as I angled us both onto the cushions. Her anger took a curtain call.

I braced myself for whatever she’d come to talk about, already emotionally wiped out. “What are you so pissed off about? What’s happened?”

After a brief pause, she blurted, “So he’s one, isn’t he? Nobody human is that beautiful.”

Shit.
“He’s one what?”

She sneered. “Don’t give me that crap. No wonder you laughed when I said he was into organized crime. You knew he was sucking the lifeblood from innocent humans. He tried to entrance me and it almost worked. Some fucking friend you are. You knew all the time. The Vampire fucking Psychologist: you
knew
they existed — you
lied
to me. That’s what happened at the amusement park, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Damn... damn vampires took me.” She was so upset she stumbled over her words.