Blood Therapy (Kismet Knight, Ph.D., Vampire Psychologist) (38 page)

The sound of voices woke me from my nap. I must have slept for a couple of hours because I could see daylight through the window when I’d conked out and now it was dark. I rolled over onto my back, then sat up, trying to find the source of the angry sounds.

I crawled to the end of the bed and heard Alan’s loud voice booming from the bathroom, “That’s bullshit, Devereux. You had no reason to keep the truth from me.” The closed door didn’t muffle the sound at all—in fact, it echoed in the tiled room. “You must be one heartless bastard to be able to look me in the eye and not level with me about my mother. Who put you in charge of other people’s lives?”

“Your mother did.” Devereux’s tone was calm. I had to strain to hear.

“Yeah, well, I suppose she was confused after being attacked, and then going through the transformation, but afterward you couldn’t possibly believe it was in my best interest not to know she’d survived.”

“Alan, your mother’s transition was very difficult. Many times we thought she would not make it. It took years for her to acclimate, to be able to control her violent urges. She was a danger to you. She made me swear to keep her secret. She was convinced you would have a better life without becoming involved with vampires.” He laughed. “She was quite upset when she discovered your professional area of interest. Knowing the undead as she does, she thought it would be hazardous for you. She asked me to fortify the spell I had cast on you when you were
younger.”

“So I owe you for all the times I didn’t die over the last couple of decades? Your magic protected me?”

“That, and your mother’s vigilance. We both watched over you.”

“And you think that made up for me believing I was an orphan?” Alan said belligerently. “I was such a lost kid. I dreamed about my mother all the time, lived out imaginary fantasies of us being together.”

“Some of those were not dreams. At least not
only
dreams.”

“What?”

“One of the first skills your mother asked to learn was how to visit you while you slept. She joined your dreams often. It was a great joy to her.”

“Really?”

Silence.

“Well,” Alan said, his voice softer, “I still think you should’ve told me.”

“I could not betray your mother’s trust. I had given my word.”

More silence.

“What about Kismet?” Alan said.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you going to keep trying to bully her into being with you? Even after she’s told you how confused she is?”

I leaned farther out from the bed, eager to hear.

Devereux didn’t answer right away. “I have been as I am for a very long time. While I would not call myself a
bully
, I do tend to be aggressive about getting what I want. Kismet has made it clear she needs time to sort things out. I have promised to give her that time. The likelihood that I will be able to change my fundamental nature is very slight, but I am becoming more conscious of my tendencies.”

“You know
I’m
not going to give her up without a fight.”

“I would expect no less.”

“Good. Then we understand each other. Quite frankly, I hope you keep lying and manipulating because that’s going to push her away.”

“As abnormal as it is for me, I am making an effort to be more forthcoming. You must understand that during the previous centuries, it was dangerous for me to disclose any information about me or my intentions. The world was a much more hostile place, and vampires did not have even the
illusion
of safety, as Kismet refers to it, that we have today. As long as vampires remain hidden, that is.”

“Yeah, but you’re not living in the past now. Wait—I forgot who I was talking to. Kismet says you still refuse to join the twenty-first century.” He laughed. “That’s another point in my favor. I know for
damn
sure she has no interest in the bad old days.”

“As I mentioned, I am making an effort to be less … mysterious and guarded. There is only one piece of the current situation I have not yet disclosed to Kismet, but I intend to.”

“What piece is that? Hey, what’s going on?”

There was a pause, and I nearly fell off the bed trying to listen.

“I must go—your mother has a lead on Colin’s whereabouts. You should awaken Kismet and bring her with you to your mother’s apartment. She continues to be protected by my security force, but I also ask that you remain with her until Lucifer is captured. She trusts you.”

Devereux must have vanished, because Alan yelled, “Hey! Wait!”

I scrambled back into the position I was in before the argument and waited for Alan to come out of the bathroom. The toilet flushed, and water ran in the sink.

There was no reason to let him know I’d heard the discussion. What hadn’t Devereux told me yet? Did he plan to clue me in before we start our
new beginning
? Probably not. As he said, he’d been this way for a very long time.

The door opened, and Alan came and sat on the edge of the bed next to me. “Kismet?” He shook my shoulder gently. “Wake up.”

I rolled over and blinked my eyes. “What?”

His cell rang and he answered. “Stevens. Mom?”

I sat up.

“Yeah. Okay. We’ll be right there.” He stood, ended the call, and pocketed his phone.

We’ll be right there?

“What?” I flipped my legs over the side of the bed.

“Mom said she got a lead on Colin through the vampire grapevine. Devereux went to check it out. She wants us to come over.” He peeled off his shirt, reached into the carry-on bag he hadn’t unpacked from his flight, and grabbed a fresh white T-shirt. “Do you need to go to your room first?”

“Yeah.” I rose off the bed and patted my pocket to make sure my new keycard was still there. “Why didn’t your mother just pop in like all the other vampires do? It seems odd that she uses the phone.”

“She said she isn’t very good at traveling via thought yet. I guess it takes a lot of practice, and she can only bring one person back with her.”

“Well, that’s okay—she can come and get you. I don’t really need to be there, do I? How can I help?” I knew Devereux had told him to stay with me, but I wanted to hear how he would spin it.

He paused for a few seconds. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to think of a convincing cover story. “She’s pretty upset, and you’re good with that. She’ll appreciate the support.”

“Uh-huh.” Not bad. Some general truth with no real explanation. Well, it didn’t matter. I was going, regardless—even if he hadn’t wanted me to. “Okay, let me go and brush my teeth and freshen up. Come to my room when you’re ready.”

I hurried down the hall, but the sight that greeted me inside my room when I opened the door with my new keycard stopped me dead on the threshold. “Shit!” The child-on-fire had been joined by several other people, all in various stages of incineration. The entire room—or an echo of it—was a roaring blaze. I could even smell the smoke and burning flesh. My eyes watered. I reflexively raised my arms over my face and closed myself into the bathroom, where, for some reason, everything was calm.

Heart pounding, I leaned against the door, trying to catch my breath. How was I supposed to function if I constantly had to deal with horrors from the past? Zephyr had been right about my abilities increasing, but he’d neglected to say anything about what I could do to control them.

Since my clothes were in the other room, I eventually had to step out of my refuge. After I did everything I could in the bathroom, I steeled myself to open the door, briefly hoping that my clothing wouldn’t smell like smoke. I shook my head as I remembered the scene was an illusion. On a count of three, I pulled the door open and dashed out. The fiery nightmare was still raging, and one of the older female victims approached me with her hand reaching as I grabbed clean jeans from my suitcase. “Stop!” I yelled, desperately not wanting that hand to touch me.

The entire scene vanished.

I was so stunned I dropped the jeans.

“Yes!” I thrust my fist into the air and danced in a circle. Apparently, I could control it. There was an
off
switch.

I had no idea
how
I’d done it, but I definitely needed to figure it out so I could
keep
doing it. Was it the word I used, or the emotion behind it? Or simply my intention? Regardless of how it happened, I was relieved and grateful it had. I’d take any boring normalcy I could get!

Still twitching my hips, I retrieved the jeans, chose a dark-blue sweater, and dressed quickly before anything else could distract me.

A knock sounded on the door and I opened it, expecting Alan.

“There you are.” Michael grinned, looking like he’d stepped from the pages of a men’s fashion catalog, not a hair out of place, wearing a gorgeous burgundy sweater and black slacks. “I didn’t know why you’d switched rooms, and nobody would tell me.” He pointed a thumb at Alan. “Luckily I was on my way to Stevens’ room when I ran into him in the hallway.”

“Yeah. What luck. As I was just explaining to the ass-wipe, we’re on our way out.” Alan gave him a malevolent glare, then looked at me. “So say good-bye to the conniving bastard, grab your coat, and let’s go.” Alan cut in front of Michael, stepped into my room, and tried to close the door.

Uh-oh. They’re at it again.
I backed away.

“No fucking way!” Michael shoved his body against the door so hard it almost toppled Alan. Face flushed, he pushed his way inside. “You’re not getting rid of me. I know you’re doing something involving vampires, and I’m serious—if you don’t let me in on it, I’ll go to the media.”

“Is that so?” Alan’s calm tone was contradicted by the bulging vein on his forehead, eyebrows contracted so tightly they almost met in the middle, and the most evil smile I’d ever seen him display. “Come on in here and tell me about it.” He pushed imaginary sleeves up his arms.

Testosterone madness. Again.

I wedged myself between them and pushed their bodies apart.

They both looked at me in surprise and took a step back.

Wow. Enhanced strength, too. How cool is that?

“Stop!” Well, hell, it worked for the ghosts. Maybe it would work for the Y-chromosomes. “Michael, the police have been looking for you—apparently you aren’t registered at the hotel. You want to tell us what’s going on?”

“Why are the police looking for me?”

“I had to account for my whereabouts last evening, and you’re part of my alibi. Nobody could find you.”

“Your alibi? What the hell went on last night?”

“Don’t change the subject. Why aren’t you registered at the conference hotel?”

He shrugged. “I am, but since the business I told you about with the client who stalked me, I never use my real name if I don’t have to. I have a whole other set of IDs to keep me off the radar. I’m registered under another name.”

“So you’re an even bigger liar than we thought?” Alan said. “What’s this mysterious name? Wait—is it Ass-Wipe? Dumb Fuck? Shit-Head?” Alan grinned maniacally and crossed his arms. “What a waste of space you are.”

“I’m not telling you my other name, dick-breath.”

Alan burst out laughing. “Wow, wishful thinking or what? Don’t be casting me in any of your X-rated fantasies, butt-face.”

“In your dreams, you homophobic fuck.”

Alan shook his head. “Nope, not a homophobe. I’m an asshole-phobe.”

Ack! Maybe I can just jump in a cab and head to the airport.

When in doubt, repeat what worked. “Stop!”

They looked at me, but still held their adversarial poses.

“Alan, aren’t we supposed to be somewhere?”

He attempted to smooth his wild hair. “Yeah. Let’s go.” He turned to Michael. “You’re not coming. This is personal business. Nothing to do with you.” He opened the door and sailed a hand toward the hallway. “After you, Doctor Parker.”

Michael walked into the hall, suspiciously calm.

I lifted my coat off the chair and slid into it.

Alan and I hurried to the elevator. I turned to see if Michael was following us, but he just stood there, a thin smile on his face.

Miraculously, there were no ghosts—fornicating or otherwise—in the elevator, and we rode down uneventfully, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

“I’ll find a cab.” Alan left me at the entrance to the lobby and hustled out into the clear, frigid night to hail a ride. Just watching the doorman’s breath steam out as he spoke to departing guests made me shiver. I was glad we’d both worn heavy coats.

When the next available taxi pulled to the curb, Alan flagged me over. I dashed into the back seat; he joined me and gave the driver the address of his mother’s building. I pulled the neck of my sweater over my nose. The cab smelled like feet.

The ride was mercifully short, and soon we pulled up in front of an incredible Gothic building.

“Wow.” I climbed out of the cab, took a breath of fresh air, and stared up the length of the building, which reminded me of Devereux’s club, the Crypt. Same basic architecture and building materials with lots of gargoyles and demon carvings. “Is this the
Rosemary’s Baby
apartment building?” It didn’t look exactly like the structure they’d used in the film, but close enough. Something about the vibe was similar. That movie had scared me so badly when I watched it on late-night TV about a year ago that I couldn’t sleep for a couple of nights.