Blood Therapy (Kismet Knight, Ph.D., Vampire Psychologist) (6 page)

My midsection tingled, signaling that my Vampire Alert System had gone online.

Bloodsuckers of all shapes, sizes, and colors mingled throughout the breathtaking estate, acting like
normal
party guests. Nearby, a short, fat, bearded male dressed like a Viking stood talking with a woman in a black burqa, along with a tall, lovely Latina wearing the costume of a flamenco dancer and a regal dark-skinned male who looked like an African king. It was a freaking meeting of the Undead United Nations.

Still speechless, I glanced at Devereux and found him beaming at me.

“I recalled you mentioning your love of British castles once, so I knew you would be pleasantly surprised. Valentino’s family actually owns Warwick, and he built a likeness here. Of course, one can never be sure which castle holds the original art and furnishings. He commissioned such good copies of everything, it is simply impossible for most to determine the real from the fake. We may very well be in the presence of the originals.”

I’d been so flabbergasted I hadn’t noticed the young woman who’d opened the doors still standing there, waiting for me to relinquish my cloak.

“Oh, sorry,” I said as I snapped back to awareness and released the clasp. Devereux handed the wrap to her, and she curtsied again and walked away.

As soon as I removed the garment, I felt exposed. Vulnerable. Tasty. I unconsciously placed a protective hand around my throat.

“You are perfectly safe here, my love,” Devereux said, either noting my discomfort or breaking his promise.

“If you say so.”

I feel like I just parachuted into the Serengeti, dipped in bloody au jus.

Safe? I didn’t feel safe. Why had I agreed to come? Why did I keep putting myself in danger? After all the terrifying things I’d seen in the last three months, any sane person would have realized she was in over her head. What was it with my need to lift up every rock to see what’s underneath? I suddenly remembered what curiosity did to the cat.

Devereux took my arm, and we strolled into the ornate salon. Red and gold brocade covered the walls, and a hand-crafted golden fireplace dominated the room. Large portraits of men and women in regal attire hung neatly, side by side. I scanned the area, looking for the donors he’d mentioned earlier, half-expecting to find them chained to walls or spread-eagled on dining tables with rubber tubing transporting the crimson elixir from their veins into collecting basins.

“Where are the donors being held?”

Devereux made a
tsk
sound. “You are letting your imagination run away with you again, Doctor Knight. I told you there would be nothing unpleasant. Look.” He pointed to a section filled with individuals dressed in white sleeveless scoop-neck robes. “Those are the donors. As you can see, they are enjoying themselves.”

That did appear to be the case. They laughed among themselves while circulating around a large wooden table heaped with a banquet of human food. The aromas wafting from the feast made my mouth water. Platters of roast beef, turkey, and ham were complemented by almost every side dish a hungry human could ask for. Champagne flowed freely. Vampires certainly knew how to throw a party.

The words “fattening up the cattle” suddenly popped into my mind.

Am I being paranoid or perceptive?

I tapped Devereux’s arm. “I don’t think I ever asked you about human food. I know you said vampires don’t eat it, but is that because you
can’t
or you just don’t want to? Does the smell or taste of it make you sick?”

He angled his arm around my waist and moved me closer to the banquet. “Our bodies are not made for solid nourishment. Newborns discover quickly that attempting to ingest human fare always turns out badly. The smell can be unpleasant, but most of us have grown accustomed to it and no longer notice. Here.” He picked up a small crystal plate from the table and handed it to me. “Have something. You probably have not eaten much today.”

Nodding in agreement, I sidled alongside the table, selected various appetizers, and added them to my plate. He was right. It had been hours since I’d eaten anything.

Sampling the delicious options, I moved back to stand with Devereux, observing the two-legged cuisine. As I watched, a tall bald male approached one of the female donors and reached out his hand. She set her drink on the table walked over to the man, and exposed her throat. He eased behind her, snaked his arms around her waist, and sank his fangs into her neck. Judging by her erect nipples, she appeared to be enjoying it. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, and her facial muscles visibly relaxed.

I’d certainly seen my share of vampires feeding, but each time it took me by surprise. There was just something so
wrong
about it. Humans weren’t supposed to be food. Unless, of course, it was me willingly donating to a certain blond-haired immortal. But that was different. Wasn’t it?

Watching such an intimate thing began to feel creepy, and I was glad when the bald man retracted his fangs and released the woman. He eased around in front of her, lifted her hand, and kissed it before he bowed and drifted away. She breathed deeply, retrieved her champagne glass from the table, and raised it in salute, then rejoined her companions as if nothing unusual had happened. The donor didn’t look any worse for the experience, which had been oddly sterile.

Devereux tapped my shoulder. I turned to him and momentarily wondered if watching the feeding had made him hungry.

“I have asked Anne, an old acquaintance, to help watch over you in case I must deal with unexpected business,” he said.

An old acquaintance? A
female
old acquaintance? Hmm …

“Unexpected business?” I set my empty plate on an antique side table probably worth more than my house and car together. “Are you planning to work tonight? I thought this was supposed to be time for us to be together. Isn’t this a wedding?” I tensed, and my heart stumbled.
Oh my God! He’s going to leave me alone in a den of bloodsuckers!

“Yes.” He stroked a finger down my cheek, undoubtedly having heard the blip in my heartbeat. “It is a ceremony, which will begin soon. But when many master vampires are together in one place, often a little business must be transacted. You will be completely safe,” he continued. “I asked Anne to stay near you to fend off overzealous suitors and to entertain you with her outrageous personality. I trust her—she is old and strong. As a matter of fact, she might also interest you from a therapeutic point of view, since she is quite self-absorbed. I believe you would diagnose Anne with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, at the very least.”

He’d obviously brought up a comfortable topic to soothe me.

Forcing myself to focus on his words instead of my dark imaginings, I said, “You’ve been reading the
Diagnostic and
Statistical Manual
of Mental Disorders
again.” He was such a sponge for knowledge.

“Yes.” He draped his arm around my shoulders and guided us to a full-size statue of a knight in armor—it really was shining—riding a horse on the other side of the room. “I enjoy learning new things, and the realm of the mind is especially fascinating. Narcissism, in particular, is prevalent among vampires, as you will no doubt discover in your professional work. And, of course, I wish to know more about whatever interests you.”

“Self-absorbed?” I snorted. “Vampires? Gee, I hadn’t noticed. Are you saying that also applies to you?”

He flicked his fingers in a dismissive gesture and grinned. “Of course not. I am self-aware, which is an entirely different thing.”

“Uh-huh,” I said solemnly. “We’ll pretend that’s true. So, you’re sticking me with a chaperone who can’t talk about anything but herself? What a pal. It’s every therapist’s dream to be saddled with the client from hell. I’m really jazzed to attend this party now.” I put a serious expression on my face. “I’d appreciate it if you’d try very hard not to leave me with anyone for long. Surely business can wait.”

He pulled me close. “I will make every effort to remain by your side, but it has been my experience that vampire business often forces itself upon me at the most inopportune times. Just in case, allow me to contact Anne so I might introduce you.” He paused for a few seconds. “Ah, yes. There she is.”

As I turned to look for my undead babysitter, my attention snagged on a man dressed in a filthy ankle-length baggy garment. He was running back and forth across the room holding a huge knife dripping blood. His face was contorted with rage, and he appeared to be chasing someone.

What the hell? Was he one of the donors, gone berserk? Or part of the entertainment?

My breath caught as he crashed directly into a large group of partiers who were chatting in small circles in the center of the crowded space.

Waiting for the vampires to react to the man, for the screams and outrage—for the carnage—I steeled myself … but nobody noticed him. I blinked to make sure I’d seen the maniac, and there he still was, zigzagging through the crowd.

“Do you see that guy with the knife?” I asked Devereux, the pitch of my voice rising as I frantically tapped him on the chest.

“A guy with a knife? Where?” On full alert, he turned his head from side to side, his voice saturated with menace. Coiled power, ready to spring.

“There!” I gasped and pointed to the corner, where the frenzied man tackled and straddled a woman dressed in the same kind of dirty, loose-fitting nightgown he was wearing. He repeatedly stabbed her, the bloody knife slicing through her chest with a wet, sickening sound. My stomach lurched. “You have to stop him. The knife! He’s killing her!” I grabbed Devereux’s arm.

The woman’s screams pierced the air, soaring easily over the Celtic music wafting from the kilted ensemble performing on a raised stage in an adjacent room.

“What man? I do not see anyone,” Devereux said fiercely as he searched the area. “And I do not smell spilled blood. Where is this attack? Take me there.”

Was he kidding? It wasn’t like Devereux to be so insensitive. To refuse to help. How could he not see the man’s crazed assault?

I tugged on Devereux’s arm, pulling him toward the bloody scene. “They’re over here. You have to—” I stopped. As I stared at the murder unfolding before my eyes, I suddenly noticed that the man and his victim were superimposed on top of the group of vampires standing in the same spot.

Ghosts. Specters only I could see. Great. But they looked so solid! Not wispy in the least. Almost as if I could reach out and touch them.

“Something is wrong,” Devereux whispered urgently as he turned toward me and grasped my upper arms. “Your heart is pounding like a trapped animal. Your skin is hot. Fear emanates from you. I do not know how to help. I simply do not see the man to whom you are referring.”

“What?” I shifted my focus from the vision and met Devereux’s concerned eyes.

He was staring at me, confused, worried. “Perhaps I should not have brought you to such an intense place so soon. You were not ready. The energy has overwhelmed you.”

I can’t argue with that.

I took a few deep breaths and forced myself to relax. After my heart rate calmed, I pressed my palm against his cheek. “Sorry about that. You’re right. Everything about vampires is intense and I might never be totally equipped to deal with the madness. But right now it isn’t this place—it’s me, my weirdness.”

His brows contracted into a V. “What do you mean?”

“I thought it was real.” I peeked once more at the ghostly scene before looking back at Devereux. “The murder. The blood. You said this place is haunted. I guess I get to witness ghosts all evening in addition to every other outrageous thing that happens at a vampire wedding.”

“Ah.” Understanding lit his face like a child’s, all distress gone. “Ghosts. You are seeing more incorporeal echoes from the past. Such a rare and wonderful gift. Extraordinary.”

Extraordinary? Try extraordinarily weird. And exhausting.
I rubbed my arms to get rid of the goosebumps.

“Will you show me?” Devereux asked.

“Show you what?”

“The ghost. Picture the man with the knife and his victim in your mind—let me see how they appear to you.”

“Why couldn’t you see them in my mind before?”

“I did not look there—you asked me not to intrude. I thought something had happened in the room that I could not see. And besides, like everyone else I can only give my attention to one thing at a time.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense. Tune in. I’ll show you.” I shifted my attention back to the butchery in the corner, dissecting every detail. The vision replayed like a repeating tape loop.

“Yes, I see,” he said eagerly after a few seconds. “That must be the notorious tormented mortal killer. I am sorry you must witness such a miserable thing, and yet even you must admit you have admirable talents. But for now …” He closed the distance between us. “Let me distract you from the gruesome sideshow.” He pressed his lips to mine, and the room disappeared.

I sank into the blissful softness of his lips and mindlessly wrapped my calf around his. He did always manage to rouse my hormones.

“Devereux, you naughty boy,” said a smoky female voice. “You call me over, and then you make me wait while you play with your human.”

The sound snapped me out of my lust-trance and I jerked back, startled by the proximity of the woman who was standing much too close. A quick jab of pain behind my right eye radiated through my skull-bones, and my vision clouded. I took a couple of steps back to reclaim my personal space. She had to be old, because in my experience, the older the vampire, the less the social niceties matter.

The woman was petite, no more than five feet tall, wearing a low-cut burgundy gown displaying her ample assets to good advantage. Thick light-brown hair spilled over her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled impishly in her pale face, and a wide smile spread her full lips.

“Anne,” Devereux said, “it is good to see you. It has been too long.” He kissed her on both cheeks, then took her hands briefly. “Let me introduce you to Kismet.”