Crimson Psyche (10 page)

“Not exactly.” She grinned. “But I gather from my informant that our destination isn’t car-friendly. Apparently, the ‘staking’ is happening in some abandoned area, so we might have to camouflage the Jeep and walk to the main event. I like to make a surprise entrance — that way I get to see more than they intend for me to see.”

“So?” I shook my arm loose. “How does that put my car out of the running? My comfortable little ride can hide in the shadows as easily as yours. You’re just prejudiced against slick cars.”

She opened the passenger side and shoved at me until I was all the way in.

“Hey! No pushing! You’ll wrinkle my favorite suede coat.”

She circled around the front of the car and slid behind the wheel.

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “Are you saying my baby’s not slick? I’ll have you know this vehicle has gotten me out of more tough spots than I can count. Take a look behind you.” She clicked on the inside light and twisted in her seat so she could reach into the back, and lifted a tarp.

I goggled. The back of the car was filled with an assortment of shovels, tools, junk food, beer, cold weather supplies, a tent, outdoor cooking equipment, flashlights, candles, what appeared to be sharpened stakes, and weapons — guns and knives.

Guns. Knives.

I slowly turned my eyes to hers, my stomach tightening. “What the hell, Maxie? Are you some kind of survivalist? Why do you have guns? And what’s with the stakes? I thought you’d never encountered a real vampire?”

“Chill, Doc! You’ve obviously led a very sheltered life. In my line of work, I deal with all manner of slime-bags. Before I figured out the degree to which I needed to take care of myself, I barely escaped from some dangerous situations. It’s impossible to be a reporter if you aren’t going to follow the vermin into their holes. As far as the stakes, they’re amazingly effective at scaring off vampire wannabes. I’ll use whatever works.” She replaced the tarp and reached into a storage box between our two seats, then she pulled out a strip of leather and tied it around her hair, making the longest ponytail — or, rather, horsetail — I’d ever seen. She saw me watching her and smiled.

“Still fascinated with the white hair?”

“No. Well, yes, but I was wondering how you deal with hair that long. Doesn’t it get in the way? Isn’t it heavy?” I thought about the relentless weight of my own hair, and mine was only half as long as hers.

“Nope. I’m used to it. It’s just another one of my many charming idiosyncrasies. Besides, my foul-tempered significant other likes it this way.”

“I hope you’ll talk about him some more — expose the truth. Perpetrators like when you keep their secrets.”

She slanted a glance at me and gave a wicked smile. “We’ll see. I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours.” She started the Jeep, shut off the inside light and pulled onto the road.

“What makes you think I have anything to tell?”

“Let’s just say that it isn’t easy for an incredibly gorgeous, wealthy man to avoid being stalked by reporters and the paparazzi, even in Denver. Showing up on his arm once might have been explained by a casual friendship, but there were repeated sightings — and then you moved your practice into his building. The only business on the premises, I might add, that isn’t owned by his international conglomerate. Demented little inquiring minds want to know, Doc, and my rag of a magazine intends to supply the answers. Devereux is incredible. Odd, though, that there’s no mention anywhere of a last name. He’s quite the mystery man. You wouldn’t happen to know what his last name is, would you?”

I glared. “Are we back to interviewing me, Maxie?”

“
Mea culpa
,” she grinned. “Old habits die hard.”

I had to hand it to her. That was a smooth move — masterful avoidance.

“Okay, so you know about Devereux. It’s not a secret. Back to
your
boyfriend.”

“Jesus, Doc, you’re relentless. As I said, I manage to screw up everything. My patterns with men are hopeless. I’ve always had a weakness for narcissistic cocksmen, and right now I’m mad about a dude who’s too busy to pay any attention to me. He travels a lot for work, but when he’s on good behavior, he’s
irresistible.
”

“Will I get to meet this irresistible... dude?”
Maybe I can sic a vampire on his battering ass.

“Well, it’s not out of the realms of possibility, but I do doubt it. He doesn’t live in Denver, and I never know when he’s going to show up. We make up for it with great phone sex.” She flashed another of her trademark grins at me.

“Phone sex?”
Too bad Devereux and I never talk on the phone. He has no use for them.

She smiled. “Yeah, but sex is certainly more fun when he’s actually in the room with me.”

Appreciating the truth of that statement, I grinned myself and stared out the window at the full moon, wondering where
my
sex object was. It was probably better that I didn’t know, though, since I was pretty sure he’d be furious that I’d fled protective custody. I glanced behind me, just to make sure he hadn’t materialized. He could be anywhere in a multitude of universes, and yet he could still show up in a heartbeat to surprise me. And the ease with which I contemplated that bizarre thought made me shake my head. How weird was it that my vocabulary now included words like parallel dimensions, simultaneous existence, auras, etheric bodies and Druids, of all things.

Leave it to me to fall for a guy whose mother was an apparition and whose extended family included ancient witches and wizards!

I’d recently realized that I’d stopped labeling Devereux’s vampirism as the strangest thing about him. I hadn’t exactly gotten used to it, but in the midst of all his other disturbing facets, blood-drinking didn’t rate very high on the fright-o-meter any more. Amazing what one can acclimate to — especially if it was linked with great sex.

I roused myself from my daydream and noticed we’d traveled away from the lights of the downtown area. We probably hadn’t been driving that long, but I’d lost track of time. “Where the hell is this place? Kansas?”

“Nope.” She chuckled. “We’re still in Denver. I took a back route so nobody would see us arrive. Here we are.”

She angled the car off the road, edged it between two rows of trees and killed the engine.

I leaned forward and peered through the windshield. Thanks to the moon, it was pretty easy to see. “What is this place?” I pointed. “That rickety thing looks like some old rollercoaster or something.” I shifted my head toward Maxie. “This is where we’re going? An abandoned amusement park?”

“You got it, Doc. I don’t know how long you’ve been in Denver, but the fire that destroyed half of this place was the talk of the town. We wouldn’t have our fancy new state-of-the-art tourist trap downtown if a little pyromaniac bugger hadn’t torched this one. And are you ready for this? The jerk set the fire because he was a pyromancer.”

I frowned. “A what? I’m not familiar with that term.”

Maxie nodded. “A pyromancer — somebody who reads the future by interpreting flames. This is right up your alley, actually. At his trial, the creep testified that the voices in his head told him to barbecue the whole park so he could write his own book of future predictions, like Nostradamus. There’s an asshole born every minute. Come on. Let’s collect supplies.”

She opened her door and stepped out before quietly pushing it closed. I followed her example and tiptoed around to the back of the Jeep.

“Are you sure this is where the thing is happening?” I glanced around. “I don’t see anybody. It’s so quiet.”

She popped open the plastic flap covering the rear window and peeled it back, flopping it up on the roof. “Shhhh. We’re on the other side of the park, but you never know who’s lurking.” She pointed to a broken chain-link fence. “We’ll be crawling in under that fence and skulking around to find a good place to observe.” She studied my clothes, her lips pursed. “The jeans, sweater and hiking boots are great, but you might want to lose the coat if it really is your favorite. Leave it in the car or it’ll get filthy. I have a couple of parkas — you can use one.”

I started to complain that I didn’t want to crawl anywhere, but she’d already focused her attention on grabbing supplies from her rolling disaster-preparedness stash.

Well, I said I was willing to try something different...

I shrugged out of my coat, took my cell phone, wallet, and keys out of the pockets and exchanged it for one of the black parkas. The pillowy jacket was too warm for the mild weather, and it turned me into the Pillsbury Doughboy. I crammed all my things into one large pocket and filled the other with the flashlight, tape recorder, pocket knife, writing pad, candy bar and pen Maxie thrust into my hands.

“Okay. You have to take one of these. Which one do you think you could handle?” She held out a Taser and a pistol. She shifted her weight from side to side impatiently as I stared at the two foreign objects in her hands. “Well? What’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem?” I whispered, but louder than I meant to. “You didn’t say anything about needing to be armed to attend this crap-fest. What the hell are we going to do with
weapons
? I thought we were just going to hide out and watch. Are you planning to burst in and take hostages or something? Tasers are
illegal
.” This adventure had now gone from being an interesting change of pace to something that was making fear coil in my stomach.

Maxie dropped her head and stared at the ground. She lowered the weapons to her sides, then raised her eyes up to mine. “I’m sorry. I’m so used to doing these crazy things alone and I psych myself up for whatever’s going to happen. I should’ve told you, there’s always a chance some weirdo will freak out and do something violent. Let’s face it, if these were normal, healthy people, they probably wouldn’t be here, would they? You should be used to unpredictable, mentally whacked-out people.” She brought the pistol and the Taser into the space between us again. “Maybe I’m overreacting, but I need you to choose one of these, just so I can be sure you have something to defend yourself with. You could use the pocket knife, but an attacker would have to get awfully close and personal before it would be a good option.”

She held the small pistol out to me. “Have you ever fired one of these?”

I took the gun. At least I wasn’t likely to stun myself with it. “Just a few times, when an old boyfriend dragged me to the firing range. I wasn’t very good — I’ll probably shoot myself in the foot.”

In fact, I almost shot
him
in the foot back then.

“No, you won’t. It has a safety. Here, I’ll show you.” She demonstrated, and then handed the gun back to me. “Take it, okay? Just in case.” She pocketed the Taser and grinned. “I’ll hold onto the illegal device.”

My hand tingled when I took the weapon, as if my skin was trying to reject all the emotions trapped in the handle.

“You’re going to owe me big-time, Maxie. Crawling around in the dirt, carrying a gun, prowling through the burned-out remains of an amusement park — next time we listen to jazz and drink margaritas.”

She grinned and patted my shoulder. “Way to suck it up, gal pal. What a trouper. This will be an adventure you’ll never forget.” She strolled over to check out the back of the Jeep again. “Yep, I think we have everything we need. Let’s rumble.” She re-fastened the flap over the rear window, buttoned her jacket and trotted off toward the fence.

She shot me a glance over her shoulder. “Hey, you’d better zip up unless you want dirt and soot all over that fine rack.”

I heard her laughing as she glided to a gaping section of fence. Still walking fast to catch up with Maxie, I glanced down to zip the parka and tripped over an exposed tree root. Thanks to the foamy coat, I made barely a sound as I hit the ground. “Fuck!” I said under my breath and raised my head in time to watch Maxie crawl under the fence, stand and stride off. She disappeared behind the ruins of a building.

“Uh, Maxie?” I croaked.

There was silence as I struggled to my feet, brushing off dirt, twigs and a used condom. The damn coat was so bulky it was like wearing a fat suit. I finished tugging up the zipper and jogged over to the fence. Pausing, I stared at the curled-up corner, then squatted and examined the small opening, talking to myself.

“How the hell am I supposed to cram this hot-air balloon of a parka through that hole in the chain-link? Of course Maxie’s leather jacket slid right through. What was the point of dressing me up like the Michelin Man?”

I peeled off the jacket, dropped to my hands and knees and pushed it through, then crawled under on my stomach. The ground was relatively smooth, indicating that many other people had made the journey before me.

Emerging on the other side, I stood and rotated my shoulders. I hated to put the parka back on again, but if Maxie thought it was important for me to have a gun, I probably should at least keep my hands free. I retrieved the fluffy beast, slipped it on and walked tentatively toward a maze of building remains. The full moon shone large and bright, like a cosmic lantern. It should have been easy to find Maxie, but she was nowhere in sight.

Thinking it would probably be better if I weren’t quite so visible, I detoured along a partial wall and scanned the area. This was definitely a weird place, and not only because of the scorched landscape — although that definitely qualified as creepy — but because of the ominous vibe.

Suddenly the scene burst into flames and I stumbled back, startled. The smell of burning wood and flesh was so strong that I pressed my hand over my mouth and nose and started breathing as shallowly as I could. Thick clouds of black smoke blanketed the park, blotting out the sky, and screaming spectral people ran from the buildings as they tried frantically to extinguish blazing hair and clothing. Several of them crossed through me, causing my stomach to cramp and goose bumps to swarm over my arms and legs. I coughed, and tasted the smoke at the back of my throat. Willing my legs to move, I darted toward a cement-block building and huddled against the wall. My rational brain knew it wasn’t real, that it was yet another ghastly replay, apparitional memories that had become an unwelcome part of my freakish life. But my animal brain wasn’t listening. It was cowering in fear.

The vision was so overwhelming, it took me a couple of minutes to remember how to make it go away. I lowered my hands from my face, stood straight and whispered as loud as I dared, “Stop!”

And it did. Everything vanished, and I was once again standing in an abandoned, destroyed fun center.

“Shit, Kismet,” I mumbled, angry at myself for not stopping the grisly movie as soon as it started. But the truth was, the ghostly visitations had become more intense ever since I drank the elders’ blood, and I hadn’t had enough time yet to get used to their unexpected appearances.

And where the hell was Maxie?

I slumped against the building, forcing myself to relax my muscles and practice breathing. I threw in the mental hum for good measure, since it always calmed me.

Then everything went still — unnaturally still, not even the sound of a cricket — and I held my breath as something triggered my inner alarm. I couldn’t identify what was
off
, but the air hung heavy, dangerous. I waited for another horrifying memory to burst forth, but whatever this was had a different texture.

Maybe Maxie was right about whackos hiding in the shadows. I reached into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the gun, but instead of reassuring, it terrified me. I turned my head slowly from side to side, watching for — what? Nothing else had happened to make me anxious, but my gut clenched and my breath caught, as if I was sensing something or someone I couldn’t see.

“Maxie?” I whispered, barely audible. Dread washed over me and I froze, trying to figure out where the threat was coming from. If there even
was
a threat. I was torn between thinking my imagination was working overtime since I was now constantly waiting for the next ghostly shoe to drop, and wanting to trust my intuition. My heart pounded and my temperature spiked so high that I unzipped the coat and used the edge to fan myself.

What was happening to me? I’d never had a panic attack before, but whatever was happening to my body fit all the symptoms. Maybe I was holding onto the energy echoes from the chaos of the fire — I’d prefer that explanation to thinking I was losing my mind.

Then I heard a groan and I gazed around, searching for the source of the low sound. I heard it again, closer this time, but still I couldn’t see anyone near me. I jumped as a hand stroked the side of my face and gasped as fingers trailed down my neck. I heard another groan and my whole body contracted in terror. I reached up to swat the invisible hand away, but there was nothing there — and yet I could still feel it, as real as my own skin, and the longer the phantom hand touched me, the more my muscles cramped.

Footsteps pounded toward me. “Kismet? Where are you?”

I must have been holding my breath because so much air escaped from my mouth that I coughed and doubled over. The unseen hand disappeared. “Maxie? Here. I’m over here.”

She crouched, grabbed my upper arms, and pulled me upright. “Where the hell did you go? I thought you were right behind me. What’s wrong with you? Why are you all sweaty and shaky?” She pivoted, waving the Taser she carried. “Did someone attack you? What happened?”

I closed my eyes for a moment to calm myself. Either I’d been fondled by an invisible
something
or I was going mad. Neither option was acceptable.

My fingers still had a death-grip on the weapon in my pocket and I forced myself to let go. My palm was so slick with sweat that the gun slid out of my hand easily once I relaxed my muscles.

I opened my eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Maxie half-turned her body so she was still able to catch anyone approaching, while whispering furtively, “Kismet? What the hell’s wrong with you? Tell me what happened.”

I certainly wasn’t going to tell her about the spectral fire. Nobody but Devereux knew the extent of my immaterial visions. My hand rose to the spot on my face where the invisible fingers had stroked me. “I don’t know what happened. Somebody touched me.”

She spun around, pointing the Taser in one direction and then another. “Who? What did he look like?”

I licked my dry lips. “He didn’t look like anything.”

“What do you mean? Did he have a bag over his head or something? A pointy white hood?”

“No. I mean, nobody was there at all, but I swear there was a definite hand on my face. And there was a groan — a male-sounding groan.”

She lowered her weapon and raised her eyebrows. “Lay that on me again: an invisible hand and a manly groan? Do you realize how nuts that sounds? Doc, help me out here. Get a grip. Don’t go Looney Tunes on me now. Maybe you’ve been listening to too many schizo stories from your clients.” She retrieved a small flask from one of her many pockets, flicked off the attached lid and offered it to me. “Here. A little brandy to calm the nerves.”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t want any more alcohol. I feel strange enough as it is.”

“I insist, Doc. I can’t have you flake out on me.” She stepped closer and held the flask out. “There’s nothing like a little brandy — for medicinal purposes only, of course — to set the world right.” As I continued shaking my head, she said, “Here, I’ll go first.” She took a swig, then licked her lips.

When I didn’t say anything she gave me a light punch on the arm and a concerned look. “Your turn. Trust me, you need it. Liquid courage.”

Spoken like a true addict. Well, why the hell not?

I grabbed the flask, took a small swig, swallowed and as warmth spread down my throat and into my middle I realized I was a bit steadier.

Hmm. Funny-tasting brandy. I don’t even want to think about how long Maxie must have had that in her car.

She watched me and nodded, her face serious. “Okay, that’s better. You scared me, Doc. I barely recognized you there for a minute. Under different circumstances, I’d walk you back to the car and let you wait there for me, but I’ve found the location of the main event and I need you to cover my back. Are you going to be able to be there for me? Can I count on you?”

Damn. Where in my job description did it say anything about scaring myself to death while trailing mentally defective role-players? What exactly am I trying to prove?
I really wanted to crawl back under that fence and head for the Jeep, but Maxie had pressed my guilt button — and my coward button. Either she’d figured me out very quickly, or I was horribly easy to read. Regardless, she had me.

“Yeah, sure. You can count on me. Let’s go.”

“Are you okay to walk? Seriously, Doc, you looked like you were having some kind of breakdown.”

Welcome to my world.

“I’m good.” I took a couple of awkward steps before my legs solidified beneath me. My knees were still a little wobbly, but they held.

She walked alongside me, casting glances every few seconds to make sure I wasn’t going to pass out or bolt. Great. My intuition had decided to reappear. Where had it been when I was in the midst of the panic attack? Why couldn’t I read the emotions and intentions of whatever the hell it was that touched me?

“What did you find?” I whispered. The silence was especially thick again.

Speaking softly, she gave me a verbal tour of the demolished site, then pointed to the hulking edifice in front of us. Soft light shone from the broken windows. “So many people died here.”

“Sounds grisly.”

“Yeah. The funhouse had world-famous twisted mirrors, scary monsters and bloody exhibits, and a large area was left open in the center where reenactments and horror-theatre-type presentations were held nightly. People lined the upper balconies to watch the orchestrated mayhem. Performances still take place in the center circle, but the morons are in charge now. I wonder how the idiots managed to generate light in there. You don’t think they’re dim enough to light a bonfire or something?”

I hoped not, because the last thing I wanted was more fire.

Speak of the devil. Just as Maxie finished explaining, excited voices sliced the air. She grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a corner of the large building and we crouched there, watching as a group of men dressed in theatrical versions of occult chic carried a wooden box — a coffin? — across our line of sight. As they approached, I heard a muffled voice screaming from inside.

I started to stand, but Maxie tugged me down again, vigorously shaking her head. I didn’t know what I thought I could do about the person trapped in the box, but doing nothing was the unacceptable choice. I followed the goth caravan with my eyes, waiting for any helpful ideas to form in my brain, until Maxie tapped me on the arm and mouthed “per-form-ance” and flicked her thumb in their direction. My mouth formed an
O
, and I nodded, relieved. I’d forgotten we’d come to observe role-players. After my horrifying experiences with violent bloodsuckers, I tended to overreact — just a little Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, nothing to worry about.

Maxie jerked her head toward the rear of the building, signaling me to follow her as she crept through the shadows to an old-fashioned fire escape hugging the wall of the colorful funhouse. The bottom rung was only about six feet from the ground. Maxie examined it, then bent over, lacing the fingers of both hands together to form a foothold.

“Put your foot here and I’ll boost you up,” she said, her eyes constantly scanning the environment for unexpected company.

“Hold it! What do you mean? Boost me up where, Lucy?”

Maxie straightened. “You’re such a stick in the mud, Ethel. Put your fucking foot in my hands, get on the damn ladder, and climb to the top floor.”

We grinned at each other for a few seconds, enjoying the old
I Love Lucy
joke, then I remembered where we were and that I really did want answers to my questions.

“Why do we have to climb to the top floor? I thought you were invited to this thing. I didn’t volunteer for a black-ops assignment. What’s the purpose of hiding?”

“I told you. I like to sneak up so I can see the things they don’t want me to see. That’s how I’ve gotten my best stories.” She laced her fingers together again. “Jesus, Doc. Do all psychologists have to know every fucking detail all the time, or is it just you? Has anyone ever mentioned that you’re a bit... controlling?”

Why yes, they had, as a matter of fact, but I wasn’t the one doing all the bossing around. In this case, Maxie made me look like a slacker.

“
Me
, controlling? Hey, you’re the Dominatrix from Hell today, not me! I think I’ve been very polite and accommodating, while you—”

She put her hand over my mouth, leaned in and whispered, “Somebody’s coming. Either climb the fucking ladder or run over there and hide in those bushes while I go up.” She removed her hand from my face, laced her fingers again and waited a heartbeat.

Now I could hear the footsteps approaching too, and almost without thinking, I put my boot in Maxie’s hands, she gave me a boost and I grabbed a rung and scurried up the ladder.

Maxie was athletic, or at least in good shape, because she quickly moved up close behind me.

We’d climbed almost to the top before I peered down to check on our visitors. It was hard to make out details, even in the light of the full moon, but it looked like two guys had sneaked off for some private time and were in the midst of shucking the lower portions of their costumes in preparation for some... deeper... intimacy.

Maxie hadn’t realized I’d slowed and her head smacked into my rear, causing me to lose my grip on the bars. I almost yelped as she grabbed my legs and whispered, “Keep going!” Thankfully, we were high enough that the small sounds we made hadn’t carried. Besides, the guys sharing body fluids below weren’t paying any attention to us.

We made it to the top floor and stepped across the six feet of iron grating leading to a heavy metal door, which was locked. After I’d tugged fruitlessly on the handle Maxie shoved past me, extracting a set of small tools and a miniature flashlight from her pocket. She held the slender light between her teeth. I peeked over her shoulder as she worked on the lock with a small knife-like tool. “Hmm. Breaking and entering. Should I ask what other illegal activities we might be undertaking tonight? Maybe next time we can hit an ATM, rob a gas station, maybe knock over a convenience store? Or perhaps we could freelance as drug mules.”