The Vampire Shrink (13 page)

I pushed against him, and, just as with Bryce, it was impossible to wriggle free. His arms were unyielding. Closing my eyes tight to hold back the waterworks I felt gathering there, I tried very hard not to cry, but I was suddenly so exhausted, I didn't know how much longer I could keep everything inside. Part of me just wanted to curl up in his arms and sleep.

“Please listen now.” Devereux moved gracefully around the room, apparently trying to soothe me. “There is much I need to tell you. We must talk about the dangerous situation you are in. I am grateful you have finally come, but your arrival has inflamed Bryce's irrational thoughts. I must protect you …”

I have finally come? What does that mean?

“No.” I shook my head. “Please put me down. I'm sure you mean well, but this has been a terrible night, and I just want to go home. I appreciate your pulling Bryce off of me, and you've been very kind, but I've had enough.” What did he mean that I'd finally come? Come from where? The tears I'd been trying to hold back slid down my face, and I made a pathetic sniffing sound.

He studied me briefly, lifted my chin up toward him, and gently kissed my lips. He pulled back, gazed at me with soft turquoise eyes for a few seconds more, then bent down and kissed me again, lightly at first, then deeper. His lips were warm and silky, and, without even thinking about it, I put my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Hey, wait. I'm kissing a stranger. And liking it. What's wrong with me?

He let my feet find the floor and wrapped his arms around me, never altering the intensity of the kiss. He brushed his tongue along my lip, and I opened my mouth for him. Whatever else he might have been, he was one awesome kisser.

Somebody hose me down; I'm going to spontaneously combust.

We reluctantly pulled our lips apart, and he enveloped me in a warm hug. I could feel both of our hearts beating out different rhythms. It occurred to me that my sensing Devereux's heartbeat was proof he wasn't a vampire. Everyone knew the dead had no heartbeat.

The ridiculousness of that thought made me want to laugh out loud—or scream. I didn't know which was more upsetting: my granting validity to the possibility of the existence of vampires or kissing a beautiful nutcase. I was in deep shit any way you sliced it.

He stepped back from me and brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. “I think you have had enough excitement for one night. Please allow me to drive you home. I promise I will be a perfect gentleman.”

I was going to argue that I could drive myself, but it just wasn't true. I could either take Devereux up on his offer or call a cab, and since I needed my car the next morning, the choice was clear.

Well, there you have it: if Devereux was really a vampire, he wouldn't know how to drive, right? Don't they all sprout bat wings and fly?

Devereux chuckled softly. I was going to ask him what was so funny, but my body's lack of coordination suddenly captured my attention.

I had intended to walk over to my desk and gather my things to leave, but even that small attempt to move under my own power proved to be too much for my legs, and my knees buckled. Devereux caught me and lifted me into his arms again. I'm not saying it wasn't pleasant, but I felt like a limp rag doll, and I didn't understand what had happened to cause me to be so lethargic. “What's wrong with me? Why am I so weak? What did Bryce do to me?”

“He bespelled you, and then he drank your blood.”

“What? You're kidding, right?”
Oh, please, no more vampire fantasies. My brain is going to explode.

“No. I am very serious. Bryce is a master of enchantment. We all have the ability to use our eyes to entrance mortals, but Bryce takes special pleasure in manipulation and control. He is very powerful, and, to use psychology terms, he altered your brain waves. That is why you feel so confused: he surely had intended to drain you to near death, and he would have had I not arrived when I did.”

Reality check.

“Do you mean he used his fake fangs to make holes in my neck and actually sucked my blood out and swallowed it?” My professional self refused to accept what Devereux was telling me. I didn't want him to be crazy.

He raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows and stared down at me for a few seconds. “Humans have the most remarkable ability to ignore what they do not wish to see. The stronger the mind, the harder it is to accept what is hiding in the shadows. I would rather we had the time to introduce you slowly to the ideas you resist, but that is not possible now. This situation is not something that will go away like a bad dream. Bryce will not stop. His misguided feelings for me have gone far enough, and I must take action. He is destroying the unity of the coven.”

I started to ask more questions, but he shook his head. “No, that is enough for tonight.”

He walked me over to my desk, then bent down so I could pick up my briefcase and my purse, and we left to find my car.

I must have fallen asleep on the ride to my house, because the next thing I knew, we were there and he was lifting me out of the passenger side of my car.

As he carried me up to my front door I asked, “How did you know where to go? I didn't give you directions to my house.”

“I performed my ‘little parlor trick.' I can do the same with your alarm code if you wish, or you may simply punch in the numbers.”

I gazed up at his face, decided I didn't have the energy to argue, entered the code, and unlocked my door. We stepped into my living room, and I blurted, “Hey, I thought vampires could only come in if they were invited.”

The moment I said it, I couldn't believe it had come out of my mouth. Embarrassment warmed my cheeks. I must have had some kind of head injury or something because I'd never make light of someone's delusion if I was in my right mind. I'd just flunked Being a Therapist 101.

“I'm sorry. That was very thoughtless of me.”

He laughed. “I am pleased you are getting into the spirit of things. But that particular bit of vampire lore is false—we can come and go as we desire. Where is your bedroom?”

I tensed. “My bedroom? Why do you want to know where my bedroom is?”

He stared down at me, the warmth in his eyes replaced by something remote and cold. “Yes, it is wise for you to be afraid. No matter how much some of us might wish to pretend, we are not human, and we do not live by human rules. We are not humans with fangs. But for tonight, allow me to put your mind at ease. As delightful as it would be to take you to your bedroom and make love to you, I am offering only to carry you to the comfort of your bed. I would be lying, however, if I said I do not hope for an invitation in the future.”

“Er, thanks?”

He carried me upstairs to my bedroom, held me easily with one arm while he pulled back the bedclothes, and laid me down. Then he removed my shoes, covered me with the blankets, and gazed into my eyes. The last thing I remember was that wonderful voice saying, “Sleep.”

CHAPTER 6

T
he ground slips from beneath me, and I'm falling, tumbling into surreal unconsciousness where there's no air, no life, and I can't breathe. My entire body contracts in terror as I plummet down into something I'm certain will be beyond my ability to withstand. The void pulls me into a darkness so complete, there's no comprehension of it. Still falling and falling, with no sense of speed or location, just the continuous, ever-building dread. I'm enclosed, spiraling down some long tube, dense with stifling-hot, thick air. Then, without notice, I'm expelled out into an empty, cold, desolate nothing. My very essence fragmenting in all directions as death whispers to me. The descent lasts forever as a distant voice shrieks horrible-sounding words I can't understand, echoing in oblivion. The voice crawls over me and through me, penetrating my skin like hundreds of carnivorous insects, and I scream in the darkness, flailing my arms and legs. Is there something even worse than death? Then the shock of crashing down into warm liquid. Blood—sticky, thick, coppery scented, and old—very old. The intensity of the harsh landing keeps me afloat for only seconds before I discover there's nothing underneath me. No foundation, nothing to hold me, no one. I go under, still screaming, gasping, and swallowing blood. I'm drowning in the blood and the overwhelming hopelessness … terror larger than I can hold, and someone is laughing.

“No!” I screamed. A shrill ringing startled me, and my eyes flew open. I bolted up, heart beating fast and hard. Shaking, I leaned back against the headboard and noticed that all the blankets and pillows from my bed were on the floor. Fragments of the dream swam back into my awareness, and the feeling of terror intensified. I knew I was safe in my bed, but the memory of spiraling down into that darkness pressed against my chest, and I struggled to slow my breathing. Rivers of sweat snaked down my face and pooled between my breasts. I distantly observed that I was still wearing the clothes I'd worn yesterday.

The annoying sound continued to intrude, louder now. A headache that had started as a dull throb over my left eye now infiltrated my entire brain and beat a strong cadence of its own, rivaling what I finally worked out was the telephone ringing. I took some deep breaths, pushed the wet hair back from my face, and cleared my throat. Rolling over toward the nightstand, I fumbled for the phone.

“Yes?” I croaked.

“Dr. Knight? This is Special Agent Stevens. We met at the hospital yesterday. I'm sorry, did I wake you?”

“Who?” My brain stubbornly refused to connect the dots, and the inside of my upper lip had become hermetically sealed to my teeth.

“The FBI guy from the emergency room. Special Agent Stevens.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth in a vain attempt at hydration and wound up making dry, smacking noises with my lips. “Special Agent Stevens? Uh, yes. Okay, I remember. I recognize your voice.”

Idiot. You let the phone ring a thousand times. Of course you woke me. And you'll never know how grateful I am that you did.

Groggy, I squinted over at the clock to see if it really was as ungodly an hour as I imagined it to be, and it was.

I sucked in another deep breath, held on to the solid reality of the phone, and forced myself to calm down. I cleared my throat again. “Why are you calling me at five a.m., Special Agent Stevens? And how did you get my home phone number? It's unlisted.”

“I work for the FBI—enough said?”

“So why are you calling?” I reached for my blanket on the floor and spread it across my legs.

“I want to find out if you've heard from your client, Emerald Addison, the one you brought to the hospital.”

“What do you mean? She's still in intensive care, isn't she?”

“Well, that answers my question. No. She isn't still in intensive care. Sometime between one a.m. and four a.m. she went missing.”

“What are you talking about?” I barked, the pain in my head slam dancing in heavy shoes. I pressed the palm of my hand against my forehead as if that would keep my skull from exploding. “The last time I saw Emerald, she was in no condition to do anything. There's just no way she could have gotten up and walked out of the hospital. What are you doing about it?”

His voice held the verbal equivalent of a smirk. “It sounds like we're a little cranky when we don't get our beauty sleep, Doc. Even though you're being testy, I'll answer your question anyway. This case is being treated as an abduction or a missing person. Each of those categories has its own protocol, and the local cops are in charge. Since your client was attacked in the same manner as the other cases I'm investigating, I'm being included in the information loop. So far we have zip. I'm hoping you can tell me something that'll give us a lead.”

Okay. He gets points for pulling me out of that nightmare, but cute cop or not, there's no way I'm sharing client information. Even if I knew anything.

I took a deep breath, pushed “play” on the “I'm a Professional” tape in my mental repertoire, and began speaking in my therapist voice. “As I mentioned yesterday, I'm not at liberty to tell you anything about anyone. If there's something general I can help you with, as a psychologist, I'd be willing to do that.”