The Vampire Shrink (31 page)

Devereux acknowledged her, and she backed out of the room.

He climbed off the bed, stood next to it, and held out his hand to me. “I swear to you that no matter how strange the ceremony may appear to you, no matter how unfamiliar, no harm will come to you. A ritual of protection is one of the oldest, most potent types of magic. In its simplest form, it is a focusing of intention that surrounds the one who needs protection with a powerful aura of well-being that repels all energy unlike itself. It will be as if you are floating in an invisible bubble of safety. Not very different from current pagan rituals.”

Pagans with fangs?

I sat frozen on the bed, my mind spinning out ever-more-gory, blood-soaked scenarios about the mysterious ceremony. No matter how logical his explanation, I barely knew Devereux and had no reason to trust him. He was apparently a vampire, and I was at his mercy. What I'd observed about Devereux and his colleagues didn't fit into any reality I knew about. I had no frame of reference. I was completely at sea with no map or compass, and the lifeboat I'd been floating in up until then had sprung a leak. I had no idea if there were sharks in the water.

My stomach contracted so tightly I could barely breathe.

“No harm.” Devereux bent down and met my eyes. “I swear.”

I gazed into his blue-green depths and believed him.
So the Head Shark just said he won't eat me. Should I laugh or scream?

The door opened again. Several women, none of whom I'd ever seen before, entered the room and lined up a few feet away from the bed.

Devereux indicated them with a sweep of his arm. “My companions have come to assist you with dressing. They will prepare you for the ceremony.” Then he kissed me lightly on the lips and turned to walk away.

My throat tightened, and my voice came out like a squeak. “Wait! What do you mean, they'll prepare me for the ceremony?”

Why does this remind me of the cartoon where the cannibals have a huge pot boiling on the fire, waiting for the hapless hunter to arrive?

I didn't see any ropes, chains, or anything else that could be used to restrain me. No cooking utensils or objects with an edge that could cause bleeding. But my imagination was working overtime, creating scary and unspeakable possibilities.

“Ah, my apologies. I forget that you have not yet given yourself permission to read my thoughts—although it is true that reading vampire thoughts takes practice, even for someone with natural talent. It is as if we are on a different frequency from humans. We will be able to share the ability in the future, but for now, there is no hurry. In the meantime, my associates are here to help you select one of the beautiful dresses and to make sure you have everything you need.”

He pointed to a tall, slender woman with long brown hair and golden eyes. Her rangy body was encased in a unitard, those one-piece body suits that were only worn for exercising until the disco era, when shiny skintight numbers showed up on the dance floor, along with six-inch platform shoes and big hair. Hers made her look like she'd been dipped in a glittering rainbow, since every color imaginable was present. The form-fitting garment left no doubt about her voluptuous shape.

“This is Nola. She will see to your hair and makeup.”

I ran a hand through my tangled hair.
The disco queen will see to my hair and makeup?
“My hair and makeup? I don't think so.” I rolled off the bed and walked a wide circle around the women standing between me and the door.

Devereux repeated his disturbing habit of suddenly appearing in front of me, gave me serious eyes, and laid a hand on my arm. “Why do you object to being adorned? You usually wear makeup.” He said the last with impatience in his voice. I guess my resistance had unpleasantly surprised him. Maybe he wasn't used to anyone saying no to him. I wasn't the only one who had a lot to learn. I summoned my best no-bullshit facial expression. “You need to fill me in on what's happening here. I'm not going anywhere or letting anyone do anything until I'm clued in.”

He heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head. “As I have said before, you are the most stubborn woman I have ever known. Are you never willing to be spontaneous? Must you be in control at all times? Are you unable even to sense the truth of my words?”

Well, that stopped me. He'd managed to trespass into my psyche and find the hottest buttons to push. I'd often been accused of lacking spontaneity, and my controlling nature was legendary. How else is a woman supposed to rise to the top of her field if she doesn't take control of her reality? He had pulled the scab off a painful wound. I did wish that I was able to relax and trust more, that I could follow my intuitive guidance. That I wasn't so … anal.

It was the expression on his face that really turned the tide. In one breathtaking gaze he'd managed to communicate that he thought this ceremony was for my benefit. That he'd arranged it to keep me safe. That he was worried about me.

Shit. Now he's gone and done it. He's got me feeling guilty about letting him down. How did that happen?
My shoulders sagged. I met his concerned eyes. “All right. I trust you.”

Maybe. Where can I find some shark repellent?

He flashed a brilliant smile. “Thank you.” He bowed from the waist and glided toward the door. “I will return for you shortly. It will be an extraordinary evening.”

As soon as he left, the women surrounded me. Nola floated over to the chair where the dresses were draped. “Which one do you prefer?” She smiled, showing even, white teeth.

I expected her to have fangs and was surprised she appeared so normal. Except for the golden eyes.

She flashed another smile, and her canines descended.

Can everybody read my mind?

She smiled. “Probably.”

I'm in a parallel universe where everyone is telepathic except me.

“No. You will be able to do it in the future, too. The Master told us. He said you are a special human.”

“Why do you call him Master? Is he holding you here against your will? Are you brainwashed?”

She cocked her head to the side as confusion flowed across her features. “He takes care of us. He is more powerful than any who came before. We aren't prisoners here. We are privileged to attend him, to be in his presence.” Her face shone with rapture.

Eeewww. Devereux has a harem of bloodsucking handmaidens, worshipping devotees—disempowered females. If he thinks I'm going to join the cult, he's sadly mistaken. This is the twenty-first century, mister, and I'm a liberated woman. I wonder what other services they perform for him? What if this ceremony deal is some kind of bizarre sexual ritual?

“Can you tell me about the ceremony we're going to? What should I expect?”

She grinned, which confused me until I figured out that she'd obviously read my mind and knew about all my judgments and speculations.

She met my eyes briefly, then shifted her gaze away. “That information is not mine to share. Have you decided on a gown?” She pointed to the dresses on the chair.

I'd felt a mild tingle wash through my body as she'd turned her eyes to me. I didn't know if all vampires could entrance with their eyes, but I had to admit I'd felt something.

I walked over to the chair. Remembering the beautiful shimmering blue dress I'd seen, I lifted the others out of the way until I found it. It was floor-length, with a plunging neckline, made of a soft, lustrous material that might have been woven moonlight.

“This one will be fine. You know, I'm perfectly able to dress myself, so you and your friends can go and do whatever you need to do now.”

“We are here to attend to you. It is the Master's wish. We shall remain.”

Okay. Maybe we could have an informal consciousness-raising group here. These women must have slept through the sixties.

Nola draped the blue dress over her arm and floated across to the armoire containing the shoes and lingerie. The other women, all dressed in flowing gowns, were posed like goddess statues in a semicircle, where they'd been since they entered.

My newly acquired assistant opened the drawers, pulled out the shoe boxes, and rifled through them. She seemed to be searching for something in particular.

“Yes.” Her voice raised in pitch, sounding excited. “These are lovely.” In one hand she held up a pair of open-toe high heels the same shade of blue as the dress, and in the other, a strapless satin corset with garters for silk stockings.

I stood next to her, watching. “Just out of curiosity, how do you know what's in there? Did you buy this stuff?”

“Yes. The Master asked several of us to observe you, and to discern your clothing sizes. Then he told us what he had in mind, and gave us free rein to purchase all manner of clothing from the Internet. It was very entertaining.”

“What do you mean, ‘observe me'?”

“Physically and astrally, of course. We watched you in your home and joined you in your dreams. The usual ways.”

The usual ways?

My eyebrows shot up. “You spied on me?”

“Oh yes.” She nodded enthusiastically. “You are very interesting. Come now—there is a room for dressing and hygiene.”

Why does everyone around Devereux speak so strangely?

She stepped over to the nearest wall and touched a symbol carved in the wood. A panel slid aside exposing an opening into yet another room: the “room for dressing and hygiene,” or more commonly, the bathroom. It was a very large, ornate bathroom.

She took my hand and pulled me, as if I were her little red wagon. The rest of the team remained behind.

Gee. Devereux's private bathroom. Should I genuflect or something?

The room was big enough to be a public restroom, but much too luxurious for the masses. There was a faint hint of his scent in the air, perhaps more easily recognized because no incense was burning to mask the fragrance. Mirrors lined each wall, and opulent, silver-streaked marble counters were abundant. Multiple sinks with sparkling modern hardware were interspersed along the counters, and the floor was pristine white marble.

A huge silver bathtub sat on a raised platform, enclosed by glass etched with figures of nude men and women dancing. Next to it, in another glass-surrounded area, was a double shower.

Fluffy white towels sat in piles on the various counters and hung in artistic racks on the walls next to the bath and shower areas.

Painted along the top of the walls, like a happy little border, were more men and women frolicking in all their naked majesty.

This is unsettling. Devereux really seems to enjoy the nude human form. That makes me both anxious and excited at the same time. Back to my question about the nature of the ritual.

White leather chairs and a love seat sat off to the side in an alcove, and a clothing rack stood next to a small mirrored makeup table with a fancy matching chair. On the table was a little box wrapped in shiny paper with a rose pinned to the top instead of a bow. A small card had my name on it.

Nola watched me as I opened the gift. She rocked back and forth from heel to toe, smiling a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile.

Inside was a black velvet jewelry box containing a gorgeous silver pentagram on a chain, identical to the one Devereux's mother wore in her portrait.

I was speechless. My mouth opened into an “ah” that remained silent. The weight and craft of the piece suggested it was high quality and probably very valuable.

I turned to Nola and shook my head.

She looked surprised. “Are you unhappy with your gift? The Master was very pleased to choose it for you.”

“No, I'm not unhappy—I'm confused. Why would he give me something so valuable? He barely knows me.”

She tilted her head to the other side and studied me. “Perhaps that is not true. You must dress now. The night awaits.”

Just then, as if there'd been a silent signal, the other women filed into the bathroom. I decided to let all the rest of my questions wait until I could speak to Devereux.

After some initial stubbornness on my part, when I insisted on adjusting my own breasts in the cups of the corset, I finally gave up and let them take over. It turned out they were pretty good with makeup and hair, and when they finally stepped away to survey their work, it was declared good.

They'd managed to enhance my features through their cosmetic witchery. They had left my hair down, and subtle silver sparkles had been dusted on my curls. The lovely pentagram necklace was added as a last touch. It dangled in the cleavage created by the low-cut dress and tight corset.

Although cleavage was usually the least of my concerns. In fact, eliminating it had always been a thornier problem. Thinking about my genetic heritage from my mother made me wonder what she'd say if she saw me at that moment. If she and my father had considered me strange before, now they'd probably move to another state and leave no forwarding address.

Suddenly all the women raised their heads as if they were listening to something I couldn't hear; then Devereux's enticing voice floated through the opening of the door.

“Kismet? Shall we go?”

The sensuous sound of his voice sent a wave of heat through my body and caused my heart to stutter. Everything about Devereux fried my circuits.

My entourage escorted me back into the other room as I wobbled a bit on my shoes' thin heels. They were not quite stilettos, but in the neighborhood.

He literally gasped when he saw me, and I had the same reaction when I laid eyes on him.

He waltzed elegantly over to me, held out both hands, and took mine. “You humble me with your beauty. I am overwhelmed.”

“Uh …”

It's becoming annoying that my brain goes on vacation whenever I'm around Devereux. I had no idea lust could be so intoxicating.

He twirled me in a dance-like movement, causing my dress to spiral out around me, lifting off the ground.