The Vampire Shrink (48 page)

The music room had been transformed into the Church of Satan, or the setting for a Black Sabbath concert, something that required lots of black draperies, upside-down crosses, and pictures of ugly guys with horns. A large circle containing an inverted pentagram had been drawn in the center of the room and the massive gemstones placed in presumably meaningful positions. Some of the mirrors were now decorated with elaborate symbols, and the light from the chandeliers had been replaced by the soft, eerie glow of black candles.

When we materialized in the room, Raleigh scurried over to Bryce. He frowned as he noted that Bryce was holding me off the ground, tight to his chest, and that one of his hands had moved from my waist to my breast. Raleigh shot me a dirty look and snarled, showing his pointy fangs.

Jealousy?

I knew I should be terrified, but instead I felt numb. After so much horror, my brain had simply shut down.

Bryce noticed and enjoyed Raleigh's reaction. He laughed out loud and removed his arms from around me, and I fell in a heap on the floor. Raleigh clutched Bryce's hand like a child.

It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, but I was finally able to make out the shapes in the corner. Ronald was cradling Midnight in his arms, and Alan was sprawled next to them, as still as a corpse.

I hadn't allowed myself to consider the possibility that Alan was actually dead, but now that it had occurred to me, I had to know. I started crawling in his direction.

I'd just reached him, picked up his wrist, and detected a light pulse when the familiar limb closed around me again. Bryce held me under his arm like a rolled-up newspaper.

“Playing Florence Nightingale, Dr. Knight? Trying to save the handsome FBI agent? My, my—how many men are you servicing these days? But you mustn't rattle the blood sacks. I need at least one of them for the ritual. Maybe two.”

“What are you talking about? What do you need for the ritual?”

“Blood.”

“Do you mean you need to drink blood?”

“You really are a tedious human. Of course I need to drink blood. But this blood's for the ritual. It's the final step—we're going to smear it all over the circle. Quite a waste of food, if you ask me, but the wizard geniuses say it's necessary. It will be worth it to have Devereux under my power. Finally, after all those centuries, he'll be forced to do my bidding, in every possible way.”

He carried me near the circle and set me on my feet. Then he positioned himself in front of me, shoved one of his hands down the front of my dress, and roughly grabbed a breast again. “You didn't answer my question, Florence. How many men are you servicing?”

His grip on the tender flesh hurt, but I didn't want him to know that. I breathed in slowly through my nose, trying to use a relaxation technique to lessen my awareness of the pain. “None of your business.”

He squeezed harder, and I yelped. It hurt like a mammogram times a thousand, and he wasn't even trying. My entire breast was going to be black and blue. If he didn't rip it off. Apparently the protective necklace worked only if it was touched directly. What kind of magic talisman was that?

Smirking, he released his hold, pulled his hand out of my dress, and let me fall to the floor as my knees gave out. Standing over me, he unbuttoned his pants and slid down the zipper of his fly. Mercifully, the silence that had fallen around us was suddenly shattered by an extremely loud pop, and Brother Luther appeared.

CHAPTER 26

B
ryce physically jumped back a few inches, visibly startled. “Lucifer!” Lucifer? This isn't Brother Luther? Then who's Brother Luther? The tall, bald vampire growled, his discolored fangs bared. He stepped over me and stalked toward Bryce, whose eyes had gone wide. It didn't take a psychologist to figure out that Bryce was afraid of the foul-smelling creature backing him into a corner.

“Lucifer, I wasn't really going to do her.” Bryce's voice quivered. “I was saving her for you, just as we agreed.”

Lucifer picked Bryce up by his throat, piercing his neck with long, filthy fingernails. Bryce struggled uselessly as rivulets of blood trailed down his neck, and Lucifer licked them with his long tongue.

Bryce screamed, “Damn it, Raleigh! The song! Play the song!” Raleigh sprinted over to a boom box propped on a chair. He pressed a button and Brahms's “Lullaby” floated softly from the speakers.

Lucifer continued to suck on the wounds on Bryce's neck.

“Crank it up!” Bryce yelled.

Raleigh turned the music up eardrum-shatteringly loud, and Lucifer pulled back, dropped his hand from Bryce's neck, and let him fall to the floor. He shuffled over to the boom box and sat in front of it, swaying to the music, humming tonelessly.

Bryce leaped to his feet, massaging his neck.

Raleigh rushed to him. “I did good, didn't I, Master?”

Bryce kicked the small man in the stomach, causing him to double over.

“You almost fucking got me killed, you moron. You should've started the damn CD the moment Bizarro Man showed up. You know that's the only way I can control him; otherwise he goes fucking ballistic.”

Raleigh, who wasn't even as tall as Bryce's waist, hugged him. “I'm sorry, Master. Don't punish me!”

Bryce hesitated for a few seconds, appearing to consider the possibilities in the location of Raleigh's face, then peeled the mini-vampire off his body.

I'd gotten to my feet during the chaos and retreated behind a spectacular mahogany grand piano. I studied the bald vampire, who'd inexplicably ceased his rampage and sat hypnotized in front of the CD player.

Shit! Lucifer's affected by the music. Not only affected, but manipulated, controlled. I've never seen a reaction that strong before. He transformed from being a dangerous predator into an almost childlike state. I never would've suspected. This is one for the psych journals. If they believed in vampires, that is.

My silent diagnostic session was abruptly interrupted.

Bryce scanned the room, shoved Raleigh out of his way, and quickly found me. He stalked over, grabbed my upper arm forcefully enough to leave bruises, and pulled me to the circle. The pain of his fingers burrowing knife-like into my arm was so intense I gasped, struggling to catch my breath.

He bellowed, “That's enough bullshit. On with the show.”

Several vampires had been busy placing objects inside the circle and drawing geometric shapes around the outside. Others were working in a different part of the room, blending the contents of small bottles into a silver cauldron that bubbled over a fire. All of them came to attention at Bryce's command.

I hadn't noticed before that each wore a black robe. Vampire monks? Vampire devil worshippers?

Lucifer swayed gently, oblivious.

Except for one of the bearded vampires, who scooped thick liquid from the cauldron into a black cup, everyone else assumed their places in the circle and began chanting.

The sound of the chant was different from what I'd experienced with Devereux. That had been melodic. This was more like a deep rumbling sound. It reminded me of a performance I'd attended by a group of Buddhist throat singers. They had the ability, through years of training and practice, to sing two, three, or four distinct low tones at the same time, a technique they used for meditation and trance induction. It was eerie and powerful. These guys were doing the same thing, and it sent chills through me, just like it had at the concert.

The other bearded vampire walked the circle, holding a sword straight up over his head. The blade sparkled in the candlelight. He mumbled words under his breath and paused at regular intervals to lower the sword's tip to the floor and lift it up again.

He came to a stop at the point nearest to where I waited with Bryce, whose claw-fingers were still cutting off the circulation in my arm. Using the sword, the vampire made a downward swipe and reached his hand through an invisible slash in an imaginary entryway, pretending to hold something open.

Bryce dragged me through. The growling chant rose in intensity.

If I hadn't participated in the Wiccan coven's ritual years ago, I'd have been surprised by the energetic change I experienced inside the circle. The air felt thicker, as if it exerted more pressure on my skin. My body seemed to move in slow motion, and cotton candy filled my head.

Bryce released me with a push, and I crumbled onto the floor.

Again.

Not only were my arm and breast throbbing, but my hip was screaming. I must have fallen on it earlier. I kicked off the only shoe that had made it into the circle and stood.

Bryce yelled to Raleigh, “When I tell you, turn off the music.” He studied me, amused. “I'm going to summon your blond vampire lover now. Fix your hair—you're a mess!”

I rubbed my arm and gave him a blank stare.

He can't really force Devereux to appear, can he? He's acting very smug and arrogant, even more so than usual. What if all these vampires together have more power than Devereux?

Bryce strutted over to the invisible opening, where the bearded alchemist who'd been stirring the foul-smelling brew at the table handed him the black cup. Bryce muttered something that sounded like strings of vowels and drank whatever was in the cup.

He grimaced and bellowed, “Devereux! Come to me!”

There was a moment of unnatural stillness; then my skin itched as currents of air gathered in the ring. The velocity increased, blowing my hair back from my face as the light flickered and became suddenly brighter.

A sound—not a pop this time but a full-fledged sonic boom—resonated only seconds before Devereux's shirtless body burst into the circle. The momentum was powerful enough that he landed on his hands and knees.

Bryce dropped the cup he'd been holding and clapped his hands delightedly. He bowed to the circle of chanting vampires.

“Bravo, gentlemen! You've exceeded all my expectations and will be abundantly rewarded.”

Whatever had happened to cause Devereux to arrive had clearly taken a toll on him, because he struggled to get to his feet and appeared dazed.

Bryce watched his guest, who'd finally managed to rise.

Devereux glanced in my direction, and I instinctively moved toward him. His eyes held an emotion that almost looked like fear. “This is impossible,” he whispered in my mind.

Bryce intercepted me and stepped between us. He gave me his back and ran his hands over the muscles of Devereux's chest.

“Don't look at her.” He frowned. “Look at me. I told you what would happen if you didn't cooperate. This is all your fault.”

Devereux rubbed his eyes. “What is this spell? You are not powerful enough to summon me.”

Bryce swung his arm flamboyantly in a wide arc, indicating the robed participants. “When you have the right bargaining chips, anything is possible.” Then he hollered at Raleigh, “Now!”

Raleigh hit the “stop” button on the CD player, and the lullaby abruptly ended. I hadn't realized how loud it had been—what a counterpoint the lullaby was to the chanting—until it was gone. I had a vague idea of what Bryce had in mind, but I couldn't figure out anything I could do to help Devereux. Or myself. Part of me still couldn't believe it was actually happening.

“Raleigh, bring me one of the blood sacks. Now! Move it!”

Raleigh, who enthusiastically enjoyed his role as Bryce's flunky, smiled—or more accurately, leered—as he scurried over to the corner where Midnight, Ronald, and Alan waited. He grabbed Alan by the neck of his shirt and pulled him to the edge of the circle, then dropped his head with a loud thump.

I was glad Alan was unconscious, because that had to have hurt.

The bearded vampire with the sword reached his hand through the invisible entrance and pantomimed holding a curtain open.

Bryce seized Alan and dragged him inside, then picked up a ceremonial athame that had been placed strategically in the ritual space. The confident, wicked smile on his face faltered as he darted a glance in Lucifer's direction and found him standing. Moving toward us.

I wished there was a volume-control knob to turn down the chanters, because the repetitive sound was giving me a headache.

Devereux's voice whispered in my mind, “Stand back.”

Bryce was distracted by Lucifer's approach and finding the knife to bleed Alan, and he'd underestimated Devereux's powers of recovery. He knelt down next to Alan, raised the athame, and chanted some words in Latin. Before the blade reached Alan's skin, Bryce was forcefully lifted into the air by Devereux's arm around his neck.

The blade flew from Bryce's hand and clattered to the floor. The two of them tore at each other, snarling and swearing. They levitated, then wrestled down to the floor, pounding on each other like human fighters on angel dust.

I stood frozen, feeling like a helpless idiot.

As Devereux and Bryce flailed, they crashed into the chanters, who had nowhere to go because the circle was protected by its own weird force field. Apparently, the only way in or out was through the imaginary opening. The fighters struggled back to their feet, separating long enough to hiss and growl at each other.

Devereux spoke, deep and slow. “You are the mistake I have paid dearly for. It is finished.” With a ferocious roar, he launched himself at Bryce and ripped his throat out.

Bryce crashed to the floor like a felled tree.

Blood spurted everywhere, drenching the circle. A sizzling sound, like butter in a hot pan, could be felt as well as heard. Faint static electricity raised the hairs on my arms, and tiny sparks ignited around Devereux.

I pulled Alan as far away from the oozing blood as I could.

Although copious amounts of blood still flowed from the wound, the skin of Bryce's throat had already begun to knit itself back together.

I shifted my eyes away from Bryce in time to see Lucifer plow into the circle and grab Devereux.