The Vampire Shrink (49 page)

On a good day I was sure Devereux could hold his own against the ghoulish vampire, but he was weak, and the outcome looked bad. Lucifer lifted Devereux into the air, holding him by his hair, trying to sink his fangs into Devereux's neck.

Bryce's throat was healing so quickly he'd be back on his feet within seconds, and I didn't think Devereux had a chance of fending off both his enemies.

I cast around frantically, searching for anything I could use to help Devereux.

My eyes caught movement in the mirror. The waistcoated violinist, still holding his instrument and bow, was waving his arms excitedly to get my attention. He moved his mouth, offering more silent words, and pointed his bow at something on the floor.

My eyes tracked where he was pointing, but I didn't see anything except the sword.

I glanced back at the image in the mirror; he nodded and mouthed, clear enough for me to understand,
Yes! Pick it up!

The sword!

I really am dense.

What happened to the ZZ Top vampire who was guarding the opening?

I scooped up the blade, which was much heavier than I had expected. I intended to stick it in Bryce's chest, because everyone knew you could kill a vampire by puncturing his heart. I hoped that wasn't another movie myth.

Bryce's neck was almost completely healed. He had just lifted his head off the ground when I brought the sword down, aiming for his chest.

I whacked his head off instead. This time the blood oozed instead of spurted.

“Bryce!” Raleigh screamed.

The collective gasp of the now silent chanters made me raise my head. All their surprised eyes were on me. A few of the vampires moved a step forward, as if they intended to take the sword away.

I didn't care about that. My brain had clicked onto “automatic.” All I knew was that I'd missed my target. Before they could do anything, I raised the sword again and plunged the tip directly into Bryce's heart, holding the hilt with both hands.

The Sword in the Stone
in reverse.

In my prevailing shocked and traumatized state, that decision made perfect sense. That was one heavy sword, but I'd wielded it like it was made of aluminum foil.

The electrical sensation increased, and the sparks of light surrounding Devereux ignited with the sound of crackling fire. Bryce had said the blood was the final part of the ritual. He just never thought it would be his blood. But what would it mean for Devereux that the circle had been saturated with the thick red liquid?

He'd managed to pry Lucifer's hands off his hair but wasn't making much progress in getting free.

“Kismet?”

I turned to find Alan sitting up, staring at me, his mouth open. He was still wearing the fake fangs. He shifted his eyes to Bryce's body—both parts—then to the sword, then back to my face.

I could only imagine how I must've looked.

Well, I probably looked like what I was: a blood-soaked, traumatized, barefoot, ghost-seeing vampire slayer.

In my demented state, I wondered if I should add “Vampire Slayer” to my business card, but then I figured it wouldn't do much for my vampire therapy business.

I wasn't even particularly surprised that Alan had rejoined the land of the living. Since Bryce had been the one to put the whammy on him, and he was now undergoing an accelerated decomposition process, it made sense that Alan might be released from his evil eye.

It's funny how lucid you can become in the midst of a psychotic break.

Bryce's handsome face had regressed to his true age, and the massively wrinkled skin slowly began to crumble like ancient papyrus, exposing his skeleton. Chunks of his now gray, brittle hair blew across the floor in the air currents caused by Devereux's continuing struggle with Lucifer.

I turned toward my ghostly helper in the mirror and mouthed the words
Thank you
. He bowed from the waist, raised his violin to playing position, and moved the bow vigorously over the strings. I wished I could've heard the tune.

Apparently, seeing ghosts is another one of my skills. Who knew?

A groan from Devereux brought him back to center stage in my attention. Something was happening to him. He stumbled, unable to remain erect. His eyes met mine, and I saw fear again before he collapsed on the floor.

Lucifer loomed over him, slowly bending down.

“I love you,” Devereux whispered in my mind.

Something about the hopelessness and finality of the feeling he sent along with the words terrified me. A bone-chilling cold that rose from the horror of killing Bryce and the possibility of losing Devereux washed over me. I dropped to the floor and crawled to him. I stroked his cheek. “Devereux, please wake up. Don't leave me.” He didn't answer.

Alan grabbed the athame from where it had fallen on the floor, leaped up onto Lucifer's back, and stabbed him repeatedly. Lucifer looked more annoyed than injured and flailed about, trying to dislodge the irritant between his shoulder blades.

Finally, he reached over his shoulder, grabbed Alan by his thick hair, and threw him into the former chanters. One of the vampires held on to Alan for a few seconds, a confused expression on his face. Maybe he wasn't sure where his loyalties belonged since I had killed Bryce. He must have decided that it wasn't wise to be on the losing team, so he let Alan go.

Grasping at straws, I screamed up at Lucifer, repeating all the words he'd said to me as one of his other personalities: “She must be punished. You are the warrior of God. The redeemer of lost souls. She's a harlot! Jezebel! Whore!”

Lucifer froze. He reached down and grabbed a big chunk of my hair, pulling me up as he straightened. He locked his red eyes on mine, and I felt my brain slide out my ears.

I closed my eyes to break the eye contact and kept repeating the words, trying to remember everything else he'd said, until I felt him relax his grip on my hair. Even before I opened my eyes I could tell he'd transformed. I knew for sure when he launched into his familiar southern-accented rant.

“Whore! Jezebel! You'll be washed in the blood!” He seemed to shrink before my eyes, the stained, horrible-smelling black coat now larger than his shriveled frame, his eyes black coals again. He backed away from me, clutching his coat around him, rocking slightly.

I became aware of Alan standing next to me, his eyes wide, fascinated by the spectacle unfolding in front of him.

I hoped the transformation from one of the split-off personalities to another might release Devereux from whatever power hold Brother Luther—or Lucifer, or whoever he really was—had on him, but Devereux lay as still as death.

The ritual Bryce had set in motion had taken on a life of its own and fulfilled the original intention: to control Devereux.

Then several things happened at once. A loud noise drew my attention to one of the mirror panels on the other side of the room, which turned out to be a hidden door. Lieutenant Bullock's costumed police officers stormed the room, yelling, “Police! Freeze!” The human rescuers were followed by Luna and too many vampires to count.

The arrival of Devereux's coven caused the vampires who'd been involved in the ritual to dash through the imaginary opening in the circle and pop out of the room.

Luna barreled toward the ritual space and smashed into the invisible force field.

“Fucking magic bullshit!” she screamed. “They had the whole building protected so we couldn't enter through thought. We had to follow the stupid humans who'd found a way in. Now we'll have to erase their memories.”

Her expression became suddenly serious as she got a closer look at Devereux lying helplessly on the floor. Then her face contorted. Enraged, she screamed at Brother Luther, thinking he was Lucifer, not realizing that for all intents and purposes he was a different person—er, different vampire.

Trying again unsuccessfully to enter the circle, Luna vented her anger and frustration on the stooped, pitiful vampire standing over Devereux.

The longer she yelled, the more upset he became, until eventually he covered his face with his hands and sobbed loudly.

I knew what would happen if he reached a breaking point, so I tried to convince Luna to stop haranguing him. “Please, Luna—you've got to stop. He's calm for now. Trust me, if you keep screaming at him, something bad will happen. He's sick.”

“Fuck that! This asshole did something to Devereux, and I'm going to find out what it was. Take your human psychobabble somewhere else.” She'd been prowling around the perimeter of the circle, testing for an opening. Not finding one made her even angrier.

I stared down at Devereux's beautiful face and remembered the music.

Keeping the dangerous, psychotic vampire subdued so we could remove Devereux from the circle was the highest priority. Maybe when he was freed from the influence of the spell, he'd revive.

Playing the lullaby, which would make Brother Luther shift into his child personality, seemed to be the best temporary solution. Perhaps he'd be immune to Luna's threats in his regressed state.

All I could think about was saving Devereux, so I didn't consider the repercussions when I sailed through the opening in the circle, heading toward the CD player.

“Where are you going?” Alan called out.

“No time to explain.” He'd missed the musical portion of the evening.

When I got there, the little CD drawer was open and empty.

Where was the CD? Where was Raleigh?

Luna yelled, “About fucking time,” and leaped through the opening I'd shown her. She strode toward Brother Luther, snarling, fangs bared, a true vampire Amazon on the warpath.

Too late, I realized my mistake and ran after her. I tried to step in front of her, but she pushed me aside effortlessly, shoving me into Alan so hard we both hit the floor.

The sight of her caused Brother Luther to shriek in terror. He clutched his stomach and performed the same back-and-forth rocking motion he'd done at my house. Between sobs he begged, “Don't hurt me, don't hurt me, help me, help me.”

Luna kicked him, screaming, “What have you done to Devereux, you festering piece of shit?”

He whimpered, “Mama!” then dropped to his knees, covering his head with his hands and arms. A physical spasm rocked his body. He threw his head back and gave an ear-piercing primal scream.

As before, the transformation was rapid and astonishing.

Alan and I stood and watched Lucifer.

Shocked, Luna backed away. “What the fuck?”

He rose slowly to his feet, his no longer emaciated body filling the previously loose coat.

Alan sucked in a breath. “Jesus Christ.”

Somehow Brother Luther's body had become taller, bulkier, more muscular. His actual bones had shifted. His eyes were on fire.

He advanced menacingly toward Luna, his mouth gaping, exposing his still-elongating fangs. She assumed a fighting stance, crouched low, waiting.

Several of the vampires Luna had brought with her crowded into the circle. They growled deep, flashed fang, and surrounded Lucifer.

He took a step toward Luna, hand reaching for her throat.

Just then, Lieutenant Bullock crashed into the circle, gun pointed. “I said
freeze
!”

All eyes turned to her for a split second, and in that tiny window of opportunity Lucifer scooped up Devereux, and they both vanished.

We all froze for several seconds, stunned.

Staring down at the empty space on the floor, my brain finally registered that Devereux was gone, and I lost it. I screamed like the Banshee from Hell. The walls reverberated as all the pain, fear, confusion, and grief I'd tried to hold inside burst forth in one long, gut-wrenching, soul-shattering cry. Then the tears began. I dropped to the floor and pressed my forehead on the spot where Devereux had been lying.

Everyone was silent while I sobbed.

Alan knelt down beside me and stroked my hair. “I'm sorry, Kismet. We all tried to save Devereux. He's very powerful. If anyone can get away from that lunatic, it's him. You've got to keep hoping.”

I raised my head and met his eyes to see if he believed what he'd said, or if he'd chosen that moment to dredge up his unused therapy skills. His warm eyes beamed sincerity. And compassion. I sat up, exhausted, tears streaming down my face. I was grieving for his competition, and he was being remarkably understanding.

Luna snorted in disgust. She narrowed her eyes, pressed her lips together tight, and covered the few steps to where Lieutenant Bullock stood, still pointing her gun. She knocked the weapon away, growling, and brought her face nose-to-nose with Lieutenant Bullock's.

“Bitch! You distracted us. I almost had the fucker. I'm trying to decide if I should kill you now, or wait until we find Devereux so he can do it himself.”

Lieutenant Bullock retreated a couple of steps. “You are interfering with police business. Step away.”

Luna turned to the other vampires. “Police business? Gather round, everyone. This cow thinks she has something to say about what's happening here. She thinks she knows one fucking thing about anything.”

Lieutenant Bullock still didn't seem to understand who, or
what
, she was talking to. She might've understood vampires in theory, but she had no personal experience with them. She probably thought all the bloodsuckers in the room were humans dressed in their ball costumes. It's likely she didn't know she was conversing with the real deal.

“There's a body on the floor and blood everywhere. You bet your ass I have a lot to say about it.”

Luna plastered on her most evil smile. “And what kind of body do you think is on the floor, human?”

Alan rightly sensed that things were going south at the speed of light, and he jumped up and squeezed himself in between Luna and Lieutenant Bullock. But instead of helping, he leaped into the fray. The three of them started arguing at the top of their voices.