The Vampire Shrink (50 page)

The other cops and vampires lined up on opposite sides, facing each other like the Sharks and the Jets in
West Side Story
. Though I doubted they'd break into a dance routine.

I tried to intervene a couple of times, but I didn't have the energy to involve myself in anything as meaningless as blame or police protocol or whether vampires existed. Devereux was gone, maybe dead. That was all the pain my heart could hold. If I'd had any doubt about my feelings for him, losing him made things crystal clear.

I staggered out of the circle and walked aimlessly in no particular direction. The sound of someone crying penetrated the fog in my head.

“Shit!” How could I have forgotten about Midnight and Ronald?

I raced over to where Ronald was still cradling Midnight in his lap and knelt. He was crying, his shoulders shaking. “She's so cold—she's dying, Dr. Knight. I'm losing her.”

I stroked his cheek with the backs of my fingers. “Hold on, Ronald. It's not over yet.”

I leaped up and hollered, “Someone call an ambulance!”

That stopped the argument.

Everyone ran over to see what I was yelling about.

There'd been enough death and loss for one night. Midnight wouldn't be on the list, not if I had anything to say about it.

Having a positive goal seemed to galvanize everyone. Soon Midnight and Ronald were being carried on stretchers out of the music room to a Flight for Life helicopter waiting on the castle's roof.

I noticed that everyone in the room was taking turns watching me, as if they expected me to pick up the sword and behead someone else. Since I hadn't known I was capable of that kind of violence to begin with, I couldn't give anyone any guarantees about my future actions.

With Devereux gone, I didn't know what to do.

After the medical tech got Midnight prepped and stabilized, he told me her vital signs were incredibly good for someone who'd almost been drained. I don't know why he spared the time to talk to me again and be so encouraging. Maybe he saw something in my eyes. Anyway, he said her outlook was great.

Except for some missing hair and scalp, a nasty souvenir of his first ever Vampires' Ball, Ronald was completely fine.

I was morbidly drawn to the edge of the circle, which no longer held together, where I stared obsessively at the partial skeleton wearing a red velvet duster. The sword still rested nearby, clear evidence of something I knew logically but was resisting emotionally. I sat down, trying to feel bad. Trying to feel ashamed. Trying to feel anything. But I was still utterly numb.

Alan had finally gotten across to Lieutenant Bullock that it was a vampire body rotting on the floor in the High Magic circle, so no forensics team would be arriving to collect evidence.

“Lieutenant, if you tell anybody you spent the last couple of hours with vampires, you'll be taken away by the men in white suits and put in a straitjacket. Is that how you want to end your career?”

Luna was still prowling the area, mumbling under her breath about the stupid humans and what she wanted to do to Lieutenant Bullock. We each deal with pain in our own way.

I wasn't sure how I was going to deal with mine. I rested my forehead on my bent knees as another river of tears poured down my face.

It wasn't fair. I'd just accepted that Devereux was a vampire and that I had strong feelings for him; then he was gone. We'd known each other less than two weeks. My brain still hadn't processed all the chaos and horror I'd experienced since I first met Midnight. Did the idea of working with real vampires even remotely appeal to me anymore? Why would I want to involve myself with such a violent, irrational group?

Devereux dead? My mind couldn't accept it. He didn't feel dead. I kept calling him, mentally urging him to grab onto the lifeline of my words. If I was as important to him as he said, there had to be some kind of psychic connection between us. Where the hell were all my supposed abilities when I needed them? What good were they if I couldn't use them to help Devereux?

Weren't vampires supposed to live forever?

I knew that after the shock receded, I'd have to deal with all the stages of grief. Was I supposed to move into an office in Devereux's building, seeing constant reminders of him every day? I'd have to be a glutton for punishment to do that. I shook my head, unable to believe that I could even think about something as meaningless as office space or buildings. Maybe I'd take a sabbatical from my practice. Hide away. Go to Paris to visit friends.

I don't know how long I sat there in front of Bryce's remains, but for some reason I had an urge to raise my head. The ghost in the mirror was once again working hard to get my attention.

Nobody else has the ability to see this ghost but me?

He was beside himself with joy. He smiled very wide, danced in circles, and thrust his bow vigorously in a pointing motion toward the far end of the room.

Since he'd been such a reliable resource, I rose and shifted my eyes in the general direction the bow indicated.

There was something on the floor, half-underneath one of the grand pianos.

My heart pounded, and I gasped. My body knew before the rest of me did.

I ran full out across the room, skidding to a stop a foot away from flowing platinum hair.

Devereux looked like he'd been hit by a truck. Or exposed to the vampire equivalent of kryptonite.

I screamed again, this time with pure joy, which was quickly followed by the sound of running footsteps and excited voices.

He lay sprawled on his back, his hair partially covering his face.

I dropped to my knees, held his face in my hands, and kissed his parched lips. His skin felt icy cold to the touch. Suddenly terrified, I feared that Lucifer had sent Devereux's dead body back as a sadistic parting shot.

I checked his pulse points for a heartbeat but couldn't detect anything. But if he was dead to begin with, did it matter that he had no heartbeat? I knew so little about vampire mortality that I had no idea what signs to look for.

Luna, who'd dropped down next to Devereux across from me, closed her eyes and pressed one hand against his forehead and the other to his chest.

I watched her, not sure what she was doing, but hoping she knew some kind of vampire trick that would bring Devereux back to consciousness. I couldn't help myself. I started crying again.

“I can feel him.” She glanced at me. “He's in there.”

“What does that mean?” I choked out between sobs.

“Stupid human,” she said gruffly, and then cleared her throat and spoke more softly. “Take his hand and find out for yourself.”

I picked up his hand and held it in both of mine, waiting. I didn't know what I was supposed to be listening for, but touching him felt wonderful. Even if his skin was as cold as marble. I closed my eyes and clearly
heard
him say my name. His finger twitched almost imperceptibly.

I burst out laughing, still crying, and a joyful roar rose up from the bystanders.

My vampire was alive.

Or whatever.

EPILOGUE

L
una transported Devereux back to his underground room at the Crypt. He didn't really regain full consciousness for six weeks. He spent most of that time comfortably tucked into his huge, luxurious bed, surrounded by various devotees and well-wishers. I sat with him, held his hand, and talked to him as often as I could. Luna humored me. She assured me he was aware of my presence even though he couldn't communicate beyond an occasional telepathic whisper of my name or a tremble of a finger. She even kept me company once or twice, if you could call sitting with her back to me while she filed her long, sharp fingernails company. She chuckled darkly occasionally, so I was pretty sure what she was thinking about as she honed the lethal points. She said she had a good time wiping the memories of all the police officers involved in the showdown at the ball. I didn't ask what she meant.

It turned out that the magic Bryce and Lucifer had used was ancient and powerful, and had been stolen from the same line of wizards Devereux claimed as his ancestors. Maybe that was why it had worked so well. When he awoke, Devereux did everything necessary to ensure that no such mystical ammunition could ever be used against him again.

I asked Devereux how he was able to return to the music room in the castle after Lucifer abducted him. Apparently it was because of me. My desire for him, fueled by our connection, my strong emotions, and whatever mysterious abilities he insists I have—not to mention the magical pull of the pentagram necklace—functioned together as a beacon to call him back to my “plane of reality.” I still have lots of questions. Seems there's no limit to the strangeness of vampire metaphysics.

While he recovered, I read the entire Harry Potter book series to him, not only because I thought he'd enjoy it, but because the books are the written equivalent of a teddy bear for me.

All of Devereux's interdimensional caregivers told me he'd recover completely. Whatever “recover” means for a dead guy.

It was weird watching Devereux feed while unconscious. A steady parade of human blood donors visited his quarters and offered wrists for the cause. Apparently the rooting instinct that causes infants to turn toward your finger when you rub the corner of their mouths works in a similar way when a mortal body part is pressed against a hungry vampire's lips. Under normal circumstances, no human would have been able to pull her or his arm away from Devereux's grip if he wasn't finished with it—he was simply too old and too strong. But that never became a problem. At a certain point, Devereux's fangs simply retracted, and he opened his mouth, releasing the donor.

Of course, the general consensus among the healers was that Devereux could do things other vampires couldn't because he was just that evolved an individual.

The fact that Devereux was physically incapacitated didn't keep him from pursuing me romantically and sexually while I slept. In the dream realm, he swept us off to intimate rendezvous all over the world, where we made love and talked for hours. I told him things about myself I'd never shared with anyone, and he did the same. And he educated me about the strange parallel world of the vampires. I now know things human brains aren't really equipped to know.

My private practice is busier than ever. Moving into the new office in Devereux's building was the best thing I ever did. All my old clients returned, as well as a full evening caseload of vampires. Thanks to the ads I ran offering therapy for vampires, my waiting list for both humans and the undead is long. I'm still adjusting to the special needs of my bloodsucking clientele. If I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that I'm still terrified most of the time. But nobody has gone for my throat. Yet.

Tom really did run off with the gorgeous woman—er, vampire. He left me a cryptic voice-mail message saying Zoë had accompanied him back to California, but that they'd be returning soon. He said he needed to speak with Devereux about living forever. Hopefully Zoë's long life had equipped her with the infinite patience required to spend time with narcissistic Tom. Maybe he'd learn some humility. Yeah, right.

A few days after the madness at the Vampires' Ball, the terror-provoking energy must have dissipated enough for the media to return to their stakeout of my town house. It was like a carnival without the rides: food trucks, balloons for the kids, vampire tattoos, even a resourceful entrepreneur selling T-shirts featuring a photo of me with fangs (I managed to persuade a friend to drive over and buy a couple for me as souvenirs). Lieutenant Bullock surprised me by turning out to be very helpful. We held a joint press conference about the “vampire murders,” where she did most of the talking. She said the city of Denver was still actively following leads, but that there had been new deaths in other cities, which shifted attention to the next bloody chapter of the story. My part consisted of saying I really didn't remember being abducted, and I couldn't answer any other questions without breaking client confidentiality. Rather anticlimactic, actually. According to reports, I was a huge disappointment. But the good news is I'm a blissful nobody again.

The lieutenant started visiting me for “professional consultations” about all things vampire. She said she'd made mistakes because of her lack of knowledge and wanted to rectify that situation. We had an unofficial therapy session about her friend who was killed, and I think she gained a lot from our time together. She asked me to call her by her first name, which turned out to be Amy. I never would've guessed; she definitely doesn't look like an Amy. It has been nice, though, having another human around who knows the truth. She's asked me to consult on several of her cases, and I've discovered I enjoy the work. It's possible we could become friends.

And speaking of friends, I made another appointment with Cerridwyn the tarot reader, who is close with Devereux's building manager and resident witch, Victoria. Small world. She said my challenges with the vampires aren't finished yet but that I'm up to the task. I hope she's right. She also warned me again about the psychic darkness growing in Denver. I still don't know what that means.