Kismet Knight, Vampire Psychologist 3 - Dark Harvest (21 page)

He dropped his towel, which was highly distracting. “I imagine a powerful situation would be required to change a mortal’s hair that way. I know of cases where physical transformations have occurred due to magic, but I am sure there is a less mystical explanation for your friend’s situation.” He turned to face me, his tall, muscular frame reflected in the various mirrors. I felt the need to fan myself.

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“Please excuse me for a moment. I will transport to my room on the other side of the penthouse and dress. I shall return.” The spot where he stood was suddenly vacant.

If it wouldn’t have messed up my freshly applied makeup, I would have splashed cold water on my face.

Devereux was temptation incarnate. But, since we obviously had company to greet, and runny mascara wasn’t the look I was going for, I opted to stroll into the closet to find something appropriate to wear for the occasion. As if I knew what the occasion was.

Devereux enjoyed assigning his female devotees the task of filling my closets with expensive clothing.

When I first discovered my fashion bounty, I was annoyed. I thought it was simply another way for him to exert control—to override my choices in favor of his own. And when his helpers disclosed they’d been spying on me—following me in person and observing my dreams—I thought he’d crossed the line between indulging me and manipulation. But it didn’t take long for me to understand he really did derive pleasure from showering me with gifts. Several of his undead elves mentioned the fun they’d had in the process. So, I stopped complaining about my constantly growing wardrobe. I accepted the clothes in the spirit they were offered and counted myself lucky. If truth be told, my fashion sense left a lot to be desired. I’d long ago faced the fact that, while I had many skills and abilities, choosing the best clothing for my body type wasn’t one of them. Somehow, I’d missed the junior high class on the topic “Being a Cosmo Girl.”

Who knew I’d turn out to be Alice in Wonderland, instead?

After debating between appearing sophisticated in an ankle-length, dark blue velvet dress or my version of hip in black leather pants that matched Devereux’s, I chose comfort and pulled on a pair of probably overpriced jeans. A pale blue, V-neck, cashmere sweater and sandals completed the outfit.

Never confident about my clothing choices, I stood in front of the three-sided, floor-length mirror to make sure I was acceptably attired. I performed a few moves I’d learned in a jazz dance class and a couple of spins. I’d just glanced down to retrieve the protective necklace from underneath my sweater when I felt someone behind me. Fearing the worst, my head jerked up and my breath caught. When I saw Devereux’s reflection grinning at me, I blew out so much air my lips flapped like a horse’s. I pressed my palm against my heart, as if that would slow down the frantic rhythm.

“Forgive me for frightening you.” His grin melted into a frown. “I did not try to sneak up on you. You were so engrossed in your selection process, you did not hear me reenter the room. And truthfully, it was very pleasant watching you when you were not aware of my presence.” The grin returned. “I especially enjoyed the dancing. But I do apologize for causing you distress.”

“Shit, Devereux.” I turned to him. “You scared ten years off my life. Next time clear your throat, or something, would you?” He was dressed in dark teal leather pants and a light-colored, matching T-shirt.

Nobody could fill out a T-shirt in the same elegant way Devereux could.

He bowed from the waist, his silky hair falling forward. “I will endeavor to make more noise, and I will see what I can do to return the stolen ten years to you.”

I started to laugh, but the overly serious visage stopped me. “What do you mean? You’re joking, right?

That’s just an expression.”

“As we have discussed before, time and space are not the rigid constructs mortals believe them to be.

Some time in the near future, I will be pleased to demonstrate. But now we must go.”

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He took my hand and we walked together through the bedroom, along the hallway, and into the large living room I’d previously described as the dentist’s waiting room from purgatory. It was anything but sterile and empty now. The room was filled with people, er, individuals I’d never seen before. All eyes turned to us as we entered.

Devereux spoke, his already impressive body seeming to take up more space. Another vampire illusion, no doubt. “Thank you for coming, my friends. Most of you are aware of the current situation, and I appreciate your willingness to help strengthen our protections.” He released my hand and placed his palm in the center of my back, gently urging me forward. “For those of you who have not met her, I am pleased to introduce my mate, Kismet. It is for her safety we gather tonight.”

I curved my lips in what I hoped was a sincere smile.

His mate.

Hearing the words surprised me, because I thought we’d agreed to discuss the ramifications before going public with the title. I was still trying to understand what it meant to him and why it was so important. Why hadn’t he mentioned anything earlier?

As one, the group of strangers bowed or curtsied. “Lady Kismet,” they said in unison.

Lady Kismet?What the hell was going on now? Were all vampires so melodramatic? Why was I always the last to get the memo?

I turned to glare at Devereux, and he gave a subtle shake of his head, indicating I shouldn’t say any of the hostile words struggling to explode out of my mouth. He’d definitely been around his minions and handmaidens too long.

One minute I was his equal, and the next his property. Or, at least that’s how it felt.

A creepy-looking, short, fat vampire approached. His stringy, gray hair flowed down over the shoulders of a standard, black Dracula cape. He fixed his bulging, light green eyes on me briefly before extending his hand to Devereux. As he reached out, his cape fell open, exposing naked, wrinkled flesh. “Master Devereux, I am honored to have been summoned for this ritual and to have been entrusted with the creation of the powerful ceremony we will participate in tonight.” His accent was so thick I could barely understand him. Of course, the fact that his fangs were fully extended, causing his words to slur, didn’t help matters. He smiled at me and I hoped the movement of my lips resembled something friendly in return. His belly was the biggest I’d ever seen on a vampire. His transformation must have happened suddenly, because I couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to live for centuries as an undead, smelly, greasy-haired, street-person version of Santa Claus.

Devereux grasped the rotund man’s hand. “Prospero, my friend. Welcome to my home. I would like you to meet Kismet, the one I have waited for.”

The one he’s waited for? What does that mean? I feel like I came in during the middle of this movie.

The greasy fellow flipped the edges of his cape behind him, giving me the Full Monty. My gaze shifted to his crotch in spite of myself. Unlike most large midsections, his bulged out like a pregnant woman’s rather than the droopy, cover-the-penis kind of flabby flesh, so his substantial pride and joy was evident for all to view.

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Obviously noting the path of my gaze, he grinned and winked.

Ewwww.

Executing a theatrical bow, he lifted my hand and kissed it. “We all rejoice at your arrival, m’lady.”

“Prospero? Isn’t that the name of one of Shakespeare’s characters in
The Tempest?”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “I heard he featured me in one of his little tales. I absolutely must read it one of these days.”

He dropped my hand and addressed the small crowd, “Take your places in the circle.” Giving me his attention again, he flicked the cape completely off his shoulders. It pooled on the floor at his feet. “Follow me.”

I glanced at Devereux, who was trying unsuccessfully not to smile. He nodded in the direction of the flat buttocks swaying ahead of us. With nothing to balance the back of his body, I was amazed by Prospero’s ability to remain vertical. Devereux whispered to me, “Prospero is a very powerful magician.

He is my friend, but never be alone with him. His weakness for beautiful women is well known and he has a remarkable ability to entrance. Women have been known to fall at his feet after one glimpse of his fully erect organ.”

I stifled a grin and whispered back, “I’ll make every effort to control myself.”

Even if his fully erect organ breaks into song, I’m not going near it.

As we approached the waiting circle of vampires, I noticed the familiar floating candles, and the fact that everyone had undressed.

Wait a minute.

Surprisingly graceful, Prospero glided over to me. “Allow me to assist you, m’lady.” He started tugging my sweater over my breasts and I grabbed the cloth, pulling it into place again.

“Hey! Knock it off! What are you doing?” Prospero backed away, shocked.

Devereux had peeled off his T-shirt, and was unbuttoning his leather pants. “The ritual Prospero has created requires bare skin to be most effective. I apologize if I forgot to mention that.” He didn’t sound in the least sorry.

I didn’t know which stunned me more: the fact that Devereux actually thought I’d get naked in front of a group of strange vampires, or his effortless ability to lie through omission. Did he think being a master gave him
carte blanche
in his dealings with me?

“Stop!” I pointed to the zipper he was lowering on his pants. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to take my clothes off in front of all these strangers. Hell, even if I knew them, I still wouldn’t take my clothes off. Don’t you know me any better than that?”

Okay. There was one part of me who was more than willing to get naked whenever possible, but, for whatever reason, she hadn’t tried to force her way out recently. I wanted to keep it that way.

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Devereux stepped toward me. “If Prospero believes nudity will enhance the power of the ritual, I trust his judgment enough to follow his recommendations. I will be here to watch over you. The ritual will be brief.”

He simply wasn’t listening to me. So, what else was new?

“Why do you think a ritual is going to help, anyway?” My voice acquired an edge. “Isn’t it clear that Hallow can do whatever he wants? Nothing anyone has done so far has kept him away. What is the point of this?”

“The point is that each new ritual brings more power to our defenses.” His voice floated over me, attempting to soothe. “We already have the building well protected, which is why Hallow could only transport himself to the roof.”

“What? Only transport himself to the roof?”

A chaotic collage of images crashed into my brain, and I mimicked slapping myself on the forehead, any calming effect of his voice negated. “Shit! How could I have forgotten to tell you about the most horrible part of my evening? What’s the matter with me that I repressed the horror of watching Hallow rip the head off a client in front of me? You think he can’t come into your building? That your incantations and rituals are effective? My office is a bloody mess. And poor suicidal Jerome—who actually was about to drain me dry so you would kill him—got his wish. Death by maniac.”

Devereux stared at me, frozen for a few seconds, his mouth open, before he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me against his chest.

“Come.”

Stale air blew against my face as we transported to my defiled office.

It was worse than I remembered.

Jerome’s headless body lay crumpled where Hallow had thrown him, blood congealing in a wide circle under the ragged edges of his neck. I didn’t know how much blood a formerly human body contained, but whatever had been in Jerome’s corpse—except for what Hallow drank—had soaked into the light blue carpet, leaving horrible brown-red stains.

Jerome’s head, wide eyes staring like a macabre Halloween mask, had rolled under an end table. Death had accelerated his aging process, reflecting his true age, which was at least seven decades. His usually slicked-down hair was now white, and it spiked up in all directions, as if he’d been electrocuted.

The stench in the room reminded me of a similar, vampire-created scene months earlier, when another young male body had been left in my previous office. I pressed my hand to my nose and mouth to filter the worst of the odor.

Devereux had navigated us next to my desk, where we weren’t directly in the bloody remains, but had a bird’s-eye view of the destruction. He released me and took a step forward, surveying the carnage, strangely calm. After a couple of silent minutes, he turned to me, his usually mesmerizing voice flat.

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“You were correct. Our rituals are meaningless. From now until Hallow is disposed of, you will not be left alone. I will no longer depend upon only magic and vampire powers. Now it will be the force of my will against his.” He stared off again, lost in thought.

Hearing the pessimistic, almost hopeless, tone of Devereux’s words frightened me. Without acknowledging it to myself, I guess I’d always assumed he’d prevail, somehow conquering the madman and restoring my normal life. But his voice told a different story. Maybe he was no longer sure he could defeat the lunatic. Perhaps he’d finally come to the conclusion I wasn’t worth all the trouble. What if Hallow really could capture me? Had all the choices in my life brought me to this dark crossroads?

What should I have done differently? It was easy to second-guess myself about my involvement with the hidden world of the vampires. The minute I realized the ramifications of my new career choice, I should have closed up shop and relocated. My life was much simpler—not to mention safer—before I blundered into Dracula’s castle.

But that was all blood under the bridge.

Devereux slid his finger along my cheek, drawing my gaze back to his. “I can feel the fear radiating from you. I swear you will not be harmed. We will find a way to destroy Hallow.” His voice had reclaimed its velvet texture and it flowed over me, calming my anxiety. He pointed at Jerome’s body. “Your client must have been relatively young as a vampire. His body did not immediately crumble into dust when Hallow decapitated him. It will disintegrate over the next few hours, rather than at the moment of death.

The older the vampire, the more quickly the body decomposes. If you look closely, you can see the process beginning.”

I followed his pointing finger to the gray substance gathering at Jerome’s feet, and shook my head.

Devereux had gotten very good at raising issues in order to distract me from dwelling on unpleasant emotions. It was gratifying to realize how well he knew me. As long as I had something logical to hide behind—something cerebral to discuss—I was able to maintain some semblance of composure. Okay.

We could stand over Jerome’s remains, discussing the mechanics of vampire death as if it were just another seminar topic. I was great at denial. I probably wouldn’t ever be comfortable with the cold, calculating, analytical view of death most vampires held. They didn’t attribute much value to life of any kind. Devereux was more in touch with his emotions than any male I knew—alive or undead—but even he was able to compartmentalize his feelings.

“I didn’t know that. The only other vampire I saw die was Bryce, after I cut his head off. He turned to dust right away.”

“Yes. I imagine he did.” Devereux nodded. “He was very old.”

I scanned the room, becoming aware of splashes of blood on the walls and the ceiling. “What should I do about poor Jerome and the ruined carpet? Is there someone I can call?”

Thinking about having the carpet cleaned reminded me that I needed to read Jerome’s file to check for relatives and friends to contact. I’d never lost a vampire client before and I wasn’t sure what the proper etiquette was. “Is there something special we can do for Jerome? A service, or something?”

Devereux tilted his head, studying me. “What would be the purpose of a service? He was dead before he was destroyed. I am sure all his human friends and relatives are long since departed, and vampires don’t require those kinds of ceremonies.” He saw me frown. “But, if it would make you feel better, we
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can bury his ashes. I will have his remains collected, and you can tell me what arrangements you would prefer. As for the carpet, it will be replaced immediately, and the room will be restored to its previous condition. There is nothing for you to do. I have already summoned the necessary assistance. Let us return to the penthouse.”

He circled my waist with his arm, gathered me against him, and we rematerialized in the penthouse living room, near the naked vampires who stood talking in groups, like an undead cocktail party.

Prospero strode over, arms raised in the air. “Devereux, is it true? Has the monster breached our defenses? If that is the case, I must rethink our ritual.”

Devereux laid a hand on the rounder man’s shoulder. “Yes, my friend. It is unfortunately true. It seems important now that I concentrate on other methods for keeping Kismet safe. But I would be most grateful if you and all those gathered here would continue the ritual on our behalf. I welcome your wisdom and assistance.”

“Consider it done.” Like the director on a movie set, Prospero leapt into action, assigning positions, discussing strategies. Once again, I was surprised by his grace and agility.

Devereux strolled over to fetch his discarded T-shirt, and slid it over his head. It was a shame to cover that pale, muscular chest, but I took his action as verification of a change of plan. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. What was my role in the war of wills?

A low hum emanated from the participants in Prospero’s ritual. Each vampire in the circle stood with his or her arms straight out in front, palms up. Perhaps my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn the air around the group began to shimmer. It reminded me of waves of heat rising off asphalt in an urban August. I was so fascinated by the subtle phenomenon that I startled as a rumbling, raspy voice reverberated within inches of my ear.

“Master, there is a human downstairs—a dame—who claims she’s a friend of Dr. Knight’s. She insists on speaking with her. Shall I erase her memory and send her away?”

I turned toward the voice, expecting to find a big, hulking body to match the meaty tone, and almost laughed out loud at the short, slender man dressed like a gangster from the 1930s. A fedora hat rode his head at a jaunty angle, and an unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth, the rolling paper obviously stuck to his lower lip, allowing him to speak without dislodging the well-used prop.

“Who is it?” I asked the messenger.

He continued to speak to Devereux instead of acknowledging me. “She says her name is Maxie. I’ve never seen white hair on a young dame before. She’s quite a looker. Seemed rattled, though. Nervous.

What do you want me to do with her?”

Devereux shifted his attention to me. “Do you wish to see her? I am not sure it is wise to bring her into a penthouse filled with vampires. After all, she is a reporter.”

“Yes, she is, but she’s also a friend. A very persistent friend.” A member of a very small club, indeed. I thought for a moment. “Is there a room we can use that’s separate from the rest of the area? Somewhere she won’t see your other guests?”

“You may use the library.” He pointed. “It is isolated from the rest of the penthouse and accessible only
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from this recessed alcove.” He walked to a wall panel near the front entrance, touched an intricate pattern etched into the rich wood, and a door slid sideways. He extended his hand, inviting me to investigate. “I keep many rare editions of my favorite books in this room. Some of the documents under glass are so ancient and fragile that exposure to the air would destroy them.” I poked my head inside the open door. “It would be best if your friend did not spend much time viewing the contents of the room.

She would have many questions about how a humble club owner managed to own priceless books and artifacts.” He smiled and gave a quick bow of his head.

“Humble club owner? I don’t think anybody—reporter or not—sees you that way. In fact, Maxie told me you’re widely considered to be a powerful mob boss.” I chuckled. “And after seeing the fellow doing the Sam Spade impersonation, she’s probably more convinced than ever.”

“Mob boss? No wonder I draw so much media attention. And I thought it was merely due to my good looks and personal charm.” He grinned a little boy grin.

He did have those things in spades. The sweetness of his smile took my breath away. How was it that he’d been a vampire for eight hundred years and such innocence could still shine forth from him at the most unexpected moments? Weren’t vampires supposed to be evil? Wasn’t that the common assumption?

Was Devereux an exception and the maniac the rule?

“Ralph, please bring Dr. Knight’s guest up to the library. There is no reason to entrance her or erase her memory. Escort her directly to this room. Be vigilant. I understand she is very curious and does not have much use for authority.”

I smiled. That was a pretty good description of Maxie.

“Shall I await her arrival and introduce myself, or would you prefer me to leave the two of you alone?”

Devereux pointed back toward the rest of the penthouse.

I stared into his mesmerizing turquoise eyes and remembered I’d promised Maxie she could meet him if an opportunity presented itself. Was it dangerous for Devereux if I exposed him to Maxie’s relentless quest for a story? Maybe she was so caught up in thinking he was involved in organized crime, she’d miss the bigger scoop.

“Would you like to meet her?” I decided to leave it up to him. Maybe he had better things to do. Or maybe I didn’t want to take responsibility for any of the ways the situation could go to hell.

“I admit to being curious about the woman who persuaded you to befriend her. I would enjoy meeting the white-haired swimsuit model.” I elbowed him in the ribs and he chuckled. “Ah, here they are now.”

Ralph held Maxie’s arm, clearly restraining her rather than politely guiding. “Here ya go, doll.” He nodded at Devereux, turned, and moved back toward the elevator. I’d half-expected him to say something Bogart-ish, but he probably wasn’t aware he was impersonating anyone. Thanks to my father’s obsession with the actor’s noir films, I knew more than I wanted to.

Maxie wore tight jeans and an equally snug white T-shirt with the words
fuck you
printed across her braless breasts. Her wild mane flowed, loose, down her back. Yes. Definitely swimsuit-model material.

She shot me a fierce glance. Annoyance blanketed her face as she shook her arm, obviously trying to
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restore the circulation. The shaking came to an abrupt halt when she noticed the tall, blond, leather god who’d moved to stand in front of her. Devereux was only a couple of inches taller than Maxie in his boots, and she was able to meet his eyes directly as she grinned at him, extending her hand, bad temper forgotten.

Devereux gave her one of his dazzling smiles.

“Wow.” She grasped his offered hand, throwing her shoulders back to better present all her assets. “The famous Devereux. World-renowned entrepreneur and billionaire. Major stud muffin. You’re way hotter than your sizzling photos. If you ever tire of my conservative friend here, I’m happy to send in the second team. You’re so cute, I’m downright speechless.”

He bowed. “Apparently not.”

I waved my hand in front of Maxie’s eyes. “You wanted to see me?”

She blinked and slid her gaze to me, her anger taking a curtain call.

Devereux kissed my cheek. “If you’ll forgive me, I have business to attend to.” He nodded at Maxie, his gaze lingering a few seconds. “It was … interesting to meet you. I trust our paths will cross again. Have a fruitful visit.”

Ever graceful, he turned and walked away. Maxie’s mouth sagged open as she watched his slim hips and firm rear end exit the hallway.

I poked her arm to get her attention. “Let’s go in here.” I pointed in the direction of the tasteful couches and chairs in the library.

“Jesus.” Maxie’s eyes tracked the rows of ceiling-high shelves, filled with old books, artwork, and antiquities. “He’s got a frickin’ museum in here.”

She wandered over to the glass cases Devereux had asked me to keep her away from, and I followed her, took her arm, and tugged her over to one of the dark leather couches scattered around the center of the room.

“Hey, what the hell?” She glared at me with total focus this time as I dropped us both onto the cushions.

“What are you so pissed about?” I shrugged. “What’s happened?”

After a brief pause, she blurted, “So, he’s one, isn’t he? Nobody human is that beautiful.”

Shit.“He’s one what?”

She sneered. “Don’t give me that crap. No wonder you laughed when I said he was into organized crime. You knew he was sucking the life’s blood from innocent humans, literally. I felt him trying to entrance me. It almost worked. Some fucking friend you turned out to be. You knew all the time. The Vampire Psychologist. You
knew
they existed. You lied to me. That’s what happened at the amusement park, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Damn … damn vampires took me.”