The Vampire Shrink

CHAPTER 10

We wound up taking Alan’s Jeep Cherokee because Tom and I had already put a healthy dent in the bottle of wine.

‘What kind of subculture are we observing tonight?’ Tom asked from the backseat in a disdainful tone.

Alan and I glanced at each other, grinned and voiced in unison, ‘Vampires.’

Tom pressed himself against the front seats. ‘Excuse me? Vampires? Dracula pretenders?’

His ability to saturate certain words with such arrogance and affectation had to be an art form. Insufferable Tom, once again present and accounted for.

I had to give Alan points for keeping his eyes on the road and not laughing in Tom’s face. Half-turning within the confines of my seatbelt, I fixed my eyes on Tom and gave him my best blank expression. ‘Yes. Vampires.’

He rested his hand on my shoulder. ‘Please tell me you’re not serious.’

I shook off his hand. ‘I’ve stumbled across a group of people who believe they’re vampires and I’m going to write about them. I think it’s a valid topic for research.’

I sounded way more defensive than I meant to. As if I dared him to contradict me. I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain my work to Tom, but I did. Or maybe I was just trying to convince myself.

Tom moved his head from side to side, exaggerating the theatrical back-and-forth motion, his lips tightly compressed. ‘Kismet, Kismet. You had so much potential. You could have gone to California with me and shared the limelight. You could have been interviewed by Leno. You could have taken a meeting with Dr Phil. Now here you are, studying pathetic fringe elements in Cow Town. I had no idea my breaking up with you would hit you so hard.’

I must have hallucinated the human Tom in the bathroom.

I straightened rigidly in my seat, kept my eyes riveted directly in front of me and took a deep breath. My hands automatically fisted in my lap and I bit my lower lip to hold back the avalanche of words gathering there. I wasn’t going to allow the only female psychologist in the group to have a public meltdown. I wouldn’t let him push me over the edge.

Apology, my ass. Arrogant jerk. Self-centred, obnoxious, smarmy asshole. Once again, his brain is caught in his zipper. Maybe I can push him out of the car at the next stop sign.

My muscles tensed and sweat dampened my armpits. It was all I could do to keep myself buckled into my seat, because I was seriously fantasising about diving into the back and pummelling a little colour into Dr California’s face with my knuckles. Maybe give him youthfully puffy lips without him having to go visit his plastic surgeon. Of course, he might have to check in with his dentist afterwards. It was so thoughtful of him to remind me he hadn’t invited me to accompany him to the West Coast and that he was now a big shot.

I’d never had a chance to confront him after he dumped me and left town. All those repressed feelings now threatened to break free. No matter how supposedly sorry he was now, my anger obviously had unfinished business.

Breathe, Kismet. Don’t let him press your buttons.

Alan glanced at me, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. ‘Tom,’ he quickly interjected, obviously catching my hostile intentions. ‘Do you remember a series of murders in Los Angeles a while back? They got a lot of media coverage – several bodies found drained of blood? I’m searching for those killers and I’ll find them in the vampire subculture.’

Alan sounded a lot more formal than I’d ever heard him. Psychologists are a competitive lot and we never miss an opportunity to puff ourselves up for each other. Or maybe it was Tom’s hyper-pomposity that brought out the pretentiousness in everyone. Regardless of the reason, he did give me a moment to rein myself in. Lucky for Tom.

Oblivious, Tom droned on. ‘So what are you, a forensic psychologist? What are you going to do with the killers after you find them?’

Alan ignored the superior attitude Tom displayed in his over-pronunciation of the words ‘forensic psychologist’, but I heard him sigh.

‘I work for the FBI. I’m an expert on serial killers, in addition to other psychotics and I’m the agent assigned to the case.’

‘How did Kismet get involved in all this?’

‘She’s the Vampire Psychologist.’ Alan grinned. ‘Here we are.’

Our heads pivoted towards the window as we passed The Crypt, cruising for a place to park. Milling about in front of the main entrance were large groups of twenty-somethings: goths, vampire wannabes, heavy-metal gods and goddesses, Lady Gaga pretenders, androgynous individuals covered in body-art and piercings and some reincarnated hippies.

‘It appears we’re going to be the oldest people there,’ Tom noted, with a hint of annoyance.

‘Especially you,’ I teased, smiling sweetly. Okay. Just because I’m a psychologist doesn’t mean I can’t be as nasty as anyone else. I knew Tom was sensitive about his age and that he’d avail himself of every plastic surgery procedure possible in order to stave off the ravages of time. Not that I was above a little nip and tuck myself in the future.

We finally found a place to park several blocks away and walked back to The Crypt, the club where I’d seen Devereux on the stairs after my first session with Midnight. It was huge, taking up almost the same space in square feet as it did in height.

The club had its own personality. The closer we got to it, the more ominously powerful it felt. I could hear music throbbing on the airwaves.

The first thing I noticed about the building was its eyes – the stained-glass windows that filled half of each wall. Extraordinary colours and shapes formed pictures and abstract patterns in each window. There were images of angels and demons, religious symbols, Celtic crosses and spirits rising from graves. I could imagine how amazing they’d look with the sun pouring through them. The windows were brightly lit from behind and the rainbow colours splashed down onto the dark sidewalk, bathing everyone in etheric hues. The architecture was gothic, with ornate towers and archways. The upper level had many nooks and crannies, and standing guard at various outposts were large gargoyles.

As we approached the crowd gathered in front of the main entrance, the smell of marijuana permeated the air and I felt a heavy pulsating rhythm moving up through the soles of my feet.

We climbed up the stairs leading to the entrance and passed through the massive double doors, which were made of heavy wood with elaborate carvings. A wall of sound hit me when the doors opened and the intensity of the vibration took my breath away. At the far end of the club, a rock band commanded the aural landscape with screaming guitars, booming bass notes, and primitive rhythms, the musicians cavorting wildly on the large multilevel stage. The acoustics were such that the sound exploded as it poured from the mounted speakers. A smoke machine was pumping out a continuous layer of fog that hovered near the floor. It had a life of its own, curling and twisting like a ghostly serpent.

A bouncer stood inside the door, blocking our entrance to the rest of the club. He was extremely tall, very thin, and deathly white. He didn’t seem to give much credence to the idea of personal space because he bent down very close to say, ‘Welcome to The Crypt. ID, please.’

His breath was hot with an odd, sweet scent. He reached out a hand with long, dirty fingernails and I jumped back without even thinking and stepped behind Alan while I retrieved my driver’s licence from the pocket of my jeans. It’d been a long time since anyone had carded me.

Apparently not offended by my reaction to his hygiene, he spread his lips in what I assumed was a smile, showing discoloured fangs, and waved us inside with a sweep of his arm. ‘Enjoy.’

Tom tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the bouncer. His expression telegraphed distaste. ‘Is he one of your clients? It appears he could use a little help.’

I glared at him. ‘Very funny. I just might give him one of my business cards. He could be a perfect case study for my book.’

Down, girl. I don’t have to justify myself to Tom, or anyone else. This is starting to feel like a nasty little case of sibling rivalry – not that I have any idea how sibling anything would feel.

‘Hey, you two – check it out.’ Alan pointed to the interior of the club.

The entire place was decorated like a cross between a graveyard and Dracula’s castle, and it was big enough to hold hundreds of people, most of whom had already arrived.

We manoeuvred our way over to the main bar, which ran along an entire wall and was shaped to resemble a long wooden sarcophagus. Standing there, waiting to catch the attention of the bartender, Alan leaned towards me and shouted in my ear, ‘I forgot to tell you – never look vampires in the eyes. They’ll entrance you.’

I started to say something about that being ridiculous, but that was too many words to scream over the music so I nodded and mouthed, ‘Okay.’

Judging by the expression on his face, Tom was already in lecher heaven as he scrutinised the nubile, bouncing female body parts on the dance floor. I didn’t think a grin could get any wider. He reminded me of the ‘Joker’ character in one of the Batman movies. He turned back to the bar to put in his order and caught sight of the bartender. ‘Holy shit.’

She was spectacular: a leather fantasy right out of the centrefold of a men’s magazine. Her hair was cut short and it stood up in stubby little spikes all over her head. It was hard to tell under the dim lights, but the colour appeared to be pink, or maybe orange. Her eyes were almond-shaped orbs. She leaned over the bar and plopped her considerable assets in front of Tom. ‘What’s your pleasure?’

After a few seconds, he finally raised his eyes up to hers and stared, his mouth slowly relaxing and hanging open.

Alan shook Tom’s shoulder and snapped his fingers in front of his face. ‘Wake up!’

Tom came back to himself with a start, shook himself, and peered at Alan. ‘What happened?’

Alan explained. ‘Never look a vampire in the eyes.’

We all stared at the goddess behind the bar. She smiled at us, displaying a fine set of fangs.

Tom laughed. ‘Yeah, right.’ But he looked rattled.

We ordered Bloody Marys – the house special, natch – and went in search of a table.

The interior of the building had many small rooms, raised platforms and cosy hideaways for customers seeking privacy for one activity or another. Miraculously, we happened to be in the right place at the right time and were able to snag an intimate circular booth in a raised area off the main room. The walls enclosing the booth muted the volume of the music and we could talk without yelling. From that vantage point, we could see almost the entire club while remaining unobtrusive ourselves.

Tom, who’d been very quiet since his close encounter with the centrefold at the bar, expressed the need to find the restroom. He started the long process of wading through a sea of humanity to reach the other side of the club. I watched him go, and about halfway across the room he was hijacked by a tall brunette who pulled him onto the dance floor.

‘Hello, Alan.’ A familiar voice enveloped me, velvet in my ears. I shivered.

Alan rose from his seat. ‘Devereux, please join us. It’s nice to see you again.’

Devereux sat next to me in the booth, lifted my hand to his lips, and kissed it. He gave a slow blink of his turquoise eyes. ‘Hello. I am Devereux, the owner of this establishment.’

The touch of his lips on my hand caused a strong reaction in several parts of my body. I couldn’t sort through my emotions fast enough to say anything, so I was relieved when Alan spoke.

‘This is Kismet Knight. She’s a local psychologist. I’ve been consulting with her about the missing girl.’

‘It is a pleasure to meet you,’ Devereux said aloud, while whispering in my mind, ‘I am very happy to see you. Alan does not need to know that we have already met.’

I just stared at him and said nothing because I was overcome by a desire to crawl into his lap and cover his mouth with mine. I’d never experienced such a strong series of emotions before, out of nowhere, and until I was sure I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself, I sat very still.

What was it about Devereux? Every time he came near, I turned into a hormonal teenager – maybe his pheromones were communicating with mine in some mysterious way. Clearly, either the man was a master hypnotist or insanity truly was contagious. Or, more likely, I’d just been dazzled by the obvious.

No doubt about it, he was a beautiful man – a work of art. There was no other way to describe him. His face was masculine yet soft at the same time and it made me want to touch him, to run my fingers over his pale skin and through his long, silky hair. I shifted my head and tried to avoid his sparkling eyes, not because I feared he’d entrance me, but because I was afraid of what he might see in mine.

‘Yes, I desire you as well,’ Devereux murmured in my mind, the words caressing some invisible part of me.

Alan’s cell phone rang. He lifted it out of his pocket and answered, ‘Stevens.’ There was a brief pause and then, ‘Shit, I’ll be right there.’ Turning to me he explained, ‘They’ve found a body – I need to go to police headquarters.’

I started to get up but Alan put a hand on my shoulder. ‘I’m afraid I can’t take you with me, Kismet. You’ll have to wait here. I’ll come back for you and Tom as quickly as I can.’

I didn’t care for the sound of that. I just wasn’t the type to sit waiting for someone to chauffeur me around, and leaving me here with Devereux made me anxious in ways I couldn’t even understand.

Devereux turned his attention to Alan. ‘I will look after Dr Knight and her friend until you return.’

Alan stroked his hand down my cheek then stood. ‘I won’t be gone long.’ He headed for the door.

‘He is attracted to you,’ Devereux said, nodding in the direction of Alan’s retreating form, ‘and you to him. But you are also attracted to me. And there are some confused – intense – emotions about your friend on the dance floor.’

I frowned and studied his face. What arrogance! But, more important, how did he do that? He’d been uncomfortably accurate. His psychic skills must be off the charts.

‘I thought you promised me you wouldn’t try to read me.’ Obviously his abilities are much more reliable than mine.

‘Yes, of course. I apologise. You are quite right. I do not wish to spoil the mystery between us. You look especially lovely tonight.’

‘Thank you. So do you.’ Perfect, Kismet. Tell the man he looks lovely. What a dweeb. I suck at small talk. ‘Er, how long have you owned this club?’

The corners of his mouth quirked up in a gentle smile and his eyes softened, as if he sensed my discomfort. ‘I purchased the old church when I arrived in America. The vampire craze had been re-ignited by Anne Rice’s books and I allowed myself to be convinced that an occult-themed dance club would be a profitable venture. It has proven to be so.’

Hmm. Okay. Good. Maybe he really is just playing a role . . .

‘Do you own other clubs?’ I looked around the crowded room. ‘I imagine it would take a lot of patience to hang out in such a busy, noisy place every night. I don’t think I could do it.’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I own no others. The Crypt is unique. And I quite agree with you about the chaotic environment. In fact, I rarely spend time in the main area. If I am here at all, I am likely downstairs with friends and colleagues. Most of my business still takes place in Europe, so I am often there.’

‘What part of Europe are you from? You have a very interesting accent.’ I studied the lines of his handsome face.

‘Ah.’ He smiled, gazing into my eyes. ‘I have lived in many places – France, England, Ireland, Scotland, Spain, Russia, Germany, South America, and more.’ He laughed. ‘I even lived in Transylvania for a short time while I did research for the décor of this club. I suppose you could call me a world traveller. My accent remains strong because I frequently converse in other languages. Many of the places I work are non-English-speaking, so there has been no reason for me to Americanise myself. I seem better suited to days gone by than to modern times. It is only recently that I have discovered sufficient motivation to remain in this country.’

There was something magical about the sound of his voice, and his words held me like aural arms. I found myself completely relaxed and at peace in a way I’d never experienced before.

‘What motivation?’ My heartbeat accelerated.

‘You.’ He angled towards me, waiting, his lips close enough to kiss. I breathed in the soft, spicy fragrance of him and closed the gap between our mouths before I even had a conscious thought about doing it.

We kissed long and deep, our tongues exploring, melting into each other. It was as if our physical bodies merged together and we shared the same heartbeat – the same life force. Every cell in my body desired him, and there was no one else in the room except the two of us. All the noise disappeared and we floated in a private universe.

When we finally pulled apart, I gazed into his eyes, which glittered like jewels.

Kissing him had been wonderful. Pure pleasure. But why had I done it? How was it that Devereux could override my nerdy shyness? I clearly wasn’t myself around him. I didn’t know if that was good or bad.

He whispered, ‘My gaze will not entrance you tonight.’

‘What?’ I didn’t care about making sense of that. I only wanted to drink him in with my eyes, to touch him, to kiss him again. In fact, in that moment, nothing else mattered. Then I asked myself, Why doesn’t it matter? What’s wrong with me? It wasn’t like me to indulge my physical desires in public. Why was I suddenly so uninhibited?

‘Why am I so fascinated by you?’ I asked, running my fingers along his cheek. Did I say that out loud? I’m acting drunk, but I’ve only had a couple of sips of my drink.

‘We have that effect on some humans.’ He took my hand in his. ‘I am very pleased you feel that way about me. I hope to fascinate you even more.’

I got distracted watching his mouth for a moment.

‘Kismet?’

‘Huh?’ I pulled away from him and blinked a couple of times to rouse myself. ‘See? That’s what I mean. Why do you have that effect on me?’

‘Do you remember when you asked me what Bryce had done to you and I said he had altered your brain waves?’

‘I remember you said that, but it didn’t make any sense to me. How can someone alter my brain waves just by staring at me?’

‘It is about entrainment. I have done a lot of reading on this subject over the last twenty years. One benefit of living a long time is the acquisition of knowledge.’

‘Entrainment?’

‘Allow me to explain. Think of an old clock, the kind with a swinging pendulum.’ He moved his hand back and forth, as if he was conducting an orchestra. Sharing his wisdom obviously pleased him and I grinned as I watched his enthusiastic presentation. Professor Devereux.

His graceful motions expanded into wider arcs. ‘The rhythm of the swing is very strong, very powerful. Then think of putting several smaller, newer clocks on the same wall with the old clock, each pendulum swinging in a different pattern. Soon, all the new clocks will begin swinging in time with the old clock. The power of the old clock overwhelms the newer ones and they join with it. Am I making sense?’

I skimmed my fingertips across the top of the hand he’d rested on the table. I couldn’t seem to stop touching him.

‘Yes, I know about that. It’s like when women all start having their cycles at the same time, as if we get in sync with each other or something. But what does that have to do with you?’

He nodded and held up his index finger, prepared to continue with the lecture. ‘Let me put it in musical terms. Vampires . . .’ He paused, frowning. ‘What is wrong?’

He had seen me shift my gaze down when he said the word ‘vampires’. I brought my hands together in my lap. Saying that word reminded me I was taking advantage of someone who might be psychotic, delusional, or at the very least mentally confused. There I was, making out with a virtual stranger and encouraging him by listening to his stories. That felt bad as a woman and as a psychologist. I raised my eyes to meet his, surprised to discover him grinning at me.

He shook his head. ‘You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met. It is becoming troublesome that you will not accept what I am. But I will continue to answer the question you asked and you will simply have to humour me.’

He lifted one of my hands, brought it up to his mouth, and kissed my palm with those incredibly soft lips. Even that small contact caused my heart to race and my libido to tap me on the shoulder. His lovely turquoise eyes sparkled, and he somehow managed to appear sexy, angelic, and dangerous all at the same time.

My mouth went dry.

‘As I was saying, in musical terms, vampires give off such a powerful energy or tone that everyone entrains with us. The vibrational frequency that emanates from the undead is stronger than any other, and so it overrides whatever was there before. That is without our even looking at anyone. If we gaze into a human’s eyes without holding back, it is a form of mind control. We are able to change your brain waves.’

‘Are you talking about hypnosis?’ I knew he was a hypnotist! And, apparently, a damn good one.

He leaned closer. ‘It is much more similar to brainwashing than hypnosis because in hypnosis you are always free to choose.’

‘So,’ I reached over and played with a lock of his hair, ‘you’re saying the power of what you are is so strong that I’m pulled in whether I want to be pulled in or not?’

‘Exactly,’ he said, with a quick nod.

‘And when you said your gaze wouldn’t entrance me tonight, you meant you’d hold back?’

‘Yes.’

I slid my index finger along his lower lip. ‘Then does that mean my desire to kiss you is only there because you want me to kiss you? That you are irresistible to me because of that power and not because of anything I feel about you?’

He flashed a dazzling smile. ‘I am pleased to hear I am irresistible to you, but no. I am old enough to be in total control of my power and I hold back with you so that you can make your own decisions. You kiss me because you desire to kiss me.’

I trailed my fingernail lightly over his cheek. ‘Show me the difference.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Use your eyes. Turn on the full power. Let me have it. I want to know what you’re talking about.’

‘Are you certain?’ He grinned mischievously.

I nodded and stared into his eyes.

A wave of heat moved through my body, my scalp tingled, and my eyelids sank to half-mast. The next thing I knew, I was in his lap, my knees straddling his legs, my arms wrapped around his neck, passionately kissing him.

In my mind he sighed, ‘This is how it will be between us.’

‘Ahem.’

I heard a sound from somewhere in the distance, but nothing was more important than kissing Devereux’s soft, warm lips. Nothing mattered except keeping my body pressed against his.

‘Ahem. Kismet?’

In slow-motion, I turned towards the sound. There at the end of the table were three sets of eyes, staring at me.