The Vampire Shrink

CHAPTER 17

Devereux had been correct in predicting that I might feel queasy after our inter-dimensional road trip. My head felt fuzzy and a loud buzzing filled my ears. Part of me figured I’d fallen and hit my head and that was why I was having both auditory and visual hallucinations.

Talking to Devereux’s dead mother? Walking on a cloud?

After I accepted my temporary madness I relaxed and enjoyed the experience. After all, it was obviously just a dream: a marvellous, esoteric, lucid dream. It made perfect sense to me that I’d called up the beautiful blonde woman’s image from the portrait in Devereux’s room and that the cottony feeling in my head might be symbolically translated into a cloud.

‘Okay.’ I gave what I thought was a supportive smile and trilled, ‘Sure. Absolutely. Devereux’s mother. It’s nice to meet you, Lady Amara.’

‘Amara, please.’

The two of them exchanged a look. Devereux stepped in front of me and raised my chin with a gentle finger so he could search my eyes.

‘Kismet?’ He frowned. ‘Are you well? Your mind is racing like a film on fast-forward.’ He removed his finger from beneath my chin but continued to stare at me.

‘Oh, sure,’ I said, dazed. ‘This is a great dream. Much more fun than all the bloody, scary ones I’ve been having.’

He glanced at the blonde woman and they shared a smile. Devereux moved over to her and drew her into a hug. ‘It is wonderful to see you, Mother. It has been so very long.’

They held each other tightly, both reluctant to let go.

Amara finally stepped away from his embrace, wiped a tear from under her eye and stood in front of us. Shifting her gaze to each of us in turn, she said in a trembling voice, ‘My beautiful son, I am so happy you have found your mate and that your heart will be at peace. I cannot remain long, so we must begin.’

His mate?

Surprised by this confusing new development, I scanned the immediate area, searching for the mate Amara had referred to.

Before I could ask any of the multitude of disturbing questions that had commandeered my partially functioning brain, Devereux positioned himself between us. He offered us each an arm and we were suddenly in the middle of a cavernous room. The dreamy quality of the experience began to recede and the sounds, colours and sensations lost their vague edges and became hyper-focused. My sensing system shifted to high alert and my inner defences rallied the troops and pulled up the bridge over the moat.

My stomach turned and my breath went shallow. I was suddenly afraid. All around me were people I didn’t know, and we were still walking on a damn cloud. Candles floated in the air of their own volition, just like in the Harry Potter movies, and the flames were overly large and multicoloured. Every few seconds each candle sent up a spark of mini-fire-works, but no one else paid any attention.

Maybe there was something funny in that water he gave me. Some kind of occult drug from one of those strange bottles he has in his bedroom.

The air was thick and heavy, as if it was very hot, but it wasn’t. There was a wall of murmuring sound, which I soon discovered to be the whispered conversations around me.

Devereux guided us into a large, cloud-free open circle. As if on cue, all the other guests surrounded us, forming themselves into several concentric rings, one behind another. On the floor of the open area were symbols similar to the ones in Devereux’s private room. An ornate, jewel-encrusted chair with a high back sat in the centre of the circle.

Amara grasped my hand and led me over to the fancy chair, indicating I should sit. I gazed into her eyes, searching for any sign that I was in danger, but all I saw was kindness, warmth and compassion.

Since I didn’t know what else to do – or what else I could do – I sat in the chair. The moment my hind end touched the seat, the people in the circles began singing. Or maybe chanting would be a better word to describe the sound, some repetitious melody in a language I didn’t recognise. The vocalising started out softly, harmonies flowing over and under the tonic, but as it went on, it got louder, then louder still, until I could feel the vibration of the sound in my bones.

The song was mesmerising, eerie and lovely. My eyelids drooped and my head fell forwards. I was still fully conscious, but had the distinct impression that my body had gone to a different time zone. I concentrated on lifting my head and was finally able to raise it just enough to have the motion cause it to flop back against the chair.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Amara step next to me. She took my hand and I tried to produce sounds, but nothing came out.

I don’t know what Devereux had been doing all this time, but he suddenly appeared next to me in the centre of the circle and all the singing stopped. I mean everyone literally stopped chanting at exactly the same second. Devereux raised both his hands in the air.

‘Welcome, my friends. I am grateful for your willingness to join us in this ceremony of protection today to hold the sacred space. It is truly a momentous occasion and a special time for me because my mother is here. Please welcome my mate Kismet to the circle.’

What? I’m his mate? When did I sign up for that? Why isn’t my brain working properly?

He gestured towards me with a graceful, flowing hand-and-arm movement and everyone said words in unison in that exotic-sounding language.

Ever since the singing ended, my mind had begun to clear and my body was operating at my command again. Amara released my hand, but continued to stand next to me.

Devereux extended his hands out in front of him and a large golden chalice appeared from nowhere. He held the chalice over his head and moved around the inside edges of the circle, keeping up an ongoing monologue in that mysterious sonorous language. He was quite a sight to behold, gliding like a dancer, his duster billowing out behind him, his naked chest gleaming in the candlelight.

My mind was clear enough to find him compelling and my body was aware enough to be aroused – in fact, for some reason I was intensely aroused. My suddenly hard nipples thrust against the silky fabric of my dress, threatening to burst free from the restraining corset, and the area between my legs grew slick with liquid heat.

Then he came and stood in front of me, set the chalice on the floor at my feet, threw off his duster and, for lack of better words, performed an erotic dance for me.

Vampires dance? Who knew? Well, he did say it was a pagan ceremony.

His movements were totally unlike his usual elegant, contained presentation. His hips undulated, his stomach muscles rolled and his arms sliced through the air in deliberate, graceful motions. He threw his head back, his platinum hair flew and his face went slack, as if he’d got lost in ecstasy.

A potent energy sparked off Devereux as he danced. I felt the tension building inside myself and thought that if he didn’t touch me soon, I’d literally explode. As I caught some of the expressions on the faces of the other participants, I saw I wasn’t the only one having that reaction.

Devereux’s skin shone with sweat, like liquid diamonds. He moved his hands seductively over his body, locking his eyes with mine. Bending towards me, he opened his mouth and slowly and deliberately licked his upper lip with his tongue. His canines were fully extended and he kissed me, catching my lower lip with his fangs, then backed away.

I gasped, thinking he’d bitten me, but I tasted no blood. All my erogenous zones were frantic with desire – literally aching with need – and my heart pounded double-time. I was so excited and aroused by his dance that I doubt if I’d have complained even if he’d taken a pint.

I scooted to the edge of the chair, ready, I supposed, to leap onto Devereux at the earliest chance. Oddly enough, thinking about making a public display of myself with Devereux didn’t upset me. All that mattered was doing whatever I had to do to get him to touch me again.

He picked up the chalice, glided over to the circle of people and pandemonium broke out.

As Devereux approached the crowd a madness built. Excitement spread around the circles, and all variety of wails, moans, groans and howls rent the air. Some of the participants’ bodies convulsed, limbs twitching and jerking in random spasms as their heads flopped back and forth on boneless necks. Others jumped up and down with manic intensity, as if they’d been taken prisoner by a sadistic puppeteer.

Holding the chalice in his left hand, Devereux magically manifested a knife or dagger in his right. He stared into the eyes of the woman in front of him in the circle and she offered her arm. Using the knife to make a small cut on her wrist, he caught the dripping blood in the chalice. A roar went up from the crowd.

Arms shot out from everywhere as the noise level rose.

Devereux navigated the ring, repeating the process with as many wrists as it took to fill the chalice with blood.

I’d been so shocked by Devereux’s sudden shift from lust object to phlebotomist that I hadn’t noticed the other really bizarre situation that was unfolding.

People were sucking on each other’s wounds.

Well, technically, I guess you couldn’t call them people.

Vampires were sucking on each other’s wounds.

And not merely sucking – feeding frenzy would be more accurate.

I felt my jaw drop as I watched the bloodsuckers attach themselves to wrists and necks, some falling to the floor together in passionate mid-suck. A few of the revellers were so swept away by the feasting that clothes were discarded and other parts of the body were invited to play.

Vampire orgy. Perfect.

I instinctively sat back in the chair, hoping the lunacy wouldn’t spread to me. Amara took my hand again and I turned to her. Her eyes were large and shining, greener than Devereux’s, and she said, ‘He would never hurt you. You must trust him.’

At that moment he stalked towards us, his hair fanning out behind him, holding the chalice in his hands. His eyes were feral, expressing a wildness he’d never shared with me before, and his face was startlingly beautiful. A fallen angel.

Clutching the chalice in his left hand, he held it away from his body and embraced his mother in a one-armed hug. He met her eyes and she tilted her head to the side. Devereux leaned in to her, exposed his fangs and sank them into her neck. She gasped and laid a hand on the back of his head.

I didn’t know what to do with myself – where to look. Devereux had just assaulted his mother and she was apparently enjoying it. There was something very sensuous about him sucking on her neck and I couldn’t imagine that was a psychologically healthy mother-son activity.

But then she’s dead and this is a dream, so do the rules apply?

After a few seconds he raised his head, embraced her again, said something in that strange language and turned to me, licking blood from his lips.

Devereux raised the chalice into the air and the chanting started again. Vampires rose from the floor and disentangled themselves from each other, adding their voices as they reformed the circles. As the intensity of the sound increased, the curious entranced feeling overtook me again.

Devereux knelt before me, offered the chalice and said, ‘One sip, my love.’

There was a major firestorm of resistance in my brain. One part of me was already struggling to get up from the chair, begging the muscles in my legs to report for duty one more time. But the muscles were hanging out with the other part of me that was fantasising about tearing off Devereux’s clothes and jumping on him. One sip of blood wasn’t much of a price to pay for being able to get my hands on this blond Adonis. Good thing this wasn’t really happening.

My hands reached out for the chalice and he gave it to me. It was warm. I raised it to my lips, stared into his astonishing eyes over the rim and drank. For some reason I’d imagined blood would taste like tomato juice. It didn’t. But by the time I discovered that the taste was thick and unpleasant, I’d choked and swallowed the entire gulp. I coughed and sputtered and finally stuck my tongue out, maybe thinking that would dissipate the taste.

Definitely a dream. I’d never drink blood if I was awake. Nothing to worry about. Just a dream.

He mouthed the words, ‘Thank you,’ retrieved the chalice from me and drank the remainder of the blood. Saying more of those unfamiliar words, he held the cup out in front of him and it vanished.

The chanting grew louder and another portion of my consciousness drifted away.

Devereux stood, pulled me out of the chair, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me passionately. I made an effort to hold on to him, but my bones had mysteriously dissolved and all four of my limbs were now only useful as paperweights.

Bending me over backwards he whispered, ‘No harm.’ He kissed his way down from my mouth and along my neck, finally resting his lips on the fullness of my breast. The part of me that wanted to roll around with Devereux sighed contentedly. He planted little kisses on my skin, then there was a flash of pain, followed by the most blissful feeling I’d ever experienced.

After a few seconds he lifted me into his arms, brought his lips to mine and held me. I briefly wondered how someone who drank blood could have such sweet-smelling breath, but I decided to add that to the list of things to think about later.

Besides, this is my dream and I’m not likely to give my lust object stinky breath, right?

He returned me to the chair, kissed my cheek and walked out towards the vampire chorus. The chanting immediately ceased.

That was too weird. I’d sung in lots of choirs and I knew how hard it was to get people to all stop singing at exactly the same moment. There was always at least one person not paying attention or something. This was downright eerie, as if sound itself had disappeared.

Just as before, as soon as they stopped chanting I began to come back to myself. Not that I knew where I’d been prior to that, but I didn’t know how else to explain it.

Immediately I noticed that my breast was throbbing with pain. One quick glance solved the mystery. Standing out against my very-white skin were two neat puncture marks surrounded by a sea of traumatised red tissue which would soon be a colourful blue-green-purple.

Amara, who still stood next to the chair, took my hand again. She inspected my chest. ‘I will heal that for you before I leave. There will be no lasting mark. Devereux will explain.’

My eyes darted to her neck to see if her bite marks looked as bad as mine, but there was nothing to see. Her skin was smooth, white and flawless.

She nodded once. ‘Exactly so.’

I didn’t know if it was a flaw or a virtue, but I’d always had an innate need to be polite, to be a nice person. I couldn’t blame Amara for what her son had done, but I had to turn away from her because it was temporarily impossible for me to pretend that I wasn’t seething with rage. Something about the physical pain had jolted me into awareness.

Damn it to hell! This isn’t a dream. It’s a wide-awake nightmare. I can’t believe the bastard bit me. He actually bit me. I’m probably going to turn into a vampire now.

Amara stepped in front of me, her eyes hard and serious. ‘No. It is not that easy to become a vampire. It requires intention.’ Her gaze went to the bite on my breast. ‘This was merely a symbolic gesture. I wish there had been more time to help you understand, but no harm has been done. You will be as you were.’

I scanned the area for Devereux. He’d retrieved his duster and was moving slowly around the inside of the circle, pausing occasionally. Some of the words he spoke sounded like English and I picked up the phrase ‘guardian of the four directions’ along with a few others. I got the idea that each place he paused in the circle represented east, south, west or north.

He pulled a gem-studded wand from the pocket of his coat and held it in the air at each cardinal point. A burst of brilliant white light emanated from the tip at each location and hovered, forming a vertical line floating in space.

I was tempted to rub my eyes because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but I remembered how much mascara Nola had insisted on plastering on my eyelashes, and I hesitated at the last moment. I didn’t want to look like a raccoon.

By the time Devereux completed the circle, there were four beams of luminescence.

At a signal from him, all the vampires in the inner circle took a step forward, which put them in line with the hovering lights. As soon as the radiance touched the vampire closest to it, the glow began to spread around the circle, flowing out to each circle in turn. Soon the white incandescence transformed into multiple colours, shifting and changing every few seconds. The mini-fireworks put out by the candles became more pronounced and the medallion around Devereux’s neck sparked like a floodlight.

I lowered my eyes to shield them from the bright glare but was able to squint enough to see that all the vampires in the circles had clasped hands. As they did that, the light began to pulsate and writhe, creating bursts of colour that completely enveloped everyone in the circle until there was only pure energy.

Devereux turned in my direction and held out his hand.

I looked anxiously at Amara.

My feet had a mind of their own and I found myself standing and inching over to where he waited. I stretched out my hand and the moment our fingers met there was a sharp sound that reminded me of the crack of a whip. The light exploded and engulfed us.

Then there was nothing.