The Vampire Shrink

CHAPTER 18

I woke up naked in my bed. Naked except for the pentagram necklace. At least I assumed it was my bed, because I couldn’t open my eyes. I raised my hands up to investigate and found the source of the problem. All that mascara I’d worn the night before had somehow congealed into gummy clumps and hermetically sealed my upper lashes to my lower ones.

I spent a couple of minutes prising them apart, opening and closing my lids to test the equipment, and then discovered I’d apparently rubbed my eyes at some point because there was a big black stain on the side of my right index finger. I knew the mirror would present me with even more delightful news.

But thankfully, I was in my own bed.

Staring up at the ceiling, I listened to the sounds floating in through the window and appreciated the evidence that, for some people, normal reality still existed. Lawns were being mowed, dogs walked, greetings called out from yard to yard, cars driven. Music still blared from the radios of passing vehicles and children were playing. The everyday world that I used to belong to – that I took for granted – evidently continued as if nothing earth-shattering had happened.

Memory fragments from the night before bobbed like apples in the tub of my brain, waiting for me to capture one and take a bite.

Bite.

I bolted up, filled each hand with a breast and warily lowered my eyes, afraid to see what might be there. Instead of the torn, bruised and traumatised skin I’d anticipated, there was nothing but the white, lightly blue-veined expanse I’d always had.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I watched the patterns of sunlight play across the wall in front of me and felt numb.

There were only two possible explanations for what was happening to me. Either I was in the midst of a psychic meltdown, maybe even a psychotic break, and the entire sequence of events had only unfolded inside my fevered, twisted mind, or I had truly entered a monstrous world where vampires drank blood, levitated in the air, read your mind and seduced your body.

Quite frankly, I didn’t know how to deal with either option.

My mouth was as dry as the lunar landscape and it tasted as if I’d scoured the floor of an ER with my tongue.

A wisp of memory floated into my brain and opened a Pandora’s box of horrible possibilities.

There was no way in hell I’d drunk blood. Not one chance in this or any other universe. Not even if someone held me down and forced my mouth open. Yuck, yuck, yuck.

I raised the palm of one hand in front of my mouth, breathed into it and almost gagged.

No. I must just have eaten something funky. Something gross. I hoped I hadn’t shared this breath with anyone I actually liked.

The digital clock on my nightstand showed 1:00 p.m. That information didn’t really tell me much because I wasn’t even sure what day it was. Panicking, I picked up the TV remote control and clicked on CNN, assuming the data panel on the bottom of the screen would have the correct date. Sunday. Relief swamped me. I hadn’t lost any more time than I already knew about and, more importantly, I hadn’t missed any client appointments.

I swivelled my head around, stretching the tight muscles of my neck and shoulders, then swung my legs over the side of the bed. Turning off the TV, I forced myself vertical and walked over to the closet to fetch my comfortable pink robe. As I slipped it on and tied the sash, a sparkling blue fabric caught my eye. The lovely dress I’d worn the night before hung neatly in the closet, and on the floor underneath it were the matching shoes. I found the corset and stockings draped across the rocking chair in the corner.

I hoped it had been Devereux who’d brought me home, undressed me and tucked me into bed. The startling possibility that it might not have been him, or that things I didn’t want to know about might have happened, froze me like a statue.

Laying a hand against the wall to brace myself, I closed my eyes and sent my awareness through my body. I’d always been able to use my intuition to test the state of my physical health and recently that ability appeared especially heightened.

Whether I wanted to know about it or not, I needed to find out if there’d been any sexual activity – either consensual or forced. I steeled myself for possible bad news and asked the silent question. None of my usual indicators fired a warning, so I asked again, just to make sure.

As before, calm silence.

I’d learned to trust the subtle ‘yes’ or ‘no’ reactions of my body and felt relatively confident that I hadn’t been physically harmed while I was sleeping. Or unconscious. Or whatever I’d been.

Relief washed over me and I straightened, tightened the sash on my robe and headed downstairs for desperately needed coffee.

Halfway down the stairs I remembered that the last time I’d seen Alan, he’d been sacked out on my couch. It had been eighteen hours since I’d left him sleeping there. I couldn’t imagine he’d still be snoozing. Then I remembered how his unnatural sleep came to be and decided that rational rules wouldn’t necessarily apply. I figured he’d be rightfully confused and probably angry, and he’d want to know where I had gone.

Sure enough, the couch was empty. I walked around the room, checking for a note, but there was no sign of one. I scanned the whiteboard in the kitchen. Nothing.

Recalling that his clothes had been in the washing machine, I lifted the lid and there they were, still wet. He hadn’t even transferred them to the dryer.

Why would he have gone out in those ridiculous pink sweatsuit bottoms? Unless he got another call from the police and had to hurry out. But even so.

I went over to the front window, lifted one of the slats in the blinds – just in case the media circus still had its tent erected – and tried to find Alan’s car. It was still there, right where he’d left it yesterday. And, unfortunately, so were the media. Not only had they not gone away, but there were more of them than ever lining the street. It was probably incredibly naïve of me to hope they’d find something even more sensational to cover; that I’d be yesterday’s news. Fat chance when anything vampire was involved.

Noticing the large police presence circling my home, part of me thought it was a waste of taxpayers’ money for so many officers to be on guard duty, but mostly I was grateful. I knew the reporters wouldn’t stay behind the barricade without strong incentives.

As I peeked out I noticed several men dressed in military-type clothing standing in a line between the street and my front door. What the hell? Who’d called out the marines? Did Devereux’s influence reach that far? This entire situation was getting out of control.

I tore myself away from the window and did another walk-through of my house, calling Alan’s name loudly, but I got no response.

Still trying to figure out the mystery of the missing FBI agent, I absentmindedly went through the motions of making coffee and then remembered the phone. I hadn’t checked the messages yet, and if Alan’d had to leave quickly, he might have called. Plus I’d contacted Midnight and Ronald and had left – or been snatched – before they could call me back.

While the coffee brewed and sent its heavenly aroma directly into my nostrils, I punched in the retrieval code to listen to my business messages, then I checked my cell phone.

There were several from media outlets, a few from concerned clients, wondering about my safety, and one from a friend in Paris who laughingly said she’d seen a report on CNN about a flaky psychologist in Denver who worked with vampires. So much for my career.

Midnight had left a message saying she and Ronald were not dealing with Emerald’s death very well, and they were worried about me. She wanted to know if I could possibly see them for a joint appointment on Sunday.

I was just about to hang up so I could call her when I heard the first couple of words of the next message and the hairs on the back of my neck rose.

Brother Luther’s familiar Southern-accented voice screamed out of the earpiece, ‘I know what you did. I know where you’ve been. Consorting with foul creatures of the night! You’ll be punished! You’ll burn in the fires of hell! Unholy Jezebel! Whore of Babylon! Suffer not a witch to live! No one can save you from the wrath of the Almighty! I am the messenger. You have been marked. You will burn.’

My eyes and my mouth were wide open, and after the message ended I felt slimed, contaminated, as if someone had thrown a bucket of psychic manure on me through the phone. The negative energy of the call hit my stomach like a fist. My knees went weak and I grabbed the edge of the counter for support. Was this sick fanatic stalking me? Was he dangerous?

I saved his hateful tirade because it was definitely time to report him to the police. The call had to be some form of harassment at the very least. Thankfully, he wasn’t my client so I didn’t have to walk any ethical fine lines.

Finally, there was a message from Alan. He spoke in a very soft, subdued voice, as if he’d just awakened. ‘Kismet? You’re probably going to think I’m insane, if you don’t already, but I’m home and I don’t know how I got here. The last thing I remember is being at your house and seeing Devereux appear in your living room. It’s Sunday morning, the sun just came up and I’m still wearing your pink sweats. I went outside to look for my car and it isn’t here. I think I left it at your house – along with my clothes – but I don’t remember. You’re probably thinking I had some kind of blackout or breakdown – and maybe I did – but I’d appreciate if you’d call me when you get this and help me figure out what the hell is going on.’

I disconnected, set the phone down and poured a cup of coffee. Then I plopped into one of the kitchen chairs. Sometimes there’s just too much information for a brain to process.

Postponing the inevitable, I allowed myself the luxury of sitting still while I finished my first cup, then poured another and picked up the phone. I was so tired of all the drama.

I punched in Midnight’s phone number and got her answering machine. ‘Midnight? This is Dr Knight. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get back to you sooner. I had to take care of some personal business. There are no words to express my sadness about Emerald. I’m absolutely available to meet with you and Ronald. You have my cell phone number – call whenever you get this message and we’ll schedule a meeting. Talk to you soon.’

Next, I dialled Alan’s cell phone, and he must have been using it because my call went directly to voicemail. ‘Alan, I don’t think you’re crazy. In the midst of everything that’s going on, you might be the only sane person I know. Your car is still here, along with your clothes. I have a client session later, so just give me a call when you get this and we can arrange a time to get together. See you soon.’

I’m sure my voice sounded as tired as my spirit felt.

What I wanted more than anything was to do absolutely nothing. To sit quietly without thinking. Without trying to interpret, understand or accept. Without being afraid.

Since none of that was likely, I rinsed out my coffee mug and went back upstairs to take a shower, carrying my newly charged cell phone with me.

The view of my face in the bathroom mirror caused me to laugh out loud. I’d really done a job of spreading the mascara around my eyes and upper cheeks; I looked like a child had scribbled on me with a black Magic Marker.

Gorilla breath and raccoon eyes. See what happens when you stay at the ball past midnight?

I momentarily wondered if I’d made myself this appealing a sight before or after my pale knight dropped me off. Or should I say, my pale bloodsucker? I’d better get used to telling the truth, at least to myself.

As attracted as I was to Devereux, I wanted to keep my distance from him for a while, to pretend to be normal again. But how did one remain distant from something that could come and go through thought? Something that moved through time and space like walking from room to room? Something that didn’t give a shit about anyone else’s boundaries or needs?

I turned on the spray, dropped my robe on the floor, pulled the necklace over my head, laid it on the counter and stepped into the shower.

After blissing out for a few moments, letting the hot water cascade down my body, I poured shampoo on my hair and piled the soapy mass on top of my head. I picked up the plastic bottle of body gel and was spreading it across my breasts when my hand slid over something on my chest. The necklace. I’d forgotten to take it off.

Wait. No. I hadn’t forgotten. I did take it off. I laid it on the counter.

I tugged aside the shower curtain, squinted through the fog that the hot water had created in the small room and scanned the counter. No necklace.

I placed my hand back on the pentagram and Devereux’s voice whispered in my mind, ‘This necklace is your protection. You must never remove it.’

What the hell?

Expecting him to pop in, I looked around, but nothing happened. I thought vampires couldn’t go out in the sunlight, so where’d the voice come from? But then, after what I’d seen, I could testify that there was no rule book for what Master Devereux could or couldn’t do.

I lifted the necklace over my head again and in the nano-seconds it took me to do that, the pentagram returned to rest between my breasts.

The same words floated through my mind. ‘This necklace is your protection. You must never remove it.’

Apparently, Devereux had somehow implanted a message in the talisman that replayed any time the pendant lost contact with my skin.

Well, to hell with it. I’d leave the damn necklace on. It was just another way that Devereux had reached out to intrude on my life and I wasn’t going to give it one more moment of attention than I had to.

I finished washing and rinsing, wrapped up in a towel and stepped out of the shower.

My cell phone rang – Midnight calling to schedule a time to meet. We set the appointment for two hours later, which gave me time to get dressed and eat something. My empty stomach echoed like an abandoned cave.

I made a sandwich, sat in the living room, and turned on the TV. I clicked through the channels until I came to a live news broadcast featuring an interview with my favourite detective.

‘Lieutenant Bullock, can you give us an update on the case everyone is calling the Vampire Murders? Do you have any leads? Any suspects? Are you close to an arrest?’ the young reporter asked.

‘We’re following several leads,’ a very tired-looking Lieutenant Bullock said. ‘I’m not at liberty to give any specific information at this time.’

‘Is it true that the bodies were drained of blood? What kind of serial killer does that? Do you have any evidence that the killer actually drinks the blood?’

‘That’s sensational speculation, young lady, not good journalism. All we know now is that five people are dead.’

‘Do you know how psychologist Kismet Knight is involved in the murders?’

‘No comment. When we have more details, we’ll schedule a press conference. That’s all for now.’ With that, Lieutenant Bullock stalked away from the camera.

Great. I’m a star.

I clicked off the TV, reflecting that Lieutenant Bullock was as rude to everyone else as she’d been to me. But she looked exhausted. She’d probably been working round the clock since the murders began. Five people dead. I wondered what Emerald had in common with the other victims. Alan probably knew. I’d have to ask him. The comment Officer Colletta made in the squad car came back to me, the one about the killer possibly being one of my clients. Chills raced up my body. What if it was true? I barely knew some of my new vampire-wannabe clients. Could one of them be responsible?

I pushed the thought away and went back upstairs to finish getting dressed. A short time later, I’d just picked up my briefcase and purse to head out the door when my cell phone rang again.

This time it was Alan. He sounded a lot more solid and had retrieved his usual cocky attitude. He launched right in. ‘So, did I imagine it, or did Devereux plant a passionate wet one on you when I was there yesterday?’

‘Uh, I seem to recall something of that nature.’

‘You want to tell me what’s going on?’

‘No.’

‘What?’

‘Sorry, I don’t mean no, I don’t want to tell you, I mean not right now. I need to get over to my office for an appointment. Besides, I’m seriously burned out on talking or thinking about all the weird crap that’s been going on. I’m running on empty. Could we discuss it later?’

‘Sure.’ He paused. ‘I just thought maybe you and I had possibilities, but after what I saw, I don’t know any more. What do you think? Do we have possibilities?’

Ah, shit. This is exactly the messy kind of issue I don’t want to discuss. The stuff I don’t have one clue about.

I couldn’t keep all the impatience and frustration out of my voice as I paced around the room. ‘Can I waffle and say that I’m confused? That I don’t even know my name right now, much less what’s happening with my love life? Seriously, can we put a bookmark in this discussion?’

‘Absolutely.’ His voice became more formal, less friendly. ‘We’ll talk later. Things are still crazy for me, too – there’ve been some leads in the Emerald Addison murder case and I don’t know when I’ll have a spare minute. I’m going to have one of the black-and-whites drop me off at your place so I can pick up my car. I’ll get the clothes some other time. I’m ready whenever you are – ball’s in your court.’

Either he’d decided to humour me or he really caught the vibe. Or maybe he really didn’t care all that much. Then the confusing possibility that he cared too much raised its scary head and gave me brain overload.

‘Thanks.’ I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. ‘Talk to you soon.’

Feeling like I’d just dodged a very large bullet, I willed myself to relax.

I stole one more peek out my window to see how many media types were lurking before I made my escape. There weren’t quite as many as the day before, but the remaining reporters appeared to be hunkered down for the duration. Officer Colletta told me yesterday that my office was surrounded and I assumed the situation there hadn’t changed either. I needed a little help.

Cautiously I stuck my head out the front door. Various media representatives jumped to their feet and started yelling questions again, on-air personalities brushed dirt off the seats of their slacks. The military fellows were gone. One of the officers looked my way when the chaos started and I signalled him to come over. He trotted up to the door.

‘Is there a problem, Dr Knight?’ He removed his sunglasses. ‘Do you need something?’

‘No problem, officer. I have to go to my office to see a couple of clients. Could you help me get out of my garage without running over any cameramen or TV anchors? And could you alert your associates at the office building that I’m headed their way?’

‘We’ll take care of it. Will you return to home after that? We have orders to stay here indefinitely.’

Really? Indefinitely? I wonder what they’d do if they found out all this was because of a vampire whispering in the chief’s ear.

‘Yes, I’ll be back after that. I really appreciate your help.’

‘We’ll clear the way.’ He replaced his glasses and headed back to the line of police cars.

I waited a few seconds for the authorities to get into place then walked through the adjoining door from the kitchen to my attached garage, which opens onto a paved alley. I had no idea how many reporters were back there. I got into my car, clicked the door opener and startled a handful of men and women sitting on the driveway, playing cards, their recording equipment stacked up around them like an electronics garage sale. I revved the car motor as several officers arrived, and luckily the squatters didn’t stick around long enough to discover if I would have rolled over them. They scattered, yelling to their colleagues out front. One brave soul jumped on my hood with his video camera and managed to film a few seconds of me smiling and waving before the officer who came to my door pulled him off.

Even something as familiar and comfortable as driving required extra attention. I caught a glimpse of my eyes in the mirror, half-expecting to see a shell-shocked reflection, and was surprised to appear so normal. As if nothing had changed. As if I hadn’t lost my mind. As if I still lived in a world where there were no such things as vampires.

I was more comfortable believing I was nuts.

My office was just a few minutes away and I managed to get there with only a small caravan of journalists on my tail. The parking lot across from the building was filled with the same assortment of vehicles and people as the street in front of my house. I had to drive a block down to find a place to park. I locked my car, grabbed my briefcase and made a dash for the entrance. Officers swarmed from all directions, holding everyone back and giving me the opportunity to make it inside the lobby, where it was strangely quiet.

Midnight and Ronald showed up right on time. Neither of them appeared to have slept in a couple of days, and their vulnerability made my heart ache.

‘How are you holding up?’ I asked.

Midnight started to cry and Ronald put his arm around her. ‘Not very well. We just can’t get a grip on how anyone could hurt someone as sweet as Emerald. She was the most easygoing, laid-back person we’ve ever met,’ Ronald answered. ‘Do you know if they caught the killer yet?’

‘I don’t think so,’ I said, ‘but every cop in the state is on the case – they’ll find the sick person who killed Emerald and the others.’

Midnight pulled a tissue from the box and blew her nose. She had to clear her throat a couple of times before she could speak. ‘I can’t help but think this is all my fault. If I hadn’t left her alone, she wouldn’t have been hurt to begin with.’ She gave a frustrated scream, which startled both Ronald and me. ‘I’m so pissed off and I feel so helpless. The police aren’t going to be able to find the one who killed her. It was a vampire. But they’re not even taking that into consideration. How could a human drain all the blood from a body?’

That’s a good question. Most humans can’t.

‘We’re going to The Crypt tonight to talk to Devereux and ask him to find the vampire who hurt my friend.’

‘I hope he can help.’ I met her gaze. ‘But Emerald’s death isn’t your fault, Midnight. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If you’d been there with her, maybe both of you would have been harmed.’ I paused. ‘It’s normal for you to be angry – that’s one of the stages of grief. But you couldn’t have known what would happen to her. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it.’

‘That’s what I told her,’ Ronald said, squeezing Midnight’s shoulder.

We spent most of the rest of the time processing the grief and anger they both felt.

They asked a lot of questions about what had happened to me – the abduction and waking up in a cemetery – and I gave brief answers. I told them the truth: that I had no idea who had taken me there or what had happened.

Devereux said I’d been taken by a vampire, a dark spirit, but I had no comprehension of what he meant.

Midnight said she’d returned to her parents’ house temporarily because she couldn’t face Emerald’s empty bedroom in their shared apartment. As he had before, Ronald showed great strength and compassion. He stayed close to Midnight, and had been her constant companion during the last couple of days.

In fact, at one point they kissed each other on the lips and the sense I got was that it was more romantic than friendly. There was obviously more to the soft-spoken guy than met the eye. Perhaps Midnight had radically misinterpreted Ronald’s reaction to her relationship with Bryce. Maybe it hadn’t been Bryce he was interested in after all.

Watching them together gave me a hopeful feeling.

I walked them out to the waiting room, feeling tired but thinking I’d done something useful. I came back in the office, sat down at my desk and rested my head on my arms. I must have dozed off because a sound caused my head to jerk up and it was no longer light outside.

The sound had been the throat-clearing of the individual standing in my doorway.

I tensed.

I hadn’t turned any lights on in my office except the small desk lamp, so the room was mostly dark. As had become my careless habit, I hadn’t closed or locked my office door after Midnight and Ronald left, thinking I myself would be leaving momentarily. Who knew how long I’d been sleeping?

I definitely had some karmic thing going on with doors.

The man standing in the entrance was very tall, but he stooped and his shoulders were rounded. The overhead light in the waiting room provided enough illumination for me to note that he had shoulder-length dark hair with a rapidly receding hairline. He wore a black suit, white shirt and skinny black tie. My visitor held his hands together at chest level and twisted them as if he was continually rolling a ball of clay or dough.

He edged forwards, still standing in the doorway, as if reluctant to enter. ‘Are you the vampire doctor?’