Kismet Knight, Vampire Psychologist 3 - Dark Harvest (28 page)

“Yes.” I nodded and continued to speak softly. “I found one of the strands on your desk. That’s how we knew he had you.”

She stared out one of the large windows framing a panoramic view of snow-covered mountain peaks. “I was so afraid his plan would succeed, that he’d control you to the point that you’d do what he wanted. It almost worked. He’s incredibly powerful.”

Fear washed through me. “What do you mean? You said he
is
powerful. He’s been destroyed, hasn’t he?”

She brought her gaze to mine. “I don’t think whatever he is
can
be destroyed. He merely lost his connection to the physical plane when Maxie sacrificed herself before he could claim you. I want to believe he’ll exist for millennia as that abhorrent energy field we saw, unable to take form in our world.

But he’s like no other. He defies everything I know about the laws of physics and the nature of vampirism. All we can do is strengthen and educate ourselves.” She took my hand. “I was serious about inviting you to my coven. We are a large circle of strong, dynamic witches, healers, seers, and teachers.

You need to acknowledge and sharpen your abilities.”

“Abilities?” I frowned. “I’m so tired of hearing that. I don’t understand. I know I’m intuitive and empathic, but I don’t consider those to be special things. They’re normal. Everyone has them to some degree. Hallow said I’m an emotional vampire. What are these powers I’m supposed to have?”

“Not powers.” She shook her head vigorously. “Abilities.
Powers
implies something beyond the range of the species. Like comic book characters.” She smiled at my confused expression. “You know, like shooting fire or webs from your fingertips, bending steel with your eyeballs, or being able to fly. You simply have an exceptional amount of your particular abilities. For example, everyone can sing, right?” I nodded, sure of where she was going with the story, because I’d used this example myself to explain intuition to clients. “Well, most people have average singing abilities, some can’t carry a tune to save their souls, and a few have extraordinary talent. It’s the same for everything. Vampires have abilities that are in alignment with their species—mind reading, teleportation, immortality. Devereux has added talents due to his magical lineage. None of those things are
powers,
per se.”

She sipped her tea. “People misunderstand witches, too. We’re often accused of having powers, when
Page 185

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

we really have skills, abilities, talents, wisdom, and, in some cases, common religious beliefs. You told me you learned about Wicca in a comparative religions class in graduate school. See? Nothing unusual about that.”

“Okay.” I shrugged. “But so what? Being empathic and intuitive comes in handy with my work.

Sometimes it’s a curse, sensing things I don’t want to know. Why are so many vampires interested in my so-called
abilities?”

It was her turn to shrug. “I only know what Devereux told me. When he first met you, he said you are a gifted human. That something about the level of your innate talents, mostly unknown to you, is unusual.

He said he suspects you’ve accumulated them over many lifetimes. Like adding chords to a basic melody.” She laughed at my raised eyebrows. “Yes. I know. You’re not comfortable with the notion of reincarnation yet. But, after all you’ve seen, isn’t it silly to resist something as widely accepted as past lives? Many ancient religions take reincarnation for granted.” She pointed a finger at me. “Put your Inner Scientist to work on it and do some research.” I chuckled as she continued. “Anyway, Devereux said there’s something about the texture of your abilities that enhances him. It’s as if you act as a crystal—concentrating and expanding energy. Or a tuning fork holding all the notes in his aural spectrum.

Ask him. He’ll tell you.”

Crystals, reincarnation, vampires, wizards? Tuning fork? Aural spectrum? The texture of my abilities?

How much more weirdness is there? I’ll be banned from the psychologists’ club for sure.

My stomach growled and I realized I’d been sitting in front of all that tantalizing food without eating any of it, so I selected a bagel and some fruit and chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes. There was another question I hadn’t asked her yet.

“Before I killed Maxie and Hallow went wherever he went … I know.” I held up my hand in a stop gesture in response to her mouth opening. “I didn’t kill her intentionally, but I did kill her. I have to accept that.” I sat up straighter, trying to calm my heartbeat and rein in my mounting anxiety. “But, previous to that, you said something about my using his blood flowing in my veins. Maxie said I drank more of his blood than I knew about. Since he’s gone, does that mean the effects of his blood are gone, too?”

My expression must have been sufficiently frightened in order to elicit the compassionate smile she gave me. “I wish I knew. My guess is that whatever changes his blood made to your psyche, your physiology and abilities, they’ll be permanent. But you’re still in charge of how they manifest in your life. I hate to sound like a broken record, but it’s Devereux you need to ask. He is the only one who could possibly advise you.”

She was right, of course.

We ate in silence for a few minutes and then she pushed her chair back from the table and stood. “I need to return to work—take control of my life again.” She grinned. “I know I’m not irreplaceable, but things certainly do get chaotic when I’m out of the loop!” She rested her palm against the side of my face where Maxie’d hit me. “We’re in this together, my friend. We’ll figure it out.” She leaned down and kissed my forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She walked slowly out of the room, her gait hampered by her injuries, and headed to the elevator.

I gave my coffee a warm-up and studied the beautiful scenery through the glass, feeling sad. Nothing would ever be the same for me. No matter what effect Hallow’s blood had on me, I was different. I’d seen too much. Victoria had been right about that, too. I couldn’t hide behind my professional defenses
Page 186

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

any longer.

So many things had happened. Tom was dead or in the process of becoming a vampire. Devereux’s trusted assistant, Luna, had proved to be less than trustworthy. My brief friendship with Maxie had ended tragically. I’d been the target of yet another mentally ill vampire and, like the first, he might still show up anytime. My blood was contaminated by something that had no logical description.

What if Devereux doesn’t have any answers?

* * *

Rescheduling clients, answering e-mails, catching up on paperwork, and performing household tasks filled the remainder of the late afternoon, and reminded me of life before vampires.

Wearing a pair of comfortable jeans and the blue blouse Devereux had mysteriously managed to paint in the portrait he created of me some eight hundred years ago, I’d just poured myself a glass of wine and clicked on a rerun of my favorite TV show,
House,
when the beautiful vampire appeared in my living room.

His face and body were flawless, as always, giving no indication of the ferocious battle he’d waged less than a day earlier. His shiny, platinum hair flowed down his chest, begging to be touched. He wore a snug, aqua, silk T-shirt—a perfect match for his flashing eyes—tucked into his trademark black leather pants. A total feast for the senses.

He opened his arms and I rushed into them, allowing myself to be held for a few seconds. To feel safe.

To pretend the events of the past few days had been a bad dream.

We finally pulled apart and he cradled my face in his hands, leaned in, and pressed his warm, soft lips against mine. I opened my mouth for him, and he slid his tongue inside. A rush of heat flowed through my body, my heart raced, and my knees felt weak. It was so wonderful to simply kiss him because I wanted to.

He broke the kiss and stroked his hand along the colorful bruise on my jaw. I hadn’t even tried to cover it up.

“How are you?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Better now.” I smiled, tugging him over to the couch, where we both sat. I didn’t trust my knees to hold me. I thought about Tom, and Devereux answered my unvoiced concern.

“We performed the ritual of transformation for him. I gave him my blood. What happens now is unknown. He will either pass through death and be reborn, or he will truly die. We will not discover the outcome until his soul makes its choice.”

“Thank you, Devereux.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I know you wouldn’t have tried to save him if it weren’t for me.”

“There is nothing I would not do for you.” He smiled. “In fact, I wish to grant another of your wishes.”

Page 187

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He stood in a fluid motion, and extended his hand to me. “If you will indulge me?”

My expression must have reflected my doubts about whether or not I was ready for any more surprises, because he laughed. “All is well. Truly. You will enjoy this.”

He extended his hand again and I took it, letting him pull me up from the couch.

“You might wish to wear a wrap. We are going to a high altitude.”

I just stared and he laughed again, his eyes sparkling. “Wait. I shall fetch it.” He vanished and was gone ten seconds at most, before returning with my heaviest coat. He held it out, waiting for me to slide my arms in. I couldn’t figure out the danger, if there was any, so I did as he asked. My suspicious nature isn’t likely to change any time soon.

“Excellent.” He slid his arm around my waist, and we traveled, cold air flowing against my face.

We landed in an extraordinary room.

My mouth sagged open as I walked around the huge space. I’d never seen anything so astounding.

A palace had been carved out of stone.

The walls were adorned with gorgeous paintings and beautiful tapestries, interspersed with colorful tiles and gemstone murals. Stunning sculptures were randomly peppered around the room. Lush, thick rugs, layered on top of one another, created a spongy softness to the floor. Tall candles illuminated from inside ornate holders, a spicy aroma wafted from incense burners, and a fire blazed in a magnificent fireplace.

The spectacular area was empty except for two things: a huge, gold-gilded bed and a shiny black coffin.

I had to swallow a few times before I could speak. “Where are we?”

“You wanted to know where I spend my daylight hours.” He nodded. “We are inside a mountain. This is my private place. It has been so for centuries. Sometimes I come here to be alone. Or to time travel.”

My throat tightened, holding back all the words I wanted to say. I was touched and honored that he’d finally shown me his secret lair—overwhelmed that he was willing to be that vulnerable to me.

“Well, then I’d better thank you yet again. This time for trusting me.” I walked over to him, threw my arms around his neck, and kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around me and deepened the kiss.

My knees threatened to give out again and I pulled away. He smiled, apparently aware of my physical challenge and who caused it. I strolled over to the sleek black coffin.

“Do you sleep in here?”

He joined me, caressing the smooth lid with his long-fingered hand. “Sometimes. Mostly I enjoy the comfort of the bed.”

I lifted my brows. “You use the bed if you have company?”

Page 188

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

His expression became serious, his brows contracting in the middle. He took my hand. “I have never brought anyone here in all the centuries since I created this place. You are the first. The only.”

That stunned me, and I encircled his waist with my arms, and pressed myself against him. “Thank you.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Let us explore the comforts of the bed.” He scooped me up into his arms and walked us there. He crawled onto the mattress, still holding me, and dropped me into the exquisite softness, quickly collapsing on top of me.

He flicked his hair behind him and licked my lips with his warm tongue. I opened my mouth and groaned.

Pulling away, he smiled. “I will ask you what Hallow asked. Do you choose me, Kismet?”

Immediately, the horrible memory flashed through my brain, and I froze underneath him, feeling unexplained terror. He continued smiling down at me, his sweet face shining in the candlelight, his eyes shimmering. I saw nothing but love there. I relaxed and stroked his soft skin.

“I do.”

Devereux says he tastes Hallow in my blood. He’s asked all his master vampires, wizards, and healers to explore the possible consequences and potential solutions of my contamination. He offered to let me drink more of his blood, to balance out Hallow’s wild power, but we’re waiting to see how—or if—the monster’s blood changes my life in any way before we make a decision about a remedy.

Victoria came through her ordeal stronger than ever and nagged me relentlessly to join her coven. I finally gave in, and have been enjoying the company of other women and the acceptance and strengthening of my own abilities—the ones that have nothing to do with Devereux. I’m a Priestess in Training.

Tom survived the transformation process and has been sequestered away until he can be trusted around humans. I understand that might take decades. The Dr. Sex cable TV program will have to wait.

Luna has been banished to a secret vampire enclave. Devereux doesn’t like talking about her, so I don’t push.

One of the role-players from my night at the amusement park asked for a psychotherapy appointment. It seems he’s lost chunks of time and has been experiencing strange flashbacks. I wonder if I can deal with what we uncover.

Devereux says we belong together. He could be right. I’m open to discussion.

For the most part, I’m coping with my feelings of guilt about Maxie’s death and my unwanted thoughts of Hallow. I keep having a recurring dream where I talk to him in the white-columned, lofty setting he used before. I don’t know what it means.

I don’t want to know.

Page 189

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

A special presentation of:

The Vampire Shrink

LYNDA HILBURN