The Vampire Shrink (10 page)

Why had I let him get to me? I was thoroughly ashamed of myself for behaving so unprofessionally—so irrationally. I treated him more like an appealing male than someone in a clinical situation. I'd never had that kind of reaction to someone in my office. I owed Devereux an apology. First I'd let myself be attracted to him, and then I'd lost my temper. Both those choices were completely unacceptable and very unlike me. It was undoubtedly time for me to schedule weekly appointments with Nancy rather than monthly. I mean, how unnatural was it for a thirty-year-old woman to be a celibate hermit?

If my bad experience with Tom and my dysfunctional childhood had caused me to be so uncomfortable around men that I was incapable of dealing professionally with a sexually desirable client, then I'd better take some steps toward correcting the problem or find another line of work.

I decided I'd call the cute chiropractor when I got home. Nancy was right. I'd have to get back on the horse sometime.

CHAPTER 4

T
he next couple of days were uneventful. Determined to confront my fears, I summoned my courage and called Vaughan the chiropractor. We arranged to meet for dinner the following weekend. He sounded so pleasantly surprised and delighted to hear from me that I was actually excited about our date. Maybe I'd even force myself to go to the mall and buy something new to wear.

The ads I'd placed in the newspapers and online announcing psychotherapy for vampires had started to draw responses, and I'd begun the screening process for setting up appointments and forming groups. I now understood the importance of thoroughly questioning each candidate. After my experience with Devereux, separating the mildly delusional from the profoundly disturbed was imperative.

As expected, the ads attracted calls not only from vampire wannabes but also from people interested in other forms of the paranormal.

Unfortunately, it also included those who defined their lives by hating anything they didn't understand. One such caller was Brother Luther. He left messages on my voice mail, telling me that I was going to burn in hell for consorting with demons and the minions of Satan. I wasn't sure if Brother Luther was affiliated with any organized group or if he was the sole member of his congregation, but he was very enthusiastic and dramatic about his opinions. He spoke with a southern accent, and he reminded me of the fire-and-brimstone preachers I'd seen as a child while visiting relatives in the Smoky Mountains. I usually didn't take those kinds of calls seriously, and I assumed he was a harmless windbag.

I was still troubled by the way I'd behaved with Devereux. I knew I should call him and apologize, but for some reason I couldn't make myself pick up the phone. Even thinking about him caused me to have that same strange, overwhelming reaction. I was afraid of him yet very attracted to him at the same time, and those conflicting emotions combined to create some terrifying third thing inside my psyche that I just didn't understand. When in doubt, brood. And that's exactly what I did.

When Midnight came in for her next appointment Thursday afternoon, she wasn't wearing her vampire costume and she wasn't alone. I almost didn't recognize her until she spoke to me. Dressed in jeans, Renaissance Faire T-shirt, and athletic shoes, with her long hair pulled into a ponytail, she was the fresh-faced girl next door. It turned out that underneath all the makeup was a beautiful young woman. Sitting quietly next to Midnight in the waiting room was a thin, frail-looking female with dark circles under her green eyes and tangled black hair.

“Dr. Knight, this is Emerald. I brought her with me because I didn't know what else to do. Something's wrong with her.” Midnight wrapped one arm around her friend's shoulders and propelled her into my office.

They sat down on the couch together. Emerald gave me a vacant stare. I had seen that reaction before in clients who'd been traumatized. It was as if the body was still functioning, but the personality had gone into a dark closet and closed the door.

I stood next to them. “What happened to her?”

Midnight turned frightened eyes to me, sending out waves of panic. “When I came home this morning at dawn, I found her sitting out on the front stairs, staring off into space. I got her inside and sat with her for hours, trying to get her to eat something or tell me what happened, but she wouldn't say a word. I was going to cancel my appointment with you and take her to the emergency room, but then I thought maybe you could help.”

“Emerald?” I moved over to squat down in front of her. I held up my index finger in her line of sight and shifted it from side to side, watching to see if her eyes followed the motion. There was no reaction from her at all. I reached over and touched her hand. It was icy cold. She gave off no emotions. For all intents and purposes, the walking dead.

“Midnight, is Emerald usually this pale? How long has she been sick?”

“I guess I didn't really know she was sick. She's been complaining about being tired and sleeping a lot, but I've been so into Bryce that I didn't pay attention. I guess I've been a crummy friend.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

Well, maybe it's good for Midnight to focus on her friend for a while, get her mind off the vampire obsession. Even though she's feeling sad, I'm glad to see her expressing her emotions.

Still kneeling in front of her, I touched Emerald's cheek with the back of my hand. “I'm not a medical doctor, but I think we need to take Emerald to the emergency room. It just isn't normal for a person to have such a low body temperature.” Now that I was close to her, I could see some bruising on her neck and chest. I gently angled Emerald's head to the side so I could investigate and noticed several sets of small puncture marks running down her neck. I pulled back the collar of the jacket she was wearing and found that the wounds went all the way down to the top of her breast. There was a little dried blood on her skin and clothing.

I was just about to say it appeared Emerald had been attacked by some kind of animal when Midnight said, “Those are vampire bites.”

I was tempted to challenge the claim, but the helpless expression on Midnight's face stopped me. She was truly worried about her friend, and she was blaming herself.

By this time, all I was thinking about was getting Emerald to the hospital. I was in no mood to play “let's pretend,” but I also didn't want to damage the fragile trust that had been built between Midnight and me. Creating a therapeutic bond was a crucial turning point in therapy, and it wouldn't be good to burst the bubble.

“Let's get her to the hospital.” I stood. “I could call an ambulance, but it'll probably be faster to take my car.” I knew that Midnight usually walked or rode the bus to her appointments. Besides, I wasn't going to let them out of my sight until I knew they were in good hands.

Midnight rose and held Emerald upright while I gathered my purse and car keys. I opened the door, then supported Emerald's other side, and the three of us shifted sideways to exit through the narrow space.

“Hey, Ronald,” said Midnight, addressing a sweet-faced young man sitting in the waiting room.

“Oh, Ronald. I'm afraid we're going to have to reschedule our appointment. We have a bit of an emergency here,” I explained, stating the obvious.

Ronald was one of the “apprentices” Midnight had referred to me, and this was to have been our first session. I'd wondered if he'd show up in costume, but he hadn't. His squeaky-clean-looking auburn hair flowed down over his shoulders, and his round copper-colored eyes were warm and friendly. In fact, the only indication of his alternate lifestyle was his
Theatre of Blood
T-shirt and a pentagram earring hanging from one earlobe.

He stood. “Can I help?” he asked, with concern in his voice. “Emerald is a friend of mine. My van is parked right in front of the building.”

Without waiting for me to answer, he stepped out into the hallway, trotted down to the far end, and called the elevator.

Nice guy
, I thought.

Under other circumstances, I might have hesitated before accepting his help—after all, I'd only spoken to him on the phone before today, and I didn't really know much about him. Since my inner radar wasn't sending me any warning signals, I decided to take a chance and trust him. Besides, if it came down to needing to carry Emerald, I wasn't going to say no to another set of muscles.

I'd imagined that Ronald's van would be something you'd find on an old Grateful Dead album cover, but it was surprisingly nice and very clean. He opened the sliding door on the side, and Midnight and I climbed in, holding Emerald, who was fading fast. Her head drooped as if all the muscles and bones had been removed from her neck, causing her chin to bounce against her chest. She made tiny whimpering sounds that seemed to come from deep inside, and every few seconds her eyelids fluttered as if she were in REM sleep.

The hospital was only a few blocks away, but we managed to catch every red light and construction detour on the trip. My anxiety rose with each delay.

Ronald's eyes peered at us in the rearview mirror. “Who do you think did that to her, Midnight?”

“How would I know?” Midnight snarled, her voice loaded with hostility. I raised my eyebrows at her, and she answered, “Ronald doesn't like Bryce and his friends, either.”

My eyes shifted back and forth between them. “Is somebody implying that Bryce had something to do with this attack on Emerald?” The discussion already had me thinking about the call I'd make to the police. As a licensed therapist, I had a legal requirement to report harm.

“Nobody knows who hurt Emerald. Ronald's just being a jerk,” Midnight said. “He's mad because Bryce chose me instead of him.”

“I'm not the one being a jerk,” Ronald snapped.

Wow. The negative energy is as thick as fog in here. Apparently there are more dramas in the vampire-wannabe game than I know about.

We finally arrived at the emergency room entrance, and Ronald pulled the van into the no-parking zone, came around to let us out, and took my spot holding Emerald, who had slipped deeper into unconsciousness during the ride over. “Dr. Knight, you go on ahead and deal with the red tape.”

Looking as official as I could manage, I hurried to the admissions desk and enlisted the aid of a nurse. A gurney was wheeled over for Emerald, and she was taken away.

Since Midnight was the only one of us who had any information about Emerald, she filled out the hospital paperwork while Ronald went back outside to move his van before it was towed. I stepped outside for a moment to use my cell phone to cancel my last client of the day.

After she answered the nurse's questions, Midnight and I sat in the hard orange chairs in the noisy waiting area. The emergency room was filled with people in various states of crisis, and more trauma victims arrived every moment. There was that ever-present hospital smell: a combination of antiseptic, body fluids, and fear. I couldn't imagine working in a chaotic environment such as this, where the adrenaline was constantly pumping. I could almost see the tension in the air.

It was at times like these when my “sensitivity” really became a problem and I experienced sensory overload as strong emotions and physical discomforts bombarded me from all sides. I began utilizing all the mental tricks I'd learned to help me distract myself from the unwanted sensations and information. I closed my eyes tight and imagined myself surrounded by a circle of white light. That visualization usually did the trick, but this time it barely soothed the chaos. I still felt anxious.

I'd always been overly aware of people's feelings and emotions, but it was usually through clairsentience—just my normal idiosyncrasy. Somehow I simply knew what was going on inside their psyches. It came in very handy in therapy sessions, where I could do a little skillful intuiting and skip ahead a few pages.

I didn't know why exactly, but I had the notion that my discomfort had something to do with the weird experience with Devereux the other night. Maybe the suggestion he'd given me about my
third eye
—as if there was any such thing—had caused me to revisit yet another unwanted ability from my childhood. I had the fleeting thought that it would be helpful to speak with Devereux about this new development, that maybe he'd have some advice. Then the part of me that was already dangling outside her comfort zone slammed the door on that idea. She wasn't fooled. She knew I only wanted to see him again. In fact, I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Somebody help me. I'm possessed by a vampire wannabe.

I turned to Midnight. “Would you care to fill me in on what you and Ronald were talking about?”

She slumped down in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “I'm sorry I got mad. I'm really stressed out. I'm just so tired of everyone telling me that Bryce isn't good for me or that he's going to hurt me. They don't know him like I do. He would never hurt Emerald—he knows she's my friend. Besides, I think more than one vampire bit her.”