The Vampire Shrink (43 page)

What was up with all the naked vampires? Was nudity a requirement to join the club?

The mentally ill sometimes act out childhood shame issues by getting naked and being sexually aggressive. Masturbation as an anxiety-relieving and self-soothing technique was common. That didn't surprise me.

And I wasn't a prude. I'd spent as much time as any other woman in health club locker rooms, making small talk with other naked women. Still, a naked vampire built like a silicone-enhanced supermodel calmly cruising around my kitchen was a little out of my comfort zone.

It was natural to be curious about a body that perfect, but actually gawking at it had to be out of the question. What was I supposed to look at while I spoke to her? I wondered how many times Devereux had seen her naked. Geez. Together they'd look like a god and goddess.

Insecure? Me?

CHAPTER 23

I
t probably made sense that a vampire wouldn't worry about human rules. I mean, once you were undead, who were you trying to impress? Who would get in your face about anything, anyway, if the result would be having your throat torn out?

Luna glided down the stairs, moving with feline grace. Her calm exterior only partially camouflaged the power and violence lurking just under the surface. She was still naked. She strolled over to the washing machine, noted the cycle wasn't complete, and sat down at the kitchen table.

How weird was it to have a sky-clad vampire wandering around your house?

I'd replaced the lightbulbs and done everything I could in the living room. Now it would be up to the cleaning crew. I heard the washing machine spin cycle click off and walked over to shift her clothes into the dryer.

Like the moment in a horror movie when the forest goes strangely silent and we know the monster is watching us through the trees, a chill ran through my body, sliding an ice cube down my back. I turned to look at Luna.

She was watching me, eyes narrowed, the tips of her fangs peeking out through parted lips. “I need blood.”

Terror took me hostage. In three seconds, I'd gone from being in denial about the predator padding around my kitchen to having every ancestral alarm bell in my psyche clanging madly. My stomach contracted, I felt hot and cold at the same time, and my knees were suddenly rubber.

Smart-mouthed, cynical Luna was gone and in her place was a vampire. A creature that drank human blood—a hungry predator.

I had only one card to play. My mouth had gone totally dry, and I was only partially successful at keeping the fear out of my voice. I knew she could sense it, anyway. “If you're thinking about having my neck as your entrée, you'd better consider what Devereux will say. He is, as you said, somewhat attached to me.”

My anxiety escalated. Her intention saturated the air. I knew exactly what she meant to do.

She stood and stalked very slowly across the room, closing in on me. She locked her eyes on mine, which caused me to get the fuzzy, floating feeling that meant she was pulling me into her gaze, taking control of my mind.

I visualized the protective wall that usually kept me from drowning in other people's energy and felt it collapse. Nothing in my repertoire could hold up against the kind of power Luna wielded.

This wasn't vague energy. It was laser-sharp mind control.

I threw my hands up, palms out, in a reflexive action, which did nothing but give her something to grab.

Pinning me against the washing machine with her lower body, she ran her hands up and down my arms, holding me still. Her silver eyes were large and foggy, as if the lights were on but no one was home. Her pointy fangs elongated as she caressed them with her tongue. She leaned in and slowly licked the side of my neck.

I braced myself for the shock of pain I was sure would come and was surprised to hear a scream.

She'd slid her hand across my chest and encountered the necklace. It had the same reaction to Luna that it had to the bald lunatic. There was a flash of light and a sensation strong enough to cause her to drop the necklace and leap away from me.

As she stood snarling, the fog in her eyes cleared and her fangs retracted into her gums.

I wrapped my arms around myself and trembled. The part of my brain that had wanted nothing more than to do whatever Luna commanded threw cold water on itself and woke up. I stared wide-eyed at the creature in front of me. She'd known about the necklace, but the bloodlust apparently didn't waste time on frivolous details.

It was impossible for me to truly understand the craving for blood, to have blood obsession to the point of being enthralled by the need. But I'd just gotten a psychic encyclopedia full of information from Luna's mind that horrified and sickened me. Mental postcards of all the bodies she'd drained, all the destruction she'd caused, slammed into my brain.

She might not have wanted to kill me, but she would have—even if it meant Devereux would destroy her.

My body was shaking, a delayed reaction to my second near-death experience of the night.

Luna backed away and reclaimed the chair at the kitchen table, still watching me, her fists clenched. She was clearly struggling to regain control. Her eyes were dull, with dark smudges underneath, her skin pasty white.

She cleared her throat, then spoke, her voice husky. “You're lucky Devereux gave you that necklace. If you hadn't been wearing it, I'd have bled you. I would've tried to take only enough to sustain me until I could find another source, but I probably wouldn't have been able to restrain myself. Hunger after being wounded is the worst. There's nothing in the human experience that comes close to being as powerful as the need for blood. Not even a heroin addict's craving for a fix. I have to go and feed.” She sighed and licked her lips. “Until I do, I'm a danger to you. Not that I care, but Devereux does.”

“You're right,” I said, my voice still weak, “Devereux does care.”

Holy shit. I'm glad to have the necklace, but I'd be a fool to put all my faith in it—or in Devereux's protection. Note to self: buy wooden stakes.

She sneered, “Necklace or no, even now I can't think of anything but the taste of your blood and the pulse pounding in your neck. I'll go and find one of my regular sources, one of my vampire addicts. It won't take long. Then I'll come back.”

Is that a promise or a threat?

It was probably stupid to question a hungry vampire, but I couldn't help myself. “Do you mean you're going to go kill someone?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I'll find one of the humans who regularly donates blood and sex. Getting both my needs met at the same time seems to take the edge off.” She stared at me with cold eyes, her voice deep and serious. “Don't make the mistake of thinking that vampires are just eccentric humans who simply have a nasty little habit or two. We're not human. We take blood from willing and unwilling victims alike. Killing is what we do. We enjoy it. All of us. You might be surprised to know what pleasure it brings me to fantasize about draining you dry.”

She rose, sauntered over, and gazed at me through her thick eyelashes, a cold grin on her face. “In fact, you could say you and I have a date the moment Devereux dumps you.”

I started to ask another question, but she flicked her fingers dismissively and said, “That's enough. If I don't leave now, you'll be sorry.”

She blinked out, and I slid to the floor, my back against the washing machine. Exhaustion swamped me.

I woke up in sunlight, lying on top of the covers on my bed, Devereux's voice an echo in my mind.

“My love, Luna told me what happened last night. I am sorry I was not there to protect you. Something very strange is happening. I was tricked into journeying into a difficult reality and was intercepted once I arrived there. The power necessary for someone to deceive me is beyond any I have seen before. We must be vigilant. I will come to you as soon as I rise. Oh yes—here is the address of your new office: 984 Lincoln Avenue, Number 505. The building manager is expecting you. Until tonight.”

A phantom vampire lover, a religious fanatic killer, and a beauty queen predator.

Just another day in undead Oz.

My first glimpse of the emergency room décor in my living room was depressing. For one brief moment I had hoped it was a bad dream and I'd find my living space just as normally cluttered and blood-free as usual.

But no.

As promised, my front door now had new locks, and my illusion of safety was restored.

I spent a few minutes on the phone, interviewing cleaning services, being very up front about the bloodstains, and settled on the one that specialized in taking “the jobs that nobody else wants.”

The woman started to tell me about the last crime scene they'd been hired to restore and how no one would ever have known that an entire family had been brutally murdered there, and I cut her off, saying I was sure they could handle my situation. Too much information.

They agreed to come later that day.

Once showered and dressed, I decided to focus on finding another office. I wanted to make a change regardless of what my current building manager chose to do.

Unfortunately, I discovered immediately that my infamy had spread and, suddenly, none of the vacancies in the paper were still available after they heard my name. I couldn't really blame them, because what property manager in her or his right mind would want to rent to someone who'd had her office recently trashed by a murderer?

Then I remembered Devereux's mental memo. Had he said something about an office?

I closed my eyes and allowed the address he'd imprinted in my memory to resurface; then I grabbed my purse and keys and headed out, wondering briefly if my guardian vampires had really spent the night out in my yard, and if it had been Luna who'd carried me upstairs.

Cold chills ran through my body as I imagined myself sleeping and vulnerable as Luna crouched over me, maybe thinking about which vein she'd puncture first.

Surprised the media was still missing, I drove to the address Devereux had given me, which turned out to be only a block away from the Crypt. The building was spectacular: delightfully old, it had been lovingly restored and remodeled, and now it was the crown jewel of the neighborhood. A garage, built to blend in with the architecture of the antique building next door, sported a sign that said, “Parking for the Crypt and Lady Amara Only.”

The building is named after Lady Amara—Devereux's mother?

Come to think of it, Midnight had mentioned that Devereux lived in a loft near the club. It looked like he owned the whole building.

Damn. I'd been so caught up in trying not to believe Devereux was a vampire that I hadn't given any thought to the fact he was also a
rich
vampire.

I pulled into the parking garage, then walked around to the lobby entrance and stepped through the wood-framed stained-glass double doors.

Breathtaking. Gold-etched marble floors stretched out for hundreds of square feet, and just past the bank of elevators stood a large reception desk. Plush leather couches and chairs were scattered throughout the room, Devereux's artwork filled the walls, and relaxing music flowed from invisible speakers. Still gawking at the beautiful lobby, I walked to the reception desk and asked for the building manager.

The voluptuous woman seated behind the desk smiled brightly and asked my name. Upon hearing it, she rose and held out her hand. As I shook it she introduced herself. “I'm Victoria Essex, building manager, receptionist, troubleshooter, and all-round wunderkind. I've been expecting you.” She sailed her arm through the air in the direction of the elevators. “Right this way.” Her chin-length, golden curls bounced as she walked.

The elevator was a mirrored affair: lovely to look at, but it might be annoying to have nothing to rest your eyes on but yourself during your ride in the box. Unless, of course, you had company, and then you had total license to indulge your people-watching desires to your heart's content.