The Vampire Shrink (47 page)

Something about the way he said Devereux's name sent chills up my body. My pulse quickened, and my stomach contracted.
Where is Devereux, anyway?

“You aren't strong enough to do anything to Devereux.”

He gave a Cheshire cat smile. “Perhaps not. But Lucifer and me together—well, let's just say we're an unbeatable team.”

That was the second time he'd mentioned that name. Was he talking about the Devil? “Who's Lucifer?”

He laughed and uncupped himself. “You'll find out soon enough.”

Suddenly the air was filled with the familiar popping sounds and at least two dozen vampires materialized in the room. They carried bottles, carved boxes, enormous gemstones, ancient-looking books, statues, and swords. A couple of the new arrivals resembled the old bearded characters in
The Lord of the Rings.

Somehow I didn't think they were there to hold a Renaissance Faire.

Bryce nodded, pleased. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. “We'll go and enjoy the party while the ritual is prepared.”

“What ritual?”

“The ritual of High Magic that will render Devereux helpless long enough for me to take control of him. Lucifer already began the binding process in Devereux's dreams. Even now his power weakens.”

Devereux had mentioned he'd been experiencing strange dreams, and he'd said something about being tricked into entering a “difficult reality,” whatever that was.

Until that moment, I hadn't seriously tried to contact Devereux telepathically. I still had a hard time believing I could call up my supposed abilities at will. Pushing the doubt aside, I put everything I had into sending a burst of thought to him, and for a second I could've sworn I
heard
him say my name.

I didn't know if that was good news or not. It certainly would be great for me if he turned up—but if he did, he'd be the guest of honor at the Ritual from Hell. I didn't care for the sound of this Lucifer guy.

“What about Midnight and Ronald and Alan?”

“They're perfectly fine.” Bryce spoke pleasantly, nonchalantly waving a hand in the air. He lowered his chin and whispered. “For now.”

“Can you save Midnight?”

Harsh laughter burst from his mouth. “Silly human.” He addressed his pint-size servant. “Raleigh, drag the girl and her savior over to the corner with the FBI agent. We need the space in the center of the room to cast the circle.”

Raleigh gave a dramatic bow and skipped over to Midnight. He pulled her by the arm, and her head slammed onto the floor as it fell off Ronald's lap.

“Please! Don't hurt her!” Ronald's eyes glistened with tears. It feels horrible to be helpless.

“Get over here under your own steam, or I'll be happy to drag you, too,” Raleigh yelled at Ronald. “Of course, your arm might accidentally be pulled out of its socket, but by that time you'll have passed out and won't notice.” He made a braying sound that was probably laughter.

Bryce beamed like a proud parent watching a precocious child. He appeared to be having a very good time. He turned to one of the bearded vampires who'd brought over a jar of something for him to inspect.

Movement in one of the mirrors caught my eye. A man dressed not in vampire regalia but in an old-fashioned waistcoat and breeches stalked across the room and stood at the edge of the activity, watching. In his hands he carried a violin and bow. He began gesturing angrily with the bow, his face contorted, his mouth forming soundless words.

None of the vampires in the middle of the room responded. Apparently they couldn't hear him either. I shifted my head so I could see the man directly instead of reflected in the mirror. He wasn't there. Turning back to the mirror I found him right where he'd been before.

I tried the experiment again, with the same result. What the hell? Was I the only one who was able to see this guy?

It was obvious from his body language that the violinist was becoming progressively more upset the longer he was ignored.

He moved toward Raleigh, who was hefting a large black stone into place in the circle, and poked him with the bow … which passed right through his body. Not getting the result he desired obviously enraged the man further. He stamped his foot and threw his bow on the floor.

When he bent over to pick it up, his eyes met mine in the mirror. Surprise flashed across his face, and he disappeared.

No. I didn't just see that. Bryce must've messed with my brain again. No more supernatural weirdness. I refuse to believe one more unbelievable thing.

At that moment, Bryce dismissed the bearded vamp and turned to me. He closed his arm around my waist. I felt a feather's breath of air against my face; then we were down on the main floor, in the middle of the party.

I almost asked him how he managed to come and go without smashing into or landing on top of anyone but caught the words before they left my mouth. I didn't want him to mistake my nervous chatter for actual interest in anything about him.

I craned my neck, searching the area for Brother Luther, and was relieved to come up empty. Since I hadn't heard back from Lieutenant Bullock, and Alan was incapacitated upstairs, I hoped the lunatic wouldn't show up. According to what Bryce had said, there was already a full dose of misery on tap for the evening.

Misery, and a ghost in the mirror.

A velvet voice floated through my mind. “My love.”

I started to say, “Dev—”

“Speak to me silently, in your mind. Bryce is not very good at telepathy—he lacks discipline—but we do not want to draw his attention.”

I didn't waste any time questioning whether or not I could communicate telepathically. I sent him a bundle of thoughts, emotions, and pictures, sharing everything I knew about Brother Luther, Bryce's intentions, the ritual to trap him, and someone named Lucifer.

“I will not allow harm to come to you. Do not let anyone know you have spoken to me. I will be close by. No matter what.”

I felt an odd emptiness and knew he was gone.

Bryce's mouth was moving, so I assumed he'd been talking to me. I focused on his words, hoping he'd provide more useful information.

“—why he would be interested in someone like you.”

“What?” I blurted, annoyed that I'd missed the first part of his sentence. I held my hands over my ears, pretending I hadn't heard him because of the loud music.

He scowled and raised his voice. “Devereux knew when he brought me over that I'd be powerful. He also knew how I felt about him. I don't care what he says—he's as bisexual as the rest of us. I never did believe his song and dance about waiting for some soul mate or whatever. It's bad enough he's making a fool of himself over a woman, but a
human
woman is beyond belief.” The evil grin slid across his face again. “He'll have a long time to regret and reassess his choices. I might still take him back. If he begs. Let's dance.”

Before I could protest, or think of a way to avoid the close contact, Bryce had pulled me onto one of the table-free areas where couples were slow dancing. He put his hands on my rear end and ground his lower body against mine.

I struggled to free my arms from his rigid embrace. He didn't even notice. He was busy studying my cleavage in the low-cut dress.

“I might just have to sample the goods Devereux is so hot for before the night is over. You've got big tits. I like that.” He reached a hand around, grabbed my breast, squeezed it, and laughed. “More than a handful.” He slid his hand from my breast to the hair resting beside it and lifted a curl. “Your hair is long. It's almost as pretty as mine. Almost.”

If he was waiting for me to compliment his hair, he'd be a rotted corpse in vampire hell before that happened.

Thankfully, he didn't react to my lack of response.

He palmed my butt cheeks again and moved us assertively through the crowd. He clearly fancied himself the vampire Fred Astaire. As we circled the dance floor, I searched for familiar faces.

I thought it might be easy to pick out the vampires in the sea of wannabes, but it turned out to be more complicated than I expected. The high quality of the costumes, makeup, wigs, and fake fangs made identifying the real vampires challenging. Everybody looked like an authentic bloodsucker.

The longer we danced among them, however, the more I began to notice the familiar third-eye tingle when I was in the vicinity of a vampire. Not only that; I found I was able to intuitively sense the level of the vampires' powers. Some of them barely sent out enough buzz to charge a flashlight battery, while others came across like a mini–cattle prod to the midsection.

My stomach muscles had repeatedly contracted since Bryce had kidnapped us out of my living room—fear tends to do that—so it was a good guess he belonged in the second category.

Apollo had told me that a vampire was only as powerful as the one who made him, so if Devereux was Bryce's maker, his abilities were probably beyond the norm. Or whatever passed for normal in vampire reality.

Vampire. Reality.
Two weeks ago I'd never have put those words in the same sentence.

The slow song ended and the band launched into one of those world-beat compositions that combined African and Latin rhythms. The primitive drumbeats called to the celebrants, and the dance floor filled.

I had to admit, most vampires might be sick puppies, but they could dance.

Bryce flipped me around so my rear nestled against his groin. His arms encircled my waist, pulling me tighter against his apparently ever-present erection as he propelled us through the cavorting masses. He boogied, shifting his hips from side to side, forcing me to mimic his movements.

Ever since we'd popped onto the main floor, I'd been so occupied with Bryce, spotting Brother Luther if he arrived, and trying to communicate with Devereux that I'd missed some interesting developments.

I'd always thought most men were overly fond of their penises. They were always ready, willing, and able to talk about them, show them to you, touch you with them, or try to sneak them into any warm, wet, available place.

Vampires had apparently elevated penis fixation to an art form. Sexual activity surrounded me on the dance floor, with penises being stroked by either the owner or a willing partner of either sex.

I'd stumbled into a vampire porn video.

Was that what being immortal meant? Bloodsucking and masturbation? Why was it only the male vampires? Did something weird happen to testosterone in the transformation? Was that the best they could do with eternal life—perpetual sexual adolescence?

Devereux was right. Vampires are a completely separate species. And, apparently, most of them are insane.

Lost in thought, I was startled when a woman screamed a few feet away from me. I was able to hear it only because the tone of her cry was higher-pitched than the music. I jerked my head in the direction of the scream and saw a woman pinned to the floor by a vampire whose fangs were embedded in her neck.

I guessed she wasn't a willing donor.

None of the bystanders offered to help her. In fact, the attack only excited the strokers more.

I struggled to get out of Bryce's grasp, and he clasped me tighter, rubbing himself against me, making soft moaning sounds. It was completely stupid of me to think I could do anything to make the vampire release his victim, but I absolutely couldn't just stand there and watch. I stomped down hard on Bryce's foot with the heel of my shoe, and he relaxed his arms enough for me to slide down through them. I don't think he let go because I hurt him, but because I surprised him. He was obviously distracted.

I leaped onto the back of the sucking vampire, who turned out to be a very large, muscular, smelly bloodsucker who flicked me off without even lifting his mouth from the woman's neck.

Laughter echoed around me as I fell to the floor on my back. A hand reached out of a full-length hooded robe to help me up, and I caught a glimpse of a familiar face inside the hood. Even the clown-like vampire makeup couldn't disguise Lieutenant Bullock's distinctive features. I started to acknowledge her, but she stopped me with the slightest shake of her head.

Bryce's arm snaked around my waist again, and he jerked me up off my feet, holding my back against his chest. “Ordinarily I'd punish you for your absurd actions, but I still need you for a little while longer. You're lucky Lucifer wants you. Playtime's over. Let's go back upstairs.”

The woman on the floor had stopped screaming and was clearly dead.

The crowd actually applauded.

Vampires suck. In more ways than one.

I managed to catch Lieutenant Bullock's eyes and shifted mine in the direction of the high balcony, showing her where we were going. She replied with an almost invisible nod, lowered the hood over her face, and merged into the crowd.

Just before Bryce popped us out, I caught a glimpse of several robed figures heading toward a doorway.