“Do you recognize this man, Doctor? I realize he’s a bit of a mess, but his features are easily identifiable.”
I struggled against my captor, still trying unsuccessfully to twist out of his grip. “I don’t want to look. What kind of ruthless demon are you? Didn’t you have a large enough audience for your insanity?”
“Yes, of course, but I went to all this trouble just for you, so I’m afraid I’ll have to insist that you cooperate. Let me get rid of that shadow so you can see better.” He cupped my chin, tilted it toward the body and yelled at his helper, “Bring one of the torches closer.”
The light was relocated and I tried to shut my eyes, but I couldn’t. My eyelids refused to follow my brain’s commands. Against my will, I stared down at the face. The man’s eyes and mouth were wide open, locked forever in a silent scream, startled by death’s sudden arrival.
There was something familiar about him. It took me a moment because of all the blood, then recognition crashed over me like a tidal wave: Carson Miller, the radio host. The obnoxious idiot. The dead guy.
My head spun, my body went clammy and my solar plexus cramped. Watching what I’d thought was a performance had been disgusting enough, but the realization that I’d sat passively by, observing the murder of a person I actually knew, was too much for my brain to handle.
He released me and my knees gave out. I dropped into a kneeling position in a pool of Carson’s blood.
“Oh, my. We are sensitive, aren’t we?” the vampire said, laughing.
I was too busy trying not to vomit to react to his psychotic sense of humor. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Well, it simply won’t do to have you smelling like the contents of your own stomach, so let me make it all better.” He reached down, grasped my arms and lifted me all the way up to his eye-level, effortlessly, as if I weighed nothing. Shocked by being hefted into the air, I met his eyes, but something about them felt bad — dangerous — so I quickly averted my gaze. Even that brief eye-contact caused me to go fuzzy, like I used to before the elders’ intervention.
“Oh, come now.” He spoke softly, in a low, rumbling voice. “Admit that you find my eyes beautiful. You can’t resist them.” He said the last four words as a command and my eyes shifted to his. I fought as hard as I could to focus anywhere else, but failed, locking gazes with his shining, silver pools and found myself agreeing when he said, “You feel wonderful — fully restored.”
He lowered me to the platform and I stood, swaying. I stared down at the bloody corpse and felt nothing. I was pretty sure I ought to have some kind of emotional reaction to being this close to a murder victim, but I couldn’t summon anything more than distant curiosity.
“There now. Much better — although you’re still a bit sweaty and pale. Let’s take off that repulsive wrap, shall we?” He peeled the coat off me, undressing me as if I were a small child, one arm at a time, and threw it to the other end of the platform, away from the blood. He took a step back.
Part of me thought losing the coat was a great idea. Being near the fire had overheated my body, and the smoke made it hard to breathe. The moment the parka was gone it was like a huge weight had been lifted off my body, literally.
But immediately another part of me, struggling to regain control, freaked out that my gun was gone. Not that a firearm would subdue a vampire, but maybe it would distract him long enough for me to make a run for it. Yeah, right — make a run for it against a creature who can think his way through time and space.
He was staring at me. I met his gaze.
A roguish smile slid across his face. “You’re quite right, dear doctor. A gun would do nothing against me. It wouldn’t even slow me down. I doubt if even the traditional methods for dispatching vampires would affect me anymore. Sometimes I actually find that distressing, not to mention boring. As I told you earlier today, I am older than you can imagine.”
As he’d told me earlier today? He’s a vampire. I didn’t have any vampire clients today. How could he—?
The realization of where I’d heard that voice before blasted fear through my body. My heart beat double-time and my breathing went shallow.
“I see the light is dawning for you, so to speak. I clouded your mind earlier. Now I want you to know me. Lyren Hallow, at your service.” He bowed his head. “I was your mysterious caller on the radio program this morning. The program where our dearly departed treated you with such disrespect.” He picked up one of the unused stakes and tossed it back and forth between his hands. “In a nod toward full disclosure, I’ll admit that I spent a little quality time with him before the radio program, which might have enhanced some of his less civilized tendencies in preparation for his time with you — it appears I have a rather primitive effect on everyone. That’s why he was particularly foul. But he was enjoying himself a little too much, so I had to make an example of him.”
Stunned by his revelation, my mouth had gone so dry I had to swallow a couple of times before I could speak. “You mean you killed him because of how he behaved on the radio this morning? Is that what you meant by saying it was for my benefit?”
He dropped the spike, which landed with a loud, echoing thump, and shrugged, his face friendly, as if we were discussing paint samples. “Why, yes, of course. Such poor breeding is inexcusable. Even more important, the repugnant human had a habit of using the burning ends of cigarettes to torment the women he coerced into spending time with him. While I don’t usually concern myself with the tawdry affairs of mortals, this particular specimen was especially intriguing. His predilections reminded me of my own, so I’m sure you can appreciate the twisted psychological pleasure I took in destroying him. Perhaps I’ll spend some time on your couch one day, and we can explore my motivations. In any case, he was merely a death waiting to happen. I accommodated him. After all, I am a vampire and killing is what we do. Although I’ll admit I do a lot more exterminating than most. We all have our gifts.”
My brain couldn’t get past the fact that Carson’s murder had something to do with me. I knew I hadn’t done anything myself to cause his death — the fanged Grim Reaper had made it clear he had his own sick reasons — but I was still swamped with sadness and confusion — and terror. What did the vampire have in store for me? Was I to be punished, too?
“No, my dear Dr. Knight,” he responded, reading my thoughts, “you did nothing deserving of punishment. Indeed, I have other plans for you.”
“Plans?” I croaked. “What plans?”
He studied me for a few seconds, his smile widening. “You will star in the glorious unfolding. But now is not the time to speak of that. You are tired, and I have other matters to attend to.” He glanced around at all the monster-costume-clad bodies in puppy-piles throughout the room. “I must awaken my devotees, erase their memories and send them home. I could leave them here to take the blame for the murder, but I have need of them later.”
I gazed around the room, still oddly surreal and floaty. “Why did you kill Carson in front of all these people? If it was truly your desire to rid the world of a bad man, why not just visit him in his room and drink him dry? Why make it so public?”
He grinned, his handsome face as innocent as a child’s. “Ah, Doctor, you’re applying your own limited interpretation. Don’t misunderstand: there is no such mortal designation as bad in my mind. I have no interest in ridiculous human notions, and as far as drinking him dry in private, what fun would that be? As the saying goes, ‘been there and done that.’ Now I must excuse myself. I hope you won’t mind seeing yourself home?”
He reached over and stroked his hand across my cheek. The feeling was very familiar — like the invisible touch when I first arrived in the park — and it was as if he threw a bucket of ice water on me. I suddenly came fully back to myself again as whatever he’d done to me receded, and the horror of standing next to an impaled body grabbed me by the throat. I jerked sideways a couple of steps, tripped over the unused stake and fell on my butt.
; Hallow smiled, and vanished from the platform.
Even though the room was still hot and the air thick, chills broke out on my arms. My sensing system shot off its version of flashing red lights and sirens and I struggled to my feet, ran to the other end of the platform and grabbed my parka. As I slipped into it I scanned the sea of sleeping bodies and was torn between concern for their welfare and being creeped-out by their life choices.
I jumped down from the platform and ran to the open doors. Dawn was lightening the eastern sky. I must have been inside far longer than I’d thought. It wasn’t until I reached the cool fresh air outside and took a deep breath that I began to wonder what had happened to Maxie. Was she still in the building? Should I go back in and search? And where the hell were the bodyguards I knew Devereux would have had tracking me? He was way too controlling to ever actually leave me on my own.
As soon as I asked myself those questions, the now-familiar voice spoke in my mind: “Your friend is safe and well. She drove herself home, in a mild trance, of course. No need to concern yourself with her or the sleeping children.” He chuckled. “I’m so glad you asked about your White Knight’s security force. I had so much fun eliminating each one, slowly and painfully.”
I scanned the area for the source of the voice, but Hallow wasn’t there, at least not physically. Oh. My. God. What about Devereux? Why hadn’t he followed me? That was so unlike him. He’s too strong to be influenced by this lunatic.
“Oh, but this is delicious! Sorry to be the one to break this to you, but your devoted warrior is having a hard time resisting me himself. In fact, he doesn’t even know how accommodating he’s being. He’ll be shocked.”
Shit. I need to get out of here. Go to the Crypt and warn Devereux...
Laughter echoed in my head. “No, I don’t think so — it wouldn’t do any good, anyway. Besides, he’s snoozing in his coffin and wouldn’t hear you if you screamed in his face. Go home now.”
“Go home? How am I supposed to do that when you kidnapped the person who drove me here—”
“Surely you haven’t already forgotten the new skills I gave you?”
I grabbed the sides of my head. Something about his voice was causing my skull to vibrate and I had the beginnings of a headache, which scared me. My hands shook and my heart pounded. He was obviously able to override my protections, which meant my brain was in danger again. I hurried toward the entrance to the park, hoping his voice would fade like a cell phone signal if I put distance between us. What new skills was he talking about?
“Come now, Doctor. How could you forget something so momentous, so otherworldly? Surely you recall your unexpected trip to your office earlier this evening?”
“Hey!” I yelled, pain radiating through my skull, “will you get out of my head before it explodes?”
Silence.
Had I just scolded a homicidal vampire? Something was definitely hinky with my impulse control lately.
I stopped dead and grabbed onto the splintered wooden counter of the ticket booth at the gate as my knees almost gave out. The absence of Hallow’s reverberating voice in my mind sent relief surging through my body.
The reprieve made me remember some research I’d read about using sound waves as a weapon, and how resonance could obliterate solid objects. I wondered how much pressure would have to be exerted to split open a skull? But I wasn’t about to volunteer to find out. How could a disembodied voice produce sound waves anyway?
More occult bullshit.
Anger and discouragement wrestled for position in my emotional control center. I couldn’t count the times over the last five months I’d regretted my decision to involve myself with supernatural beings and metaphysical philosophies that most people only fantasized — or had nightmares — about. I often had second thoughts about wading into the preternatural muck, not only because it was terrifying, but because there was no way to make sense of anything. There was no rule book. Never knowing what lurked in the next shadow was a recipe for ulcers and insanity.
And after everything that had happened, the likelihood that the vampires would let me walk away was nil.
As I stood alone in a burned-out amusement park at the crack of dawn, I wished with all my heart I could press the rewind button on the cosmic video camera and go back to my simple, safe life. Okay, it was boring, but secure, predictable.
But would I really go back? Pity party aside, would I really give up my new life if I had the chance? Give up my new clientele — and Devereux? Right then I didn’t have a clear answer, and I had more immediate problems to deal with.
Carson had been murdered. My first instinct was to call the police. I reached into my pocket and fished out my phone and started to punch in 9-1-1, then stopped. What was I doing? If I did call them, what would I say? An evil vampire — yes, they really did exist — kidnapped and staked a radio talk show host in front of an audience of fake monsters, a reporter for a scurrilous rag and a local psychologist? Then the bad vampire caused the audience to pass out, ordered his servants to grab the reporter, and traveled through thought to snatch the psychologist? Send the guys with the white coats, please. Reporting another murder I had no rational explanation for would trap me into a new legal ordeal, and I’d only just begun to recover, professionally and personally, from the first situation months earlier.
Too bad Lieutenant Bullock, the lead investigator on that serial murder case, and one of the only other local humans aware of the vampires, was off training at Quantico. She would’ve known what to do to straighten out this mess.
But I was on my own. I paced in a circle, grasping for ideas. What if I called in anonymously from a pay phone, if there were such a thing anymore? I could just report the crime, give the location — supposing they knew where the old amusement park was located, because I certainly didn’t — and hang up. Yeah, I could do that.
I tucked the cell phone back in my pocket and stared at the vast sky. Barely perceptible light softened the eastern horizon, announcing the approaching dawn. All the little vampires, except the day-walking Lyren Hallow, of course, would be snug in their coffins soon, the immortal horror show concluded for another night. Of course, the human maniacs were still free to spread their own brand of ghastly chaos, impervious to the position of the hands on the clock.
As much as I hated to admit it, Devereux had been right. He hadn’t been crying wolf about Hallow. The sociopathic bloodsucker was seriously dangerous. And what did he mean about having other plans for me? I’d witnessed his idea of fun, and remembering the sound of the large spikes piercing Carson’s limbs made the bile rise in my throat and my stomach clench. What could I possibly do to fend off such a demon?
The cautious portion of my psyche took center stage and began reciting the reasons I should go and hide in Devereux’s penthouse. She enthusiastically gave voice to my fears, and hadn’t even gotten halfway through her arguments when the smirking, rebellious part who’d thought it would be fun to leave Devereux out of the information loop swaggered into the spotlight, pushed Caution aside and grabbed the metaphorical microphone. They yelled at each other in my inner rubber room, attracting the attention of another indecisive group of my sub-personalities who stepped into the scene, observed the conflict and decided not to get involved, leaving Caution and Rebel to duke it out.
As I watched Caution leap onto Rebel’s back and wrestle her down, I hoped she’d have the strength to retain control. Who would I be if I wasn’t her? Then it occurred to me to wonder which part of me was doing the watching?
Schizophrenia, anyone?
I — whatever I meant at that point — concentrated my thoughts on Hallow. What if he’d lied about Maxie? What if he’d done something to her? As I thought that, I braced myself for another mental onslaught — more head-rumbling opinions from the dark hunter — but didn’t receive one. Had the murderer really stopped talking in my mind just because I’d asked him to? No, I didn’t believe that for a minute. Nothing about immortals was that simple. I was
sure the situation would prove to have more horrifying layers than I could anticipate, yet another aspect of vampires a human mind couldn’t comprehend.
I surveyed the empty landscape with the burned-out rollercoaster silhouetted against the sunrise and wondered again how I’d get home. I could call a cab — surely the dispatcher would know where this old park was located? That would certainly be the normal, rational, thing to do.
Then I thought about what Hallow had said about his little gift, and I suddenly remembered my earlier experience. Why not test out the traveling-through-thought thing. What if it wasn’t just a one-shot deal? It had worked before, although, granted, by accident. Was I refusing to try it just because he suggested I should? There was definitely a point to that. No good could possibly come from following the advice of a murdering psychopath. Maybe he was setting me up. My attempt to replicate my previous experience would no doubt amuse him. He’d probably get a kick out of watching me fail. Vampire or not, sociopaths shared some characteristics in common, and I was very familiar with those.
Wait a minute. What if I got caught in some weird vortex of time and space? I didn’t know enough about how vampires manipulated energy to have any options for rescuing myself if I got stuck between dimensions. A particularly gruesome episode of Star Trek came to mind where, due to a transporter malfunction, some poor man screamed as his molecules were wrenched apart and scattered into the universe. Sometimes I wished I didn’t have such a fertile imagination.
Actually, I’d be considerably more comfortable if there was some kind of contraption to step into, like on the television show: something with solid walls and a floor to stand on, and someone in charge of the process. Just intending to blink from one place to another felt like leaping into a bottomless abyss and hoping for the best.
Despite all my rational fears about transcending consensus reality, my body was apparently eager to give it a go. My intuition chimed in, nodding its head, willing to sign off on the experiment — or maybe that was Rebel’s voice. It was hard to tell. It was getting so crowded in my psyche that I wasn’t sure which part of me was at the controls now. Who was I to quibble about a tiny thing like my molecules scattering to the winds?
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