Crimson Psyche

by Lynda Hilburn

  In the face of so much preternatural insanity, all I could think about was how beautiful they both were.

  I rolled onto my side and raised myself into a sitting position, but even that small movement was harder than it should have been, as though my muscles had forgotten their programming, or the bridge between the thought and the action had been washed away in the unnatural hormonal flood.

  The lustful part of me — the hormonal adolescent, as Victoria called her — was still quivering in the afterglow. She wanted to leap into the fray, seize Hallow and force him to pierce my neck again with his paroxysm-inducing fangs. She was annoyed that her good time had been interrupted.

  But the logical part, my Inner Psychologist, was scowling, arms crossed.

  My psyche was at war with itself again, but it had reached a temporary impasse. I honestly wasn’t sure which part of me would prove to be the victor.

  There was no telling what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten distracted. One of the vampires in the circle, a male I hadn’t seen before, reached out to help me up. I stared at the pale hand for a few seconds before grabbing onto it. I didn’t hesitate just because he was a stranger, or because I was busy having a lust-instigated psychotic break, but also because I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me if I managed to become vertical. His hand was unpleasantly cool and I released it as quickly as I politely could, after giving him a nod of acknowledgment. I had a momentary thought that it was no longer unusual or frightening to be surrounded by vampires. That couldn’t be good.

  I backed against the railing and gawked at the spectacle.

  Inhuman growls, snarls and hisses erupted from the fighters, and the grotesque sounds caused an itching sensation on my skin, like hundreds of tiny bugs crawling on the surface. That wasn’t too much of a surprise, since I’d already seen lots of evidence of how a vampire voice could elicit pleasure or pain.

  One part of me found watching them very exciting, for the other, it was quite terrifying.

  Devereux and Hallow tore at each other’s throats, carving great bloody gashes that immediately healed, only to be ripped open again. They were god-like zombies, one second wrestling on the ground, then the next levitating off the ground before they smashed one another savagely into the nearest wall. I’d never seen anything as viciously, violently primitive. Their shirts were soon shredded, then discarded.

  In the midst of the carnage, Hallow laughed, which obviously infuriated Devereux. With renewed vigor, he wrestled his opponent to the ground, displaying truly impressive skills and power, and a flash of confusion shadowed Hallow’s face at Devereux’s unexpected abilities. Watching the two of them, their muscles straining and rippling across sculpted shoulders and chests, was horribly confusing. My wild side found it arousing, but my more rational aspect — the one who couldn’t imagine life without Devereux — was terrified that the ancient monster might prevail. I gasped in fear.

  My inadvertent sound must have distracted Devereux, causing him to shift his gaze to me and to lift his hands from Hallow’s neck, where he’d been gouging at the flesh of the maniac’s throat, and in that instant, Hallow vanished, and reappeared across the room. That was odd — couldn’t Hallow transport himself while Devereux focused on him? Was Devereux’s physical touch keeping Hallow from blinking from one place to another? Or was it Devereux’s attention?

  Hallow shook his head, blood spraying from his long hair like water shaken off a wet dog, and in a booming voice cried, “What marvelous entertainment you’ve provided, Devereux. I can’t remember when I’ve had such a rousing time. I look forward to our next rendezvous, but I have much to complete before ending my work here.” He materialized next to me, grabbed my hair and pulled my face to his, pressing his lips forcefully against mine before releasing me just as abruptly.

  Fear flooded my brain and at the same time Lust donned her party dress and grabbed her coat, ready to check into Hotel Hallow, the other, cautious, part held a metaphorical bucket of cold water at the ready.

  Devereux sprang to his feet, growling. He recaptured my gaze and, chanting in the strange language he used when working magic, stalked like a dangerous predator toward us. Hallow bowed from the waist and laughed again, pointing at me. “I will leave her in your care for a while longer.” He raised an eyebrow. “If she’s willing to stay. But don’t get too comfortable. She’s mine now.” He disappeared.

  Enveloped in a strange fugue, I experienced that odd, dissonant sense again: the schizophrenic need both to be with Hallow and to run from him. My conflicting parts jockeyed for position while arguing in my head. Having two clear aspects taking center stage was definitely new to me, and it was frightening. I’d always been aware of my inner cast of characters, and comfortable with them. Like everyone, I had certain characteristics that dominated my psychic landscape, but my sub-personalities usually took turns sitting in the driver’s seat. I now had dual pilots in my consciousness cockpit, and neither wanted to relinquish the controls.

  I had to believe the compassionate, wise part of me would find a way to triumph. All other outcomes were unimaginable.

  Victoria’s description of my behavior at Devereux’s club, and my inability to remember the time in question, was classic dissociative amnesia — that was bad enough. But this was different. I was fully aware of both parts of myself, and their differing agendas. I feared I’d detoured onto the entrance ramp to madness.

  Devereux looked like a bomb-blast victim at a cover model convention. He studied me for a few seconds before flicking his fingers in a dismissive gesture at his companions. “Leave us,” he ordered, and they vanished.

  The remaining scraps of clothes were torn and bloody and his hair and skin were coated with thick red blood, but his body showed no physical damage from the undead brawl he’d just participated in. He slid his arm around my waist and propelled me toward a wooden bench against a brick wall. When we sat, I slumped against him, mentally and physically exhausted.

  Lust strolled over to a shadowy corner of my psyche and stood waiting, an amused expression on her face. She let me know she wasn’t going anywhere, but she would allow me the illusion of control, for the moment. I wondered what would happen if I couldn’t retain my portion of our joint reality. Would she simply take over my whole personality, or would the entire structure collapse?

  I shifted my gaze to Devereux’s serious profile. Lust peeked over my mental shoulder to leer at his glorious bare chest before she retreated back to her patch of darkness, laughing.

  “What the hell just happened?” I raised my fingers to the throbbing bite on my neck and they came away bloody. Touching the wound caused my body to spasm dramatically, as if the memory of the orgasm was still there, eager to rejoin the party. Devereux grabbed me, steadying me on the bench. I held my breath, waiting for my alter ego to do something outrageous, but she only watched, her impish smile in place. What was she up to?

  Devereux smoothed a strand of hair from my cheek. “The demon has reestablished his influence over you. I can sense the chaos in your energy field.”

  I shivered, either from the cooling temperatures of the evening or in reaction to Hallow’s bite, and Devereux lifted me onto his lap, holding me tight against his chest. “Come. We will return to the penthouse.”

  “No. Not yet. Let’s sit here for a moment.” I didn’t want to go back inside the building. Breathing the fresh air felt great, and the open sky gave me the illusion of normality, whatever that was. Lust stepped forward inside our shared mind and tapped an imaginary watch on her wrist. What the hell was that supposed to mean? How bizarre was my mental meltdown going to become?

  If I survived having two radically different personalities running my body, I’d never again question my dissociated clients’ accounts of their experiences, I told myself fervently. I wondered if Dr. Jekyll had to consciously live through the exploits of Mr. Hyde.

  Devereux rocked me gently for a few seconds before he spoke again, his cheek resting against my hair. “I mu
st accept full responsibility for what has happened to you. I refused to see what was clearly in front of me. I knew Hallow was powerful, and that he used his wiles to ensnare women, but I believed my own vampiric abilities and magical skills could keep him in check. Even surrounded by my security force, you were not safe. He is more dangerous now than he was the last time I encountered him. I was overconfident, and you have paid the price.”

  I started to sit up, intending to assure him I knew he’d done everything he could, but he pulled me close against his body.

  “Wait, Kismet. Please, let me finish.”

  I shut my mouth and relaxed. He obviously needed to talk.

  “Victoria shared some of her concerns with me about Hallow. She spoke of her visions — how she had seen Hallow in your townhouse, and on a stage of some kind with you. She said she saw him bite you. I was so certain that my spells would protect your home that I did not consider the possibility that Hallow is not subject to any rules — human, vampire or magical. Even after she shared her insights, I did not take action quickly enough.” He was silent for a few seconds. “I am angry because I do not know how to protect you from his malicious intentions. In all my eight hundred years I have rarely been bested, and it is a bitter fruit to swallow. Even now, I doubt that I am immune to his powers. Like you, I have recently found myself behaving in ways that are unusual for me, as if the choices were not mine. My consciousness has been hazy. But I will continue to fight against his influence.”

  Shit. That’s very bad.

  He went totally still, his breathing and heartbeat growing faint. Those human-like functions were under his direct control, and I wondered if he’d simply forgotten about them.

  In a bid to break whatever introspective spell he’d woven around himself, I said, louder than necessary, “Can I sit up now?” He’d been holding me so tightly, I was having a hard time breathing.

  He released his grip and heaved a huge sigh. “Yes, of course. I apologize. Once again I have behaved obliviously. You must truly think me a thoughtless cave dweller by now.”

  His heart jolted back to life in his chest and his breath wafted against my skin. He’d told me he only bothered with things like breathing when he was around me or other mortals. I appreciated his efforts, because I certainly took breathing for granted and didn’t think I was ready for him to remind me constantly of his corpseness. There was no need for me to give him any lectures about his previous arrogance, or his tendency to gently bulldoze, because he was being harder on himself than I would’ve been, so I tried to lighten the mood.

  “Oh, yes. You’re a regular Fred Flintstone,” I teased.

  “Fred Flintstone?” He lowered his voice and locked eyes with me, as if the topic warranted the utmost seriousness. “Is he one of your clients?” Articulating the words very clearly in his antiquated manner, he imbued them with great importance. How he’d managed to become the successful billionaire he was, functioning in this modern century, was a mystery, since his education about anything he didn’t consider pertinent was meager. I guessed someone of Devereux’s age and temperament might find society’s focus on the superficial to be uninteresting.

  He obviously doesn’t have a television in his coffin.

  “No, he’s a cartoon character, but that’s not important.” I knew he was going to take offense and ask if I thought he was one, and that wasn’t what I meant. “I don’t think you’re a thoughtless cave dweller, although if you’d asked me that a couple of days ago, I might have given you a different answer.”

  He recognized the humor in my face and smiled. “Yes. And I would have deserved it.” His expression became solemn again. “I have since discovered that Hallow created the trouble between the two vampire covens I have been attempting to resolve.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His mind-control abilities are second to none. He knew exactly how to distract and manipulate me, and I was a fool not to recognize it. In my mistaken belief that as Dracul’s previous adversary, I was the only one who could settle the dispute, I walked right into Hallow’s clever ruse, just as he intended. It is true that the factions were in need of mediation, but only because of his intervention. I should have realized this much sooner, and I should have been more available to you. I should never have left your side.” He kissed my forehead.

  My therapeutic lecture on the parental roots of the tendency to “should” oneself sprang to mind. Apparently I couldn’t ever stop being a therapist, even in the midst of a psychic brain split, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate the unofficial counseling session. He was being so sweet and beating himself up so badly, I thought it was time for me to own up to my own participation in the problem.

  “Well, as fascinating as your self-flagellation is, I have to admit I didn’t make it easy for you to remain by my side. And I didn’t listen to you when you said Hallow was influencing me. I had no idea what you meant then, but I do now. I wasn’t aware of his ability to force me to forget my logical, practical self and to become a more primitive aspect of my nature. I didn’t realize he was a literal monster until I watched him kill the radio show host in front of my eyes.”

  He froze again. His relaxation immediately morphed into rapt attention as his body adopted a rigid posture. “What? When did you witness such a thing?”

  The cool temperature and the energetic buzz of Devereux’s impending anger had become uncomfortable. I needed a few minutes to organize my thoughts. For the first time I noticed my feet were bare, as if my brain wanted something simple to focus on. I wondered what had happened to my shoes. “If we’re going to have that discussion, I want to go back inside.”

  Without a word, he gathered me into his arms, stood and transported us effortlessly to my bedroom in his penthouse.

  I expected him to launch right into demanding to know how I’d seen Carson die, but he surprised me by changing the subject. He was taking the news very well. I didn’t know what to make of the rapid mood shift, but since I was currently the Queen of Split Personalities, I didn’t see how I could point any fingers at him.

  His gorgeous eyes twinkled. “We are both blood-covered, which I am sure is a greater burden for you than for me. I am, after all, very comfortable in this state.” He gave a dazzling smile. “Perhaps we should discard our soiled garments and shower before we continue our discussion.”

  No matter what else is happening, a guy is always a guy.

  My eyebrows shot up. “Is that your way of asking me to have sex with you? In the midst of all the insanity we’re dealing with? After the fight you just had?” Lust drew my attention by jumping up and down, clapping her hands. She started unbuttoning her blouse, a wide smile on her face.

  I thought he’d make a lighthearted remark, perhaps toss out a double entendre, but he became serious again, almost sad.

  “At this moment, I am at a loss to know how to proceed. I want to keep you safe, yet short of holding on to you physically, I am without options. I will, of course, cast all the appropriate spells and strengthen your protective necklace — which, by the way, is probably the only reason Hallow was not able to completely take you over again tonight. I will station vampire guards at each entrance, and I have ordered the building’s security heightened in every way. The truth is that I need to reclaim you, physically and emotionally. And I need to find myself again. I know that sounds primitive, maybe like something your Fred Flintstone would do.” He grinned when he said the last. “But I need to rebuild our emotional bond, to soothe my own yearning as well as protect you. And, yes,” the brilliant smile was back, “of course, I always want to have sex with you.”

  Gazing up into his sparkling aqua eyes and blood-clumped platinum hair, I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

  “So, this would be sex for magical purposes?”

  He gave a brief nod. “It could definitely be considered such.”

  “Some men would be too upset after the evening we’ve had to concentrate on sex.”

  He gave a
slow blink, the corners of his mouth curving. “I am not a man. I am a vampire. A very old vampire. Rest assured that concentration will not be a problem.”

  His tone of voice played along my body like warm hands. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. At that point it didn’t matter to me which personality was rolling out the welcome mat. Our nipples were hard.

  The scientist part of me remembered that I’d often had discussions with clients about the difference between male and female sexuality, and how men felt most connected during the sex act. Devereux needing to reconnect that way made total sense. As always, his self-awareness was impressive. How could I resist such a perfect male — even if he was a chest-beater on occasion?

  “Well, then.” I gave what I hoped was a come-hither look. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of not holding up my end of our emotional bond. I guess I’ll have to suffer through another glorious Devereux orgasm. Only in the name of soothing you, of course.” Maybe he was more brilliant than I thought. Was he suggesting sex to positively distract me?

  He threw back his head and laughed and the sound tickled over me like soft feathers. He walked us into the lovely bathroom. “Of course.”

  Returning me to my feet, he cocked his head. “Your clothing is ruined. That is another score I will settle with the demon. A replacement will be arranged.” He bent down, grasped the hem of my dress and began to tug it up my body. I raised my arms up, letting him pull what was left of the masterpiece over my head and he dropped it on the floor, leaving me standing in my blue silk bikini panties, matching bra and protective necklace.

  With an easy motion he removed his boots, then unbuttoned the waistband of his black leather pants, staring at me as he slowly lowered the zipper. As I watched the downward movement, I was reminded that the reason Devereux always wore leather was so blood could be easily cleaned off the surface. With that in mind, I’d recently added more leather to my own wardrobe. I wished I’d had the forethought to wear that this morning instead of the wonderful designer outfit.