The Vampire Shrink kk-1

by Lynda Hilburn

  I started to say something about that being ridiculous, but that was too many words to scream over the music so I nodded and mouthed, ‘Okay.’

  Judging by the expression on his face, Tom was already in lecher heaven as he scrutinised the nubile, bouncing female body parts on the dance floor. I didn’t think a grin could get any wider. He reminded me of the ‘Joker’ character in one of the Batman movies. He turned back to the bar to put in his order and caught sight of the bartender. ‘Holy shit.’

  She was spectacular: a leather fantasy right out of the centrefold of a men’s magazine. Her hair was cut short and it stood up in stubby little spikes all over her head. It was hard to tell under the dim lights, but the colour appeared to be pink, or maybe orange. Her eyes were almond-shaped orbs. She leaned over the bar and plopped her considerable assets in front of Tom. ‘What’s your pleasure?’

  After a few seconds, he finally raised his eyes up to hers and stared, his mouth slowly relaxing and hanging open.

  Alan shook Tom’s shoulder and snapped his fingers in front of his face. ‘Wake up!’

  Tom came back to himself with a start, shook himself, and peered at Alan. ‘What happened?’

  Alan explained. ‘Never look a vampire in the eyes.’

  We all stared at the goddess behind the bar. She smiled at us, displaying a fine set of fangs.

  Tom laughed. ‘Yeah, right.’ But he looked rattled.

  We ordered Bloody Marys – the house special, natch – and went in search of a table.

  The interior of the building had many small rooms, raised platforms and cosy hideaways for customers seeking privacy for one activity or another. Miraculously, we happened to be in the right place at the right time and were able to snag an intimate circular booth in a raised area off the main room. The walls enclosing the booth muted the volume of the music and we could talk without yelling. From that vantage point, we could see almost the entire club while remaining unobtrusive ourselves.

  Tom, who’d been very quiet since his close encounter with the centrefold at the bar, expressed the need to find the restroom. He started the long process of wading through a sea of humanity to reach the other side of the club. I watched him go, and about halfway across the room he was hijacked by a tall brunette who pulled him onto the dance floor.

  ‘Hello, Alan.’ A familiar voice enveloped me, velvet in my ears. I shivered.

  Alan rose from his seat. ‘Devereux, please join us. It’s nice to see you again.’

  Devereux sat next to me in the booth, lifted my hand to his lips, and kissed it. He gave a slow blink of his turquoise eyes. ‘Hello. I am Devereux, the owner of this establishment.’

  The touch of his lips on my hand caused a strong reaction in several parts of my body. I couldn’t sort through my emotions fast enough to say anything, so I was relieved when Alan spoke.

  ‘This is Kismet Knight. She’s a local psychologist. I’ve been consulting with her about the missing girl.’

  ‘It is a pleasure to meet you,’ Devereux said aloud, while whispering in my mind, ‘I am very happy to see you. Alan does not need to know that we have already met.’

  I just stared at him and said nothing because I was overcome by a desire to crawl into his lap and cover his mouth with mine. I’d never experienced such a strong series of emotions before, out of nowhere, and until I was sure I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself, I sat very still.

  What was it about Devereux? Every time he came near, I turned into a hormonal teenager – maybe his pheromones were communicating with mine in some mysterious way. Clearly, either the man was a master hypnotist or insanity truly was contagious. Or, more likely, I’d just been dazzled by the obvious.

  No doubt about it, he was a beautiful man – a work of art. There was no other way to describe him. His face was masculine yet soft at the same time and it made me want to touch him, to run my fingers over his pale skin and through his long, silky hair. I shifted my head and tried to avoid his sparkling eyes, not because I feared he’d entrance me, but because I was afraid of what he might see in mine.

  ‘Yes, I desire you as well,’ Devereux murmured in my mind, the words caressing some invisible part of me.

  Alan’s cell phone rang. He lifted it out of his pocket and answered, ‘Stevens.’ There was a brief pause and then, ‘Shit, I’ll be right there.’ Turning to me he explained, ‘They’ve found a body – I need to go to police headquarters.’

  I started to get up but Alan put a hand on my shoulder. ‘I’m afraid I can’t take you with me, Kismet. You’ll have to wait here. I’ll come back for you and Tom as quickly as I can.’

  I didn’t care for the sound of that. I just wasn’t the type to sit waiting for someone to chauffeur me around, and leaving me here with Devereux made me anxious in ways I couldn’t even understand.

  Devereux turned his attention to Alan. ‘I will look after Dr Knight and her friend until you return.’

  Alan stroked his hand down my cheek then stood. ‘I won’t be gone long.’ He headed for the door.

  ‘He is attracted to you,’ Devereux said, nodding in the direction of Alan’s retreating form, ‘and you to him. But you are also attracted to me. And there are some confused – intense – emotions about your friend on the dance floor.’

  I frowned and studied his face. What arrogance! But, more important, how did he do that? He’d been uncomfortably accurate. His psychic skills must be off the charts.

  ‘I thought you promised me you wouldn’t try to read me.’ Obviously his abilities are much more reliable than mine.

  ‘Yes, of course. I apologise. You are quite right. I do not wish to spoil the mystery between us. You look especially lovely tonight.’

  ‘Thank you. So do you.’ Perfect, Kismet. Tell the man he looks lovely. What a dweeb. I suck at small talk. ‘Er, how long have you owned this club?’

  The corners of his mouth quirked up in a gentle smile and his eyes softened, as if he sensed my discomfort. ‘I purchased the old church when I arrived in America. The vampire craze had been re-ignited by Anne Rice’s books and I allowed myself to be convinced that an occult-themed dance club would be a profitable venture. It has proven to be so.’

  Hmm. Okay. Good. Maybe he really is just playing a role . . .

  ‘Do you own other clubs?’ I looked around the crowded room. ‘I imagine it would take a lot of patience to hang out in such a busy, noisy place every night. I don’t think I could do it.’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I own no others. The Crypt is unique. And I quite agree with you about the chaotic environment. In fact, I rarely spend time in the main area. If I am here at all, I am likely downstairs with friends and colleagues. Most of my business still takes place in Europe, so I am often there.’

  ‘What part of Europe are you from? You have a very interesting accent.’ I studied the lines of his handsome face.

  ‘Ah.’ He smiled, gazing into my eyes. ‘I have lived in many places – France, England, Ireland, Scotland, Spain, Russia, Germany, South America, and more.’ He laughed. ‘I even lived in Transylvania for a short time while I did research for the décor of this club. I suppose you could call me a world traveller. My accent remains strong because I frequently converse in other languages. Many of the places I work are non-English-speaking, so there has been no reason for me to Americanise myself. I seem better suited to days gone by than to modern times. It is only recently that I have discovered sufficient motivation to remain in this country.’

  There was something magical about the sound of his voice, and his words held me like aural arms. I found myself completely relaxed and at peace in a way I’d never experienced before.

  ‘What motivation?’ My heartbeat accelerated.

  ‘You.’ He angled towards me, waiting, his lips close enough to kiss. I breathed in the soft, spicy fragrance of him and closed the gap between our mouths before I even had a conscious thought about doing it.

  We kissed long and deep, our tongues exploring, meltin
g into each other. It was as if our physical bodies merged together and we shared the same heartbeat – the same life force. Every cell in my body desired him, and there was no one else in the room except the two of us. All the noise disappeared and we floated in a private universe.

  When we finally pulled apart, I gazed into his eyes, which glittered like jewels.

  Kissing him had been wonderful. Pure pleasure. But why had I done it? How was it that Devereux could override my nerdy shyness? I clearly wasn’t myself around him. I didn’t know if that was good or bad.

  He whispered, ‘My gaze will not entrance you tonight.’

  ‘What?’ I didn’t care about making sense of that. I only wanted to drink him in with my eyes, to touch him, to kiss him again. In fact, in that moment, nothing else mattered. Then I asked myself, Why doesn’t it matter? What’s wrong with me? It wasn’t like me to indulge my physical desires in public. Why was I suddenly so uninhibited?

  ‘Why am I so fascinated by you?’ I asked, running my fingers along his cheek. Did I say that out loud? I’m acting drunk, but I’ve only had a couple of sips of my drink.

  ‘We have that effect on some humans.’ He took my hand in his. ‘I am very pleased you feel that way about me. I hope to fascinate you even more.’

  I got distracted watching his mouth for a moment.

  ‘Kismet?’

  ‘Huh?’ I pulled away from him and blinked a couple of times to rouse myself. ‘See? That’s what I mean. Why do you have that effect on me?’

  ‘Do you remember when you asked me what Bryce had done to you and I said he had altered your brain waves?’

  ‘I remember you said that, but it didn’t make any sense to me. How can someone alter my brain waves just by staring at me?’

  ‘It is about entrainment. I have done a lot of reading on this subject over the last twenty years. One benefit of living a long time is the acquisition of knowledge.’

  ‘Entrainment?’

  ‘Allow me to explain. Think of an old clock, the kind with a swinging pendulum.’ He moved his hand back and forth, as if he was conducting an orchestra. Sharing his wisdom obviously pleased him and I grinned as I watched his enthusiastic presentation. Professor Devereux.

  His graceful motions expanded into wider arcs. ‘The rhythm of the swing is very strong, very powerful. Then think of putting several smaller, newer clocks on the same wall with the old clock, each pendulum swinging in a different pattern. Soon, all the new clocks will begin swinging in time with the old clock. The power of the old clock overwhelms the newer ones and they join with it. Am I making sense?’

  I skimmed my fingertips across the top of the hand he’d rested on the table. I couldn’t seem to stop touching him.

  ‘Yes, I know about that. It’s like when women all start having their cycles at the same time, as if we get in sync with each other or something. But what does that have to do with you?’

  He nodded and held up his index finger, prepared to continue with the lecture. ‘Let me put it in musical terms. Vampires . . .’ He paused, frowning. ‘What is wrong?’

  He had seen me shift my gaze down when he said the word ‘vampires’. I brought my hands together in my lap. Saying that word reminded me I was taking advantage of someone who might be psychotic, delusional, or at the very least mentally confused. There I was, making out with a virtual stranger and encouraging him by listening to his stories. That felt bad as a woman and as a psychologist. I raised my eyes to meet his, surprised to discover him grinning at me.

  He shook his head. ‘You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met. It is becoming troublesome that you will not accept what I am. But I will continue to answer the question you asked and you will simply have to humour me.’

  He lifted one of my hands, brought it up to his mouth, and kissed my palm with those incredibly soft lips. Even that small contact caused my heart to race and my libido to tap me on the shoulder. His lovely turquoise eyes sparkled, and he somehow managed to appear sexy, angelic, and dangerous all at the same time.

  My mouth went dry.

  ‘As I was saying, in musical terms, vampires give off such a powerful energy or tone that everyone entrains with us. The vibrational frequency that emanates from the undead is stronger than any other, and so it overrides whatever was there before. That is without our even looking at anyone. If we gaze into a human’s eyes without holding back, it is a form of mind control. We are able to change your brain waves.’

  ‘Are you talking about hypnosis?’ I knew he was a hypnotist! And, apparently, a damn good one.

  He leaned closer. ‘It is much more similar to brainwashing than hypnosis because in hypnosis you are always free to choose.’

  ‘So,’ I reached over and played with a lock of his hair, ‘you’re saying the power of what you are is so strong that I’m pulled in whether I want to be pulled in or not?’

  ‘Exactly,’ he said, with a quick nod.

  ‘And when you said your gaze wouldn’t entrance me tonight, you meant you’d hold back?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I slid my index finger along his lower lip. ‘Then does that mean my desire to kiss you is only there because you want me to kiss you? That you are irresistible to me because of that power and not because of anything I feel about you?’

  He flashed a dazzling smile. ‘I am pleased to hear I am irresistible to you, but no. I am old enough to be in total control of my power and I hold back with you so that you can make your own decisions. You kiss me because you desire to kiss me.’

  I trailed my fingernail lightly over his cheek. ‘Show me the difference.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Use your eyes. Turn on the full power. Let me have it. I want to know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Are you certain?’ He grinned mischievously.

  I nodded and stared into his eyes.

  A wave of heat moved through my body, my scalp tingled, and my eyelids sank to half-mast. The next thing I knew, I was in his lap, my knees straddling his legs, my arms wrapped around his neck, passionately kissing him.

  In my mind he sighed, ‘This is how it will be between us.’

  ‘Ahem.’

  I heard a sound from somewhere in the distance, but nothing was more important than kissing Devereux’s soft, warm lips. Nothing mattered except keeping my body pressed against his.

  ‘Ahem. Kismet?’

  In slow-motion, I turned towards the sound. There at the end of the table were three sets of eyes, staring at me.

  CHAPTER 11

  Tom’s shocked face leaned in towards me. ‘Kismet?’

  Whatever had happened wasn’t finished yet, and I was having a hard time concentrating on the fact that I needed to focus on the audience we’d suddenly acquired. I vaguely recognised Tom but couldn’t place the women standing on either side of him.

  A woman’s voice said, ‘She’s entranced.’

  ‘Do you mean she’s drugged? Did this guy put something in her drink?’ Tom demanded, his voice dripping anger.

  ‘No. She’s not drugged. She’s bespelled,’ said a different woman’s voice.

  ‘I seem to be missing something here. If someone doesn’t clue me in right now, I’m going to cause a scene,’ Tom yelled. ‘Kismet! What’s going on? Where’s Alan?’ He jerked his head towards Devereux. ‘Do you know this guy?’

  I squinted up at Tom, nodded yes and buried my face in Devereux’s deliciously scented hair.

  ‘I do apologise. You must be Tom. We have not been properly introduced yet. I am Devereux, the owner of The Crypt. Please excuse our rudeness in not acknowledging you sooner. I take full responsibility. We were doing a little . . . experiment . . . and we got distracted.’

  The fog began to clear in my brain and I started to grasp that I was sitting on Devereux while Tom and two strange women gaped at me. I remembered making the decision to leap into his lap, but for the life of me I couldn’t recall why I’d do such a thing.

&nb
sp; Devereux whispered in my mind, ‘That was wonderful. I await the opportunity for us to continue our experiment.’

  He effortlessly lifted me up and set me in the booth next to him. The sounds of the room began to swim back into my consciousness and my eyes rediscovered the ability to focus. I wanted to ask him a thousand questions about what had happened, but it didn’t appear I was going to have the chance.

  ‘Please join us.’ Devereux waved his arm through the air over the booth.

  Tom and the two women sat. His eyes shifted rapidly back and forth between Devereux and me. ‘Kismet, what’s the matter with you? I’ve never seen you do anything like that before.’

  ‘Give her a moment,’ urged the woman sitting next to him. ‘She’s not herself yet.’

  She turned her attention to me. ‘I’m Zoë, Tom’s new friend. I remember the first time I was taken under. It’s almost too amazing for words.’

  ‘Taken under? What do you mean, “taken under”? What the hell is going on here?’ Tom glared around the table.

  I ignored him and focused my eyes on the woman speaking to me, and recognised her as the tall brunette who’d waylaid Tom on his way to the men’s room. She appeared very dynamic with her dark hair, pale skin, and large, distinctive eyes. The lighting was too dim for me to see the colour, but they looked unusual. I became momentarily fascinated by her eyelashes, which were the longest I’d ever seen.

  Finally retrieving some of the ability to speak, I mumbled, ‘It’s nice to meet you.’

  Devereux touched my arm and pointed to the other woman who’d joined us. ‘This is Luna. She is one of the managers of the club and my personal assistant.’

  I hadn’t noticed through my brain fog earlier, but Luna was an exceptionally attractive woman. In fact, finding out that this femme fatale was Devereux’s personal assistant bothered me way more than a little. I hardly knew Devereux, and a few passionate kisses shouldn’t cause me to feel this jealous of another woman. Especially a woman who might not be interested in Devereux at all.

  Yeah, right. Not interested in Devereux. Welcome to Denial Central.