Blood Therapy (Kismet Knight, Ph.D., Vampire Psychologist)

by Hilburn, Lynda

  He grabbed my arm and nodded excitedly. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. I had the same experience.”

  I looked down at his hand on my arm, and he let go.

  “Sorry. I’ve been so isolated for the last few months that my social skills are rusty. Plus it’s such a pleasant surprise to find a like-minded therapist on the plane going to the conference. But as I was saying, I did have some iffy situations with my abductees. Even giving emphasis to a certain word in a question I asked while they were in trance could stimulate their imaginations and cause them to fabricate.” He shrugged. “It was too stressful. I think I prefer the worried well—those who are basically healthy and who want to explore themselves spiritually or grow personally.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir here, Michael. As fascinating as I find my chronically disturbed or nontraditional clients, it’s a relief to have a few metaphysical seekers along the way. Have you worked with any other unusual kinds of clients?” I haven’t had any werewolves or faeries show up yet. Do they exist? Is that something else I have to look forward to?

  He smiled. “I performed an informal exorcism once.”

  The flight attendant shoved the box of snacks she’d been carrying down the aisle in front of Michael. “Would you like some cookies or crackers? You can have as many as you like.”

  “What? An exorcism?” I asked. Bad timing.

  She raised her eyebrows at me and pursed her lips.

  “No, thank you,” Michael said.

  She didn’t offer me any and hurried on past.

  Michael laughed softly. “I think our topic of discussion startled the attendant. She probably thinks your head is going to spin around while you puke green pea soup now.”

  Well, at least I’m not that bad. Yet.

  “I’ll try to behave myself. So, exorcism—are you affiliated with a religious group?”

  “No—that’s why I said it was informal. One of my attached-entity clients insisted I was the only person who could cast out the demon in his chest. One day, in the middle of a session, he threw himself onto the floor and began having a seizure. Or at least that’s what I assumed it was.”

  “Wow. I’ve never had an attached-entity client go quite that far. What happened?”

  “He flailed and kicked his feet on the carpet and started speaking in tongues, something he’d told me about earlier. I was sure the massage therapist downstairs would call the building manager or the police or something, so I used my most theatrical voice and demanded the demon leave his body.”

  “Did your command work?”

  “Amazingly, it did.” He grinned. “He twitched a few times then got to his feet, shook my hand, and told me he felt reborn. I never saw him again.”

  I shook my head. “Never underestimate the power of suggestion. And professionals used to think hypnosis wasn’t effective. Now we know better. But it can be dangerous if a clinician isn’t properly trained.”

  “That’s for sure. I’ve done my share of repairing damage caused by so-called hypnotists who only took a weekend workshop.” He looked at my computer keys. “I’m really sorry—I distracted you from the work you were doing. I’ll be quiet now so you can finish.” He gave a thumbs-up and straightened in his seat.

  A glance at my watch told me we were more than halfway through the flight. He’d been such a pleasant conversation partner that I hadn’t given any thought to my bizarre problems. I didn’t want to end the discussion.

  “You haven’t kept me from anything. The presentation was already finished—I was just adding last-minute notes.” I met his gaze as he turned to me again. “I enjoyed our talk.”

  “That’s good.” His eyes lingered a few seconds, then he cleared his throat. “Maybe we could meet at the conference if you have time?”

  The large man sitting behind me stood up to go to the restroom and pushed my seat so far forward I almost knocked my computer onto the floor. “Sorry,” he said in a gruff voice.

  I caught the computer and spoke over my shoulder. “That’s okay. No harm done.”

  “So what do you think about hooking up?” Michael asked.

  “Hooking up?” My clients usually gave those words specific meaning.

  “Yeah.” He saw the question on my face and chuckled. “Oh no—not that kind of hooking up. I mean hanging out at the conference.”

  “I knew what you meant. I just wanted to rattle your cage a little. It’s a possibility, but I’m meeting a friend there.”

  “Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to be in the way.”

  “Not at all—I think you’d enjoy meeting him.”

  “Is he your boyfriend?”

  What a nosey guy!

  “Just a friend. Or maybe more than that, I don’t know. And why I’m telling you that, I have no idea.”

  What the hell, Kismet? Just spill your guts to a stranger for the second time in a single day, why don’t you?

  He laughed. “Something about me encourages people to tell their secrets. It’s one of the reasons I’m a good therapist. My former partner was going to come to the conference with me, but we broke up a few months back.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Is she a therapist, too?”

  “He.”

  “Oh! I’m so sorry—how narrow of me to assume. … So you’re gay.”

  Crappy gaydar you’ve got there, Kismet. But he was flirting with me, I’m sure of it.

  “Actually, I’m bi, but the last couple of relationships I’ve had were with men. And now I don’t know why I’m telling you that.”

  Well, at least I wasn’t totally wrong.

  “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me. Let’s definitely plan to meet up at the conference.”

  “I’d like that.”

  We sat silently for a while, each lost in our own thoughts.

  The man returned from the bathroom and dislodged my seat again, but this time I was prepared and held on to the computer.

  After a couple of minutes, I was unable to restrain my curiosity and asked, “I’m wondering why you didn’t recognize my name.” My infamy had spread worldwide, so it didn’t matter where he was from—I’d been the media topic du jour for weeks in the very recent past.

  He frowned, looking confused. “Why would I know your name? Are you famous? Have I been politically incorrect yet again?”

  Glad I’d chosen a Wi-Fi flight, I swiveled my computer screen around so we could both see it, called up a search engine, and typed in my name. Thousands of hits came up. I scrolled down to a New York Times story about the “vampire murders” in Denver last October, brought up the information, then lowered the tray on the middle seat and slid my computer over.

  “Take a look,” I said, pointing to the screen.

  He read through a few paragraphs, then looked at me. “Wow,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “That’s one helluva tale. I can’t believe I missed it. I spent most of the last four months in a Buddhist retreat center up in the mountains, meditating and working on my book.” He poked my arm playfully. “You really are famous.”

  I pulled the computer back onto my tray and clicked out of the article. “Yeah. Lucky me. Are you a Buddhist? Is that why you were at the retreat?”

  “No. I’m not a Buddhist—or any other denomination, for that matter—but I do enjoy meditating, and it was a great place to observe religious devotees for my research. I highly recommend it if you ever need to get away from the everyday world for a while. No phones or computers allowed—I had to write on legal pads. It was a powerful and humbling experience.”

  I laughed. “So was mine.”

  “I can only imagine,” he said, his tone serious. “Have they caught the killer yet? The article only says he left Colorado. Are you still involved with the case?”

  “They haven’t found him yet, but the FBI’s hot on his trail, as well as every local cop in every jurisdiction where blood-drained bodies have turned up. They’ll catch him eventually.” I didn’t answer his question about my i
nvolvement or mention the maniac’s fixation on me. The purpose of going to the conference was to get away from all the vampire bullshit. Nobody else needed to know about it. I turned off my computer, packed it into its case, and tucked it underneath the seat in front of me. I momentarily wondered if I should tell him about the psychologist murders since we were about to join a large gathering of the same, but if the police hadn’t informed the media yet, I didn’t think I should jump the gun.

  Unfastening my seatbelt, I said, “I need to get out.”

  “Get out?”

  “Yes.” I pointed to the bathroom.

  “Oh! Of course.” Michael jumped up and stood in the aisle so I could pass.

  I hurried into the closest lavatory, turned to flip the lock, and was immediately overwhelmed by fear. I leaned back slightly and pressed against something solid. Somebody was in the tiny cubicle with me. Holy shit! I’d just sucked in a big breath, preparing to scream, when a hand clamped over my mouth and a familiar voice said, “It is I, Kismet, Devereux. Do not scream. Please nod if I can take my hand away.”

  My knees almost gave out in relief. Devereux? At least it wasn’t Lucifer. The thought that the monster could materialize inside a plane hadn’t occurred to me. How the hell had Devereux found me in the airplane bathroom? My heartbeat tripped. Vampires really were going to give me a coronary. I nodded, and he released me. Almost without thinking, I started the mental hum, pleased it was becoming automatic.

  I faced him and was stunned by his appearance. His usually sleek and shiny hair was twisted up into a rat’s nest, sticking out everywhere, littered with debris. His clothes were stained and shredded; dirt and various unidentifiable substances covered his face. “What are you doing here and what happened to you? Wait—more importantly, how the hell did you know which plane I was on and that I’d stood up to go to the bathroom? I thought you couldn’t read me anymore. And please turn down the fear.” My stomach was roiling. “I’m going to pass out.” Oh God—are the effects of Anne’s intervention already fading? But that couldn’t be, because he was giving off the same intense fear resonance I’d felt in my office last night.

  He closed his eyes briefly, and my anxiety eased.

  “I have computer experts who can discover anything I wish to know. It was easy to access your itinerary.” He ran his fingers through his massively tangled hair and growled. “This is the first time I have ever attempted to materialize inside an airplane. I landed on the wing twice, then on the roof. Even with magic spells and my enhanced strength, grabbing onto the plane was no easy feat. I suspect the mechanics will find unexplained finger grooves pressed into various parts of the plane.”

  Oh my God—grabbing onto the plane? Unexplained finger grooves? He really is an undead Superman.

  “Finally,” he continued, “I was able to accomplish my intended task: to find an empty seat I could target. Once I found that, I was able to materialize inside.”

  I couldn’t get past the absurd image his words were creating. “Let me get this straight—you were hanging onto an airplane flying at hundreds of miles per hour? How were you not blown off?” Unbelievable. Were there no limits to what he could do? No wonder his hair looked like he’d been electrocuted, then thrown into a wind tunnel. It was weird to see him so … flawed.

  He held up his filthy, bloody fingers. “I was blown off. Repeatedly. Actually,” he said, “that part was rather exciting. I have heard of skydiving but have never tried it. Until today. It was an experience I do not wish to repeat anytime soon. I felt like an idiot. The lengths to which I will go for you never fail to amaze me.”

  No way. He didn’t really land on the outside of the plane. Impossible.

  “How come nobody saw you? Your light hair and skin almost glow in the dark—you had to be putting on quite a show out there. Why didn’t I hear anyone screaming when you popped into the cabin?”

  “I would point out that you did not see me, even sitting in a window seat chatting with your handsome companion and with your mind completely unencumbered of vampire influence. But just because I cannot control your mind, it does not mean I have lost the ability with everyone else. I simply told them they could not see me.”

  “Huh, okay.” Of course that makes sense … in Bizarro Vampire World. “Why are you here? I really did come into the bathroom for a compelling reason, and I don’t want to share the experience with anyone, including you. Is something wrong?”

  “Yes. We are wrong, and it is my fault. I was insufferable and demanding last night.”

  Really?

  “You won’t get any argument from me.” I couldn’t take my eyes off his wild hair. It was so not him. I fought the urge to lick my palm and smooth it over his hair.

  “That would be a pleasant change,” he said, “but in this case I accept complete responsibility for our poor communication, and I wish to apologize. You are correct that I have no right to impose my will upon you. You are, as you said, a separate person. I acknowledge that you have every right to attend a conference and that you have your own life to live. I will not be bull-headed or domineering.” He pulled down the neckline of my sweater and retrieved the cross necklace. “Of course, if my assistance is required in an emergency, you need only hold the heirloom and say my name, and I will come.”

  I pressed my thighs together to give my bladder the “wait” signal. “Okay. I appreciate the apology. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress, and if you want to talk when I get back, I’m happy to do that.”

  Devereux pointed toward the door. “There is someone waiting.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised—we’ve been in here a while. They’re probably thinking I’ve fallen in, or I’m doing something extremely unpleasant.”

  He laughed. “I do not miss those bodily functions. But let me take care of this.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I gave the suggestion to everyone that it has been only a few seconds since you came in here. The poor fellow who ate something disagreeable has gone to the bathroom at the other end.” He eyed the facilities. “I can say with certainty that my mode of travel is much more enjoyable than your human version.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer. Meeting my gaze, he whispered, “I am sorry. I was not myself.” He pressed his lips against mine in a sweet kiss, then teased his tongue into my mouth and took the kiss deeper.

  Yum.

  We kissed for a couple of minutes, then reluctantly pulled apart. His skin was colder than usual, perhaps because of his frigid outdoor adventure.

  It occurred to me that I was responding to Devereux without any mind control on his part. Maybe we really did have something authentic going on between us after all. I considered the possibility of asking him to whisk me off to New York himself so we could spend some alone time sorting

  things out.

  Unfortunately, my romantic fantasy was rudely squashed by reality.

  “I wish I could remain longer, but the night is short and Lucifer has been sighted.” He kissed me again. “Also, I came to tell you that you were right—upon reflection, I believe it might be best if we take a break from each other for a little while. Just until we both have time to think about the optimum outcome. Things have moved too quickly for you. I exerted too much pressure. You are correct that you need to have the opportunity to decide for yourself whether you will choose to share my world or not. I do not wish to harm you, and if it is true that my mere presence damages your brain, then I will remove myself.” He lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps I am not ready for a serious relationship either.”

  “What?” I almost choked on the word. “What do you mean, you’re not ready for a serious relationship? Since when?”

  “Since you made me think about whether or not we are truly a good fit for each other. I had been unwilling even to consider the possibility previously.”

  What the hell is this? He’s breaking up with me? After all his bullying and saying I’m his mate? I pressed my legs together more tightly.

  “
Your reasoning makes sense,” he continued. “I was not seeing the larger picture. It is wise for us to have a cooling-off period until the situation with Lucifer is settled. After that, we can talk and see how we feel.” He brushed my lips with his again. “Enjoy the conference, and be safe.”

  With that, he stepped back and disappeared.

  Turning toward the mirror, I stared at myself in disbelief. What just happened? Surely I couldn’t have heard what I thought I heard. His words kept replaying in my mind as I tried to sort out my feelings. My stomach cramped.

  Take a break. That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it?

  Yes.

  No.

  Well, shit. I was more confused than ever now. He’d respected my wishes. He’d done as I asked. A cooling-off period was good. I should be happy, right?

  Why wasn’t I happy? Why did I feel miserable and on the verge of tears?

  I definitely hadn’t seen that coming.

  But I had told him I was going to rethink my involvement with all vampires, including him. What did I expect?

  After dabbing my eyes with a tissue, I took care of business then navigated up the aisle to my seat, surreptitiously scanning the other passengers along the way to see if anyone had a reaction to my campout in the bathroom. Nobody did.

  Michael stood before I reached our seats.

  My chagrin must have been written on my face because he stared at me, frowning. “Is everything okay? You seem upset. I hope I didn’t say anything inappropriate.”

  It took me a moment to shake off my reaction to Devereux’s unexpected decision and turn my attention back to the conversation Michael and I had before the events in the bathroom. “Of course you didn’t. I’m just festering about a personal problem.”

  He raised a brow. “Anything a new therapist friend can help with? I’m a pretty good listener.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled and fastened my seatbelt. “You know how it is—things will work themselves out eventually.”

  Would they? My vision blurred with tears, and I suddenly felt overwhelmingly sad.

  One of the pilots broke in over the speakers, reporting we were preparing to land. I was shocked by how quickly the time had passed. Apparently the secret to a speedy journey was a charming seatmate and a vampire breakup in the bathroom.