Stay here? I seriously don’t think so.
I slanted another glance at the portrait then returned it to the cabinet. No matter when it had been painted, it was clearly high quality. Devereux was a talented artist. What was it with me? Why did I have to fall for brilliant men who were either egomaniacs, crazy, or both?
I hurried out of his secret room and crossed the main office area, heading for the door to the hallway. The closer I drew, the louder the sounds became. I put my fingers on the handle and gently pushed down, silently easing the door inward until I could poke my head out and view the area directly in front of the entrance. I half-expected to find a guard standing there, another of Devereux’s motorcycle-gang thralls, who would keep me in my luxurious holding cell. However, this end of the hallway was empty.
Judging by the noise level, all the action was happening further up the corridor, in the area behind the velvet curtains. The sounds of crashing furniture, blood-curdling screams, Darth Vader-like rumblings, and screechings that had to be a demonic choir rehearsing the Satanic Mass for the Dead assailed my ears. Something unpleasantly red was oozing along the floor in front of that entryway.
The only way out of the basement was to pass the crazed circus carrying on behind curtain #1.
I tiptoed along the hallway and stood with my back pressed against the wall next to the entrance to the insane asylum. I peeked in long enough to see that all the people – if ‘people’ was the right word – crammed into the room were locked in combat with willing and enthusiastic partners. Devereux’s assistant Luna had a huge hairy man wrestled down, her teeth shredding chunks from his neck as her victim screamed. A tall African-American male stepped near the doorway and turned his gaze in my direction. He opened his mouth, displaying long, bloody fangs, then reached into the chest of the man nearest to him and ripped his heart out.
Bile rose in my throat and my head spun.
The last thing I saw before I sprinted towards the stairs leading back up to the main floor was Devereux and Bryce, blood-covered, fangs bared, hair flying, levitating a few feet above the ground and clutching each other’s necks.
That was it for me.
Holy shit! They really are vampires!
The volume of noise swallowed my unintended scream and I bolted from the totally unbelievable towards the merely improbable.
I ran up the stairs like I was being chased by the Hounds of Hell, pushed through the door where John the biker, the vampire addict, had abandoned his post, and smashed into Alan’s chest. I screamed, instinctively tried to push away. He grabbed my upper arms and held me against him. I was shaking so hard my earrings rattled.
‘Kismet! I’ve been searching all over for you. What the hell’s going on here? What’s all that noise down there? What happened to you?’
‘They’re fighting. It’s a bloody mess.’
‘Who’s fighting? I’d better get down there—’ He started to pull away.
‘No.’ I grabbed his arms. ‘Wait. Trust me – you don’t want to go down there. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this place really is filled with vampires, and I can say for sure that everybody is certifiably crazy. From what I just saw, you wouldn’t last five minutes. Please, I want to find Tom and go home.’
‘Okay, you find him. I’ll call the locals.’
‘No! Devereux wouldn’t want you to bring the police into this. Let’s just go.’
Alan tipped his head to the side and cocked a brow. ‘Devereux wouldn’t, would he? And how would you know that?’
‘I’ll tell you all about it – all of it – but right now, let’s get out of here.’
His eyes bored into mine for a long moment, and then he nodded. Either I was sufficiently crazed-looking that he’d decided to humour me, or he’d read deeper between the lines and got that my terror was authentic. I could at least admit to myself that I’d never dealt well with violent psychotics, and everything about the scene in the basement triggered my worst nightmares.
He took both my hands in his and stared into my eyes.
‘Okay. Just breathe. We’ll find Tom. You go check out the dance floor and I’ll see if he’s ogling the bartender again. Let’s meet outside in five minutes.’
I sighed in relief, pulled my hands free, and started off towards the crowded dance floor. After a few steps, I turned back to yell at Alan to hurry and saw him leap through the doorway to the basement. I should’ve known he’d have to be a one-man cavalry; an FBI agent, first and foremost. I filed away for future use the fact that he’d stared right into my eyes and lied to me.
Now more angry than frightened, I stomped off in search of Tom. Alan could flail around in the madness if he wanted to, but I was going to find my narcissistic ex-boyfriend, catch a cab and get the hell out of there. The further removed I got from everything that had happened downstairs, the more the idea of drugs in my drink seemed plausible.
I wandered around the club for several minutes, even going so far as to stand in front of the men’s room, sneaking peeks inside whenever the door opened. That got me a lot of unwanted attention, suggestive comments and lascivious invitations. What it didn’t get me was a glimpse of Tom.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen Zoë either.
One good thing about being tall to begin with and wearing high heels was the elevated altitude. From my lofty vantage point, I was able to scan over the heads of half the blissed-out party-goers and save myself from unnecessary body-jostling.
If Tom was in the club, he had to be under a table somewhere because there was no sign of him standing or sitting anywhere. Alan hadn’t emerged from the supernatural testosterone-fest below, so I was on my own. That was fine. I was used to being on my own.
It suddenly occurred to me that Tom might have gone outside, so I strode purposefully towards the front door and noticed the cadaverous bouncer was missing in action. I pushed through the heavy door leading out into the fresh night air and stood for a moment, coughing, as my lungs made it clear that I wouldn’t be getting off so easily after spending an evening breathing in the chemical spewing of a fog machine.
I hadn’t worn a watch, but I figured it had to be close to last call. Tom wasn’t outside either, but he’d have to come out of the club eventually, so I decided to wait. Then it struck me that he’d probably left without me. There I was, waiting for him to make sure he got home safely, and he’d just gone on his merry way without giving me a thought. That would be typical Tom – not to mention typical of how I’d let him walk all over me. How could a supposedly bright woman be so dense at the same time?
Groups of people stood in front of the club in various states of inebriation, drug intoxication and passionate embrace, so I strolled further down the block. I rested against the building and sank back into the shadows while I took full breaths to clear out my lungs and appreciated the silence.
I mentally reviewed what I’d seen in the basement. Nothing fitted with any of my therapeutic experience. In all my reading and research, I’d never run across anything that included fangs, levitation, informal heart surgery and the kind of unearthly noises emanating from that room.
Vampires really exist. Devereux wasn’t role-playing. What am I supposed to do with that knowledge? Where do I put it in my brain? If there are vampires, then I might as well pull up stakes – so to speak – and go and work in a fast-food restaurant somewhere, because everything I thought was true isn’t.
I dropped my head back against the cool of the old brick and closed my eyes. The moment I did that, a wave of dizziness swept over me and I braced myself against the wall, feeling as if the ground had actually moved. I waited, locked my knees to keep upright in the midst of the spinning, and opened my eyes. Everything was subtly different. I blinked a few times to clear my vision but couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong. Something had changed. The darkness was deeper, more textured. The air felt thick, heavy, and was scented with a sweet coppery aroma. The smell got stronger until I could taste it in the back of my throat and I gagged.