‘I was told Devereux called the chief.’
‘Devereux? What would Devereux have to do with the police chief—?’ He paused. ‘Of course – I should’ve remembered. So much for my famous tape-recorder memory, eh? During one of our discussions, Devereux told me he’d used his ability to control minds to create relationships with several powerful people in town, people who could “smooth away any difficulties”, as he put it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It makes perfect sense now. He simply called the chief, suggested he rally the troops and that’s all it took. No one would question it, and the chief would always think it was his own idea. Ingenious, really.’
‘Are you saying Devereux used mind control on the police chief?’
‘Yep. The chief and a few other highly placed cops.’
‘Doesn’t it bother you that Devereux manipulated the police? What if he uses mind control on you?’
He grinned. ‘I have a healthy respect for his abilities – he’s the most powerful vampire I’ve ever run across. It might be worth it to let him take over my mind for a little while, just to see how that feels. You have to admit, it got the job done. The cops found you.’
‘Actually, I found the cops. But I’ll have to thank Devereux the next time I see him.’
And why does thinking about seeing him feel good and bad at the same time?
‘Okay, stop stalling. Tell me what happened to you last night.’
I rearranged myself on the cushions. ‘I’m not stalling.’ Yes, I am. ‘There really isn’t much to tell. I went outside to wait for Tom – or you – and walked down the block and rested against the building. I suddenly had an overwhelming bad feeling, instant terror, and heard a grotesque voice calling me. I couldn’t tell if the voice was coming from outside of me or inside my mind. It was like fingernails on the blackboard from hell times a thousand. The voice kept telling me to come to it. I remember thinking I just needed to stay where I was and everything would be fine. That I could just ignore it. That’s the last thing I recall until I woke up this morning in the cemetery.’
I told him everything about the mausoleum, the coffin I’d awakened in, the dead bodies, and my encounter with the police. He sat silently while I spoke, shaking his head.
‘I’ve had some horrible experiences since I joined the FBI, but none of them comes close to being worse than what you just told me. Now I’m really sorry I was such an asshole when you came home.’
‘Apology accepted. We were both stressed out. I’m glad it’s over. Well, except for the media fallout. I guess I can’t avoid it any longer. Go ahead and tell me – how bad is it? What did they say about me on TV?’
‘Pretty much what you’d expect.’ He grinned. ‘They played up all the occult aspects and continually referred to you as the Vampire Psychologist, with accompanying snickers. I think you’ll have to make a statement when you feel up to it – they’re not going away until you talk to them. I imagine this isn’t the direction you envisioned your career moving?’
‘No,’ I said, frowning. ‘I guess I’m a laughingstock now.’
He stared at me for a few seconds. ‘I’m going to borrow your therapist hat for a moment and mention something you’re working hard to ignore. You’ve been through a lot of bad shit in a short period of time and you’re probably still in shock. It’s okay for you to admit you’re not doing very well, if that’s true. What would you tell a client who was trying to keep a stiff upper lip in the face of so much insanity?’
I heaved a heavy sigh and my shoulders sagged. ‘I’d say it was only delaying the inevitable.’ I sat silently, studying his concerned expression. My vision swam as tears gathered in my eyes. ‘It was horrible. I was so afraid when I woke up in that terrible place this morning. I’m still afraid. Not remembering what happened makes me doubt myself. Everything has been out of control for days. I don’t know who I am any more. I don’t know what’s real—’
Alan reached for me. Suddenly there was a popping sound accompanied by a slight breeze, and Devereux materialised in the middle of my living room.
CHAPTER 15
‘Kismet!’
I sat up straight, blinked to clear the tears from my eyes, and snapped my attention to Devereux. What the hell? How’d he get here? And holy shit – would you look at him?
Instead of his usual tight leather, Devereux was decked out in a luscious charcoal-grey suit and a magnificent turquoise silk shirt. The colour of the silk made his eyes appear even more spectacularly kaleidoscopic than usual. His hair shone like liquid moonlight. He could’ve stepped right out of the pages of a European high fashion men’s magazine.
Since I had no idea what he actually did with his time, I couldn’t begin to imagine where he’d been, spiffed up like that. I felt a brief twinge of jealousy at the thought of him dressing up for a woman. Maybe his assistant, Luna, or one of the other perfect female specimens he had working for him at The Crypt.
But who was I to be jealous when I’d spent part of the afternoon taking a shower and playing ‘you show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ with a fixated, well-endowed FBI agent?
Devereux glided over to me, swung me up off the couch with his arms around my waist, and kissed me thoroughly. Then kissed me again.
I was stunned but apparently willing, because I looped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. Interesting to discover this entirely new set of instinctual behaviours I appeared to have acquired regarding Devereux.
I’ve lost my mind. I’ve never behaved this way with anyone.
He pulled back slightly, slid his lips close to my ear and whispered, ‘I have never felt so helpless as when I could not find you. There would have been no end to my vengeance had you been harmed.’
My own personal avenging angel. He looks like a god but talks like a character from a historical romance novel. I can sure pick ’em.
‘Are you well? Did the dark one harm you?’
‘Uh . . .’
There it is again – that brain-melt thing that happens to me whenever I’m within ten feet of Devereux.
Alan leaped up from the couch, his face a mixture of confusion and outrage. ‘Hey! Devereux! What’s going on here? What are you doing?’
Despite the fact that it was difficult to appear threatening while wearing short pink sweatsuit bottoms and a decidedly feminist T-shirt, Alan managed to gather up sufficient testosterone to get his point across.
Apparently, Devereux wasn’t interested in butting heads with anyone. He lifted me up into his arms, then glanced over at Alan and whispered gently in that amazing voice, ‘You are tired, my friend. Lie down on the couch and sleep now.’
Damned if Alan didn’t do just that.
He arranged himself into a foetal position, made a few soft snorting sounds and drifted off, smiling.
Wow. That’s impressive. And disturbing. Shouldn’t I be putting up some kind of fuss? Should I worry about getting used to being carried around like this?
Devereux refocused on me. ‘You must come with me now.’
‘I must?’
There was a swoosh of air, a sound reminiscent of the crackle of electricity and we were suddenly standing in the middle of Devereux’s private room underneath The Crypt.
He released me and I stood, head spinning, stomach churning, trying to make sense of something that was impossible to make sense of. Whatever had just happened definitely messed with my equilibrium. I wasn’t sure my legs were up to their usual task of keeping me vertical.
‘Please, come and sit. You do not look well.’ Devereux fetched a small chair, pushed it gently against the back of my knees and I sat. I scanned the room, recognising all the paintings on the walls, the art supplies and the stash of bottles and strange artefacts on the table.