I’m not sure when, but I’d apparently closed my eyes because when I sensed we were stationary I opened them.
And words failed me.
I was standing on a cloud in a huge candlelit room surrounded by what looked like hundreds of other people.
Devereux brushed his finger gently across my cheek and I turned to him. He took my hand and walked me forwards a few steps.
‘It is my pleasure to introduce you to Lady Amara.’
A beautiful woman with long pale-blonde hair approached. She wore a breathtaking white gown and a warm smile and resembled Devereux so strongly she could have been his sister.
She moved in very close to me, lifted the pentagram necklace resting on my chest and met my eyes.
‘Welcome, Kismet. You have come at last. I am Devereux’s mother.’
CHAPTER 17
Devereux had been correct in predicting that I might feel queasy after our inter-dimensional road trip. My head felt fuzzy and a loud buzzing filled my ears. Part of me figured I’d fallen and hit my head and that was why I was having both auditory and visual hallucinations.
Talking to Devereux’s dead mother? Walking on a cloud?
After I accepted my temporary madness I relaxed and enjoyed the experience. After all, it was obviously just a dream: a marvellous, esoteric, lucid dream. It made perfect sense to me that I’d called up the beautiful blonde woman’s image from the portrait in Devereux’s room and that the cottony feeling in my head might be symbolically translated into a cloud.
‘Okay.’ I gave what I thought was a supportive smile and trilled, ‘Sure. Absolutely. Devereux’s mother. It’s nice to meet you, Lady Amara.’
‘Amara, please.’
The two of them exchanged a look. Devereux stepped in front of me and raised my chin with a gentle finger so he could search my eyes.
‘Kismet?’ He frowned. ‘Are you well? Your mind is racing like a film on fast-forward.’ He removed his finger from beneath my chin but continued to stare at me.
‘Oh, sure,’ I said, dazed. ‘This is a great dream. Much more fun than all the bloody, scary ones I’ve been having.’
He glanced at the blonde woman and they shared a smile. Devereux moved over to her and drew her into a hug. ‘It is wonderful to see you, Mother. It has been so very long.’
They held each other tightly, both reluctant to let go.
Amara finally stepped away from his embrace, wiped a tear from under her eye and stood in front of us. Shifting her gaze to each of us in turn, she said in a trembling voice, ‘My beautiful son, I am so happy you have found your mate and that your heart will be at peace. I cannot remain long, so we must begin.’
His mate?
Surprised by this confusing new development, I scanned the immediate area, searching for the mate Amara had referred to.
Before I could ask any of the multitude of disturbing questions that had commandeered my partially functioning brain, Devereux positioned himself between us. He offered us each an arm and we were suddenly in the middle of a cavernous room. The dreamy quality of the experience began to recede and the sounds, colours and sensations lost their vague edges and became hyper-focused. My sensing system shifted to high alert and my inner defences rallied the troops and pulled up the bridge over the moat.
My stomach turned and my breath went shallow. I was suddenly afraid. All around me were people I didn’t know, and we were still walking on a damn cloud. Candles floated in the air of their own volition, just like in the Harry Potter movies, and the flames were overly large and multicoloured. Every few seconds each candle sent up a spark of mini-fire-works, but no one else paid any attention.
Maybe there was something funny in that water he gave me. Some kind of occult drug from one of those strange bottles he has in his bedroom.
The air was thick and heavy, as if it was very hot, but it wasn’t. There was a wall of murmuring sound, which I soon discovered to be the whispered conversations around me.
Devereux guided us into a large, cloud-free open circle. As if on cue, all the other guests surrounded us, forming themselves into several concentric rings, one behind another. On the floor of the open area were symbols similar to the ones in Devereux’s private room. An ornate, jewel-encrusted chair with a high back sat in the centre of the circle.
Amara grasped my hand and led me over to the fancy chair, indicating I should sit. I gazed into her eyes, searching for any sign that I was in danger, but all I saw was kindness, warmth and compassion.
Since I didn’t know what else to do – or what else I could do – I sat in the chair. The moment my hind end touched the seat, the people in the circles began singing. Or maybe chanting would be a better word to describe the sound, some repetitious melody in a language I didn’t recognise. The vocalising started out softly, harmonies flowing over and under the tonic, but as it went on, it got louder, then louder still, until I could feel the vibration of the sound in my bones.
The song was mesmerising, eerie and lovely. My eyelids drooped and my head fell forwards. I was still fully conscious, but had the distinct impression that my body had gone to a different time zone. I concentrated on lifting my head and was finally able to raise it just enough to have the motion cause it to flop back against the chair.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Amara step next to me. She took my hand and I tried to produce sounds, but nothing came out.
I don’t know what Devereux had been doing all this time, but he suddenly appeared next to me in the centre of the circle and all the singing stopped. I mean everyone literally stopped chanting at exactly the same second. Devereux raised both his hands in the air.
‘Welcome, my friends. I am grateful for your willingness to join us in this ceremony of protection today to hold the sacred space. It is truly a momentous occasion and a special time for me because my mother is here. Please welcome my mate Kismet to the circle.’
What? I’m his mate? When did I sign up for that? Why isn’t my brain working properly?
He gestured towards me with a graceful, flowing hand-and-arm movement and everyone said words in unison in that exotic-sounding language.
Ever since the singing ended, my mind had begun to clear and my body was operating at my command again. Amara released my hand, but continued to stand next to me.
Devereux extended his hands out in front of him and a large golden chalice appeared from nowhere. He held the chalice over his head and moved around the inside edges of the circle, keeping up an ongoing monologue in that mysterious sonorous language. He was quite a sight to behold, gliding like a dancer, his duster billowing out behind him, his naked chest gleaming in the candlelight.
My mind was clear enough to find him compelling and my body was aware enough to be aroused – in fact, for some reason I was intensely aroused. My suddenly hard nipples thrust against the silky fabric of my dress, threatening to burst free from the restraining corset, and the area between my legs grew slick with liquid heat.
Then he came and stood in front of me, set the chalice on the floor at my feet, threw off his duster and, for lack of better words, performed an erotic dance for me.
Vampires dance? Who knew? Well, he did say it was a pagan ceremony.