Midnight and Ronald showed up right on time. Neither of them appeared to have slept in a couple of days, and their vulnerability made my heart ache.
‘How are you holding up?’ I asked.
Midnight started to cry and Ronald put his arm around her. ‘Not very well. We just can’t get a grip on how anyone could hurt someone as sweet as Emerald. She was the most easygoing, laid-back person we’ve ever met,’ Ronald answered. ‘Do you know if they caught the killer yet?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I said, ‘but every cop in the state is on the case – they’ll find the sick person who killed Emerald and the others.’
Midnight pulled a tissue from the box and blew her nose. She had to clear her throat a couple of times before she could speak. ‘I can’t help but think this is all my fault. If I hadn’t left her alone, she wouldn’t have been hurt to begin with.’ She gave a frustrated scream, which startled both Ronald and me. ‘I’m so pissed off and I feel so helpless. The police aren’t going to be able to find the one who killed her. It was a vampire. But they’re not even taking that into consideration. How could a human drain all the blood from a body?’
That’s a good question. Most humans can’t.
‘We’re going to The Crypt tonight to talk to Devereux and ask him to find the vampire who hurt my friend.’
‘I hope he can help.’ I met her gaze. ‘But Emerald’s death isn’t your fault, Midnight. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If you’d been there with her, maybe both of you would have been harmed.’ I paused. ‘It’s normal for you to be angry – that’s one of the stages of grief. But you couldn’t have known what would happen to her. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it.’
‘That’s what I told her,’ Ronald said, squeezing Midnight’s shoulder.
We spent most of the rest of the time processing the grief and anger they both felt.
They asked a lot of questions about what had happened to me – the abduction and waking up in a cemetery – and I gave brief answers. I told them the truth: that I had no idea who had taken me there or what had happened.
Devereux said I’d been taken by a vampire, a dark spirit, but I had no comprehension of what he meant.
Midnight said she’d returned to her parents’ house temporarily because she couldn’t face Emerald’s empty bedroom in their shared apartment. As he had before, Ronald showed great strength and compassion. He stayed close to Midnight, and had been her constant companion during the last couple of days.
In fact, at one point they kissed each other on the lips and the sense I got was that it was more romantic than friendly. There was obviously more to the soft-spoken guy than met the eye. Perhaps Midnight had radically misinterpreted Ronald’s reaction to her relationship with Bryce. Maybe it hadn’t been Bryce he was interested in after all.
Watching them together gave me a hopeful feeling.
I walked them out to the waiting room, feeling tired but thinking I’d done something useful. I came back in the office, sat down at my desk and rested my head on my arms. I must have dozed off because a sound caused my head to jerk up and it was no longer light outside.
The sound had been the throat-clearing of the individual standing in my doorway.
I tensed.
I hadn’t turned any lights on in my office except the small desk lamp, so the room was mostly dark. As had become my careless habit, I hadn’t closed or locked my office door after Midnight and Ronald left, thinking I myself would be leaving momentarily. Who knew how long I’d been sleeping?
I definitely had some karmic thing going on with doors.
The man standing in the entrance was very tall, but he stooped and his shoulders were rounded. The overhead light in the waiting room provided enough illumination for me to note that he had shoulder-length dark hair with a rapidly receding hairline. He wore a black suit, white shirt and skinny black tie. My visitor held his hands together at chest level and twisted them as if he was continually rolling a ball of clay or dough.
He edged forwards, still standing in the doorway, as if reluctant to enter. ‘Are you the vampire doctor?’
CHAPTER 19
I rose from my desk, turned on another table lamp and walked slowly towards him, still straining to make out his shadowy features. My heart pounded and my stomach began to tingle gently. I rested my palm there while I determined if that familiar signal was simply information or a warning.
I kept a couple of feet of space between us. ‘I’m Kismet Knight. I’m a psychologist.’
‘Yes. You’re the one. Can you help me?’
‘I don’t know.’ I don’t even know what that means any more.
Since I wasn’t picking up any negative reaction from my sensing system and his uncomfortable, nervous gestures gave me the odd notion that he was more afraid of me than I was of him, I forced myself to relax. I pointed to the interior of the office. ‘Would you like to come in?’
He nodded and lumbered – as if moving his body around involved concentrated effort – over to the couch and sat.
I hesitated for a moment and watched him.
So, should I leave the door open because I don’t know anything about this fellow, or should I close it to give him privacy? Should I lock it so no one else can surprise me today? Which would also mean I’ll have to quickly unlock it if I need to get out fast. I can’t believe I’m talking to myself about doors. In all my years of private practice, I’ve never given the door one thought. Never felt threatened. I guess I can kiss those days goodbye.
I gently closed the door, leaving it unlocked, and eased over to the dimmer switch on the wall. Rule number one: Never make quick moves with a frightened client.
‘Would you mind if I turn on a bit more light?’
He lifted his chin from where it had been resting nearly on his chest and finally gave me a glimpse of his full face. ‘I don’t mind.’
I turned up the watts and claimed the chair nearest to him.
He had a thin, cadaverous face dotted with deep pock-marks from a rough case of acne and lined with scars that brought to mind the sewn-together monster in Frankenstein. He sported a beak-like nose that took up lots of facial real estate. His washed-out grey eyes were small and close together, which made his dark unibrow stand out starkly against his light skin.
He lowered his head again and twisted his hands in his lap.
‘How can I help you?’ I asked.
‘I heard that it’s safe to talk to you. That you won’t tell anyone about us.’
‘Who’s “us”?’ I sat back.
He raised his head, brows contracting in the centre. He retracted his upper lip so I could see his long canines. ‘Why, vampires, of course.’
My breath caught and I straightened in my seat. ‘Uh, yes, certainly.’
Okay, Kismet. Don’t panic. He’s a vampire. A real vampire. You didn’t think you’d be treating actual vampires, but you did ask them to come on down. That explains the stomach tingle.
I licked my suddenly dry lips. ‘You can talk to me. How can I help?’
I hope this isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
The hand-twisting escalated and he lowered his head again. ‘I have an unusual problem. You know that vampires drink blood, right?’
I cleared my throat, wondering if this was a trick question. ‘Yes, I’m aware of that.’