This is so amazingly ludicrous. How can I sit here and talk with a vampire about drinking blood? Where am I supposed to put this in my brain? Is my intuition out to lunch? Am I in danger?
He swivelled his head around and scanned the room, as if he wasn’t sure we were alone, then started, ‘Well, I find the sight of blood disgusting.’ His shoulders sagged and his chest became even more concave than it had been. He almost whispered, ‘I avoid looking at it as much as I can. It’s revolting.’
Holy shit, somebody help me. A vampire who doesn’t like blood – is this a joke? Am I being secretly filmed for some reality show?
Suddenly I remembered Devereux’s mind-reading tendencies and how he’d told me that all vampires are telepathic. Even if this was an individual of a different ‘species’ sitting across from me, I didn’t want to have my rude thoughts announced through the vampire broadcast network. I needed to ask some questions and set some ground rules.
I held up my hand in a ‘stop’ gesture, and he brought his eyes to mine briefly before lowering them again. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.’
‘Yes,’ he said in a clear voice, ‘I suppose you would need that. I’m Apollo.’
My face showed surprise before I could catch myself. ‘Apollo? Like the Greek god?’
‘The very same. I know I don’t match my name very well – being decidedly un-godlike – but it was actually my last name when I was alive. Anthony Apollo. My human ancestors originally came from Greece. In the vampire world, catchy names are preferable to mundane, human-sounding ones, so I go by Apollo. Besides, it gives everyone quite a chuckle.’ He smiled for the first time and relaxed his hands in his lap.
I returned his smile, pleased to see a lighter side of him, and hopeful that letting him into my office hadn’t been yet another bad decision.
‘So, Apollo, you probably know that working with vampires is a relatively new thing for me and I’m still finding my way around. I’d appreciate it if you could answer some questions. Would that be all right?’
He nodded. ‘If I can.’
‘I’d like you to tell me what powers you have. I mean, can you read my thoughts? If I look into your eyes, will I be entranced? That sort of thing.’
‘I’m pathetically weak for a vampire. I haven’t been one long – less than fifty years – and the vamp who turned me was rather insipid himself. You probably know a vampire is only as powerful as the one who created him. Add in my little “problem” and I can honestly say that I don’t bring much to the vampire gene pool. But to answer your question, I can read some thoughts – specifically strong emotions. If you’re worried about what you’ve been thinking so far, I can tell you it’s all gone over my head. Same with the eyes. Although I can probably give you a headache if I really concentrate.’
I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile because I didn’t know him well enough yet to decide if he’d be pleased I’d got his humour or offended that I found him amusing. In any case, I was impressed by his way with words. So many articulate vampires. Who knew?
‘Well then, let’s deal with the largest issue. You said that you’ve heard I’m safe, that you can talk to me. I want to know if I’m safe with you. How likely is it you’ll become interested in my neck?’
Gee, Kismet, that was graceful.
He laughed awkwardly for several seconds, then surrendered to full-out laughter, deep lines creating bizarre shapes out of some of the pockmarks on his face, which appeared to be unaccustomed to that much frivolity.
‘Forgive me for laughing, but if you’d heard the warning Devereux gave the coven about anyone harming you in any way, you wouldn’t even ask the question. Trust me – no one wants to have Devereux as an enemy. I think you will find that most of us have tremendous self-control. That is one thing I can say about myself, so you can rest assured you are safe with me.’
Said the spider to the fly.
He pulled a tissue from the box on the nearby table and dabbed at his eyes. ‘Ah, that felt very good. It’s been quite a while since I laughed out loud.’
I gave him a few seconds to collect himself. ‘I’m glad the laughing felt good. Perhaps we can encourage you to do more of it. And thank you for explaining about what Devereux said. I’m pleased to know I’m safe with you, otherwise we wouldn’t be able to work together.’
Get a grip, Kismet. This isn’t just another client you’re setting boundaries with. This is a being who sucks the blood of people exactly like you. Is there no end to your political correctness?
‘I noticed that your . . . er . . . fangs are descended. I understand that some vampires can will them in and out of their gums. Can you do that?’
‘No, I don’t have that kind of control yet, so my fangs remain in this position all the time.’ He raised his hand to cover his mouth. ‘I hope that doesn’t concern or offend you?’
I shook my head. ‘No, it doesn’t.’
‘That’s good to know.’ He lowered his hand again.
I wound a strand of my hair around my finger. ‘Forgive the rudeness of this question, but I don’t understand where vampires get the financial resources to come to a therapist. I’m pleased to speak with you this evening, but I usually require appointments in advance and some kind of payment arrangements. Will that be a difficulty?’
Aha! An escape hatch!
‘No.’ He smiled broadly and raised his eyes to mine. ‘The members of Devereux’s coven are well taken care of – money is the least of our concerns. I’ll pay cash. The fee is irrelevant.’
Well, now, aren’t those words that cause a therapist’s heart to flutter?
‘Thank you. Now let’s talk about your issue. How does your disgust at the sight of blood complicate your . . . experience?’
‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to be quite graphic. Are you sure you’re willing to listen to this?’
I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. No! ‘I’ll do the best I can.’
I feel like a newbie, a brand-new therapist sitting with my first client, trying not to screw up. Trying to convince the bogeyman under the bed that there’s no bogeyman under the bed.
‘Since you’re the vampire psychologist, you probably know there are people who enjoy hanging around vampires because they want to have their blood sucked. They crave it.’
Yuck.
I crossed my legs. ‘Yes, I’ve heard that.’
He allowed his shoulders to visibly relax and inhaled a deep breath.
He’s breathing. Do vampires breathe? Does Devereux? Why didn’t I notice that small detail?
‘So finding necks to suck on isn’t my problem – people offer themselves to me all the time, and all I have to do is tuck in. As long as I can’t actually see the blood, I’m fine. Like any other vampire, I love the taste of it, and the way it makes me feel is worth whatever it takes to get it. But it’s impossible to suck blood without there being any . . . remains. Residue. Drops. Or, horror of horrors, actual uncontrolled bleeding. You see, sometimes in the midst of a feeding I can get carried away. It really is like having a whole-body orgasm, if you’ll forgive my bluntness, and I’ve been known to enlarge the wound with my fangs when my body starts reacting to the . . . uh . . . stimulation. It can be an overwhelming experience. Anyway, if I see even one drop of blood I immediately throw up everything I just swallowed. Then there is more blood, which makes me retch until the muscles of my stomach scream with pain.’ His eyes had gone wide and glassy as he told his story and he clasped his hands together so tightly that the white skin had become blue. He sat very stiff and straight.
The obvious terror the story stirred in him caused me to shift in my chair in anticipation of having to perform some vampire CPR. I’d seen clients with that expression on their faces as they described fears of being covered in snakes, eaten by a lion or burned alive. A phobia is a phobia.