While I daydreamed about my impending stardom, my stomach growled in angry protest. When was the last time I'd eaten? I tended to forget mundane details such as food and, as a consequence, strolled into the kitchen foraging for something edible. As usual, the refrigerator was cluttered with old take-out boxes—the contents of which were no longer recognizable—bottled water, and something that was probably cheese. My kitchen was a potent reminder that I was exceptionally organized and efficient in my professional life but completely oblivious to the other aspects.
Shopping was torture for me. Not only did I have the impatience of my "Type A" personality to deal with, but being around all those people—their energy I guess, for lack of a better word—seemed to wipe me out. According to my family, I'd always been "too sensitive" and receptive to the moods of the people around me. Well, I guess that's why I became a psychologist, but my sensitivity certainly complicated the rest of my life.
Deciding to call out for Chinese, I picked up the phone and heard the beeping sound that told me I had messages. The phone hadn't rung, had it? I checked the ringer volume and remembered that I'd turned the phone off. Damn. How many days ago? Since all my client calls went to my business number, I sometimes forgot all about my home phone. Luckily, my answering service had my cell phone number in case they needed to reach me for a client emergency.
I poured myself a cup of coffee then punched in the retrieval number to access my calls.
The first message made me smile. It was from Vaughan, the very cute chiropractor I'd met when we'd both volunteered to answer phones at the local PBS fundraiser a couple of months ago. I think he'd called me once before, but I couldn't remember if I'd returned the call or simply thought about returning it. He really was adorable with his light green eyes, curly chestnut hair, and that delicious dimple. It probably wouldn't hurt to call him back. I was such a coward about dating.
Hearing the next voice made me catch my breath. Dr. Thomas Radcliffe. The man I'd been willing to change my life for. The man I thought was the answer to my prayers. The man who told me I didn't excite him and who dumped me for an airy-fairy astrologer who wore crystals and smelled of patchouli oil. After all this time, thinking about him still made me want to cry. It had been two painful years, and I had only recently started to feel good again. Two long years of going over everything I'd said or done, trying to understand what it was about me that hadn't been quite good enough. Shades of my childhood.
He said he'd be in Denver for training and he wanted to get together for lunch, to "catch up and touch base." He always talked that way. I wondered if his vocabulary had expanded to include all the astrological information he surely must be privy to. But, no matter. I had no intention of meeting him for lunch or anything else. The welcome mat had definitely been pulled out from under Tom Radcliffe. He might still have the keys to my libido, but the rest of me wouldn't go along for the ride anymore. I erased his message and called the Chinese restaurant.
Midnight came in for her second appointment on Monday.
She was still wearing the white makeup and the fake fangs, but instead of being shrouded in a long cape, she was dressed like that campy TV vamp, Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, in a very low-cut, cl**vage-enhancing, tight, black dress. She glided into the room and bonelessly melted into the chair. She seemed to be in a very good mood.
I picked up my pad and pen and sat down. "It's nice to see you again, Midnight. I can't help but notice that you're smiling a lot today. What's got you in such fine spirits?"
"I met someone." Her smile spread wider.
Now we're talking. I settled back in my chair. Maybe a nice college guy or Peace Corp volunteer?
"Well, he must really be something to light you up this way. Tell me about him."
She selected a lock of her long hair and began nervously twirling it around her finger. "He's one of the new vampires who started coming to the club. His name is Bryce and he is so hot. I'd seen him around for a couple of weeks, but it wasn't until this past weekend that he came over and talked to me. We spent the whole night together last night and it was like a dream. It was the first time I'd ever had sex with a real vampire."
Vampires, again! I struggled to keep the dismay from my face. To give myself a moment to regroup, I jotted down a couple of notes on the pad. Well. I gave a mental sigh. I guess it was too much to hope that the fantasy would start to fade already. I wonder if they'd take away my license if I locked her in a closet until she passed through this phase?
I met her eyes. "You had sex with a stranger?"
Her body language altered ever so slightly, just enough for me to notice that my question had pushed a button.
"That makes it sound bad or dirty. It wasn't dirty. It was beautiful. We just got swept away." She almost sang the last two words. Still smiling, she carefully smoothed out the wrinkles on her dress and flipped one side of her hair back away from her face, avoiding eye contact.
I wish someone would throw away the book that we women keep handing down to each other. The one with all the ridiculous reasons why we lose our minds in the presence of some man.
"How old is Bryce?"
She examined the blood-colored fingernails on her right hand. "I'm not sure. I don't think he's as old as Devereux— around 200, maybe—but he looks about 30."
He's 200years old? Well, I did ask.
"Don't you think Bryce might be a bit too old for you? What are you hoping will happen between the two of you?"
"I think he's the one I've been waiting for."
Waiting for? You're only 19. I need some magic words, here.
I started to respond, but just then she turned her head and stared out the window, deep in thought. I waited, and after a while she brought her gaze back to me, all the joy wiped from her face. "Bryce says he'll bring me over if I want."
"Bring you over?"
"Make me a vampire."
Okay. She said she wants to be a vampire, and this guy is offering to help her out, but it doesn't appear that she thinks it's a good thing. She's definitely sending out mixed signals. What's really going on here?
I noted she'd raised her chin at the end of her last statement, exposing the attitude of defiance that had also crept into her voice, so I decided to push the envelope a bit.
"I thought Dev wouldn't let you do that. Have you talked to him about this?"
Come on, Dev. Be a father figure instead of a predator. It sounds like Bryce wants that job.
"No." Her fists tightened in her lap. "He hates Bryce. He already asked me to stay away from him, but why should I? Why shouldn't I have a relationship with Bryce? Who is Dev to make those decisions for me? He isn't my father."
Ah. Bingo.
"Did he tell you why he wanted you to stay away from Bryce?"
The anger that had started out as a slow leak now flooded the room.
"He said Bryce was one of the bad guys, that he used people and he didn't care about anyone but himself. Then I had to sit there while he went on and on about how vampires are no different from humans—there are good ones and bad ones—and how I'm not 'mature' enough to know the difference. Who does he think he is? He doesn't care that I finally found someone who wants me."
She burst into tears.
And the wall comes tumbling down . . .
I moved the tissue box closer to her and said softly, "It sounds like Dev hurt your feelings . . ."
She blew her nose, and nodded. Why is Dev so important to you?" He's the first person who ever paid any attention to me," she sobbed. "I hoped he'd change his mind about me being too young for him. I really love him, and he treats me like a kid."
"That must be very frustrating."
"Yeah," she sighed. "But I know he cares about me. Just not the way I want him to."
"Is it possible that having a big brother type of love might be special in its own way? After all, having someone who watches out for you is worth a lot."
"I never thought of it that way." She frowned and paused to think about it. "Maybe I should talk to him?"
I nodded and relaxed my tight shoulders. "I think that would be an excellent idea."
Maybe this Dev guy isn't so tweaked, after all
We sat quietly for a couple of minutes.
"Midnight, are you seriously considering becoming a vampire?"
Becoming a vampire had started to sound like a euphemism to me, and I was getting the same vibe I got when a client hinted about suicide, without actually talking about it.
"I don't know. Last night Bryce and I took a little blood from each other. It was the first time that a real vampire had bitten me and he did it while we were ha**ng s*x, which felt great, but I think I must have passed out for a while because I couldn't remember what happened after that. He told me he had chosen me because I was ready. I don't want to let him down."
Let him down?
Bryce was setting off all my inner alarms. I wished I could see the skin hidden by all that hair so I could tell if she
had any cuts or bite marks.
Did he drug her? He's obviously playing into the vampire fantasy. Is he a manipulative slimeball or something even worse?
"I thought we made an agreement that you'd hold off on any blood drinking activities until we talked about it? What if Bryce has some kind of illness? Is he worth dying for?"
She scowled. "I think you're making it a bigger thing than it is. I know I told you I'd wait, but we got so caught up in the moment. Bryce said that if I really loved him, I'd want to share everything with him. I know how that sounds, but at the time it made perfect sense. He just looked at me and 1 knew it was the right thing to do. Besides, Bryce said if I do decide to become a vampire, any disease that I might have would go away."
Shit We've crossed the line now. Pm legally required to report harm to self or other and, even though Midnight isn't a minor, she's at risk. If I get the authorities involved in this, Midnight will never trust me again. But if I don't. . .
I leaned forward in my chair, locking eyes with her. "Would you be willing to give this some time? Will you promise me—I mean really promise me—that you won't make any decisions about becoming a vampire or drinking blood without talking to me first? It's a very big deal."
I let the honest concern I felt show in my face, and I watched the suspicion in her eyes soften into possibility as she sensed my sincerity. I really didn't want to bring in the police unless I absolutely had to, and I needed time to deepen our connection.
She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Well, I guess I could do that."
I persuaded her to put off the decision for a couple of weeks and we spent the rest of the session exploring some of her background. "Tell me about your father/' and she did. The hour flew by.
As she stood to leave she said, "I told some of the other kids about you and a few of them might want to come and talk. Would that be okay?"
"Sure. That would be great." I picked up some business cards from my desk and handed them to her. "Just ask them to call to schedule an appointment."
I walked her into the reception area and she stopped with her hand on the doorknob and turned toward me again. "Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. I told Dev I was coming to see you that first time—that my parents were making me see a shrink—and he was very interested in that. Well, anyway, he was waiting for me after our appointment, and he asked me lots of questions about you and what we talked about. He asked me how you look. I told him everything. He said he might drop in to meet you sometime, and that I should tell you."
"If he'd care to make an appointment, I'd be happy to see him."
"It would have to be at night." She smiled.
I nodded. "That's perfectly fine. I often see clients in the evenings." I didn't add that it was one of my least favorite things to do. But if I was going to specialize in vampire wannabes, I'd have to get used to the nocturnal schedule.
She left and I went back into my office.
I met with a few more clients that afternoon and early evening and was just kicking off my shoes when I heard the door to the reception area open. I quickly scanned my appointment book to make sure I hadn't forgotten anyone. Finding I hadn't, I put my shoes back on, and opened my office door.
Sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting room was the very same gorgeous, blond-haired, leather-clad man I'd seen outside my building.
My stomach lurched and I think I made a gasping sound.
He stood when I opened the door and it was fluid motion. As if he had simply willed himself to stand. His body was all lean muscle radiating some kind of primal power. He moved elegantly over to me, gave a slight bow of his head, and offered a glorious smile.
Dressed all in black, his snug leather pants, form-fitting silk T-shirt and long leather duster gave the impression of high fashion rather than Harley Davidsons.
I froze in the doorway with my mouth hanging open, speechless, staring into the most amazing pair of turquoise eyes I'd ever seen.
He picked up my hand gently and kissed the back, his lips soft and silky. "I am Devereux. Is this a good time for an appointment?"
Chapter Three
There were so many emotions slamming against each other inside me I didn't know which one to act on first.
Fear decided to step to the front of the line, and my mind began weighing options in case the man physically attacked me. He didn't seem menacing at the moment, but he was much bigger than me—much stronger—and I hadn't spent as much time in the gym as I probably should have. Hell, I hadn't spent any. And, obviously, he had.