The Vampire Shrink(40)
Author: Lynda Hilburn

Chapter Twenty-Six

Bryce physically jumped back a few inches, visibly star­tled. "Lucifer!"

Lucifer? This isn't Brother Luther? Then who's Brother Luther?

The tall, bald vampire growled, his discolored fangs bared. He stepped over me and stalked toward Bryce, whose eyes had gone wide. It didn't take a psychologist to figure out that Bryce was afraid of the foul-smelling creature backing him into a corner.

Bryce's voice quivered. "Lucifer, I wasn't really going to do her. I was saving her for you, just as we agreed."

Lucifer picked Bryce up by his throat, piercing his neck with long, filthy fingernails. Bryce struggled uselessly as riv­ulets of blood trailed down his neck and Lucifer licked them with his long tongue.

Bryce screamed, "Dammit, Raleigh! The song! Play the song!"

Raleigh sprinted over to a boom box propped on a chair. He pressed a button and Brahms's Lullaby floated softly from the speakers. Lucifer continued to suck on the wounds on Bryce's neck, while using his other hand to fondle his own favorite body part.

"Crank it up!'" Bryce yelled.

Raleigh turned the music up eardrum shatteringly loud and Lucifer pulled back, dropped his hand from Bryce's neck and let him fall to the floor. He relinquished his grasp on his swollen organ and shuffled over to the boom box. He sat in front of it, swaying to the music, humming tonelessly.

Bryce leaped to his feet, massaging his neck. Raleigh rushed to him. "I did good, didn't I, Master?"

Bryce kicked the small man in the stomach, causing him to double over.

"You almost f**king got me killed, you moron. You should've started the damn CD the moment Bizarro Man showed up. You know that's the only way I can control him. Otherwise, he goes f**king ballistic."

Raleigh, who wasn't even as tall as Bryce's waist, hugged him. "I'm sorry, Master. Don't punish me!"

Bryce hesitated for a few seconds, appearing to consider the possibilities in the location of Raleigh's face, then peeled the mini vampire off his body. I'd gotten to my feet during the chaos and retreated be­hind a spectacular, mahogany grand piano. I studied the bald vampire who'd inexplicably ceased his rampage and sat hypnotized in front of the CD player.

Shit on a stick. Lucifer's affected by the music. Not only affected, but manipulated—controlled. Ive never seen a reaction that strong before. He transformed from being a dangerous predator into an almost-childlike state. I never would’ve suspected. This is one for the psych journals. If they believed in vampires, that is.

My silent diagnostic session was abruptly interrupted. Shoving Raleigh out of his way, Bryce scanned the room and quickly found me. He stalked over, grabbed my upper arm forcefully enough to leave bruises and pulled me to the circle.

The pain of his fingers burrowing knife-like into my arm was so intense I gasped, struggling to catch my breath. He barked, "That's enough bullshit. On with the show."

Several vampires had been busy placing objects inside the circle and drawing geometric shapes around the outside. Others worked in another part of the room, blending the contents of small bottles into a silver cauldron, which bub­bled over a fire.

All of them came to attention at Bryce's command. I hadn't noticed before that each wore a black robe. Vam­pire monks? Vampire devil worshippers? Lucifer swayed gently, oblivious. Except for one of the bearded vampires who scooped thick liquid from the cauldron into a black cup, everyone else assumed their places in the circle and began chanting. The sound of the chant was different from what I'd expe­rienced with Devereux. That had been melodic. This was more like a deep rumbling sound.

It reminded me of a performance I'd attended by a group of Buddhist Throat Singers. They have the ability, through years of training and practice, to sing two, three or four dis­tinct low tones at the same time. They use it for meditation and trance induction.

Eerie and powerful.

These guys were doing the same thing. It sent chills through me just like it had at the concert. The other bearded vampire walked the circle, holding a sword straight up over his head. The blade sparkled in the candlelight. He mumbled words under his breath and paused at regular intervals to lower the sword's tip to the floor and up again.

He came to a stop at the point nearest to where I waited with Bryce, whose claw-fingers were still cutting off the cir­culation in my arm. Using the sword, the vampire made a downward swipe and reached his hand through an invisible slash in an imaginary entryway, pretending to hold some­thing open.

Bryce dragged me through. The growling chant rose in intensity. If I hadn't participated in the Wiccan coven's ritual years ago, I'd have been surprised by the energetic change I expe­rienced inside the circle. The air felt thicker, as if it exerted more pressure on my skin. My body seemed to move in slow motion, cotton candy filled my head.

Bryce released me with a push and I splatted onto the floor. Again.

Not only was my arm throbbing, my hip screamed. I must have fallen on it earlier. I kicked off the only shoe that had made it into the circle and stood.

Bryce yelled to Raleigh, "'When I tell you, turn off the music."

He studied me, amused. "I'm going to summon your blond vampire lover now. Fix your hair. You're a mess!"

I rubbed my arm and gave him a blank stare.

He can't really force Devereux to appear, can he? He's acting very smug and arrogant Even more than usual What if all these vampires together have more power than Devereux?

He laughed and strutted over to the invisible opening, where the bearded alchemist who'd been stirring the foul-smelling brew at the table handed him the black cup.

Bryce muttered something that sounded like strings of vowels and drank whatever was in the cup.

He grimaced, shook his head and bellowed, "Devereux. Come to me."

There was a moment of unnatural stillness. My skin itched as currents of air gathered in the ring. The velocity increased, blowing my hair back from my face and the light flickered, becoming suddenly brighter. A sound—not a pop this time but a full-fledged sonic boom—resonated only seconds before Devereux's shirtless body burst into the circle.

The momentum was powerful enough that he landed on his hands and knees. Bryce dropped the cup he'd been holding, clapped his hands and laughed. He bowed to the circle of chanting vampires. "Bravo, gentlemen! You've exceeded all my expectations and will be abundantly rewarded."

Whatever had happened to cause Devereux to arrive had clearly taken a toll on him, because he struggled to get to his feet and appeared dazed. Bryce cocked his head and watched his guest, who'd fi­nally managed to rise.

Devereux turned his head in my direction and I instinc­tively moved toward him. His eyes held an emotion that almost looked like fear. He whispered in my mind, "This is impossible."

Bryce intercepted me, stepped between us. He gave me his back and ran his hands over the muscles of Devereux's chest. He frowned. "Don't look at her. Look at me. I told you what would happen if you didn't cooperate."

Devereux rubbed his eyes. "What is this spell? You are not powerful enough to summon me."

Bryce clapped his hands again, laughing. He swung his arm in a wide arc, indicating the robed participants. "When you have the right bargaining chips, anything is possible."

He hollered at Raleigh, "Now!"

Raleigh hit the "stop" button on the CD player and the lullaby abruptly ended. I hadn't realized how loud it had been—what a counter­point the lullaby was to the chanting—until it was gone. I had a vague idea of what Bryce had in mind, but I couldn't figure out anything I could do to help Devereux. Or myself.

"Raleigh, bring me one of the blood sacks. Now! Move it!"

Raleigh, who enthusiastically enjoyed his role as Bryce's flunky, smiled—or more accurately leered—as he scurried over to the corner where Midnight, Ronald, and Alan waited.

He grabbed Alan by the neck and pulled him to the edge of the circle, dropping his head with a loud thump. I was glad Alan was unconscious, because that had to hurt. The bearded vampire with the sword reached his hand through the invisible entrance and pantomimed holding a curtain open. Bryce seized Alan and dragged him inside.

He picked up a ceremonial athame that had been placed strategically in the ritual space. The confident, wicked smile on his face faltered as he darted a glance in Lucifer's direction and found him stand­ing. Moving toward us. I wished there was a volume control knob to turn down the chanters, because the repetitive sound was giving me a headache.

Devereux's voice whispered in my mind, "Stand back."

Bryce had gotten so distracted by Lucifer's approach and finding the knife to bleed Alan, that he'd underestimated De­vereux's recovery. Bryce knelt down next to Alan, raised the athame and re­peated some words in Latin. Before the blade reached Alan's skin, Bryce was forcefully lifted into the air by Devereux's arm around his neck.

The blade flew from Bryce's hand and clattered to the floor. The two of them tore at each other, snarling and swearing. They levitated, then wrestled down to the floor, pounding on each other like human fighters on angel dust.

I stood frozen, feeling like a helpless idiot.

As Devereux and Bryce flailed, they crashed into the chanters, who had nowhere to go, because the circle was pro­tected by its own, weird force field. Apparently, the only way in or out was through the imag­inary opening. The fighters struggled back to their feet, separating long enough to hiss and growl at each other. Devereux spoke, deep and slow. "You are the mistake I have paid dearly for. It is finished."

With a ferocious roar, he launched himself at Bryce and ripped his throat out. Bryce crashed to the floor like a downed tree. Blood spurted everywhere, drenching the circle. A siz­zling sound, like butter in a hot pan, could be felt as well as heard. Faint static electricity caused the hairs on my arms to raise. Tiny sparks ignited around Devereux. I pulled Alan as far away from the oozing blood as I could.

Although copious amounts of blood still flowed from the wound, the skin of Bryce's throat had already begun to knit itself back together. I shifted my eyes away from Bryce in time to see Lucifer plow into the circle and grab Devereux. On a good day I was sure Devereux could hold his own with the ghoulish vampire, but he was weak and things looked bad. Lucifer lifted Devereux into the air, holding him by his hair, trying to sink his fangs into Devereux's neck. Bryce's throat was healing so quickly he'd be back on his feet within seconds, and I didn't think Devereux had a chance offending off both his enemies.

I cast my eyes around frantically, searching for anything I could use to help Devereux. My eyes caught movement in the mirror. The waist-coated violinist, still holding his instrument and bow, was waving his arms excitedly to get my attention. He moved his mouth, offering more silent words, and pointed his bow at something on the floor. My eyes tracked where he pointed and didn't see any­thing except the sword. I glanced back at the image in the mirror; he nodded and mouthed, clear enough for me to understand, "Yes! Pick it up!"

The sword

I really am dense.

What happened to the ZZ Top vampire who was guarding the opening?

I scooped up the blade, which was much heavier than I expected. I intended to stick it in Bryce's chest, because everyone knew you could kill a vampire by puncturing his heart. I hoped that wasn't another movie myth.

Bryce's neck was almost completely healed and he'd just lifted his head off the ground when I brought the sword down, aiming for his chest. I whacked his head off instead. This time the blood oozed instead of spurted. I heard Raleigh scream Bryce's name. The collective gasp of the now-silent chanters made me raise my head to investigate. All their surprised eyes were on me. A few of the vampires moved a step forward, as if they intended to take the sword away.

I didn't care about that. My brain had clicked on "auto-matic." All I knew was that I'd missed my target.Before they could do anything, I raised the sword again and plunged the tip directly into Bryce's heart, holding the grip with two hands.

Sword in the Stone in reverse.

In my prevailing shocked and traumatized state, that de­cision made perfect sense. I'd never again scoff at a story of a mother lifting a car to save her child. That was one heavy sword, but I'd wielded it like it was made of aluminum foil.

The electrical sensation increased and the sparks of light surrounding Devereux ignited crackling fire sounds.

Bryce had said the blood was the final part of the ritual. He just never thought it would be his blood. But what would it mean for Devereux that the circle had been saturated with the thick, red stuff?

He'd managed to pry Lucifer's hands off his hair, but wasn't making much progress in getting free.

"Kismet?"

I turned to find Alan sitting up, staring at me, his mouth open. He still wore the fake fangs.

He shifted his eyes to Bryce's body—both parts—then to the sword, then back to my face.

I can only imagine how I must've looked.

Well, I probably looked like what I was: a blood-soaked, traumatized, barefoot, ghost-seeing, vampire slayer. In my demented state, I wondered if I should add "vampire slayer" to my business card. But I figured it wouldn't do much for my vampire therapy business.

I wasn't even particularly surprised that Alan had re­joined the land of the living. Since Bryce had been the one to put the whammy on him, and he was now undergoing an accelerated decomposition process, it made sense that Alan would be released from his evil eye.

It's funny how lucid you can become in the midst of a psychotic break.

Bryce's handsome face had regressed to his true age and the massively wrinkled skin began to crumble like ancient papyrus. Chunks of his now gray, brittle hair blew across the floor in the air currents caused by Devereux's continuing struggle with Lucifer.