The Vampire Shrink(41)
Author: Lynda Hilburn

I turned toward my ghostly helper in the mirror and mouthed the words "Thank you." He bowed from the waist, raised his violin to playing position and moved the bow vig­orously over the strings. I wished I could've heard the tune.

Apparently seeing ghosts is another one of my skills. Who knew?

A groan from Devereux brought him back to center stage in my attention. Something was happening to him. He stumbled, not able to remain erect. His eyes met mine and I saw fear again before he collapsed on the floor.

Lucifer loomed over him, slowly bending down.

Devereux whispered in my mind, "I love you."

Something about the hopelessness and finality of the feel­ing he sent along with the words terrified me. A bone-chilling cold that rose from the horror of killing Bryce and the pos­sibility of losing Devereux washed over me. I dropped to the floor and crawled to the vampire I loved. I stroked his cheek, calling his name over and over. He didn't answer.

Alan grabbed the athame from where it had fallen on the floor, leaped up onto Lucifer's back and stabbed him re­peatedly. Lucifer seemed more annoyed than injured and flailed about, trying to dislodge the irritant between his shoulder blades.

Lucifer finally reached over his shoulder, grabbed Alan by his thick hair and threw him into the former chanters. One of the vampires held onto Alan for a few seconds, a confused expression on his face. Maybe he wasn't sure where his loyal­ties belonged since I killed Bryce. He must have decided that it wasn't wise to be on the losing team, so he let Alan go.

Grasping at straws, I screamed up at Lucifer, repeating all the words he'd said to me in one of his other personalities. "She must be punished. You are the warrior of God. The redeemer of lost souls. She's a harlot! Jezebel! Whore!'

Lucifer froze. He reached down and grabbed a big chunk of my hair, pulling me up as he straightened. He locked his red eyes on mine and I felt my brain slide out my ears. I closed my eyes to break the eye contact and kept repeat­ing the words, trying to remember everything else he'd said, until I felt him relax his grip on my hair. Even before I opened my eyes I could tell he'd trans­formed. But I knew for sure when he launched into his southern-accented rant.

"Whore! Jezebel! You'll be washed in the blood!"

He seemed to shrink before my eyes. The stained, hor­rible smelling black coat now larger than his shriveled frame. His eyes black coals again. He backed away from me, clutching his coat around him, rocking slightly.

I became aware of Alan standing next to me, his eyes wide, fascinated by the spectacle unfolding in front of him. I hoped the transformation from one of the split-off per­sonalities to another might release Devereux from whatever power-hold Brother Luther—or Lucifer, whoever he really was—had on him, but Devereux lay still as death.

The ritual Bryce set in motion had taken on a life of its own and fulfilled the original intention: to control Devereux. Then several things happened at once. A loud noise drew my attention to one of the mirror panels on the other side of the room, which turned out to be a hidden door.

Lieutenant Bullock's costumed police officers stormed the room, yelling, "Police! Freeze!"

The human rescuers were followed by Luna and too many vampires to count.

The arrival of Devereux's coven caused the vampires who'd been in the ritual to dash through the imaginary open­ing in the circle and pop out of the room. Luna barreled toward the ritual space and smashed into the invisible force field.

"Fucking magic bullshit!" she screamed. "They had the whole building protected so we couldn't enter through thought. We had to follow the stupid humans who'd found a way in. Now we'll have to erase their memories."

Her expression became suddenly serious as she got a closer look at Devereux lying helplessly on the floor. Her face contorted. Enraged, she screamed at Brother Luther, thinking he was Lucifer, not realizing that for all in­tents and purposes, he was a different person. Er, different vampire.

Trying again unsuccessfully to enter the circle, Luna vented her anger and frustration on the stooped, pitiful vam­pire standing over Devereux. The longer she yelled, the more upset he became until he covered his face with his hands and sobbed loudly. I knew what would happen if he reached a breaking point in his anxiety, so I tried to convince Luna to stop harangu­ing him.

"Please, Luna. You've got to stop. He's calm for now.

Trust me, if you keep screaming at him, something bad will happen. He's sick."

"Fuck that. This a**hole did something to Devereux and I'm going to find out what he did. Take your human psycho­babble somewhere else."

She'd been prowling around the perimeter of the circle, test­ing for an opening. Not finding one made her even angrier. I stared down at Devereux's beautiful face and remem­bered the music. Keeping the dangerous, psychotic vampire subdued so we could remove Devereux from the circle was the highest priority. Maybe when he was freed from the influence of the spell, he'd revive.

Playing the lullaby, which would make Brother Luther shift into his child personality, seemed to be the best tempo­rary solution. Perhaps he'd be immune to Luna's threats in his regressed state. All I could think about was saving Devereux, so I didn't consider the repercussions when I sailed through the opening in the circle, heading toward the CD player.

Alan called out, "Where are you going?"

"No time to explain." He'd missed the musical portion of the evening.

When I got there, the little CD drawer was open and empty.

Where was the CD?

Where was Raleigh?

Luna yelled, "About f**king time," and leaped through the opening I'd shown her. She strode toward Brother Luther, snarl­ing, fangs bared, a true vampire Amazon on the warpath.

Too late, I realized my mistake and ran after her. I tried to step in front of her and she pushed me aside effortlessly, shoving me into Alan so hard we both hit the floor. The sight of her caused Brother Luther to shriek in ter­ror. He clutched his stomach and performed the same up and down rocking motion he'd done at my house. In between sobs he begged, "Don't hurt me, don't hurt me, help me, help me."

Luna kicked him, screaming, "What have you done to Devereux, you festering piece of shit?"

He whimpered, "Mama!' Then dropped to his knees, covering his head with his hands and arms. A physical spasm rocked his body. He threw his head back and gave an ear-piercing primal scream. As before, the transformation was rapid and astonishing.

Alan and I stood and watched Lucifer. Shocked, Luna backed away. "What the f**k?"

He rose slowly to his feet, his no longer emaciated body filling the previously loose coat.

Alan sucked in a breath. "Jesus Christ."

Somehow Brother Luther's body had become taller, bulk­ier—more muscular. His actual bones had shifted. His eyes were on fire. He advanced menacingly toward Luna, his mouth open, exposing his still-elongating fangs. She assumed a fighting stance, crouched low, waiting. Several of the vampires Luna had brought with her crowded into the circle. They growled deep, flashed fang and surrounded Lucifer. He took a step toward Luna, hand reaching for her throat.

Just then, Lieutenant Bullock crashed into the circle, gun pointed. "I said freeze!'"

All eyes turned to her for a split second, and in that tiny window of opportunity Lucifer scooped up Devereux and they both vanished. We all froze for several seconds, stunned. Staring down at the empty space on the floor, my brain finally registered that Devereux was gone and I lost it. I screamed like the Banshee from Hell. The walls rever­berated.

All the pain, fear, confusion, and grief I'd tried to hold inside burst forth in one long, gut-wrenching, soul-shatter­ing cry. Then the tears began. I dropped to the floor, laying my forehead on the spot where Devereux had been. Everyone was silent while I sobbed.

Alan knelt down beside me and stroked my hair. “I’m sorry, Kismet. We all tried to save Devereux. He's very powerful. If anyone can get away from that lunatic, it's him. You've got to keep hoping."

I raised my head and met his eyes to see if he believed what he'd said, or if he'd chosen that moment to dredge up his unused therapy skills. His warm eyes beamed sincerity. And compassion. I sat up, exhausted, tears streaming down my face. I was grieving for his competition and he was being re­markably understanding.

Luna snorted in disgust. She narrowed her eyes, pressed her lips together tight and covered the few steps to where Lieutenant Bullock still stood pointing her gun. She knocked the weapon away, growled and brought her face nose-to-nose with Lieutenant Bullock's.

"Bitch! You distracted us. I almost had the f**ker. I'm trying to decide if I should kill you now, or wait until we find Devereux so he can do it himself."

Lieutenant Bullock retreated a couple of steps. "You're interfering with police business. Step away."

Luna barked out a laugh and turned to the other vam­pires. "Police business? Gather 'round, everyone. This cow thinks she has something to say about what's happening here. She thinks she knows one f**king thing about anything."

Lieutenant Bullock still didn't seem to understand who, or what, she was talking to. She might've understood vam­pires in theory, but she had no personal experience with them. She probably thought all the bloodsuckers in the room were dressed in their ball costumes. It's likely she didn't know she was conversing with the real deal.

"There's a body on the floor and blood everywhere. You bet your ass I have a lot to say about it."

Luna plastered on her most evil smile. "And what kind of body do you think is on the floor, human?"

Alan rightfully sensed that things were going south at the speed of light, and he jumped up and squeezed himself in be­tween Luna and Lieutenant Bullock. But instead of helping, he leaped into the fray. The three of them argued at the top of their voices. The other cops and vampires lined up on opposite sides, facing each other like the Sharks and the Jets in West Side Story. Though I doubted if they'd break into a dance routine.

I tried to intervene a couple of times but didn't have the energy to involve myself in anything as meaningless as blame or police or whether vampires exist. Devereux was gone. Maybe dead. That was all the pain my heart could hold. I staggered out of the circle and walked aimlessly in no particular direction.

The sound of someone crying penetrated the fog in my head.

"Shit!" How could I have forgotten about Midnight and Ronald?

I raced over to where Ronald still cradled Midnight in his lap and knelt. He was crying, his shoulders shaking. "She's so cold. She's dying, Dr. Knight. I'm losing her."

I stroked his cheek with the backs of my fingers. "Hold on, Ronald. It's not over yet."

I leapt up and hollered, "Call an ambulance!"

That stopped the argument. Everyone ran over to see what I was yelling about. There'd been enough death and loss for one night. Mid­night wouldn't be on the list if I had anything to say about it. Having a positive goal seemed to galvanize everyone. Soon Midnight and Ronald were being carried on stretchers out of the music room to a Flight For Life helicopter, waiting on the castle's roof.

I noticed that everyone in the room took turns watching me, as if they expected me to pick up the sword and behead someone else. Since I hadn't known I was capable of that kind of violence to begin with, I couldn't give anyone any guarantees about my future actions.

With Devereux gone, nothing really mattered anyway.

After the medical tech got Midnight prepped and sta­bilized, he told me her vital signs were incredibly good for someone who'd almost been drained.

I don't know why he spared the time to talk to me again and be so encouraging. Maybe he saw something in my eyes. Anyway, he said her outlook was great. Except for some missing hair and scalp, Ronald was com­pletely fine. A nasty souvenir of his first ever Vampires' Ball. I was morbidly drawn to the edge of the circle, which no longer held together, where I obsessively stared at the red vel­vet duster filled with ash.

The sword still rested nearby, clear evidence of some­thing I knew logically but resisted emotionally. I sat down, trying to feel bad. Trying to feel ashamed. Trying to feel anything. But I was numb.

Alan had finally gotten across to Lieutenant Bullock that it was a vampire body rotting on the floor in the Dark Magic circle. So, no forensics team would be arriving to collect evidence.

He reminded her that if she told anyone she'd spent the last couple of hours with vampires, she'd be taken away in one of those delightful coats with long arms that lock in the back.

Luna still prowled the area, mumbling under her breath about the stupid humans and what she wanted to do to Lieu­tenant Bullock. We each deal with pain in our own way.

I wasn't sure how I was going to deal with mine. I rested my forehead on my bent knees. Another river of tears poured down my face. It wasn't fair. I'd just accepted that Devereux was a vam­pire and that I had strong feelings for him, then he was gone. Weren't vampires supposed to live forever?

I knew that after the shock receded, I'd have to deal with all the stages of grief. Was I supposed to move into an office in Devereux's building, seeing constant reminders of him every day? I'd have to be a glutton for punishment to do that.

Maybe I'd take a sabbatical from my practice. Hide away. Take some time. Go to Paris to visit friends.

I don't know how long I'd been sitting there in front of Bryce's remains, but for some reason I had an urge to raise my head. The ghost in the mirror was once again working hard to get my attention.

Nobody else has the ability to see this ghost but me?

He was beside himself with joy. He smiled very wide, danced in circles and thrust his bow vigorously in a pointing motion toward the far end of the room. Since he'd been a reliable resource, I rose and shifted my eyes in the general direction the bow indicated. There was something on the floor, half underneath one of the grand pianos.