My heart pounded and I gasped. My body knew before the rest of me did. I ran full out across the room, skidding to a stop a foot away from flowing platinum hair. Devereux looked like he'd been hit by a truck. Or exposed to the vampire equivalent of kryptonite.
I screamed again, this time with pure joy, which was quickly followed by the sound of running footsteps and excited voices. He was sprawled on his back, his hair partially covering his face. I dropped to my knees, held his face in my hands and kissed his parched lips. His skin felt icy cold to the touch. I was suddenly terrified that Lucifer had sent Devereux's dead body back as a sadistic parting shot. I checked for a heartbeat on his pulse points and didn't detect anything. But, if he was already dead, did it matter that he didn't have a heartbeat? I didn't understand enough about vampire mortality to even know what signs to watch for.
Luna, who'd dropped down next to Devereux across from me, closed her eyes, cocked her head and pressed one hand against his forehead and the other to his chest. I watched her, not sure what she was doing, but hoping she knew some kind of vampire trick that would bring Devereux back to consciousness. I couldn't help myself. I started crying again.
She slanted a glance at me. "I can feel him. He's in there."
"What does that mean?" I choked out between sobs.
"Stupid human," she said gruffly, and then cleared her throat and spoke softly. "Take his hand and find out for yourself."
I picked up his hand and held it in both of mine, waiting. I didn't know what I was supposed to be listening for, but touching him felt wonderful. Even if his skin was as cold as marble. I closed my eyes and clearly heard him say my name. His finger twitched almost imperceptibly. I burst out laughing, still crying, and a joyful roar rose up from the bystanders.
My vampire was alive. Or whatever.
Epilogue
Luna transported Devereux back to his underground room at The Crypt. He didn't really regain full consciousness for six weeks. I spent as much time sitting with him as I could. Luna humored me. She assured me that he was aware of my presence, even though he couldn't communicate beyond an occasional telepathic whisper of my name or a tremble of a finger.
I read the entire Harry Potter book series to him. Not only because I thought he'd enjoy it, but the books were the written equivalent of a teddy bear for me. It turned out that the magic Bryce and Lucifer used was ancient, powerful, and had been stolen from the same line of wizards Devereux claimed as his ancestors. Maybe that was why it worked so well.
All of Devereux's inter-dimensional caregivers told me he'd recover completely. Whatever "recover" means for a dead guy.
My private practice is busier than ever. Moving into the new office in Devereux's building was the best thing I ever did. All my old clients returned, plus a full evening caseload of vampires. My waiting list, for both humans and the un-dead, is long.
Tom really did run off with the gorgeous woman . . . er, vampire. He left me a cryptic voice mail message saying Zoe had accompanied him back to California, but that they'd be returning soon. He said he needed to speak with Devereux about living forever.
Lieutenant Bullock held a press conference about the "vampire murders," which got the media off my tail. She said the City of Denver was still actively following leads, but that there had been new deaths in other cities, taking the focus away from me. I'm a blissful nobody again.
The Lieutenant started visiting me for "professional consultations" about all things vampire. She said she'd made mistakes because of her lack of knowledge and wanted to rectify that situation. She asked me to call her by her first name, which turned out to be Amy. I never would've guessed. It's been nice having another human around who knows the truth.
Midnight spent less than a week in the hospital and was released to her parents. She's still seeing Ronald, but is content to live at home for now. Our sessions are more about her and less about vampires.
Brother Luther/Lucifer hasn't contacted me. Yet. Discovering a vampire with Dissociative Identity Disorder, formerly Multiple Personality Disorder, has piqued my interest in the diagnosis, and I've been doing research. It's clear we haven't heard the last of the demented bloodsucker, so I want to be armed with as much information as possible when he circles back this way. According to the reports of blood-drained bodies, he's moved on to another one of those pockets of escalating good and evil: Sedona, Arizona.
So has Alan.
He stopped by my townhouse to say goodbye one afternoon about a week after the insanity at the haunted castle. After a couple of awkward, silent moments, we practically leaped into each other's arms. I don't think either of us expected that. His lips were as soft, warm, and inviting as always, and I don't know what to do with the feelings I have for him.
I can't be in love—or lust, or whatever it is—with two men, can I?
I don't know. Stranger things have happened. But, I do know that vampires exist. Vampires and ghosts and who knows what else.
What does that mean for me? Hell if I know.
But I'm actually excited to find out.