I tapped a seriously stoned, skinny, long-haired, twenty-something guy on the shoulder, and he swiveled his head toward me, his eyelids at half-mast. He blinked a few times, lifted his eyebrows in an obvious attempt to focus his eyes, licked his lips, and spoke. “Uh, what?”
Giving him my brightest smile, I pointed at the joint. “Could I have a taste of that?”
He stared at my face, the joint poised in the air partway between us. “Wow. Cool makeup. You look like a movie star.” I didn’t know about the movie star resemblance, but I had been a bit more heavy-handed than usual. Sue me. I had the urge to be dramatic. What the hell? If you hung around with vampires, it was acceptable to let one’s Inner Drama Queen out once in a while.
A young, shaved-headed fellow wobbling next to him jerked his body in my direction when he heard his friend’s words and shuffled over to see for himself.
I reached out and lifted the joint from the skinny guy’s fingers, fit it between my lips without giving one thought to hygiene issues, and took a toke. I inhaled the warm smoke into my throat and lungs and held it for exactly two seconds before the acrid substance burst out of my body in a series of hacking, gagging, fifty-year-smoker-type coughs.
My two companions literally leaned backward, as if my coughing had created a strong enough wind to bend the top portions of their bodies, and they said, simultaneously, “Whoa, dude.”
Some of the tiny embers from the end of the cigarette fluttered down onto the front of my red, sparkly shirt, and Shaved-Head Guy gallantly attempted to brush them away.
Probably fearing I’d lose what was left of the joint in my full-body spasm, Skinny Guy reclaimed the pot and pitched in his other hand to help his friend extinguish my chest.
They both froze, mid-brush, leaned in, and stared at my br**sts.
Another duet, “Oh, wow, man.”
Skinny Guy said, “You don’t have a bra on, and you can see through that shirt. Awesome. Great tits.”
I peeled off the hands that were hermetically sealed to my mammary glands, brushed away anything else that didn’t belong on my shirt, and smiled.
“Yeah, isn’t the blouse gorgeous? There’s a matching bra that goes with it, but I just didn’t want to be constrained tonight. Besides, in the dim light you have to look twice to notice the shirt is transparent. But thanks so much for the hit and for keeping me from setting myself on fire. I’m going to go inside now. It was nice meeting you.” I swiveled toward the club entrance.
“Wait! Maybe we could hang out a while? Drink some wine? Fuck? You know.”
I cocked my head, fluttered my cosmetically elongated eyelashes, and smiled. “What a lovely offer, gentlemen. Unfortunately, I already have plans. But I do appreciate the thought.”
Continuing in the direction of the huge, wooden double doors, I shifted my eyes down to my shirt. It didn’t seem any worse for the pot embers experience. And it was absolutely cool looking. All fresh-blood-colored and glittery. It went great with my short leather skirt and favorite, stiletto-heeled black boots. I’d be Psychologist Ho tonight.
I reached for the door handle and paused, studying my chest again. Psychologist Ho? Why would I think such a stupid thing? Why was I dressed like this? When did I decide to go out instead of doing paperwork? My stomach tightened with fear. Had my brain skipped a page? A chapter? I knew what a blackout was, and there were several mental and physical illnesses that could account for one. Shit. Maybe I had a brain tumor. There could be something seriously wrong with me. What if I hadn’t nodded off in the living room earlier after all? What if it was something much more dire?
Looking around, I recognized my location because I’d visited so many times before. But I didn’t remember driving myself there, and I certainly couldn’t recall dressing myself like a street hooker. Well, maybe a call girl, since I had bought the clothes and knew they were expensive. I’d intended to model them for Devereux when we were alone, rather than for hundreds of strangers at his club.
I pivoted to head back to my car and felt an inner switch flip from on to off. The muscles in my limbs seized. I stood like a statue, not even sure I was breathing. Terrified, I heard a familiar, low voice in my mind: “It’s time for some fun, sweet Kismet. Go into the club and explore your wild nature. Leave your inhibitions behind. Entertain me. Make me proud. Give Devereux my best. We will meet again soon.”
Mild electric current coursed through my body, and my limbs regained function. A fuzzy, almost intoxicated feeling settled over my brain, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Go into the club and have some fun!” I shouted out loud, just in time for Victoria, Devereux’s witchy office manager, to step up next to me.
“Kismet?” She gave me an eyeball scan, eyebrows raised. Her gaze locked on my chest and she frowned. “Does Devereux know you’re here? Are you aware that you’re wearing a see-through blouse with nothing on underneath?” She stepped back. “And an extremely short skirt? That’s not your usual fashion statement.”
“Victoria! How wonderful to see you. Did you come to have a little fun, too?”
She leaned in and sniffed. “Have you been drinking?”
I hugged her, then shook my head. “Not yet. But the night is young.”
Her nose wrinkled and she sniffed again. “Pot?”
“I’ll never tell.”
She grabbed my arm as I started toward the entrance. “Kismet, wait. Something’s wrong. You feel different to me. Not yourself. Your aura is strange—unusual, murky colors. It’s like there’s something extra. Something dark.”
“Don’t be silly, my friend.” I patted her hand. “I’m the same ordinary Kismet I’ve always been. Or, at least as ordinary as somebody whose parents named her after an old Broadway musical can be. Come on. Let’s go stir up some trouble.”
I tugged on the handle of the heavy, wooden door and stepped into a wall of sound. The whine of a high-pitched lead guitar screamed over the throbbing rhythm section as the players cavorted frantically on a stage at the far end of the room. The jarring aural explosion assaulted my ears and took my breath away.
The club was decorated like a goth’s wet dream, and it had everything a wannabe could desire: scenes from Dracula’s castle, bodies rising from haunted graveyards, and enough black to make Ozzy Osbourne bite the head off of something. The ever-present fog machine pumped out a slithering layer of white smoke, adding an eerie ambience to the shadowy interior, which was lit by modern versions of ancient torches.
The huge main room was filled with bodies—some alive, some otherwise—many dancing to the thunderous beat of the musicians. One of the many great things about The Crypt was all the cozy little nooks and crannies scattered along the walls, not to mention the ornate balconies of various sizes, some small enough to fit only one table. There were lots of places for romantic rendezvous, sexual assignations, and under-the-table drug deals. It was easy to find a private space for pretty much anything you wanted.
Standing at his post just inside the entrance was Devereux’s doorman, er, door vamp. The first time I saw Ankh, his ghoulish, creepy appearance made my skin crawl. He was very tall, cadaverously bluish-white with badly discolored teeth and fangs. His obsidian eyes were oddly sunken into his face and underscored with large, dark circles, making it appear as if he wore a perpetual Halloween mask. His head was mostly bald except for a thick, dark braid that burst forth from the top of his skull, reminiscent of the style often worn in movies about famous Egyptian pharaohs. His lanky frame was shrouded in a long, black robe. I’d asked Devereux why he stationed such a distasteful-looking specimen at the entrance to his business, and he’d said Ankh had the gentlest, most loving temperament of any vampire he’d ever met. Turns out the large fellow provided excellent customer service. That’s what I got for judging a vamp by his cover.
Ankh bowed from the waist. “Good evening, Doctor. The master said you were expected.” I nodded. He turned to Victoria and gave the same bow. “And Victoria, a pleasure as always.”
“Hello, Ankh.” Victoria smiled. “It’s lovely to see you. You’ve got quite a crowd here tonight. Do you think we’ll have any luck finding a place to sit?”
He nodded. “The master reserved a table for Dr. Knight. I’ll just call someone to escort you.” He raised an arm into the air, signaling an invisible helper.
I grasped Victoria’s hand and pulled her behind me as I headed for the throng. “That’s okay, Ankh. We’ll just dive in and take our chances. Thanks.”
Victoria gasped and tried to free her hand from my grip, but couldn’t. I enjoyed the powerful feeling of towing her through the crowd. My surprising, new physical strength was exciting.
I navigated us to the long, sarcophagus-shaped bar ensconced along one wall of the spacious room. All the stools were occupied, and I’d just started thinking about the most fun way to clear off a couple so Victoria and I could sit, when a woman with neon pink hair smiled in my direction, exposing tiny fangs. She slid off her stool, pulled her raven-haired companion from her perch, and pointed at the empty seats. She shouted over the music. “Please. Take our stools. Tell the master we were happy to help you out. My name is Dark Widow and this is Wynd. Tell him we’re at his service.” They giggled and darted off into the crowd.
Devereux always managed to surround himself with female devotees who were willing to do anything just to be in his vicinity. I guess I couldn’t blame him for taking what was offered. No doubt, he wanted me to become his groupie, too. Well, the master was in for a big disappointment. But if his handmaidens wanted to kiss some master ass by sucking up to his significant other, that was fine with me.
Victoria had been silent during our trip through the club. She’d even stopped resisting and trying to break free. She watched the stool swap, her lips pursed. I climbed up onto my seat, not bothering to tug the short skirt down, and patted her chair. She situated herself, a very serious expression on her face. She leaned in, speaking directly into my ear because of the noise. “Kismet. Has anything unusual happened? Have you had contact with anyone … dangerous?”
Not wanting to spend any more time talking about such a boring subject, I chose to ignore her questions. Instead, I pinched the fabric of Victoria’s shimmering black and gold goddess dress between my finger and thumb. “Holy shit, I didn’t notice before. That’s an incredible dress you’re wearing. Are you meeting some mysterious stranger here at the club tonight?”
She frowned, no doubt understanding my distracting maneuver. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am meeting someone. But now I think I ought to stay with you. Something’s not right.”
“No way, my witchy friend. I’m not letting you play mother hen with me when you could be kicking up your heels with Mr. Right. Or Mr. Right Now.” I laughed, and signaled the bartender. “I want to hear all the details tomorrow.”
“Really, Kismet.” Victoria sighed, meeting my gaze. “I don’t want to be a wet blanket, but you’re not yourself. I mean, literally. Your aura feels completely different to me. As if you’re actually someone else. Have you been in touch with Hallow? Has he done something to you?”
I shook my head and grinned. “Not that I know of, but anything can happen.”
“What can I get for you?
I turned toward the smooth voice and smiled. My evening had just gotten a lot more interesting. “Wow. You look just like …”
“Yeah,” he said. “I know. Johnny Depp. But trust me, I’m much older.” He smiled, the tips of fangs glistening in the overhead light.
I leaned forward, bringing my knees up onto the stool so I could get a better view. “Hmmm. What can you get for me? Let me think.” I slid my hand on top of his and tapped my fingernail on his cool skin. “When’s your next break?”
“Kismet,” Victoria interrupted. “I don’t think Devereux would like you distracting his employees. You wouldn’t want to get Nigel in trouble, would you?” She wrapped her fingers around my arm, as if she worried I’d fall.
I kept my gaze on the eye candy in front of me. “Would you like to get into some trouble, Nigel? We could just sneak away for a few minutes and discuss the issue.”
He laughed. “Trouble, I could deal with. But if I laid one finger on Devereux’s woman, he’d rip my heart out of my chest before I even thought about unzipping my pants. I think that’s a little too much danger for this vampire. I’m a mellow bloodsucker. Besides, I’m happy here. I don’t want to mess things up. So. What else can I get you, besides me?”
I pouted and he laughed again. I sighed, thinking that—thanks to my unexpected muscle—I could probably drag him from behind the bar, find a cozy hideaway and indulge myself for a few minutes. But they were right. Maybe he wasn’t the best candidate. But, damn, he was gorgeous.
“Okay.” I smiled. “If I can’t have you, I guess I’ll have a couple of shots of tequila.” I turned to Victoria. “What do you want?”
“I’d like a glass of red wine, please, Nigel.”
“Coming right up.” He trotted off to fetch the drinks. The view was arousing.
“Victoria?”
I swiveled my head to check out the owner of the deep, sexy voice. A tall, distinguished man wearing a dark suit, red shirt, and silver tie stood behind me. My ass was still swaying in the air from my attempt to crawl across the bar, so I plopped it down onto my heels.
“Winston.” Victoria’s face lit up. “It’s so good to see you. Let me introduce my friend, Dr. Kismet Knight.”