Dark Harvest Read online

  Devereux touched his head against mine. “I am not able to bring back the dead, my love. I am sorry.”

  I jerked away and turned to him, excited. I grasped his arm, my fingers pressing into his cold skin. “Yes, you are! You are able to bring back the dead. He wanted to be a vampire. You can turn him. You can! Please, Devereux. I don’t want to lose him this way. There has been enough death and misery tonight.”

  Devereux laid a hand on Tom’s chest and closed his eyes. He lifted his hand, shook his head, and met my gaze. “I would not do this—not even for you—if I had not seen him take extraordinary action on your behalf. You must understand that there is no guarantee. Not everyone survives a turning of this sort. He is weak and might not withstand the challenge.” He stroked his finger down my face. “Are you sure you wish me to make your friend one of the undead? He will not be the man you knew for a long time. Perhaps never again.”

  No. I didn’t want him to transform my oldest friend into a bloodsucking creature of the night, but since Tom had made his desires known—and he was nearly dead already—I didn’t see what other choice I had. I simply wasn’t able to let go.

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  Devereux stood and spoke to the vampire still crouched at Tom’s head. “The dawn is less than an hour away. Take him to the penthouse and prepare him. I shall follow.”

  The vampire nodded, gathered Tom into his arms, and they vanished.

  Devereux spoke to the vampire holding a limp Victoria. “Take her.”

  He did.

  I stared down at the ritual circle in which Victoria had been held prisoner. The colorful symbols and letters seemed so benign in the remaining candlelight. The last few hours had been a nightmare I’d never forget. Even while the sane part of me had been locked away, I’d still observed everything. Every hideous detail was seared into my brain.

  Maxie was dead.

  I killed her.

  My mind felt numb, empty. How could I simply go about my normal life as if the last few days hadn’t happened?

  “Do not torture yourself, Kismet.” Devereux eased up behind me, enfolding me in his arms. “The responsibility for the death and destruction of the recent past can be laid at Hallow’s doorstep alone. It was his abuse of his lýtle that caused her willingness to die.” He tightened his grip. “Come. I must attend to your friend before the sun rises, and you must sleep.”

  I relaxed my head against his chest, closed my eyes, and felt the familiar sensation of free fall. Soft air blew against my face as we transported from the hidden gentlemen’s club under the streets of Denver to Devereux’s high-rise penthouse. When Devereux released me, I opened my eyes.

  He stepped in front of me, looking like a war casualty. His hair was so saturated with blood, it appeared brown instead of blond. But nothing could dim the brilliant green-blue of his eyes. “My staff is here to assist you in my absence. As always, my home is yours.” He held my face in his hands and gently kissed my lips. “I will do what I can for Tom.”

  He disappeared.

  Several unfamiliar women swarmed toward me, causing me to startle. They’d been so quiet, I hadn’t noticed them. I secured the ends of the blanket tighter around myself.

  A tall, elegant, dark-skinned woman stepped forward and offered a warm smile. No fangs. “Welcome, Dr. Knight. I’m Carolyn. You must be exhausted. Devereux said you prefer a shower, but we thought, after the experience you’ve had, you might enjoy soaking in the tub. So, both are available. We’ve also prepared food and drink.” She tilted her head, waiting for my response.

  “Are you vampires?” They didn’t feel like vampires to me, but I wasn’t sure how keen my senses were at the moment. It would be a while before I trusted my instincts again.

  “No.” She chuckled. “Garden-variety humans. Devereux has hundreds of human employees, although not all of them are aware of his true nature. We”—she pointed to her companions—“have been with him for years. He’s a wonderful man.”

  She didn’t refer to Devereux as master. That was one point in her favor. I didn’t ask what they were employed to do.

  “He also asked me to get your permission to call the clients you have scheduled for today and tell them you have a personal emergency and will need to reschedule. Is that all right?”

  My first reaction was to insist I’d see my clients, but that idea quickly deflated. For all intents and purposes, I was temporarily useless to them. A traumatized, grief-stricken therapist wouldn’t be at the top of her game. “Yes, thank you. Tell them I’ll call later.” I paused. “But just out of curiosity, when, exactly, did Devereux tell you all this? He’s been with me for the last several hours.”

  “Devereux communicates with me telepathically. He told me shortly before you arrived here. Shall we go?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

  I started to say I didn’t need any help. That I could run my own bath and find my own food, but that simply wasn’t true. I was exhausted. My heart was so filled with pain, I could barely breathe. Help would actually be great.

  Carolyn led the way and I shuffled along behind her with the other women bringing up the rear, like an impromptu royal procession.

  After a hot bath, a small meal, and a glass of wine, I let them tuck me in.

  Sleep sucked me under.

  * * *

  The smell of coffee once again caressed my nostrils, enticing me to rejoin the land of the living. I was beginning to associate Devereux’s penthouse with the aroma of high-quality java.

  Dressed in a comfortable bathrobe, I wandered out to the dining area expecting to find another breakfast buffet. I wasn’t disappointed. Food was abundant.

  Victoria sat at the end of the table, drinking her cup of tea. She was dressed in one of her lovely goddess gowns and she smiled as I approached. “I could get used to this.” She chuckled, as she flicked a hand toward the feast.

  I hurried over to her, pulled out a nearby chair, and sat. “Are you all right?” Her neck was a mass of multi-colored bruises, as was her cheek, and her lip was split and swollen. My midsection tightened in anger as I confronted the damage Hallow had inflicted on her.

  “Yes. I’m better than I would’ve expected, considering.” She patted my hand and nodded, her voice perky. “And I’ll be even better by tonight, after my coven performs a healing ritual on me.” She took a sip of tea. “You’re welcome to come, you know. I think it would be good for you to deepen your occult knowledge and practice your skills. Plus, we could help heal that terrible bruise on the side of your face.”

  I stared at her until she sighed and dropped the false cheerfulness.

  “Okay.” She shook her head. “It was horrible and I feel defiled and broken. Slimed. I’m almost sorry he’s dead—or whatever he is—because now I can’t take my revenge. I can’t make him pay for what he did to me.” Her breathing was fast and ragged, her face flushed. “I’m left with all these feelings of hatred with nowhere to put them.”

  She started to cry. I scooted closer and hugged her.

  We were silent for several minutes.

  She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, sniffed a few times, and shifted back in her seat. I took that as a cue to give her more space, so I moved my chair over to its original position and poured myself a cup of coffee, waiting for her to continue.

  “When he came into the lobby yesterday morning—was it really only yesterday?—I was so shocked by what he really was that I hesitated. I could have pressed the alarm button under my desk, but my brain froze. I couldn’t think. And before I even realized, he’d transported me out of there. We were in that disgusting, frigid underground place.” She gave a cynical laugh. “I did manage to fight him off for about two seconds before he entrapped me with those silver eyes. I think I pulled out a handful of his hair.”

  “Yes.” I nodded and continued to speak softly. “I found one of the strands on your desk. That’s how we knew he had you.”

  She stared out one of the large windows framing a panoramic view of
snow-covered mountain peaks. “I was so afraid his plan would succeed, that he’d control you to the point that you’d do what he wanted. It almost worked. He’s incredibly powerful.”

  Fear washed through me. “What do you mean? You said he is powerful. He’s been destroyed, hasn’t he?”

  She brought her gaze to mine. “I don’t think whatever he is can be destroyed. He merely lost his connection to the physical plane when Maxie sacrificed herself before he could claim you. I want to believe he’ll exist for millennia as that abhorrent energy field we saw, unable to take form in our world. But he’s like no other. He defies everything I know about the laws of physics and the nature of vampirism. All we can do is strengthen and educate ourselves.” She took my hand. “I was serious about inviting you to my coven. We are a large circle of strong, dynamic witches, healers, seers, and teachers. You need to acknowledge and sharpen your abilities.”

  “Abilities?” I frowned. “I’m so tired of hearing that. I don’t understand. I know I’m intuitive and empathic, but I don’t consider those to be special things. They’re normal. Everyone has them to some degree. Hallow said I’m an emotional vampire. What are these powers I’m supposed to have?”

  “Not powers.” She shook her head vigorously. “Abilities. Powers implies something beyond the range of the species. Like comic book characters.” She smiled at my confused expression. “You know, like shooting fire or webs from your fingertips, bending steel with your eyeballs, or being able to fly. You simply have an exceptional amount of your particular abilities. For example, everyone can sing, right?” I nodded, sure of where she was going with the story, because I’d used this example myself to explain intuition to clients. “Well, most people have average singing abilities, some can’t carry a tune to save their souls, and a few have extraordinary talent. It’s the same for everything. Vampires have abilities that are in alignment with their species—mind reading, teleportation, immortality. Devereux has added talents due to his magical lineage. None of those things are powers, per se.”

  She sipped her tea. “People misunderstand witches, too. We’re often accused of having powers, when we really have skills, abilities, talents, wisdom, and, in some cases, common religious beliefs. You told me you learned about Wicca in a comparative religions class in graduate school. See? Nothing unusual about that.”

  “Okay.” I shrugged. “But so what? Being empathic and intuitive comes in handy with my work. Sometimes it’s a curse, sensing things I don’t want to know. Why are so many vampires interested in my so-called abilities?”

  It was her turn to shrug. “I only know what Devereux told me. When he first met you, he said you are a gifted human. That something about the level of your innate talents, mostly unknown to you, is unusual. He said he suspects you’ve accumulated them over many lifetimes. Like adding chords to a basic melody.” She laughed at my raised eyebrows. “Yes. I know. You’re not comfortable with the notion of reincarnation yet. But, after all you’ve seen, isn’t it silly to resist something as widely accepted as past lives? Many ancient religions take reincarnation for granted.” She pointed a finger at me. “Put your Inner Scientist to work on it and do some research.” I chuckled as she continued. “Anyway, Devereux said there’s something about the texture of your abilities that enhances him. It’s as if you act as a crystal—concentrating and expanding energy. Or a tuning fork holding all the notes in his aural spectrum. Ask him. He’ll tell you.”

  Crystals, reincarnation, vampires, wizards? Tuning fork? Aural spectrum? The texture of my abilities? How much more weirdness is there? I’ll be banned from the psychologists’ club for sure.

  My stomach growled and I realized I’d been sitting in front of all that tantalizing food without eating any of it, so I selected a bagel and some fruit and chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes. There was another question I hadn’t asked her yet.

  “Before I killed Maxie and Hallow went wherever he went … I know.” I held up my hand in a stop gesture in response to her mouth opening. “I didn’t kill her intentionally, but I did kill her. I have to accept that.” I sat up straighter, trying to calm my heartbeat and rein in my mounting anxiety. “But, previous to that, you said something about my using his blood flowing in my veins. Maxie said I drank more of his blood than I knew about. Since he’s gone, does that mean the effects of his blood are gone, too?”

  My expression must have been sufficiently frightened in order to elicit the compassionate smile she gave me. “I wish I knew. My guess is that whatever changes his blood made to your psyche, your physiology and abilities, they’ll be permanent. But you’re still in charge of how they manifest in your life. I hate to sound like a broken record, but it’s Devereux you need to ask. He is the only one who could possibly advise you.”

  She was right, of course.

  We ate in silence for a few minutes and then she pushed her chair back from the table and stood. “I need to return to work—take control of my life again.” She grinned. “I know I’m not irreplaceable, but things certainly do get chaotic when I’m out of the loop!” She rested her palm against the side of my face where Maxie’d hit me. “We’re in this together, my friend. We’ll figure it out.” She leaned down and kissed my forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She walked slowly out of the room, her gait hampered by her injuries, and headed to the elevator.

  I gave my coffee a warm-up and studied the beautiful scenery through the glass, feeling sad. Nothing would ever be the same for me. No matter what effect Hallow’s blood had on me, I was different. I’d seen too much. Victoria had been right about that, too. I couldn’t hide behind my professional defenses any longer.

  So many things had happened. Tom was dead or in the process of becoming a vampire. Devereux’s trusted assistant, Luna, had proved to be less than trustworthy. My brief friendship with Maxie had ended tragically. I’d been the target of yet another mentally ill vampire and, like the first, he might still show up anytime. My blood was contaminated by something that had no logical description.

  What if Devereux doesn’t have any answers?

  * * *

  After my talk with Victoria, I dressed and drove back to my townhouse, desperately needing to create a semblance of normalcy.

  Rescheduling clients, answering e-mails, catching up on paperwork, and performing household tasks filled the remainder of the late afternoon, and reminded me of life before vampires.

  Wearing a pair of comfortable jeans and the blue blouse Devereux had mysteriously managed to paint in the portrait he created of me some eight hundred years ago, I’d just poured myself a glass of wine and clicked on a rerun of my favorite TV show, House, when the beautiful vampire appeared in my living room.

  His face and body were flawless, as always, giving no indication of the ferocious battle he’d waged less than a day earlier. His shiny, platinum hair flowed down his chest, begging to be touched. He wore a snug, aqua, silk T-shirt—a perfect match for his flashing eyes—tucked into his trademark black leather pants. A total feast for the senses.

  He opened his arms and I rushed into them, allowing myself to be held for a few seconds. To feel safe. To pretend the events of the past few days had been a bad dream.

  We finally pulled apart and he cradled my face in his hands, leaned in, and pressed his warm, soft lips against mine. I opened my mouth for him, and he slid his tongue inside. A rush of heat flowed through my body, my heart raced, and my knees felt weak. It was so wonderful to simply kiss him because I wanted to.

  He broke the kiss and stroked his hand along the colorful bruise on my jaw. I hadn’t even tried to cover it up.

  “How are you?” he asked, his voice gentle.

  “Better now.” I smiled, tugging him over to the couch, where we both sat. I didn’t trust my knees to hold me. I thought about Tom, and Devereux answered my unvoiced concern.

  “We performed the ritual of transformation for him. I gave him my blood. What happens now is unknown. He will either pass through d
eath and be reborn, or he will truly die. We will not discover the outcome until his soul makes its choice.”

  “Thank you, Devereux.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I know you wouldn’t have tried to save him if it weren’t for me.”

  “There is nothing I would not do for you.” He smiled. “In fact, I wish to grant another of your wishes.” He stood in a fluid motion, and extended his hand to me. “If you will indulge me?”

  My expression must have reflected my doubts about whether or not I was ready for any more surprises, because he laughed. “All is well. Truly. You will enjoy this.”

  He extended his hand again and I took it, letting him pull me up from the couch.

  “You might wish to wear a wrap. We are going to a high altitude.”

  I just stared and he laughed again, his eyes sparkling. “Wait. I shall fetch it.” He vanished and was gone ten seconds at most, before returning with my heaviest coat. He held it out, waiting for me to slide my arms in. I couldn’t figure out the danger, if there was any, so I did as he asked. My suspicious nature isn’t likely to change any time soon.

  “Excellent.” He slid his arm around my waist, and we traveled, cold air flowing against my face.

  We landed in an extraordinary room.

  My mouth sagged open as I walked around the huge space. I’d never seen anything so astounding.

  A palace had been carved out of stone.

  The walls were adorned with gorgeous paintings and beautiful tapestries, interspersed with colorful tiles and gemstone murals. Stunning sculptures were randomly peppered around the room. Lush, thick rugs, layered on top of one another, created a spongy softness to the floor. Tall candles illuminated from inside ornate holders, a spicy aroma wafted from incense burners, and a fire blazed in a magnificent fireplace.

  The spectacular area was empty except for two things: a huge, gold-gilded bed and a shiny black coffin.