The arrogant jerk.The self-centered, obnoxious, smarmy asshole.No amount of making him jealous is worth listening to this pompousdrivel Once again, his brain is caught in his zipper.

My muscles tensed and moisture dampened my armpits. It was all I could do to keep myself buckled into my seat, be-cause I was seriously fantasizing about diving into the back andpummeling a littlecolor into Dr.California 's face with my knuckles. Maybe give him youthfully puffy lips without him having to go visit his plastic surgeon. Of course, he might have to check in with his dentist afterward. It was so thought-ful of him to remind me he hadn't invited me to accompany him to the West Coast, and that he was now a big shot.

Alan studied me with raised eyebrows, his tongue push-ing against the side of his face from inside his mouth. "Tom," he quickly interjected, obviously catching my hostile inten-tions. "Do you remember a series of murders inLos Angeles a while back? They got a lot of media coverage. Several bod-ies found, drained of blood? I'm searching for those killers, and I'll find them in the vampire subculture."

Alan sounded a lot more formal than I'd ever heard him. Psychologists are a competitive lot and we never miss an op-portunity to puff ourselves up for each other. Or, maybe it was Tom's hyper-pomposity that brought out the pretentious-ness in everyone. But, regardless, he did give me a moment to rein myself in.Lucky for Tom.Oblivious, Tom droned on. "So, what are you?A foren-sic psychologist? What are you going to do with the killers after you find them?

Alan ignored the superior attitude Tom displayed in his over-pronunciation of the words "forensic psychologist," but I heard him sigh.

"I work for the FBI. I'm an expert on serial killers, in addi-tion to other things, and I'm the agent assigned to the case." How did Kismet get involved in all this?" She's the Vampire Psychologist," Alan said, grinning. "Here we are."

Our heads pivoted toward the window as we passed The Crypt, cruising for a place to park. Milling about in front of the main entrance were large groups of 20-somethings: Goths, vampire wannabes, heavy metal gods and goddesses, Britney Spears pretenders, androgynous individuals covered in body art and piercings , and some reincarnated hippies.

"It appears we're going to be the oldest people there," Tom noted, with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Especially you," I teased, smiling sweetly. Okay. Just because I'm a psychologist doesn't mean I can't be as nasty as anyone else. I knew Tom was sensitive about his age and that he'd avail himself of every plastic surgery procedure possible in order to stave off the ravages of time. Not that I was above a little nip and tuck myself in the future.

We finally found a place to park several blocks away, and walked back to The Crypt. It was huge, taking up almost the same space in square feet as it did in height.

The building had its own personality. The closer we got to it, the more ominously powerful it seemed. I could hear music throbbing on the airwaves.

The first thing I noticed about the building was its eyes-the stained glass windows that filled half of each wall. Extraordinarycolors and shapes formed pictures and ab-stract patterns in each window. There were images of angels, demons, religious symbols, Celtic crosses, and spirits rising from graves. I could imagine how amazing they'd look with the sun pouring through them.The windows were brightly lit and thecolors splashed down onto the dark sidewalk like rainbows of light, bathing everyone standing there inetheric hues.

The building was gothic in design, with ornate towers and archways. The upper level had many nooks and crannies, and standing guard at various outposts were large gargoyles.

As we approached the crowd gathered in front of the main entrance, the smell of marijuana permeated the air, and I felt a heavy, pulsating rhythm moving in through the soles of my feet.

We climbed up the stairs leading to the entrance and passed through the massive double doors, which were made of heavy wood with beautiful carvings. A wall of sound hit me when the doors opened and the intensity of the vibra-tion took my breath away. At the far end of the club a rock band commanded the aural landscape with screaming gui-tars, booming bass notes and primitive rhythms. Musicians cavorted wildly on the large, multi-level stage, and the acous-tics were such that the sound exploded as it poured out of the mounted speakers.

A smoke machine pumped out a continuous layer of fog that hovered near the floor and had a life of its own, curling and twisting like a ghostly serpent.

A bouncer stood inside the door, blocking our entrance to the rest of the club. He was extremely tall, very thin, and deathly white. He didn't seem to give much credence to the idea of personal space, because he bent down very close.

"Welcome toThe Crypt. ID please."

His breath was hot with an odd, sweet scent. He reached out a hand with long, dirty fingernails and I jumped back, without even thinking, stepping behind Alan while I re-trieved my driver's license from the pocket of my jeans. It'd been a long time since anyone carded me.

Apparently not offended by my reaction to his hygiene, he smiled-showingdiscolored fangs-and waved us inside with a sweep of his arm. "Enjoy."

Tom tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the bouncer, his expression telegraphing distaste. "Is he one of your clients? It appears he could use a little help."

I glared at him."'Very funny. I just might give him one of my business cards. He could be a perfect case study for my book."

Down girl.I don't have to justify myself to Tom or anyone else. This is starting to feel like a nasty little case of sibling rivalry-not that I have any idea how sibling anything would feel.

"Hey, you two.Check it out." Alan pointed to the inte-rior of the club.

The entire place was decorated like a cross between a graveyard and Dracula's castle, and it was big enough to hold hundreds of people, most ofwhom had already arrived.

We manoeuvred our way over to the main bar, which ran along an entire wall, and was shaped to resemble a long, wooden sarcophagus. Standing there, waiting to catch the at-tention of the bartender, Alan leaned toward me and shouted in my ear, "I forgot to tell you. Never look vampires in the eyes.

They'll entrance you."

I was going to say something about that being ridiculous, but that was too many words to scream over the music so I nodded and mouthed "okay."

Judging by the expression on his face, Tom was already in lecher heaven, scrutinizing the nubile, bouncing female body parts on the dance floor. I didn't think a grin could get any wider. He started to remind me of the "Joker" character in one of the Batman movies. He turned back to the bar to put in his order and caught sight of the bartender. "Holy shit."

She was spectacular.A leather fantasy right out of thecenterfold of a men's magazine. Her hair was cut short and it stood up in stubby little spikes all over her head. It was hard to tell under the dim lights, but thecolor appeared to be pink-or maybe orange. Her eyes were almond-shaped blue orbs. She leaned over the bar and plopped her considerable assets in front of Tom. "What's your pleasure?"

After a few seconds, he finally raised his eyes up to hers and stared, his mouth slowly relaxing and hanging open.

Alan shook Tom's shoulder and snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Wake up!"

Tom came back to himself with a start, shook his head from side to side and peered at Alan. "What happened?"

Alan explained, "Neverlook a vampire in the eyes."

We all stared at the goddess behind the bar and she smiled at us, displaying a fine set of fangs.

Tom laughed, "Yeah, right." But he seemed rattled.

We ordered BloodyMarys -the house special-and went in search of a table.

The interior of the building had many small rooms, raised platforms, andcozy hideaways for customers seeking privacy for one activity or another. Miraculously, we happened to be in the right place at the right time and were able to snag an intimate circle booth in a raised area off the main room.

The wails enclosing the booth muted the volume of the music and we could talk without yelling. From that vantage point, we could see almost the entire club while remaining unob-trusive ourselves.

Tom, who'd been very quiet since his close encounter with thecenterfold at the bar, expressed the need to find the restroom.He started the long process of wading through a sea of humanity to reach the other side of the club. I watched him go, and about halfway across the room, he got hijacked by a tall brunette who pulled him onto the dance floor.

"Hello, Alan.'' A familiar voice enveloped me, velvet in my ears.

Alan rose from his seat. "Devereux, please join us. It's nice to see you again."

Devereux sat down next to me in the booth, lifted my hand and kissed it. He cocked his head then gave a slow blink of his turquoise eyes. "Hello. I am Devereux, the owner of this establishment."

The touch of his lips on my hand caused a strong reac-tion in several parts of my body. I couldn't sort through my emotions fast enough to say anything, so I was relieved when Alan spoke.

"This is Kismet Knight, she's a local psychologist. I've been consulting with her about the missing girl."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Devereux said out loud, while whispering in my mind, "I am very happy to see you. Alan does not need to know that we have already met."

I just stared at him and nodded my head, because I was overcome by a desire to crawl into his lap and cover his mouth with mine. And until I was sure I wasn't going to make a fool of myself, I sat very still.

What was it about Devereux? Why was it that whenever I was near him I turned into a hormonal teenager? Was it chemical? Did his pheromones communicate with mine in some mysterious way? Was he a master hypnotist? Or was I just dazzled by the obvious?

No doubt about it, he was a beautiful man. There was no other way to describe him.A work of art.

Something about his face was masculine yet soft at the same time and it made me want to touch him, to run my fingers over his pale skin and through his long, silky hair. I shifted my head and tried to avoid his sparkling eyes, not because I feared he'd entrance me, but because I was afraid of what he might see in mine.

"Yes, I desire you, as well," Devereux murmured in my mind, the words caressing some invisible part of me.

Alan's cell phone rang and he lifted it out of his pocket and answered, "Stevens." There was a brief pause and then, "Shit, I'll be right there."Turning to me he explained, "They've found a body. I need to go to police headquarters."

I started to get up but Alan put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm afraid I can't take you with me, Kismet.

You'll have to wait here. I'll come back for you and Tom as quickly as I can."

I didn't care for the sound of that. I just wasn't the type to sit waiting for someone to chauffeur me around, and leaving me here with Devereux made me nervous in ways I couldn't even understand.

Devereux turned his attention to Alan. "I will look after Dr. Knight and her friend until you return."

Alan put his hand on my cheek then stood. "I won't be gone long." He headed for the door.

"He is attracted to you/' Devereux offered, nodding in the direction of Alan's retreating form. He smiled.

"And you to him. But you are also attracted to me. And there are some confused emotions about your friend on the dance floor."

I frowned and studied his face. How did he do that? And why didn't it bother me as much as it should have?

"I thought you promised me that you'd stay out of my mind."

He nodded. "Yes, of course. I apologize. You are quite right. I do not wish to spoil the mystery between us. You are especially lovely tonight."

He angled toward me, waiting, his lips close enough to kiss. I breathed in the soft, spicy fragrance of him and closed the gap between our mouths before I even had a conscious thought about it.

We kissed long and deep, our tongues exploring, melt-ing into each other. It was as if our physical bodies merged together and we shared the same heartbeat-the same life force. Every cell in my bodydesired him, and there was no one else in the room except the two of us. All of the noise dis-appeared and we floated in a private universe.

When we finally pulled apart, I gazed into his eyes, which glittered like jewels.

He whispered, "My gaze will not entrance you tonight."

I didn't care about making sense of that. I only wanted to drink him in with my eyes, to touch him, to kiss him again. In fact, in that moment, nothing else mattered. But then I asked myself, why didn't it matter? It wasn't like me to give into my physical desires in public. Why was I suddenly so uninhibited?

"Why am I so fascinated by you?" I asked, running my fingers along his cheek.

He took my hand in his. "We have that effect on some humans. I am very pleased you feel that way about me. I hope to fascinate you even more."

I got distracted watching his mouth for a moment.

"Kismet?"

"What?" I pulled away from him and blinked my eyes a couple of times to rouse myself. "See? That's what I mean. Why do you have that effect on me?"

"Do you remember when you asked me what Bryce had done to you and I said he had altered your brain waves?"

"I remember you said that, but it didn't make any sense to me. How can someone alter my brain waves just by star-ing at me?"

"It is about entrainment. I have done a lot of reading on this subject over the last twenty years. One benefit to living a long time is the acquisition of knowledge."

"Entertainment?"

"Allow me to explain. Think of an old clock, the kind with a swinging pendulum." He moved his hand back and forth, as if he was conducting an orchestra. Sharing his wis-dom obviously pleased him and I smiled as I watched his enthusiastic presentation. Professor Devereux.

His graceful motions expanded into wider arcs.

"'The rhythm of the swing is very strong, very powerful. Then think of putting several smaller, newer clocks on the same wall with the old clock, each pendulum swinging in a different pattern. Soon, all the new clocks will begin swing-ing in time with the old clock. The power of the old clock called to the newer ones and they joined with it. Am I ex-plaining correctly?"

I skimmed my fingertips over the top of the hand he'd rested on the table. I couldn't seem to stop touching him.

"Yes, I know about that. It's like when women all start having their cycles at the same time. As if we get in sync with each other or something. But what does that have to do with you?"

He nodded and held up his index finger, prepared to continue with the lecture. ''Let me put it in musical terms. Vampires . . ." He paused, frowning. "What is wrong?"

He saw me shift my eyes down when he said the word vampires. I brought my hands together in my lap.

Saying that word reminded me I was taking advantage of someone who might be delusional, or at the very least, mentally con-fused. There I was, making out with a virtual stranger and encouraging him by listening to his stories. That felt bad as a woman and as a psychologist. I raised my eyes to meet his and he was smiling at me.

He shook his head. "You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met. It is becoming troublesome that you will not accept what I am. But I will continue to answer the question you asked and you will simplyhave to indulge me."

He lifted one of my hands, brought it up to his mouth and kissed my palm with those incredibly soft lips.

Even that small contact caused my heart to race and my libido to tap me on the shoulder. His lovely turquoise eyes sparkled, and he somehow managed to appear sexy, angelic, and danger-ous all at the same time.

"As I was saying about musical terms, vampires give off such a powerful energy or tone that everyone entrains with us. Thevibrational song that emanates from us is stronger than any other, and so it overrides whatever was there before. And that is without our even looking at anyone. If we gaze into a human's eyes without holding back, it is a form of mind control. We are able to change your brain waves."

"Are you talking about hypnosis?"

"It is much more similar to brainwashing than hypnosis because in hypnosis you are always free to choose."

I reached over and played with a lock of his hair. "So, you're saying the power of what you are is so strong that I'm pulled in whether I want to be pulled in or not?"

"Exactly," he said, with a quick nod.

"And when you said your gaze wouldn't entrance me to-night, you meant you'd hold back?"

"Yes."

I slid my index finger along his lower lip. "Then, does that mean my desire to kiss you is only there because you want me to kiss you? That you are irresistible to me because of that power and not because of anything I feel about you?"

He flashed a dazzling smile. "I am pleased to hear I am irresistible to you, but no. I am old enough to bein total control of my power and I hold back with you always so that you can make your own decisions.

You kiss me because you desire to kiss me."

I trailed my fingernail lightly over his cheek. "Show me the difference."

He raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?55 "Use your eyes. Turn on the full power. Let me have it. I want to know what you're talking about."

"Are you certain?" he asked, smiling mischievously.