I walked them out to the waiting room, feeling tired but thinking I'd done something useful. I came back in the of-fice, sat down at my desk and rested my head on my arms. I must have dozed off, because a sound caused my head to jerk up and it was no longer light outside.

The sound had been the throat clearing of the individual standing in my doorway.

I hadn't turned any lights on in my office except the small desk lamp, so the room was mostly dark. As had become my careless habit, I hadn't closed or locked my office door, think-ing I would be leaving momentarily. Who knew how long I'd been sleeping.

I definitely had some karmic thing with doors.

The man standing in the entrance was very tall, but stooped over with rounded shoulders. The overhead light in the waiting room provided enough illumination for me to note that my visitor had shoulder-length dark hair with a rap-idly receding hairline. He wore a black suit, white shirt, and skinny black tie. He held his hands together at chest level and twisted them, as if he was continually rolling a ball of clay or batter for a biscuit.

He edged forward, still standing in the doorway, as if reluctant to enter.

"Are you the vampire doctor?"

Chapter 19.

I rose from my desk, turned on another table lamp and walked slowly toward him, still straining to make out his shadowy features. My solar plexus began to tingle gently. I rested my palm there while I determined if that familiar sig-nal was simply information or a warning.

I kept a couple of feet of space between us. "I'm Kismet Knight. I'm a psychologist."

"Yes. You're the one. Can you help me?"

"I don't know."

Since I wasn't getting any particularly negative reaction from my sensing system and his uncomfortable, nervous ges-tures gave me the odd notion that he was more afraid of me than I was of him, I felt myself relax.

I pointed to the interior of the office. "Would you like to come in?"

He nodded and lumbered-as if moving his body around involved concentrated effort-over to the couch and sat.

I hesitated for a moment, watching him.

So, should I leave the door open because I don't know anything about this fellow, or should I close it to give him privacy? Should I lock it so no one else can surprise me today?Which would also mean I'll have to quickly unlock it if I need to get out fast. I can't believe I'm talking to myself about doors. In all my years of private practice, I've never' given the door one thought. Never felt threatened. I guess I can kiss those days goodbye.

I gently closed the door, leaving it unlocked, and eased over to the dimmer switch on the wall. Rule number one: Never make quick moves with a frightened client.

"Would you mind if I turn on a bit more light?"

He lifted his chin from where it had been resting nearly on his chest, finally giving me a glimpse of his full face. "I don't mind."

I turned up the watts and claimed the chair nearest to him.

He had a thin, cadaverous face, dotted with deep pock-marks from a rough case of acne and lined with scars that brought to mind the sewn-together monster in "Franken-stein." His nose was hawk-like and took up lots of facial real estate. His eyes were a dull, washed-out gray, and were small and close together, which made his darkunibrow stand out starkly against his light skin.

He lowered his head again, twisting his hands in his lap.

I leaned forward slightly. "How can I help you?"

"I heard that it's safe to talk to you.That you won't tell anyone about us."

I sat back. "Who's 'us'?"

He raised his head and cocked it. Theunibrow contracted in thecenter . He pulled back his upper lip so I could see his long canines. "Why, vampires, of course."

Okay, Kismet. Either' there are vampires or there aren't, and after last night, there's really no doubt. You didn't think you'd be treating actual vampires, but you did ask them to come on down.

I tensed. "Uh, yes, of course. You can talk to me. How can I help?"

That explains the solar plexus tingle.

The hand-twisting escalated, and he lowered his head again. "I have an unusual problem. You know that vampires drink blood, right?"

I cleared my throat, wondering if this was a trick ques-tion. "Yes, I'm aware of that."

This is so amazingly ludicrous. How can I sit here and talk about drinking blood with a vampire? Where am I supposed to put this in my brain? Is my intuition out to lunch? Am I in danger?

Heswiveled his head around, scanning the room, as if he wasn't sure we were alone.

"Well, I find the sight of blood disgusting." His shoulders sagged and his chest became even more concave than it had been. He almost whispered, "I avoid looking at it as much as I can. It's revolting."

Holy shitSomebody help me.A vampire who doesn't like blood. Is this a joke? Ami being secretly filmed for some reality show?

But suddenly I remembered Devereux's mind reading tendencies and how he'd told me that all vampires are tele-pathic. Even if this was an individual of a different "species" sitting across from me, I didn't want to have my rude thoughts announced through the vampire radio network. I needed to ask some questions and set some ground rules.

I held up my hand in a "stop" gesture, and he brought his eyes to mine briefly before lowering them again.

"I'm sorry. I don't know your name."

He nodded, and spoke in a clear voice. "Yes. I suppose you would need that. I'm Apollo."

I raised my eyebrows before I could catch myself."Apollo? Like the Greek god?"

He nodded. "Yes.The very same. I know I don't match my name very well-being decidedly un-god-like-but it was actually my last name when I was alive. Anthony Apollo. My human ancestors were originally fromGreece . In the vampire world, catchy names are preferable to mundane, human-sounding ones, so I go by Apollo. Besides, it gives everyone quite a chuckle."

He smiled and relaxed his hands in his lap.

I returned his smile, pleased to witness a lighter side of him, and hopeful that letting him into my office hadn't been yet another bad decision.

"So, Apollo, you probably know that working with vam-pires is a relatively new thing for me. I'm still finding my way around. I'd appreciate if you could answer some questions. Would that be all right?"

He nodded."If I can." I'd like you to tell me what powers you have. I mean, can you read my thoughts?

If I look into your eyes, will I be entranced?That sort of thing."

He shrugged. "I'm pathetically weak for a vampire. I haven't been one long-less than fifty years-and the vampwho turned me was rather insipid himself. You know a vam-pire is only as powerful as the one who created him. Then add in my little 'problem' and I can honestly say that I don't bring much to the vampire gene pool. But to answer your question, I can read some thoughts.Specifically, strong emo-tions. If you're worried about what you've been thinking so far, I can tell you it's all gone over my head. Same withtheeyes .Although I can probably give you a headache if I really concentrate."

I nodded, trying not to smile because I didn't know him well enough yet to decide if he'd be pleased I'd gotten hishumor , or offended that I found him amusing. But I was impressed by his mind and his way with words.So many ar-ticulate vampires. Who knew?

"Well then, let's deal with the largest issue. You said that you heard I'm safe. That you can talk to me. I want to know if I'm safe with you. How likely is it you'll become interested in my neck?"

Gee, Kismet. That was graceful.

He laughed awkwardly for several seconds, deep smile lines creating bizarre shapes out of some of the pock marks on his face, which appeared to be unaccustomed to that much frivolity.

"Forgive me for laughing, but if you'd heard the warning Devereux gave the coven about anyone harming you in any way, you wouldn't even ask the question. Trust me. No one wants to have Devereux as an enemy. I think you will find that most of us have tremendous self-control. That is one thing I can say about myself, so you can rest assured you are safe with me."

Said the spider to the fly.

He pulled a tissue from the box on the nearby table and dabbed at his eyes, wiping away the gleeful moisture, and shook his head. "Ah, that felt very good. It's been quite a while since I laughed out loud."

I gave him a few seconds to collect himself. I'm glad the laughing felt good. Perhaps we can encourage you to do more of it. And thank you for explaining about what Devereux said. I'm pleased to know I'm safe with you, otherwise we wouldn't be able to work together."

Get a grip, KismetThis isn't just another client you're setting boundaries with. This is a beingwho sucks the blood of people exactly like you. Is there no end to your political correctness?

"I noticed thatyour . . .er . . . fangs are descended. I understand that some vampires can will them in and out of their gums. Can you do that?"

"No. Unfortunately, I don't have that kind of power or control. My fangs remain in this position all the time. He raised his hand to cover his mouth. "I hope that doesn't con-cern you?"

I shook my head. "No, it doesn't." He lowered his hand again.

I cleared my throat. "Forgive the rudeness of this ques-tion, but I don't understand where vampires getthe financial resources to come to a therapist. I'm pleased to speak with you this evening, but I usually require appointments in ad-vance and some kind of payment arrangements. Will that be a difficulty?"

Aha! An escape hatch!

He smiled broadly and raised his eyes to mine. "No. The members of Devereux's coven are well taken care of. Money is the least of our concerns. I'll pay cash. The fee is irrelevant."

Well now. Aren't those words that cause a therapist's heart to flutter?

"Thank you. Let's talk about your issue. How does your disgust at the sight of blood complicate your . .

. experience?" I'm afraid I'm going to have to be quite graphic. Are you sure you're willing to listen to this?"

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. No! "I'll do the best I can"

I feel like a newbie, a brand new therapist sitting with my first cli-ent, trying not to screw up. Trying to convince the boogieman under the bed that there's no boogieman under' the bed.

"Since you're the vampire psychologist, you probably know there are people who enjoy hanging around vampires because they want to have their blood sucked. They crave it."

I straightened in my seat. "Yes, I've heard that."

He let his shoulders visibly relax and inhaled a deep breath.

He's breathing. Do vampires breathe? Does Devereux? Why didn't I notice that small detail?

"'Therefore, finding necks to suck on isn't my problem. Peo-ple offer themselves to me all the time. All Ihave to do is tuck in. And as long as I can't actually see the blood, I'm fine. Like any other vampire, I love the taste of it, and the way it makes me feel is worth whatever it takes to get it. But it's impossible to suck blood without there being any . . . remains.Residue.Drops.Or, horror of horrors, actual uncontrolled bleeding.

"You see, sometimes in the midst of a feeding I can get carried away. It really is like having a body orgasm, if you'll forgive my bluntness, and I've been known to enlarge the wound with my fangs when my body starts reacting to the . . . uh . . . stimulation. It can be an overwhelming experi-ence. Anyway, if I see even one drop of blood I immediately throw up everything I just swallowed. And then there is more blood, which makes me retch until the muscles of my stom-ach scream with pain."

His eyes had gone very wide and glassy as he told his story and he clasped his hands together so tightly that the white skin had become blue. He sat very stiff and straight.

The obvious terror the story stirred in him caused me to scoot to the edge of my seat in anticipation of having to perform some vampire CPR. I'd seen clients with that expression on their faces as they described fears of being covered in snakes, eaten by a lion, or burned alive. A phobia is a phobia.

Although I had to admit I wasn't really eager to put the vampire CPR thing to the test.

I took a breath and sat back. I noticed that my own hands clutched the arms of the chair so rigidly the veins stuck out. I consciously let go and wiggled my fingers to restore the cir-culation.

"That sounds very scary for you. I can totally under-stand why you'd avoid situations where you have to see blood. Do you remember the first time you had that reaction?"

"'Uh, yes.Unfortunately, I do remember. I have to warn you that this might be difficult for you to hear."

He paused and studied me before he continued. I guess he was waiting for me to give an indication I was willing to proceed. I nodded.

"It was a few years after I became a vampire. Prior to the event I'm going to tell you about, I could swim in blood and it had no effect on me. It was the first time I drank from a child.A dying child. The little boywas near death from cancer and I heard him crying through the window. He said, 'please don't leave me.'

I don't know who he was talking to because no one was there. The child was all alone in that room, but I could see people moving around in the other parts of the house. He was all alone.'

He stared at me silently for several seconds. Despite the controlled mask he'd made of his face, his eyes betrayed him by expressing the fear and self-loathing he usually kept locked away.

The words "all alone" had been said with such raw mis-ery that my heart ached.

In that moment I understood how difficult it had been for him to tell his story to a therapist or anyone.

I had a clear intuitive sense that he was afraid I'd . . . what? Run out of the room? Condemn him for being what he was? Grab a stake, hammer, and leap on him?

I gave him a gentle smile and nodded. "I understand. He was all alone. Then what happened?"

"I waited until everyone else had gone to bed and I went to the boy and held him in the dark. I don't know why I felt compelled to go to him. I usually had no interest in children. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth, and I licked the blood from his skin and rocked him. He began to remind me of myself when I was small. I could feel his pain building and, as he was ready to leave his body, I drank him dry.

At the last moment he put his arms around my neck and pleaded, 'Don't leave me, Daddy.' After his soul left his body, I stumbled out into the alley and threw up for the first time."

Shit Wheredo I begin?

I let him see the sympathy and compassion in my eyes and spoke softly. "That's a very heart-breaking story. Do you remember a time when you were small when you asked your Daddy not to leave?"

He stared at me with horrified, pain-filled eyes and nodded. He told me the story of his father abandoning the family when Apollo was only five and how he'd begged him not to leave. After he finished sharing the memory, he frowned and stared down at his limp hands in his lap.

A tear rolled down his cheek.

"Do you think my experience with that little boy has something to do with my blood phobia?Because of my own father?"

"I do, yes."

He plucked another tissue from the box and wiped away the tears streaming down his face.