Blood Song

by Cat Adams

and year it was. “How long have I been here, anyway?” I pul ed on a pair of elegant powder blue lace

  panties and matching bra, then promptly covered them up with a serviceable navy sweat suit. I used a

  covered rubber band to pul my hair into a ponytail at the back of my head. It felt about the same length

  as it had this morning. Or whenever. I reminded myself, yet again, to find time for a haircut. Of course,

  it occurred to me that my hair might not grow back … ever. Man, I’d better find a really good stylist if it

  was going to wind up my last haircut.

  “You’ve been here about six hours. It’s around ten A.M. And a month didn’t work perfectly. No.”

  He didn’t elaborate, and his tone was absolutely neutral. Too neutral. Sometimes the absence of

  something tel s me more than its presence. My guess would be that the mission he’d been referring to

  went very bad, very quickly. It might even be the source of the scarring on his neck. Or not. I wouldn’t

  ask. It was rude. Yes, since I apparently was an abomination I should probably find out as much as I

  could; and I would … eventual y. But right now I needed to find out what had happened in the hours I’d

  lost. Because I hadn’t just lost six hours. The last I remembered was getting ready to visit Vicki.

  “Can you sense your sire?” Jones’s words brought me back to the situation at hand.

  I thought about it. Nothing. There was no sorrow or rage or even happiness connected to the lack of

  a connection. Just bland neutralness. “No. Is there a trick to doing it?”

  “No. General y the connection’s just there.” He seemed genuinely puzzled and not particularly

  pleased.

  “That’s not terribly helpful, you know,” Emma said coldly. She wasn’t looking at him as she said it.

  Instead, she was very careful y cleaning and putting away every bit of equipment they’d used. In

  moments there would be no trace of my having been here at al . Except, of course, for the video

  camera.

  “Make sure they keep the film of my being brought in.”

  “Why?” Emma sounded surprised.

  I wanted to look at it, to see if the video prompted any memories. But that’s not what I said. “The

  police may want proof that I didn’t leave the crime scene under my own steam.”

  “No police.” Jones sounded as though he were scolding a particularly dim-witted child.

  “Look, it’s fairly obvious I was attacked, and I wouldn’t have gone down without at least a few shots

  having been fired. That gun on top isn’t even mine, so weapons were used. The police have bal istics

  on most of my weapons from a couple of previous incidents. They’re going to match up the pieces

  when they start digging through the scene. They know what I do for a living, so it isn’t usual y an issue.

  It isn’t a crime to kil a vampire, but people are general y supposed to report that sort of thing.”

  Jones shrugged. “Ah. A good, law-abiding citizen.” There was a hint of condescending amusement.

  To my surprise, his tone didn’t irritate me. Probably because he was trying too hard. I do have a short

  fuse, but I don’t like playing into people’s expectations. So I smiled and spoke sweetly. “It makes life

  easier. I like easy.”

  Emma gave me an odd look. She knows me wel enough to have expected me to put up more of a

  fight. I saw her open her mouth as if to speak, then close it, compressing her lips tightly.

  I looked from one of them to the other. “Here’s what I propose. I cal the police, arrange to come in

  and make my statement.” Not that I could say much, with no memories of whatever had happened. But

  I might be able to get some information. They might even do a memory enhancement for me. Or not.

  That sort of thing was only used as a last resort—too traumatic to the witness. Besides, the courts

  were split on whether or not the evidence obtained that way could be used because of proven cases of

  mental manipulation. Stil , worth a shot.

  “After that I go to Vicki, see what she knows, maybe see if she can help me track my sire’s daytime

  hidey-hole. If that doesn’t work, we go back to wherever you found me and see if we can find any

  clues.” If my sire was going to be stalking me with death or undeath in mind, I wanted to get the jump on

  him. Preferably in ful daylight with as much specialized weaponry as I could carry. I’ve fought vamps.

  I’ve kil ed them. But mostly they’ve been babies, new to the game. Vampires that are old enough to

  actual y bring humans over are good. Scary good. They’ve got strength, magic, mind games, the works.

  I was going to need every advantage I could get to get close enough to kil the bastard, before he kil ed

  me. Vicki has a better than 99 percent accuracy rate. Odds are she either knew what was going on or

  could find out. And it certainly wouldn’t hurt to try.

  Emma nodded, which I expected since she knows Vicki nearly as wel as I do. But I hadn’t expected

  Jones to speak.

  “I’d recommend that. But I’d suggest you see Vicki first. The police are open twenty-four/seven.

  Birchwoods isn’t.” That was interesting. How did Jones know about Vicki? While it was possible Emma

  or Kevin had told him, it didn’t seem likely. No, I was betting that Jones had found out the information on

  his own. If so, he’d been researching al of us. Maybe he’d done it after Kevin had cal ed him. But I

  doubted it. He’d have had to work fast and be amazingly good. Because Birchwoods takes

  confidentiality very, very seriously. If a starlet or executive wants sympathy, they check into one of the

  other rehab facilities. If they want secrecy to the grave and beyond, they choose Birchwoods. It’s

  pricey as hel , but for folks who value their privacy Birchwoods is worth every penny. And there was no

  way Vicki’s parents would leak she was there. It would be too damaging to their lily-white reputations.

  Hel , they’re so worried about their image that they hire a double to impersonate her for the press. So

  how had Jones known?

  I turned toward him, my expression studiously blank. “Are you in this for the duration?”

  He shrugged. “I owe Kevin Landingham a significant favor. Helping you wil repay that.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I turned, giving Emma a long, hard look. What I was about to do was virtual y guaranteed to annoy her,

  but it was necessary. If she came along, she’d get in the way. Besides, I didn’t want to wait for Kevin,

  but I wanted him riding shotgun as soon as possible. Cal me paranoid, but I didn’t trust Jones with my

  back. I just didn’t know him wel enough. “When your brother gets back—”

  “I’m going with you—,” she interrupted, but I kept talking over her.

  “—tel him where we’re headed so that he can catch up.”

  “We can leave him a note. I’m going with you. I am not sitting here and waiting like a good little girl.”

  She wasn’t shouting, wasn’t hysterical. In fact, there was a level of cold, hard determination I’d never

  seen in her before. It made no sense. Why now of al times, and about this?

  “Em—”

  “I’m not. ”

  “You’re not what?” We turned in unison at the sound of Kevin’s voice.

  He stood outlined in the doorway, looking better than any man had a right to. My heart sped up at the

  sight of him. At the moment, his sandy blond hair was just a little long, so that it fel in front of eyes the

  color of a perfect summer sky. His T-shirt and jeans were faded an
d worn, and just tight enough to

  show off a body to die for. I never managed to look at him without my body reacting. It’s not just his

  looks, either. He’s the whole package, brains, body, and a sense of humor. His strong jaw is softened

  by the deepest dimples. He has a smile that could make the clothes melt right off my body. I’ve wanted

  him from the minute I first laid eyes on him. I wouldn’t have done anything about it when I was with

  Bruno, but that’s been over for a long time now. But Kevin’s with Amy. I don’t know if she’s a werewolf

  or not, but it doesn’t matter. I have ethics. Besides, that woman is scary.

  “What are you doing up?” The words were directed at me. The look, however, was for Jones first,

  then Emma.

  “I did it,” Jones said. He gave Kevin a broad smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s necessary. We

  have to find her sire. Doing so in daylight, when he’s helpless, would be preferable, don’t you think?”

  “Not if it kil s Celia in the process.” Kevin snarled.

  The smile grew, and Jones’s eyes started to twinkle. “Wel , you’re in luck. She’s not dead.”

  I let out a very unladylike snort of laughter. I couldn’t help it. I’m a sucker for sarcasm. Besides, he

  was right.

  Al three of them turned to glare at me. I not only didn’t wither, I didn’t even flinch. Bul y for me. I held

  up a placating hand. “There’s no point in arguing. I’m up. No harm done. And I’ve got work to do.”

  Kevin’s expression grew stubborn. He crossed his arms over his chest, his stance balanced and

  solid. “Tel me what you remember.”

  Shit. He would ask that. “Not a damned thing.”

  “The fourteenth,” he said with significance. Should that mean something? I already knew I’d lost a ful

  day.

  Well, crap. Yesterday had been Vicki’s birthday. I’d gotten ready to go, but had I even visited her? I

  didn’t remember it. She’d be upset that I was injured. But she’d be hurt if I forgot her birthday. And I

  wanted her to have her gift. I mean, that present had taken months to find and get the spel s worked.

  But she wouldn’t know that if I hadn’t made it out there to give it to her.

  Kevin stared at me for a long moment, as though he were reading my mind. “You think you’re fit to go

  out hunting your sire, when you can’t even remember a birthday?” He didn’t bother to hide his derision,

  which raised my hackles.

  “I think I’m not going to have much choice, Kevin. Jones just told me I’m going to feel compelled to

  find him pretty soon. I’m not just going to sit around waiting for him to hunt me, and would rather go

  looking before I turn into a drooling idiot. You don’t go after a master vamp after dark, and if I don’t find

  and kil him first, he’s going to be stalking me just as soon as the sun goes down—unless your friend

  Jones over there was lying.”

  “He’s not,” Kevin admitted grudgingly. “But you don’t have to be the one to hunt him.”

  “Did you have any luck tracking him back from where you found Celia?” Jones’s tone was deceptively

  bland.

  Kevin answered Jones’s question with one of his own. “It’s broad daylight. Celia. Do you even know if

  you can go outside?” Kevin’s voice had softened just a hair, as if he sensed the distress I wasn’t wil ing

  to show. Maybe he could smel it? I didn’t know enough about werewolves to know one way or the

  other. I’d passed up on that class in favor of two semesters of history of magic.

  I flinched involuntarily, just a little. I needed to keep my head in the game, but I real y was having a

  hard time focusing. Shit. “Only one way to find out.” I gave him my perkiest insincere smile and was

  rewarded by a dark flush creeping up his neck.

  “You”—Jones looked from me to Kevin and back again—“are either very brave or very stupid.”

  “Both,” Emma said drily.

  “Gee, thanks.” I was stil lisping a little but was determined to ignore it. I rummaged around in the duffel

  for sweat socks and running shoes, then plopped down on the edge of the slab to pul them on, leaving

  the others to argue among themselves, which they proceeded to do. With vigor. I ignored it for the

  most part. I had other things on my mind. Like sunlight, spontaneous combustion, the fact that I would

  have a real y, really hard time explaining an aversion to holy objects to my gran.

  The three of them were stil arguing when I finished with the shoes and socks. I think that’s why they

  didn’t hear the commotion in the hal way. Emma might have missed it either way, but werewolves have

  excel ent hearing and from the jolt I got when I touched him, Jones wasn’t your average human, either.

  But I heard and, even more weird, scented it. Three men in hard-soled dress shoes were coming down

  the hal . They walked with the kind of confidence that comes with the weight of authority. I smel ed gun

  oil and the tiniest hint of powder, as if the weapon hadn’t been cleaned quite as wel as it should have

  been after its last use.

  They slowed to a stop outside the heavy steel of the main door. I heard the metal shift as someone

  began pul ing it open, and a voice I recognized as belonging to Dr. Reynolds from the university health

  clinic, babbling nervously. I watched, alert, as their figures were silhouetted against the sunlight of the

  glass-wal ed outer hal way. The sunlight seemed too bright, like staring into a spotlight onstage. It made

  my skin itch even from a distance, and I felt my muscles cringe. That annoyed me.

  From the corner of my eye I saw the argument between Emma and Kevin cease. Jones had simply

  disappeared. Like magic. Except that I know magic … and nobody I’d ever known or heard of was

  capable of that particular trick.

  The man who held the door was familiar to me, and probably to every student who graced the hal s of

  USC Bayview. University president Donald Lackley had movie star good looks, a permanent tan, and

  shoes that had once roamed free in the Florida swamplands. His designer suit was impeccable,

  perfectly tailored, and probably worth as much as the car I drive. He is a presence, and as such never

  misses a photo op or a chance to cadge donations for the campus. That said, he is stil one hell of an

  able administrator. No detail is smal enough to escape the notice of those sharp dark eyes. Most

  people would have been surprised that he’d choose to lead the charge down here himself. I wasn’t. If

  he was here he could control the situation. Like most administrators, Lackley was all about control. If

  he hadn’t already been married, I’d have said he was the perfect match for Emma Landingham.

  “Good morning, Emma … Kevin.” Lackley’s voice was much cooler than usual when he spoke to

  them. He knew my name but didn’t greet me. I wasn’t surprised.

  He looked at Emma. “Dr. Reynolds explained to me that there’s been an … incident involving Ms.

  Graves.”

  Kevin glared at the good doctor, who flinched a little under the heat of his gaze.

  “I did say you had the situation in hand,” the doctor mumbled.

  Lackley spared the doctor an eloquent look. The poor man shifted nervously from foot to foot. He

  was a smal , mousy little man with a receding hairline and a slight paunch that didn’t show when he was

  wearing a lab coat. He seemed to be a fairly good doctor but a poor politician. Today he just couldn’t

  catch a break. No matter w
hat he did, he’d be pissing somebody off.

  “You did. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t personal y check to make sure that a potential y deadly monster

  hadn’t been brought onto the campus.”

  I smiled and hoped the fangs didn’t show. “I’m fine, President Lackley. But thank you for your

  concern.” Unlike Kevin and the doc, I don’t work for the university and am thus exempt from kissing

  administrative booty. So long as I paid my tuition on time, there wasn’t much they could do to me. I

  could be as sarcastic as I wanted—provided I didn’t appear to be a threat.

  I saw the muscles in Lackley’s jaw tighten, but he didn’t say a word in response. So I turned my

  attention from him to the third man in their happy little group.

  C. J. “Rocky” Rockford was the head of the campus security forces. We’d had occasion to run into

  each other, and while he knew he probably shouldn’t like me, he did. We even went to the shooting

  range and worked out in the gym and weight room together occasional y. “Hey, Rock.”

  Rocky’s a big guy, former boxer and tough as they come. His skin is deep brown with copper

  highlights. He keeps his hair cut short enough that you can see the scalp beneath it. He isn’t a

  handsome man, but he is impressive. Which al ows him to, in the immortal words of Patrick Swayze,

  “be nice, until it is time not to be nice.” Rocky was always armed, but today he was carrying a plain

  black nylon satchel. I was betting I knew what was inside: holy items, a stake, a mal et, and a saw

  —your typical vampire kit.

  “Graves. What happened?” His voice didn’t sound particularly friendly this morning and he was

  rubbing his finger along a ridge of scar tissue at the bridge of his nose. He does that when he’s

  nervous. I couldn’t say as I blamed him. Never makes things easy when the ultimate boss takes a

  personal interest. Plus, I’d like to think Rocky hadn’t been looking forward to staking and beheading a

  workout partner.

  “I don’t real y remember much about it. I should be dead, from what I’ve gathered. But I’m not and,

  despite the fangs, I remember who I am. I was out on the slab until just a few minutes ago.”

  He blinked a couple of times in surprise but final y managed to ask, “Hit? Here on campus?”