Demon Song

by Cat Adams

Jesse snorted. It was obvious he was on my side; I hoped he’d stay that way after he talked to Gerry. Jesse headed for the security office, probably to assemble the team he’d take down to the gate.

  As Gwen and I walked down the quiet, carpeted hallway toward her office, I let out a deep breath. “So, now that I’m here, what did you need to see me about?”

  “Let’s talk when we get to my office. For the moment, we’ll let our thoughts drift.”

  Ah yes. I’d forgotten about the “thoughts drifting” thing. Gwen had always been big on the idea that solutions would come to us if we just allowed our minds to work, unhindered by emotion or intent. In a way, she was right. The twilight time between alertness and sleep was often when I got my best ideas or solved work problems that had confounded me for the whole day. There had been whole therapy sessions where we’d do nothing but stare at the walls, silent but touching hands or feet, to become “grounded and centered.”

  I remembered one particular breakthrough that had happened during such a time. I’d been staring at a painting in Gwen’s office, a still life of a bottle next to a bowl of wax fruit. I’d blurted out a truth that still haunts me to this day: “Mom doesn’t even realize she’s hurting me, does she?”

  Gwen’s response had been, “No, she doesn’t. How does that make you feel?”

  I’d realized that just like Gran, I’d been enabling my mother’s behavior. I’d never told her that her drinking bothered me. I’d just stayed silently annoyed and resentful.

  So I’d decided it was time to tell her.

  Bad move. That was the part that still haunted me. It had been another breakthrough … of sorts.

  A small part of me had hoped that once she knew, she’d turn away from the booze. I’d expected her to pick me over the bottle. She hadn’t. It had merely ramped up the tension, because we’d both been deluding ourselves about the other. She’d apparently thought I didn’t mind her getting drunk. Once she knew otherwise, my disapproval became an embarrassment to her and she tried to hide her drinking from me. It put another wedge of distance between us that had yet to be removed.

  Those were my happy thoughts as we reached Gwen’s office. I was surprised at the changes to the place. The room’s colors were the same—light sandy brown, plus muted blues and greens. But she’d moved the desk closer to the door and rearranged the furniture so it seemed more … relaxed. The pictures were different, too. Just as tasteful and expensive, but different.

  She walked around to the other side of the desk and sat down in the chair that had once been Dr. Scott’s. He was a big man, so when Gwen sat down she looked a little like a child playing in her parent’s office. “Thank you for coming. I apologize once again for the way you were greeted.”

  I leaned back in my seat, tipped my head, and raised my shoulders slightly. “There’s no need. I’ve heard worse and probably will again. I’d rather focus on which one of my friends is in trouble. You know I don’t use that word lightly, so I presume you didn’t, either.”

  “No, you’re correct. I’m very careful with my words with you. I said a friend of yours and I meant it.” She leaned forward and rested her arms on the desk with an expression of total earnestness. “I received a call a few days ago from a colleague who expressed a concern about his patient. He knew that I once treated you and he wanted some insight into what he perceived as a threat to her healing.”

  The only two friends I had in therapy were Dawna and Emma. A threat to their healing was a big deal. “Who is it?”

  She grimaced slightly. Clearly she was reluctant to tell me.

  “How can I help if I don’t know who it is, Gwen?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded. “You’re right, of course. The patient is Dawna. According to her doctor, she’s actually doing quite well. She’s able to drive alone and walk to her car without an escort.”

  That made me happy. Lilith had grabbed Dawna on her way to her car, so no doubt that was a huge trigger to a panic attack. “Great! I’m so glad for her. But what’s the problem?”

  “Unfortunately, she was alone in her house when you killed Lilith. She was still bound to her and felt her die.”

  Oh, fuck a duck. “I knew she’d been tortured. You mean she’d become Lilith’s servant ?” My head started reeling when Gwen nodded. The master/servant relationship was a strong one. Breaking it by killing the master, rather than cleansing the servant, could have long-term repercussions. I couldn’t even imagine what it might have been like for Dawna to go through that with no priests nearby and no one to comfort her.

  Now I felt like a total heel. No wonder she’d been suicidal. It had never even occurred to me to ask if she’d been bitten. Of course, I hadn’t even known Lilith had attacked her until after, but still, I could have asked .

  “Crap. I don’t know how to fix that. What does her doctor say?”

  Gwen took a deep breath and let it out slow. Her French-manicured nails started lightly tapping on the desk. “He doesn’t think she should live alone right now. It’s when she’s alone that the fear sets in. But she’s still not trusting enough to even start looking for a roommate. He thinks she needs to live with someone she already trusts—and someone who is not a direct family member.”

  Yeah. I totally understood that. Dawna loves her family desperately, but they’re major control freaks. They want to have input into every aspect of her life—from the clothing she buys to the food on her plate. Every decision should be a family decision. They had driven my very independent-minded best friend right out the door.

  Gwen’s voice cut into my thoughts: “Perhaps she needs to live with someone like … you.”

  Me? “You just told me I killed her master. How would that possibly make living with me a good choice?”

  Gwen smiled softly. “You freed her from her master. There’s a vast difference, Celia. Apparently, she told her therapist that you are the one person in the world she truly trusts; that’s why she came back to work at the office before the doctor felt she was ready. Dr. Dewer was only concerned that moving in with her might harm your own therapy or, worse, lead to a codependent relationship where, in her mind, you would take the place of the master she lost.”

  Both were very valid concerns. “I honestly don’t know what to say. I mean, sure, it would be fun to live with Dawna in the short term. But we get along well because we don’t spend every waking moment together. I can’t tell you what would happen if we did.” I gave her a wry smile. “I don’t have a very good track record of making relationships work, if you remember.”

  We both chuckled, though my laugh was a little nervous. It was true and she knew it. “Well, despite your family and love life, you have a solid group of friends. You’re loyal, encouraging, and, from all reports, fun. Why don’t you try a small experiment instead of leaping in with both feet? Go on a ‘girls’ retreat,’ where you and Dawna stay in the same hotel room, maybe for a long weekend. You need a break yourself. Don’t think I didn’t notice you have surgical gauze on your shoulder.”

  Oops. “About that…”

  She waved it away with a hand. “I don’t need to know. If it was important, you would have mentioned it, and it obviously didn’t affect your movements at the gate. But be honest, Celia, with me and with yourself. When is the last time you had an actual vacation ? Not something for work or your family, just a regular vacation?”

  One of the things I like best about being a bodyguard is the chance to visit new places and attend special events. Even though I’m working, guarding the client, I can listen to the music and meet interesting people. But when she put it like that— “Probably when Bruno took me home to meet his family. We stayed in a hotel in Manhattan and spent two days seeing the sights.”

  Her face showed real surprise. “That was several years ago.”

  I shrugged. “I like to work.”

  She raised her brows at me. “Some time off would do you, as well as Dawna, a world of good.” Then her head tilted and the last rays of sunli
ght caught me in the eyes.

  I could feel the world slipping into shadows. My first sunset after I turned had been spent in this room and it hadn’t been fun. Now I was more in control, but I could still feel my muscles preparing, gearing themselves up to chase down prey. But my human brain refused to obey. I realized then that her lips were moving, but I wasn’t hearing any sound. “Give me that last sentence again please? The sunset got to me for a second.” My voice had become more harsh, with a light growl on the ends of the words.

  “I asked whether the sunset was bothering you and if you’d like to move to a different room.”

  Oh.

  “No. It doesn’t matter whether I can actually see the sun set. I feel it in my bones, in my blood. See, this is part of the problem, Gwen. There’s no way to take a vacation when if I relax my guard for even a second I turn into a predator. And the last few weeks have just been one crisis after another.” I didn’t go into details. She wasn’t my therapist. She’d made that clear. I respected that and refused to dump on her—to put her in a situation where she would have to either treat me or stress about not treating me.

  She nodded, clearly not happy. But I think she understood. “I hope you’ll at least consider it, for Dawna’s sake. Even if you can’t let go totally, maybe you could indulge your friend. Give her a moment’s respite. You’re right that I didn’t consider the vampire aspect of your life when I suggested this housing arrangement. But you do seem to have remarkable control. Even now, sitting there with your eyes and skin glowing, you’re speaking with intelligence and concern.” I looked down at my hands, only then realizing that she was right. I was glowing. When I looked at her again, she was glowing, too, but only for my eyes. The warm, rich energy was pulsing in time with her heart. I struggled to listen to her words and shut my eyes for good measure. “But you can’t keep holding on to that control by your fingertips and toenails, Celia. Something will give and I fear it’ll be catastrophic when it does. You need to find some way to give in to your new instincts in a non-destructive manner.”

  That made me laugh, but there was a sarcastic edge to it. I opened my eyes again and let her have the full effect. “My new instincts are telling me to chase you through the building until you’re terrified and then pounce on you and drag you to the floor. Then I’d sink fangs into your neck and suck out your blood. Let me know if you can think of a way to spin that into non-destructive .”

  She cleared her throat and swallowed hard. No surprise. Dr. Scott had had the same reaction. “Well. I can see where that could be … difficult.”

  I smiled and my fangs had already grown longer. “Only for you, Gwen.” Now her pulse was starting to flutter. So was mine. A thin line of drool slid down my chin and that was it.

  Without another word, I stood up and walked fast to the bathroom I knew was hidden behind a wall panel. I stepped inside and locked the door behind me. The mirror revealed the red-ringed eyes and fangs that had dropped down over my bottom lip. At least this time I wasn’t covered with bloody juices. I turned on the spigot and splashed cold water on my face three times. The shock to my system was just what I needed. I bowed my head and gripped the edge of the marble sink until I felt the solid slab of stone crack. When I looked up again my hair was wet, but at least my eyes had stopped glowing and most of my fangs were back up inside my gums where they belonged. Patting my face dry took off a little makeup, but I could still fix it once I got back to my car.

  I let out a slow breath, bracing myself for her reaction. Then I opened the door. She was still in her chair, looking a little haggard. I sat back down opposite her and met her gaze with unblinking eyes. “What you just saw is what I’ve been dealing with every single night for weeks. So you can see where my life has gone a little beyond a typical touristy R and R.”

  She nodded. “Yes. Yes, I can.”

  “The part nobody can tell me for sure is what will happen to me if I drink blood. It might do nothing or it might throw me over the edge. I might become a full vampire. Fingertips and toenails are all I have right now, Gwen. Yoga helps and so does exercise. But they’re not the sort of relaxation you’re thinking of, are they?”

  “No. You’re right that I was thinking of something a little less active than exercise or yoga. Have you considered a spa? A facial, sauna, maybe even a massage could help in the short term. If you were relaxed when sunset arrived, your reaction might be less … intense.”

  Okay, that was true. I knew I was reacting stronger to the sunset because I was still angry with Gerry. But her words resonated on another level, too—the human one. A spa. Wow. I couldn’t remember ever going to a spa. I knew Dawna and Emma both swore by spas, but I’d never accompanied them. Maybe that would work, because if I was going to be honest, I was stressed. Swimming and bubble baths had even stopped working. Calgon was no longer taking me away.

  The problem was that it was the busy season. I was booked every night. But why not a day trip? “Okay. Let me see what I can clear on my calendar. Work is busy, but if Dawna’s health is at stake, I’ll do my best.” I stood up because I really needed to get something into my stomach or I was going to wind up doing something I’d regret. “Tell her doctor I’ll make the suggestion. I know Dawna well enough that if he suggests it she’ll get stubborn and claim she doesn’t need to. And,” I added with a sudden brilliant idea, “I hadn’t come up with a single idea for a Christmas gift for her or Emma. We’ll do a girls’ day out somewhere down in the Napa Valley. Maybe take in a wine tasting.”

  Gwen was smiling now, most of her nervousness gone. Most, but not all. That made me sad. I’d been wrong. I’d thought Gwen being disappointed in me was second only to making Gran cry. But making Gwen afraid was worse, much worse. “Excellent. I’ll let him know.” I had my hand on the doorknob, desperate to leave before my stomach growled, when Gwen spoke: “By the way, Celia, I appreciate your candor here. Most clients are unwilling to show their … true self to a therapist. I plan to do some reading on the subject of vampirism and I look forward to spending some session time with you as soon as my license is renewed.”

  That was good news. I couldn’t look at her again, but it was good news. I nodded. “I’ll look forward to that, Gwen.”

  I escaped before she could respond. The world was starting to shift again and I had to get out into the darkness and the safety of a locked car. It wasn’t that Gwen was wrong. My control was going to give out someday. I just had to keep the odds in my favor and do the things I knew worked.

  To give myself a chance to succeed.

  8

  I burst from the water and took a huge gulp of air before diving into the surf once more. I used to swim every night, relieving the stresses of the day. Since Vicki died, I hadn’t spent much time down here, in the water off Vicki’s estate. Mostly because of the restraining order that Vicki’s mom had put into place when she contested the Will. But one of my many phone messages over the past few days had been from my attorney, telling me the judge hadn’t renewed the order. I was free to go back to the estate.

  I’d parked at the guesthouse—my house, for years, until Vicki’s death—and hurried to the beach, stopping just long enough to grab a couple of big towels from my linen cabinet, one to lie on and one to dry off with. The ocean was calling to me. Just hearing the waves, smelling the salt on the air, helped calm me.

  I breaststroked out until the lights from Cooper Manor were just a small dot on the dark horizon. The water was cold, but I felt overheated, so it was perfect. I could feel the ocean like a living thing around me—each fish and plant made itself known without speech or effort. It had been like this my whole life, not just since I learned I was a siren. Maybe it should have occurred to me that my love of water was deeper than other beachgoers’, but I’d trusted the grade-school aptitude test that told me I had no paranormal talent.

  Flipping onto my back, I stared up at the twinkling stars and felt safe and secure for the first time in days. The bullet wound in my shoulder had heale
d and was now nothing more than another scar in a sea of them. I floated and kicked and let the tension seep out of my body with each rise and fall of the swells. Maybe I could sleep a full night for a change.

  “I was going to suggest this, but you’ve found the answer on your own.”

  The female voice to my left startled me enough that I lost my buoyancy and dropped beneath the waves. I came up sputtering and blinking water out of my eyes.

  Lopaka, high queen of the sirens, had watched me nearly drown with amusement. You weren’t drowning. Sirens can’t drown. The oceans won’t allow it. She spoke into my mind and I tried to answer in kind.

  Where her voice was the sweetest ringing of crystal wind chimes, my telepathy sounded like the harsh squawking of gulls: I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t startle me. I’m not like other sirens. I’d hate to prove your no-drowning theory wrong.

  She laughed and the water grew more alive around us. I could feel more fish come to investigate, and strands of seaweed, completely out of place this far from shore, drifted by. Lopaka plucked the narrow green fronds from the water and began to idly twist them. “I would hate that as well. Monarchs should never be proven wrong. But while I am no psychic, I am … connected to my people, in tune with my subjects. Which is why I’m here. What was causing you such distress? I felt as though your very soul was screaming in agony earlier today. But now you seem well.”

  Whoa. She could feel me in pain? I so didn’t want to project my life onto anyone. “How much earlier? It’s been a busy day. I got shot around two this morning and wanted to snack on my therapist about an hour ago.”

  She shook her head with mild confusion. “It wasn’t physical. I’ve learned to tune such things out. This was psychic pain—panic and heartache and fear, all rolled into one. It was strong enough that I nearly fell, but I couldn’t find the source for some time. It was as though I was being blocked when I searched.” Her hands finally stopped fiddling beneath the water and came up bearing a crown fashioned of seaweed and tiny shells. She put it on her head while I wondered where in the world she’d found the shells. When I looked closer, I realized they weren’t shells but living snails, mollusks, and tiny starfish, clinging to the stiff blades of sea grass.