The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song)

by Adams, Cat

ask, did you really, seriously, face down

  a greater demon?”

  I shuddered. I couldn’t help it. That

  was one of my worst memories. “Twice.

  Not by choice.” Bruno’s grip tightened a

  little, and I could easily guess that the

  look he was giving Gary was something

  less than friendly. “I don’t recommend

  exorcisms. They hurt.”

  “Had to be scary,” the GA continued.

  “It’s utterly terrifying, and not

  something anyone who’s been through it

  wants to talk about,” Emma said from

  the hallway, cold and hard.

  “Right.” Gary squirmed, then decided

  abruptly that there was someplace else

  he needed to be. “Look at the time. I’ve

  gotta run. Later, DeLuca. Guys.” He

  brushed past Bruno and me, stepped

  around Emma, and was gone. As Emma

  edged into the office and made her way

  to the one desk in the place that wasn’t

  littered with scattered junk, she spoke

  very softly, to Bruno. “Just so you know,

  Professor Sloan was less than a minute

  behind me.”

  “Crap.” Bruno released my waist and

  stepped over to the nearest wall.

  Seconds later he’d vanished, replaced

  by a battered coat tree with a couple of

  jackets and an umbrella hanging from it.

  It’s not that he doesn’t like Dr. Sloan.

  Bruno thinks he’s great. But the

  professor

  had

  been

  running

  him

  absolutely ragged when I’d left for

  Mexico. Apparently, he still was.

  “DeLuca!”

  Dr.

  Sloan’s

  voice

  preceded him into the office. “I’ve had a

  thought about that table. I want you to—”

  The short, wiry, elderly man appeared in

  the doorway. Looking around through

  thick glasses, he found Trudy, Emma,

  and Jan working hard at their desks and

  no sign at all of Bruno.

  “Hi, Dr. Sloan. How are you doing?”

  I said.

  “Celia.” He smiled broadly and

  cocked one bushy eyebrow at me. “I’m

  well. The question is, how are you? Has

  the curse mark faded?”

  “I’m fine. And I can’t tell on the mark.

  Maybe a little. I’m not sure.” I held out

  my hand so he could look at my palm.

  “Jan, Trudy, come here. You’ll want

  to see this. It’s not often you get to see a

  death curse of this quality on a living

  human being.”

  They obediently came over to

  examine my palm. Dr. Sloan gave them a

  brief, esoteric lecture about the nature of

  death curses in general and of mine in

  particular—the one that kept putting me

  face-to-face with said greater demon—

  before releasing my hand and gesturing

  them back to work with shooing

  movements of his hands. Then, winking

  at me, he turned directly to the coat rack.

  “DeLuca, you may take the rest of the

  afternoon off to visit with the lovely Ms.

  Graves. But I expect you in my office at

  ten o’clock tomorrow morning, without

  fail. Do I make myself clear?”

  The illusion faded, revealing a

  sheepish-looking Bruno. “Absolutely.”

  “Good.” He turned on his heel and

  left. But his parting shot could be heard

  from the hall. “Have fun, kids.”

  “All right.” Bruno turned to the others.

  “What did I miss?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Trudy gave a

  derisive snort. “The illusion was

  perfect. Your work is always perfect.

  The doctor must be psychic.”

  I shook my head no. He’d missed

  something. The illusion was not perfect.

  Bruno turned to me. “What?”

  I gave him a little smile. “Your

  cologne. He could smell your cologne.

  It’s very distinctive.”

  Jan laughed. “Of course.”

  Bruno’s expression darkened. “Hmm.

  Smell … I’ll have to work on that.” He

  wandered over to his desk, where there

  was a hand mirror in a scrolled silver

  frame lying next to a razor-sharp knife.

  With a quick, deft movement, he picked

  up one of the blades and sliced

  shallowly into his forearm. There was a

  surge of power as his blood spilled onto

  the shining glass and was absorbed into

  it. The cut knit itself closed as I

  watched. Bruno hadn’t even winced.

  “That is just so cool.” I hadn’t meant

  to say it out loud. I should be used to it

  by now. I’ve seen Bruno working often

  enough. But every time, it just gets to me.

  I realized that Jan was glaring at me

  an instant before he shifted his gaze to

  the knife and then Bruno’s face. Both

  men looked stubborn, just short of angry,

  and I had the feeling I had walked into

  the middle of an ongoing argument. “I

  fail to understand why you would do this

  to yourself for her.” The blond man

  made a sharp gesture at me. “You

  yourself said that she allowed one of the

  knives you created to be ruined.”

  “ I told you”—Bruno’s eyes locked

  with Jan’s—“she used the knife to kill

  the überbat that attacked my brother. It’s

  not her fault that Lilith had been a spawn

  before she was turned.”

  “She was?” That was news to me, but

  it explained why her death had been so

  weird. Normally, to kill a vampire you

  stake it, cut off its head and take out its heart, then have the parts cremated

  separately and spread over separate

  bodies of running water. When I stabbed

  Lilith with the knife Bruno had made for

  me, she’d burned to ash, from the inside

  out. It had been très creepy and totally

  unexpected.

  “I’ve done the research. It’s the only

  possible explanation for Lilith’s ability

  to call a priest on holy ground … and for

  the damage to the knife.”

  Um, wow. Okay. I didn’t even know

  that it was possible for a spawn to be

  turned. I mean, Spawn are the offspring

  of a mating between a human and a

  demon, so they’re already monsters.

  Wasn’t turning one into a vampire sort

  of … well … redundant?

  “So you’ve said.” Jan obviously

  didn’t believe him.

  “Jan,” Trudy said, sounding martyred,

  “just stop, will you? You just saw the

  curse mark, which you claimed couldn’t

  possibly exist on a living human. You’ve

  heard the stories about Celia’s fangs,

  read about her in the magazines. Now

  here she is … fangs, curse, and in

  daylight.”

  “It isn’t possible for one person—”

  “To be that unlucky?” Emma gave a

  derisive snort. “You don’t kno
w the half

  of it. If the woman who cursed her

  wasn’t already dead, I’d kill her myself.

  Nobody should have to go through the

  kind of shit Celia puts up with.” She

  stood and gathered her things. “Now if

  you’ll excuse us, Celia and I have

  business.” She looked from me to Bruno

  and back. “Unless you’re planning on

  bailing on me?”

  I gave a derisive snort. “Of course

  not.” I turned to Bruno, who was still

  glaring daggers at Jan. “You coming

  with?”

  Tearing his gaze away from the other

  man, he turned to me. “Nope. You go see

  the house. I’ve seen it. We’ll meet at my

  place for dinner at … seven o’clock? I

  want to have plenty of time to get things

  ready.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.” I

  collected another kiss before I left.

  5

  I wasn’t sorry to leave. I’d be seeing

  Bruno later and the tension in that little

  office had been intense. As we were on

  our way out of the building, I asked

  Emma, “What was that all about?”

  “If by ‘that’ you mean my snarling at

  Gary—”

  “No. That, I get. He pushed your

  buttons when he talked about demons.

  No surprise, considering your history.”

  She nodded, her lips pressed in a tight

  line. “He just won’t leave it alone.

  Demons fascinate him.”

  “And every time he brings the subject

  up, it chips away at the magical barrier

  muting your memories. Have you talked

  to him about it?”

  She sighed. “I have. He’s trying to do

  better. It wasn’t his fault I walked in

  right then.” She pushed open the door to

  the outside and held it open for me.

  “Just bad luck,” I agreed, then added,

  “Are you even supposed to park here?”

  We were in the faculty lot and Emma

  was leading me to her father’s assigned

  spot, which was occupied by a big black

  SUV. “Normally, no. But since Dad’s in

  Cairo this year, he isn’t using it, and I

  needed to borrow his Suburban. I

  figured since you were coming to the

  house anyway, I’d get you to help me

  move Vicki’s big mirror. I don’t really

  trust the movers with it.”

  That made sense. It was a full-length

  mirror in a big wooden frame, both

  awkward and heavy. She didn’t need to

  worry about breaking it, though. It had

  been spelled until it was pretty much

  impervious to anything. So the problem

  wasn’t with the mirror; it was human

  nature. Like my knives, the mirror was a

  major magical artifact and thus valuable

  as hell. People have killed for that sort

  of thing and many more would be happy

  to steal it. Emma had inherited the

  mirror from Vicki because she had been

  the only other person in our circle with

  clairvoyant abilities. Emma’s not that

  powerful, a level four I think, but the

  mirror has helped her focus, so she’s

  getting more control and better results,

  which is, in effect, the same thing as

  moving up a level or two.

  “Do you mind?” she asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “Oh good.” Emma smiled, pointed the

  little black keyless remote at the SUV,

  and pressed the button. Beeping ensued,

  as did the popping of the door locks. She

  gestured to the passenger side. “Get in

  before you start burning.”

  I waited until she’d maneuvered the

  SUV out of the tight parking space

  before I brought up Jan Mortensen.

  “What’s with him? Did he, like, not

  believe I existed?”

  She groaned, then answered. “Jan

  Mortensen is very talented and is a

  complete and total ass. I don’t have any

  proof, but I’m pretty sure he’s sleeping

  with one of his undergrad students.”

  “Eww.” I gave a low whistle. While

  not unheard of, that was completely

  unethical and a firing offense if he got

  caught. Which apparently he hadn’t …

  yet. Since Emma’s a by-the-books kind

  of gal, and her father’s one of the

  program

  administrators,

  I

  could

  understand why she was upset about it.

  “It’s one thing not to believe all the

  stories about me. But he actually seems

  to hate me. Why?”

  “I’ve no clue, but you’re right. He’s

  practically irrational on the subject. He

  and Bruno don’t get along well because

  of it.”

  I almost felt like I should apologize,

  which was just silly. Mortensen’s

  attitude problem was his problem, not

  mine. I’d never met the guy before today.

  We chatted amiably all the way to

  Emma’s place. She caught me up on

  Dawna’s wedding plans and I told her

  about becoming Adriana’s maid of

  honor. Finally, I got around to bitching

  about my fight with John Creede.

  Emma hadn’t heard we were on the

  outs. She paused for a long moment after

  I’d told the whole sad tale—up to the

  firefight and our escape through the

  tunnels. “You know,” she said, “I almost

  feel sorry for the guy.”

  “Excuse me?” I stared across the seat

  at her, eyes wide.

  “I mean it. You call him for help. I bet

  he figured you wanted him to be your

  white knight, charging in to rescue the

  damsel in distress—when in fact, you

  only wanted an efficient subcontractor

  with excellent equipment. That had to be

  a blow to the ego of the top guy in the

  game.”

  I spluttered. I couldn’t help it. A white

  knight? Seriously? So not me.

  She shook her head, grinning. “A lot

  of other women would’ve been angling

  for the rescue. Probably more than one

  had done just that. Set up a situation

  where only he could fix the problem.”

  “I’m not like other women.”

  “Amen to that.” She laughed, then

  continued, “But anyway, I can see how

  he got his signals crossed and wound up

  grumpy.”

  “He wound up more than grumpy.”

  “So did you,” she pointed out. “And

  when you get grumpy, you occasionally

  overreact. Like … kicking him out of the

  country when you had people to get to

  safety?”

  Well, that was true enough. We rode

  in silence for a few minutes. I finally

  said, “I am perfectly capable of running

  a large team.”

  “ We l l , duh. Of course you are.

  Nobody said you weren’t.”

  I didn’t answer. She’s a bright girl.

  She connected the dots and turned to me

  with shock cle
ar on her face. “Tell me

  he didn’t! That bastard. ” Emma’s face

  flushed and her eyes blazed. If John

  Creede had been here now, she’d have

  given him an earful, no doubt about it.

  “He’s not completely wrong, though.”

  I started reciting the facts. “Glinda

  offered me the job to get me out of town,

  not because I was qualified. The

  company kept the offer on the table

  because nobody else would take the job

  —including Miller & Creede. In fact,

  there’s a good chance MagnaChem hired

  me because they figured I’d drag Creede

  into this. It’s not like our relationship’s

  exactly been a secret.”

  Emma pulled the SUV into her

  father’s long driveway. “Okay, I can buy

  that.” She cast a glance my way. Her

  expression was thoughtful, almost stern.

  In that moment she was every bit her

  father’s daughter: cold, logical, and

  brilliant. “But let’s look at this logically.

  You got everyone out, right?”

  “Yes.” It had been damned close, and

  hard as hell. But we managed it.

  “Even after you fired his ass and had

  no replacements?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the only injury occurred when

  John disobeyed your orders?”

  “Yes.”

  “Other than you being left behind

  because you saved that local, everything

  went smoothly once you had a team that

  did what you told them?”

  “Yes.”

  She made a voilà-type gesture, then

  slammed the Suburban into park just

  outside of the garage door. “Then you’re

  capable. And he’s an ass.”

  We didn’t talk much for a while after

  that. First, we were mirror wrangling.

  Second, she’d given me a lot to think

  about and was giving me time to digest

  it. Still, I could sense her excitement

  from the moment we pulled out of the

  driveway; it grew steadily as we got

  closer to her new place. Her eyes lit up.

  Her fingers started tapping against the

  steering wheel. Hell, she was practically

  bouncing in her seat.

  We rounded one last corner, and there

  it was.

  Wow. Just … wow. I live in the guest

  house of a mansion and I’ve been in and

  out of some pretty magnificent homes

  because of my work. But Emma’s

  place … it wasn’t a mansion. It was a

  church. Okay, it was a small church, but

  it still probably took up most of an acre.

  Located on the outskirts of town, it was

  a beautiful old stone building with a pair

  of

  bell

  towers