Blood Song

“I’m Celia Graves. Dr. Scott’s office was supposed to have called ahead—”



“Oh wow.” He stared at me, looking startled and afraid. “That’s you? I’m sorry, but—”



“Look, I’ve been bit, but I’m only partially changed. You’re in no danger from me.”



“Yeah. Right.” He wasn’t being sarcastic, but he was still afraid. “The order’s too big to fit through the window. You’ll have to come inside.”



Well, crap. If it was too big for the window I was probably going to have a hard time fitting it in the car. Damn it anyway. “Are you sure it’s going to be okay? People tend to freak when they get a good look at me.”



“I can see why.” He swallowed hard. “Look, park the car and give me a couple minutes to warn everybody before you come in.”



Did I look that bad? A glance in the mirror said I did. The puffy, reddened eyes made them look larger and darker than normal and the red tinge had nearly overtaken the amber. “Right.” I pulled around the building and took the closest parking spot that hadn’t been marked for handicapped use only. It put me at the last bright edge before the shadows but well within the protections of the ward. So I shut down the engine and waited the requisite minutes before climbing out, making sure my credit card was in my wallet. I was betting this little trip would bring me right up to the credit limit, and it’s a high-limit card.



The automatic doors whooshed smoothly open as I passed beneath the security cameras and into the bright fluorescent lights. One of them was flickering a little, and I could hear it buzzing, like a large, annoying insect.



The store was empty. Seriously. Completely empty except for the teenage boy who had talked to me through the drive-up window.



I blinked, looking around. There was a price gun on the counter in Cosmetics, a half-filled cart. But other than him, no people. Weird. “Where is everybody?”



“Everybody else went back into the pharmacy area where the wards are better. Just in case.”



“What, you drew the short straw?” I didn’t mean it to sound bitter, but it did. This whole instilling fear in everyone was getting really old, really fast.



He shrugged. “Dr. Scott’s office said you had been bitten and gone through a partial change but that we should be safe. I know him. He wouldn’t lie about something like that. Besides, if anyone is going to get hurt, I’d rather it was me.”



A hero in the making. I almost smiled … then remembered the fangs. “All right then, let’s do this.”



There was a huge stack of stuff waiting for me at the checkout counter, along with a shopping cart ready to take the load. There was a blender, cases of baby food (no formula, thank God), individual containers of flavored “shakes” from a popular liquid fast program, a jar containing a liquid form of a multivitamin and mineral supplement, jars of dehydrated beef and chicken broth, and more. None of it looked particularly appetizing. Of course, part of the problem was that somewhere I could smell fresh, hot pizza. The aroma reminded me forcibly of what I wouldn’t be eating … possibly ever again.



I tried not to be surly about it as he rang up the order. Unfortunately, the total kept going higher, and the smell kept getting stronger. By the time he ran my credit card through I was more than a little bit grumpy.



“Do you want some help taking this out to the car?” Now that I hadn’t shown any signs of aggression he was starting to relax. He smiled. Despite the crooked teeth, it was a nice smile, friendly, not phony, without that leering undertone I got a lot of the time. Since there was more stuff than the cart would hold, I accepted, with thanks. I wanted to get out of here and home.



It took some work to wedge all of my purchases into the trunk and the passenger side of the Miata, but we managed. The clerk had straightened up from the trunk and grabbed the cart, starting to turn away from me, when he just … froze. The cross at his neck flared white-hot as his face went limp and expressionless, green eyes dull and empty. One foot hovered in midair from the step he hadn’t completed. Without the cart to balance him, he’d have keeled over and never even realized it.



I felt cold power like a snake brushing against me, sliding over my skin and moving on. I turned toward that power, turned toward the deepest shadows just past the magical barrier, to see three indistinct figures leaning casually against a midsized sedan.



I couldn’t see their features, but I recognized the man in the center from Dottie’s vision.



Edgar.



He struck a match and the light flared orange, casting his features in sharp relief as he puffed a cigarette to life. He killed the flame with a practiced flick of his wrist, letting the spent matchstick fall to the ground at his feet.



He was dressed much like Dr. Scott had been. Khakis and a polo shirt, standard casual wear for the upper middle class. No hint of blood on anything. Either Edgar was seriously good at illusion or he’d cleaned up from his earlier “meal.” He looked more like an ordinary businessman than an undead monster.



My eyes adjusted and I was able to make out the second male figure. A black man, he had been killed in his late teens or early twenties and was dressed in the kind of clothes you’d expect to see on campus. He looked just like everybody else … except for his eyes. Those dark brown orbs held the knowledge of someone much older. They were without warmth, pity, or any trace of humanity.



The third figure was a woman, but despite my best efforts, I couldn’t see her clearly. It was her powerful mind magic that held the boy enthralled and kept me at bay. But, powerful as she was, she apparently couldn’t get past the barriers surrounding the property. Because if she could have, she would have. I felt her hunger, her malice at being denied what she considered her rightful prey.



“Good evening.” Edgar blew out a puff of tobacco-laden smoke as he greeted me, his tone pleasantly conversational.



“Hello.”



He glanced at the contents of the overflowing passenger seat, his expression grimly amused. “You do realize it would be easier and cheaper to just take that last step?”



“No, thank you, I’d rather not.” No, thank you? My words sounded odd even to my own ears. But Gran had hammered good manners into me and, for the most part, I revert back to them when I’m nervous. No matter what I’m thinking, I say the polite thing. She’d be so proud.



The black man snickered, his expression condescending. It pissed me off. Not enough to do anything stupid, but it took the tiniest edge off of my fear, made me able to think more clearly.



Edgar didn’t say a word. He simply looked at the other man. Just looked. And the other bat instantly subsided.



“You’re not my sire, Edgar. Stop it.”



“You remember? I’m impressed.” He sounded amused. “Then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You appear to be a remarkable woman. And, as much as it annoys my associates”—his casual hand gesture made the embers on the end of his cigarette glow briefly brighter—“I have decided that, for the moment, you’re more useful to me alive than dead.”



Good news for me. Because I believed, well and truly, that if they wanted me dead, I would be. There are people who are cocky because they think they’re good. Others don’t have to be cocky. They are that good. Professionalism is easy to spot but hard to define. I’m a professional. I’m not just decoration or mindless muscle. These three were professional monsters. I could tell. I know it sounds stupid. But that doesn’t make it any less true.



“May I ask why?”



He took a long drag on his smoke while he considered it. He dropped it half-smoked, grinding it out with the toe of his shoe. When he spoke, his voice was measured, bland. “I need to get a message to Kevin Landingham—if you’re willing.”



“What’s the message?”



“Tell him it was a setup. Plans within plans. The primary goal had nothing to do with you. You were supposed to be killed, and I was to be blamed for it. They want him back on the payroll, hunting the hard targets.” He tried to meet my gaze, but I avoided looking at him. Maybe in my current condition I’d be safe, but I wouldn’t bet my life on it. So I kept my eyes on his chin, which gave me a great view of the hint of a smile that tugged at his lips when he realized what I was doing.



“Who are they?”



“He’ll know. Just tell him.”



I let out a frustrated breath. “Why should I?”



His face lit up with honest amusement, his dead eyes sparkling. “Clever and cautious. I’m beginning to understand what Kevin sees in you.”



“She’s just eye candy.” The black man sneered.



“She killed Luther.” The woman’s musical alto, soft and compelling, drew my gaze to the blurred form. The other’s rage drew it back. He glared at me. Hatred made his power rise in a burning rush that heated the air between us.



“That was just luck—and those damned knives. I won’t be as easy.”



“Enough.” Edgar’s word cracked like a whip, and the younger-looking vampire hissed. “Give Kevin my message.”



Before I said a word in answer, they were gone. As they disappeared, the spell mesmerizing the clerk fell away. He blinked, shook his head, and looked around, but not like he suspected anything. Good thing. I really wasn’t sure I wanted to explain what had just happened.



12



I didn’t dawdle on my way home. A lot of the churches offer sanctuary. But they expect you to get there before dark. They certainly wouldn’t invite in someone with fangs, no matter how easily I could walk through the door. Thanks to Bob and later Justin, Vicki’s estate had fully maintained, state-of-the-art protections, even if she didn’t currently live there. I’d be as safe as or safer there than anywhere else I could come up with on short notice. Besides, it was home. It was normal. I needed something normal to cling to—a psychic teddy bear if you will.



The estate covers ten acres. I stopped at the gate to lay my palm on the scanner, letting it read my print. The light flashed green, unlocking the computerized security system and rolling the gate open. I passed through quickly. It’s set up similarly to the outer gate at Birchwoods, only staying open thirty seconds. Just long enough for you to get through and a little ways down the drive. I paused after I went through and watched the gates close, making sure nobody came in behind me. I didn’t trust Edgar, and I trusted his “friends” even less. But the magical wards on the high fence were put in place by Bruno, and he’s one of the best in the business. They wouldn’t get through once those gates locked.