Blood Song

The grandfather clock struck eight. I sat up, blinked a couple of times, and tried to stretch out some of the kinks. As I ambled down the hall to use the facilities I noticed that Bubba was gone. Not only was his door closed and locked, but there was no smell of gun oil, and I couldn’t smell him or hear anyone moving around in his office.



“Celia?” Dawna called up the stairs. “You up? Want any coffee?”



“Coffee would be wonderful!” I hollered back. “Oh, and I drank a couple of your shakes.”



“Yeah, Bubba told me. Hang on a minute, I’ll be right up.”



I washed my hands and went back to the office. It was time to try calling my gran again. If I didn’t reach her this time, I’d go by the house. I was starting to worry. I hear from her once or twice almost every day. Yesterday I hadn’t been able to reach her at all. It could be nothing, but she’s not a young woman… . I punched the buttons and waited.



She answered on the first ring. “Celia! Where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling ever since the news about Vicki broke on the TV. Are you all right? I’m so sorry, punkin. I know how much you cared about her.” The words tumbled over each other in a rush.



So. The press had got hold of the story. “I’m sorry, Gran. I tried to call a couple times yesterday, but there was no answer at the house.”



“Oh, you must have called when I was out.”



Her voice changed abruptly, taking on an evasive tone that I didn’t like, mainly because I knew it too well. She only sounded like that when she’d done something she knew I’d be upset about, usually something involving my mother.



“Gran—”



“Really, Celia—” She got defensive, the second surefire sign. “You’re so suspicious! What I do with my time is none of your business.”



Absolutely true. And normally I didn’t pry. But the last time she sounded like this, Mom had just “borrowed” ten thousand dollars, leaving Gran with no savings and not enough money to pay her property taxes for the year.



I didn’t say a word. There was no point in starting another argument. Not now. She wasn’t going to change. Taking a deep breath, I changed the subject.



“There’s something I need to tell you, Gran. The other night, when I was on a job, I got hurt.”



“Oh, Celie!”



I plowed on, ignoring the interruption. “A vampire bit me, tried to turn me. Kevin and Amy rescued me. I’m not a bat. But I’m not completely human anymore, either. I’m pale, and I have fangs… .” The words trailed off uncertainly.



There was no hesitation in her voice, no fear, and a huge weight lifted from my chest. If my gran had thought of me as evil— “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”



“I look like a bat, Gran. I do. It’s awful.” Tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them back. I would not cry, dammit. Not again.



I think she was stunned. The silence on the other end of the phone was profound.



“I wanted to let you know, to prepare you so you wouldn’t get scared when you see me.”



“You could never scare me, punkin. Have you told your mother?”



“No.” It came out cold and harsh.



“Celia, she’s your mother. She loves you. She deserves to know.”



I didn’t want to argue, so I didn’t. Besides, she had a point. Lana is my mother. “Fine. I’ll call her.”



There was an awkward moment. “You’ll need to wait until tomorrow. Sometime in the afternoon.”



“Why?”



The silence stretched between us. She didn’t want to answer, that was obvious. I waited. Eventually she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Your mother got picked up again for driving without a license—”



“What? Whose car was she driving?” My mother didn’t have a car. It had been impounded when she got picked up for her second DUI with no insurance. She hadn’t had the money to get it back and I wouldn’t lend it to her. After all, she didn’t have a license, so she didn’t really need a car.



“Now Celia, you know your mother has her doctor’s appointments—” My grandma started making excuses, but I cut her off.



“She can take a cab. Or a busss. Or you could drive her.” My lisp grew as I spoke even though I knew what I was saying was useless. My gran has been enabling my mother since before I was born. It’s not like she was likely to stop anytime soon. But that didn’t keep it from driving me crazy. “And ssshe wasn’t picked up near the doctor’s office, was ssshe?” I fought to get my tongue under control.



She didn’t say a word, which meant I’d hit a nerve. If we were running true to form, she’d get angry now, use my full name, and refuse to talk about it.



“Celia Kalino Graves, I’ve had just about enough of your lip. I know your mother isn’t perfect. But she does the best she can.”



The sad part was, Gran was probably right. It’s just that my mother’s best was so damned pathetic. But there was no point in saying that. Instead, I said the only thing I could that would end the argument: “I love you, Gran. I really do.”



“I love you too, punkin. Don’t worry too much about the car. I don’t like to drive much anymore anyway. There’s too much traffic, and I don’t see as well at night as I used to.”



I let out a deep sigh. “We can talk about it at Sunday dinner.” I always had Sunday dinner with Gran. Although, come to think on it, dinner was liable to be problematic. Maybe I could have soup?



“I was hoping maybe you could take me to church on Sunday morning?”



Of course she was. Hope springs eternal, and Gran is an optimist. A cross hadn’t bothered me, but what about a full-blown church? Would I burst into flames and force the priest into a change of sermon?



“Someone just came into the office, Gran. I’ve got to go.”



The first part was true and no doubt she’d heard the squeak of the door hinges. Dawna had come in, carrying two steaming mugs of fresh-brewed coffee that smelled like heaven.



“Celia—”



“Bye, Gran. Love you.” I hung up before we got into another argument. Dawna was shaking her head and snickering under her breath.



“Your grandmother never gives up, does she?” Dawna passed me the mug. She looked tired, with dark circles under eyes puffy from crying. But her makeup was perfect and unsmeared, her dark hair styled, and she was wearing a tomato red suit and matching heels that looked absolutely stunning on her.



She sank into one of the wing-backed chairs, crossing her legs with easy grace. I knew she didn’t make a lot of money as the receptionist here, but you’d never tell it by looking at her. She has a gift for making even inexpensive clothes look like designer originals.



I inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of fresh-brewed java before taking my first sip. “Nope.”



Dawna gave me a very direct look over the rim of her coffee mug. I could actually watch her go through the process of forming the questions she was about to ask me.



“How are you holding up?”



“About as well as can be expected. You?”



She sighed. “I can’t believe she’s dead. I mean, it’s just unreal. I just called and talked to her on her birthday—she thanked me for the purse I got her and was going on and on about the mirror and her presents from Alex. It just doesn’t make sense.”



No. It didn’t. Then again, nothing else did, either. We sat in shared, miserable silence for a long moment, sipping our coffee.



“Just how much trouble are you in?”



It wasn’t a question I’d been expecting, and I raised an eyebrow.



“Don’t give me that innocent look, Celia Graves. I’m not an idiot. You’re half vampire—you have fangs, you’re being hounded by cops and federal agents, and this morning you’re barefoot and in bloodstained pajamas. You’ve got a stack of messages an inch high from reporters and lawyers, and I don’t know if that’s because of Vicki or the fangs or something you haven’t told me yet! You’re my friend, and you know I’ll stand by you. But you’re going to need my help, and if I’m going to be able to do anything useful I need to know just how bad it’s going to get.”



I winced. Put that way, it sounded pretty awful. “It’s already bad. I’m honestly not sure how much worse it’s going to get.”



Notice that I didn’t say it couldn’t get worse. It can always get worse. I know this. And thus I refuse to tempt fate. Superstitious—probably. But magic exists. So does karma, and karma can be a bitch.



“What can I do?”



“Um, don’t you have a computer system to rebuild?”



She rolled her eyes. “I’m not on the clock until nine. I usually come in early to get out of the house and have a quiet cup of coffee without listening to my sister’s screaming kids. So, what do you need?”



“In that case—” I rolled my chair backward and checked the lights on the safe. It hadn’t quite been the full twenty-four hours, but the lights were flashing green. Green was good, but I wasn’t sure what flashing was. I hoped that meant I could get past the wards on the safe and not that the whole thing was fucked up beyond all relief … otherwise known as FUBAR.



“I really need some fresh clothes: jeans, medium T-shirts, underwear, and a sports bra. You know my sizes. Also, a men’s large denim jacket and some running shoes in a seven wide.” I thought for a moment, then continued. “And you’d probably better buy me a case of those diet shakes to keep here at the office. Chocolate, please. Oh, and replace the ones I drank earlier.”



“I’m not worried about that. But shouldn’t you have something a little more … I dunno, substantial?”



“There’s a bunch of stuff the doctor ordered on the counter at home. This is just to get me through in a pinch.”



She made a hmph sound and pursed her lips. “Like last night?”