Blood Song

I flinched involuntarily, just a little. I needed to keep my head in the game, but I really 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 still 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 pull 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 really, really hard time explaining an aversion to holy objects to my gran.



The three of them were still arguing when I finished with the shoes and socks. I think that’s why they didn’t hear the commotion in the hallway. Emma might have missed it either way, but werewolves have excellent 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 hall. They walked with the kind of confidence that comes with the weight of authority. I smelled gun oil and the tiniest hint of powder, as if the weapon hadn’t been cleaned quite as well 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 pulling 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-walled outer hallway. 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 halls 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 still one hell of an able administrator. No detail is small 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 small, 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 what he did, he’d be pissing somebody off.



“You did. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t personally check to make sure that a potentially 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 occasionally. “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 allows 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 mallet, 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 really 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 finally managed to ask, “Hit? Here on campus?”



Kevin answered that one. “No.”



“Then why is she here?” Lackley’s gaze locked with Kevin’s and neither of them seemed inclined to back down.



“It was my fault.” Emma spoke quietly. “I’m a level-four clairvoyant. I knew Celia was in serious danger. I called my father and brother and told them what I saw. My brother went to get her. Dad’s in Chicago on business, so he called Dr. Reynolds. Nobody wanted to risk what happened in that emergency room in Denver, so he brought her here and brought the equipment in. The restraints on this table are graded to hold an uncontrolled ghoul if need be. We figured they’d be strong enough to handle whatever she became.”



I was surprised. Emma’s gift is sporadic at best, and usually only works in connection with people she cares about. I wouldn’t have put myself on that list. She’d saved my life. Of course, she’d turned around and risked it a couple hours later, but still. I turned to look her in the eye. “Thank you.”



She blinked, obviously startled. “You’re welcome.”



“So, you admit to bringing a potentially dangerous monster onto campus and not reporting it.”



Emma flushed at the implied criticism. “I did report it. To the local police, over the phone, while Dr. Reynolds was giving Celia the blood transfusion.” She met Lackley’s gaze head-on, her chin thrust up in defiance. “And if you check the voice mail for your office, you’ll find an urgent message from me.”



Lackley didn’t rise to the bait. “What did the police say?”



“They said they’d look into it.” She turned to me then. “When I called back they said there were no dead bodies at that address, or even in the area, monster, human, or otherwise.”



I blinked. That made no sense. None. I blinked a few more times, trying to process what she’d just said, without much success.



“The officer I spoke to seemed to imply that I was being hysterical. He was polite. Extremely polite. But I got the impression he considered me a nutcase.”



Whatever he’d implied, they were most likely working on it. She probably hadn’t made a particularly good impression—she could be a raging bitch in heels, and they wouldn’t take to it. But somebody was probably doing the legwork. They take talk of monsters and dead bodies very seriously.



“For the record.” I turned and spoke directly to Lackley. I didn’t want Warren and the others getting in trouble for saving my life. From the sound of it, they would. If not from the university, from the authorities. Endangering the public is a serious crime. I couldn’t do much about that, but I could deal with the university brass. At least I thought I could. “I’m one of the students who signed up for the full alumni package.”



“I know.” Could Lackley have made those words any drier? Of course, I didn’t really blame him. Bayview, like every institution of higher education, was always in need of donations. Someone had come up with a bright idea that would get alumni donors to fork over more cash. It was based on the same principle as gym memberships—and the same assumption of attrition. Offer a limited time deal. Donate a certain hefty amount and they reactivate you as if you were a student. You get full benefits—use of the athletic facilities, student discounts, use of the student health facilities, and insurance—as long as you enrolled in two classes per semester and remained in good standing.



Most people who could afford that level of donation really didn’t need the benefits. The first time it became inconvenient, they’d stop signing up for classes, and that would be that—the university would have their money and no further obligation to them. I’m not most people. Considering how hard it is for a woman with my job description to get health insurance, the deal seemed like a steal at twice the price. I jumped at the chance, and have been working my way through every elective in the schedule. Hell, at some point I might even get serious about it and get my master’s.



“What courses are you taking this semester?” I could hear the resignation in Lackley’s voice.