Blood Song

by Cat Adams

  world was rooting for the Cubs. I mean, come on, they hadn’t won a championship since God was a

  baby and dirt was new. Even the scalpers were having a hard time getting tickets.

  “Bonus from the boss. Four seats, in the stands by first base. I’m bringing Sal and Joey. I was gonna

  take Matty, but since he’s laid up, Kevin’s coming instead.”

  I couldn’t decide if I was upset that Bruno hadn’t thought to invite me. I mean, I don’t real y like

  basebal that much and he real y was here on business, but—

  Plus, there went my second choice for a backup—Kevin. But I kept my tone cheerful. “You don’t need

  the cap, the Mets aren’t playing.”

  “It’s my cap.” He said it like it should be self-evident. It wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to argue. This must

  be one of those guy things.

  “Fine, fine. I won’t wear it. I’l pick something up at the store and then bring your cap by the hospital

  tomorrow morning.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m checking out.”

  “Bruno—,” I started to protest.

  “Don’t say a word. Just don’t. I’ve already heard about it from my mother, my brother, and my uncle. I

  can rest just as wel at a five-star hotel with al the amenities as in the freaking hospital, and I am not

  missing the game.”

  He probably could rest at the hotel. If only he would.

  “Celia? Are you there?”

  I’d been silent too long … again. I was having a hard time focusing this morning. Then again, I hadn’t

  had any caffeine yet. Hurry up, Room Service!

  “Yeah, I’m here. Just a little tired. And worried.”

  “You’re the one who should get some more rest. You didn’t get back until after sunrise and you’re

  already up. And you’ve had a hel uva time the past couple of days.” His voice was gentle, and it made

  me smile. Bruno is an original tough-guy Italian. But he is also a sweetheart, my sweetheart. Wel , my

  former sweetheart. But I’l always love him. No matter what. And while he was right about resting, I

  wasn’t going to do it. I stil had a life-threatening emergency going on.

  “In that case I won’t deliver the hat back to the hotel. Because if I do neither one of us wil rest.” I was

  only partly teasing. I remembered yesterday’s kiss so clearly it made me shiver.

  “How ’bout you bring it by the hotel pool? Say tomorrow, one thirty?” He suggested this with a hint of

  laughter in his voice. “It’s nice and public. We should be safe.”

  “I’l do that. You can buy me a margarita.”

  “Make it a pitcher and you’ve got a deal.”

  “Are you planning to get me drunk and take advantage of me?”

  “Would I do such a thing?” He spoke in an exaggerated drawl that made me laugh. We were stil

  laughing when we hung up.

  I thought about who to take to the game most of the day—while I dumped half the vampire’s ashes

  into the ocean and the other half at a designated dump spot on the river—and was stil thinking on it as

  I drove out to Birchwoods for my doctor’s appointment.

  Yes, doctor’s appointment. One of the names Gwen had given me was for a doctor at Birchwoods.

  She’d said Dr. Scott had specifical y asked her to make time to fit me in.

  Peachy. And while I knew it was important, that I real y needed to talk to somebody, I didn’t want it to

  be a stranger. Besides, I hate shrink appointments. Yes, I did them. For years. Then I was done, and

  glad for it. You can only get out of psychiatric treatment what you’re wil ing to put in. I know that. I also

  knew that I’d needed the treatment then, and now. I’d been a patient of one of the best shrinks in the

  business, and she’d gone pretty damned deep into some seriously painful and dark places with me. I

  was grateful. But it hadn’t been easy on either of us. Who could blame me if I wasn’t anxious to repeat

  the process?

  On top of that, I looked utterly ridiculous. Dawna would have a stroke if she could see me. The only

  things of Bruno’s that even came close to fitting me were a red T-shirt and a pair of oversized black

  nylon basketbal shorts with a drawstring waist. The shirt wasn’t so bad, but the shorts hung past my

  knees and looked damned sil y, particularly with the added touches of the denim jacket, bal cap, and

  sneakers without socks.

  I’d been too upset to notice before, but the outpatient treatment area shared an entrance with the

  administration building. I hauled my oh-so-elegantly clad ass up the sunlit sidewalk as quick as I could

  manage, huddling under the umbrel a I’d borrowed from the lab and feeling surly. I’d bought sunscreen

  from the hotel gift shop, but it’d been a smal bottle and only SPF 15, which didn’t real y cut it with my

  new pal or. If there was time before sundown, I was definitely going shopping for something decent to

  wear, a replacement hat, and heavy-duty sunscreen. Until then, I decided to feign blithe indifference.

  There was a different receptionist this morning. This one was just as attractive as the previous model

  but younger. Her blond hair was darker than mine, exactly the color of honey, but with wel -applied

  highlights. Her clothes were stunning and fit her wel . I didn’t want to know how much those designer

  shoes had set her back.

  She was also too polite to gawk at my appearance. She did blink rapidly, several times, looking at the

  umbrel a as I col apsed it, as if she wasn’t quite sure what she was seeing was actual y in front of her.

  “I’m here to see …” I dug in my jacket pocket, pul ing out the note I’d scribbled on hotel stationery. “Dr.

  Greene.”

  “Ah.” She smiled, her eyes lighting up with understanding. “Ms. Graves.” She reached beneath the

  counter and pul ed out a clipboard and a thick stack of forms. “If you could please take a seat and fil

  out these forms for us, Dr. Greene wil be with you soon.”

  “Soon” is a relative term.

  I’d been there long enough to get through the maze of paperwork and was scanning my second

  magazine when a familiar voice brought my head snapping up.

  “You bitch!” Cassandra Meadows charged at me, past her husband and bodyguards and heedless of

  the other patients in the lobby. “How dare you!”

  It was a big lobby, but I had barely enough time to stand before she was in front of me. She swung her

  hand back, intending to slap me, but I caught her arm and blocked the blow before she could make

  contact. If I hadn’t had control of my senses, I would have snapped it in two. As it was, she let out a little

  wince.

  “What the hel , Cassandra!”

  The bodyguards stepped between us, and Jason pul ed his wife against him. She didn’t stop

  struggling. She was just too furious. I only wished I knew why.

  “What the hel is the matter with you?” I tried to talk to her between the twin wal s of muscle that had

  interposed themselves between us. Creede and two others were fanned out around Jason.

  “How dare you!” she repeated, her voice a venomous hiss.

  I shivered, from both the look on her face and a blast of frigid air I hoped was coming from the air

  conditioner. The last thing we needed was for Ivy to start acting out.

  “What exactly is it you think I did?” I asked Jason. He was rigid with fury, but he was being quiet about

  it, because we had company. Pretty much everyone in the building had come running to see what had

  Cassandra
Meadows screaming like a shrew. She’d be damned lucky if there weren’t cel phone

  photos up on the Internet before sundown.

  Creede answered, his voice calm but cold. “Someone leaked a story to the press about Vicki’s stay

  here. It was very specific about the number of visits her parents have made, and it was il ustrated with

  an assortment of pictures of her with you.” There was a look on his face that I didn’t like. It was both

  disappointed and disgusted … like he’d thought better of me and I’d let him down.

  Obviously, I hadn’t done it, but as I stared at him, a hideous thought formed in my mind. I didn’t want

  to, but I had to ask. “Were they taken at a family dinner?”

  He nodded and my heart sank. I’d always thought my mother had some limits. Apparently, I was

  wrong. I wasn’t sure how she could have found out about the number of visits, but money crossing

  palms was probably involved.

  “I could kill you.” Cassandra had lowered her voice, but it was intense. At that moment, she meant

  every word. It wouldn’t do any good to protest my innocence. And in a way, it was my fault. Leaving

  those photos at my gran’s was the equivalent of leaving a diamond necklace in front of a kleptomaniac.

  The temperature dropped even more, and at least one of the big brutes in front of me knew what it

  meant. His expression grew wary … right before it was wiped clean like a slate. He turned to face

  Jason and Cassandra, but the movement wasn’t his. Before, he’d moved with the speed and grace of

  a predator. This move was softer, more feminine. It takes a hel of a lot of ghost to do something like

  that. We’re talking serious mojo. I felt a shiver of primal terror run down my spine like ice water. I

  shuddered but forced the fear down, slamming the door on it.

  “She didn’t do it, Mother.” It was Vicki’s voice, but cold, hard, unlike anything I’d ever heard from her.

  Objects began levitating, slowly at first, then with building momentum. The stereo that had been playing

  soft music in the background burst into sudden earsplitting static. I knew what that meant, knew that I

  had to stop her before someone got hurt.

  “Vicki, stop it! Stop!” I shouted at the top of my lungs to be heard over the din. Everything stopped as

  abruptly as if I’d hit a switch. Flying objects dropped to the floor. The stereo shut off.

  “You’re crying.” Vicki’s voice softened, sounding more like the woman I knew. Objects started rising

  again. “She made you cry.”

  I interrupted Vicki before things could get even further out of hand. “It’s been a rough couple of days.

  See, I lost my best friend the other day—” I tried to make it light, sarcastic, but my voice cracked. Not

  only was I scared, I hurt. This was Vicki, or a part of her. And I missed her. So much had happened in

  such a short time that this loss hadn’t real y had time to sink in. She was dead. Gone. Forever. This

  might very wel be the last time I ever got to hear her voice.

  I closed my eyes against the pain, tears pouring down my cheeks.

  Usual y ghosts feel cold, but this one didn’t. The air moving around me in a gentle breeze was warm

  and scented lightly with a familiar perfume. I felt a finger trace the curve of my cheek.

  I took a ragged breath, fighting to get myself under control. It took a couple of false starts before I

  could speak, forcing words past the hard lump that had formed in my throat. I kept my eyes closed,

  preserving the il usion of the Vicki I remembered. “Your mom loves you, Vicki. That’s why she tried to

  slap me. She thought I’d betrayed you, and them.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Anger was seeping back into the voice, it was getting hol ow, deeper.

  “No. But she didn’t know that. She’s never had a woman friend. There’s no way she could

  understand.”

  I heard movement, smel ed a different, heavier scent, and knew Cassandra was there. She spoke to

  the ghost, her voice rough with emotion. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I was wrong, about her, about

  everything. I’d do anything to take it back, to fix things.”

  “You can’t. I’m dead.”

  Ouch. Ghosts can’t lie, but that was cold, and harsh as hel .

  I opened my eyes, staring at the man whose body she was using. “Vicki. She said she’s sorry, that

  she was wrong. What else can she do?” I felt the air go stil around me. I was close, so close. If I said

  the right words, Vicki would let go, cross over, and be free. But she’d also be lost to me forever. It took

  more effort than was pretty for me to make myself say the words I uttered next, but sometimes you

  have to do the hard thing. “I love you, Vick, I do. And I don’t want you stuck here forever because you

  refuse to forgive her. You deserve better than that. You are better than that. You have to let it go.”

  The ensuing silence was profound. I think we al were holding our breath, waiting. And then the

  bodyguard spoke again. “I’m not here because of her, Celie.” Just that. Then the air pressure in the

  room changed enough that my ears popped. And the hulking bodyguard I’d been talking to col apsed

  bonelessly to the floor.

  22

  Well, that was certainly …” Dr. Greene struggled to find the right word. She eventual y settled on,

  “interesting.”

  I smiled a little wryly, and she smiled, too. It was a good, professional smile, showing straight teeth

  and general good humor, but without any particular meaning. I wasn’t surprised. She looked every inch

  a professional, from the tips of her sensible-but-stylish pumps to the no-nonsense-but-flattering cut of

  her short, dark hair. Her makeup was understated, her jewelry tasteful. Her suit was nice and fit wel but

  was a mid-range gray, worn with a plain white blouse. Her whole appearance was meant to be

  professional, comforting, and non-threatening. Which, I supposed, made perfect sense.

  We had adjourned to her office, leaving Dr. Scott to deal with Cassandra, Jason, and everyone else

  in the lobby. I was glad to be away from them. The whole scene had been too much. An emotional

  ambush. I closed my eyes, feeling exhausted and old. A part of me wanted to strangle my mother. This

  had to be her doing. She’d be more than happy to sel Jason and Cassandra out for whatever the

  tabloids would pay. And Gran certainly wouldn’t stop her. She might not even discourage her much.

  Gran didn’t approve of the way the Meadowses had treated their daughter and was big on humiliation

  as a teaching tool.

  “Do you need something to eat or drink?”

  “Water would be lovely,” I admitted. Actual y, a pizza would be lovely, but it would only depress me

  more when I had to throw it up.

  “I’l be right back.”

  I opened my eyes, taking a look around. It was a nice office: not as nice as Dr. Scott’s, but he was

  the head administrator. She was just one of the psychiatrists on staff. Stil , the room was spacious, the

  wal s painted a gentle robin’s egg blue with off-white trim. There was only one window, but it was a large

  one. Heavy satin drapes in a rich shade of royal blue matched both the upholstery of the chairs and

  the print in the plush Oriental rug beneath my feet. The furniture had a polished cherry finish that picked

  up the burgundy in the rug and the shade of the lamp on her uncluttered desk. A grouping of blackframed family photos were arranged on the credenza behind her seat, showing the doctor, two

 
; handsome children, and a huge Old English sheepdog in various combinations.

  The doctor reappeared, carrying a crystal glass and a bottle of water. “Here you go.” She passed

  them to me before resuming her place in the chair behind her desk. “We can sit in the conversation

  area if you prefer,” she suggested as she reached over to set the timer on her BlackBerry for thirty

  minutes.

  “No, this is fine. Where do you want to start?”

  “Wel , I suppose we should start with introductions. I’m Evelyn Greene.” She held out her hand for me

  to shake. I took it and answered, “Celia Graves.”

  “It’s a pleasure.” She smiled again. “Do you know why Dr. Scott recommended me to Dr. Talbert?”

  “Because you’re good?” I suggested.

  “Yes, in general,” she answered without even a hint of false modesty. “But he could have suggested

  any of our therapists. He chose me for a specific reason.”

  I felt my eyebrows raise. I knew she wanted me to ask, so I did. “Why?”

  She watched me intently as she spoke, her expression guarded. “He was very disturbed by the fact

  that you were able to use vampire powers to manipulate him psychical y to the point where he agreed

  to your ‘deal.’”

  I felt my eyes go wide. What the hell? “I didn’t.”

  She steepled her fingers. “Oh, you did. He did tel me he didn’t believe you did it intentionally. But in

  order to make sure nothing like that happens again, accidental y or otherwise, he asked me to work

  with you.”

  I held back my irritation, keeping my expression as neutral as I could. I realized suddenly that she was

  one of those therapists who made you do al the work, never actual y telling you anything, just leading

  you around by the nose until you got where they wanted you to go and drew the conclusions they

  wanted you to draw. A large part of me wanted to act dense, just to see how long it would be before she

  told me what she was getting at. But it could be years. And I was paying for this out of my own pocket. I

  hate wasting money.

  “You’re a nul ?” I guessed.

  This time her smile actual y reached her eyes. “Yes.”

  Wel , that was kind of interesting. Before the bite I’d been plain vanil a human. I couldn’t use magic