Demon Song bs-3

by Cat Adams

  My smile probably had a dark edge. “Barbara, I was putting vampires in their place before I was turned. Now I’m a lot harder to hurt, and I’m a lot smarter than them. I got to keep my brain.” I patted her arm. “I’ll be fine.”

  Her face was wary, but she let me leave, then locked the door behind me. Every third streetlight was out. I’d heard some parts of the city were doing that to save money, but it made the sidewalks dark for long stretches.

  I started walking, jingling my keys, anticipating that I’d soon be followed. It didn’t take long. There were four of them hiding in the darkness. I could just make them out because of my vampire vision. Two of the boys were growling, which made the small hairs on my neck rise. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. It was one thing to take on one or two bats, but taking on four might be biting off more than I could chew. Maybe one of them would be willing to listen to reason.

  Don’t laugh. It could happen.

  I hissed and let myself get all glowy. “Evening, gentlemen.”

  “Prey!” One of the boys leapt into the air and came down on the other side of me. I’d done that leaping thing once. It was pretty amazing, but I didn’t like being surrounded.

  “I don’t want to have to hurt your fledglings. But your flock has to leave. I’m protecting this block.”

  I wasn’t sure which one I was talking to, but after a long pause one vampire floated forward. Yeah, I said floated. That’s never good. Only the really old ones can do that. “This isn’t anywhere close to your side of town, Celia. You don’t make the rules here.”

  Oh, crap. I didn’t know the voice, but he knew my name. He floated on power, gleaming with both internal and external light. He’d been killed early in life but long, long ago. The black eyes were ancient, pitiless and remorseless. The slope of the nose and high cheekbones reminded me of high-caste Spanish.

  “Do I know you?”

  He smiled, but it was really more a baring of fangs. “Lucien was right. You’re just eye candy. You got lucky with Luther and Lilith. But Edgar’s a fool for trusting you. That’s why I decided to start my own flock. We don’t trust anybody.” He moved slowly forward and so did his fledglings, widening their group to flank me.

  I guess that meant I wasn’t going to get a name. I pulled my knives from the sheaths. He stopped abruptly and stared at the twin blades. “Are those the blades that killed Luther? They witched?”

  “Better than you’ve ever seen. The black one killed Lilith, too. You willing to risk whether I’m faster than you?”

  “She’s not bluffing, Marco.” The voice seemed to come from far away and echoed between the buildings like it was everywhere.

  Just as Edgar descended onto the scene, Marco hissed. He snarled, showing sharp teeth. “Nobody invited you to this party, Edgar. We’ll all be better off if I just let the fledglings take her down. She’s an abomination. My boys are still feral enough that she won’t be able to handle them if they attack at once.”

  Unfortunately, he was probably right. Three against one is just plain bad odds. If I lost even one of the knives, I was probably a goner.

  Edgar looked at me and there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there the previous night. Desire.

  It wasn’t sexual, but it was real. “Why kill her fully? She would be an amazing vampire. Tough, fierce, smart. A force to be reckoned with.” He smiled and it made every hair on my body stand at attention.

  Now Marco was smiling, too. Shit. “We could call her Lilith in honor of the one we lost. She’ll never know the difference once her memories are gone.”

  Five against one, and I’d seen Edgar fight. “I helped you save Kevin.” I was down to bargaining as I tried to find a wall to keep my back safe.

  Edgar took another step forward. He wore chino pants, a gray dress shirt, and shining black dress shoes that were more suited to a boardroom than a slaughter on a deserted street. “True. And I’m certain he’s grateful. But you don’t realize just how safe it made you when I believed you were his Vaso. Now he doesn’t have a clue where you are. If you were attacked by three feral new-turns and I saved you by bringing you over, there wouldn’t be much he could do. Would there?”

  Marco was licking his lips and drooling all over the ground. “I’ve heard siren blood is like nothing else. Never had the chance to test that rumor.”

  I took another step back and my heel caught the edge of a discarded bottle. I lost my balance for one brief moment and the air blurred as they descended. My arms were pulled nearly out of their sockets and my knives disappeared. Where Edgar smelled of expensive cologne and mouthwash, Marco smelled of sweat and leather. They were on either side of me, close enough that one strike would end it.

  Edgar’s face moved forward like lightning and I braced myself, waiting for the pain. But it didn’t happen. Instead, I heard his voice in my ear like velvet over steel. “What will you give up for your life, Celia Graves? I can put a stop to this right now.”

  I didn’t want to answer, but I heard my own voice, breathy with fear: “What do you want?”

  “Kill her,” Marco hissed. I ignored him. Edgar was the one with all the chips at the table.

  “I want the artifact. If you swear you’ll bring it to me, I’ll end this and make your favorite café nice place for tourists again. If not, then I bring you over and you’ll still bring me the artifact. Except you’ll be just like me—preying on friends, clients, and your saintly old grandmother for your next meal. And this time, I will be your master.”

  That set my blood boiling and I pulled away from the young vamps holding my arms. My muscles screamed in agony, but I put the pain aside. Unfortunately, I hadn’t a clue what Edgar was talking about. The only artifact I had in my possession was an ancient divination tool called a Wadjeti that had been given to me by … well, crap. It had been given to me by Eirene and Stefania. If Edgar wanted that, there had to be more to it than I’d thought.

  Marco leapt backward when I crouched to fight, but Edgar held his ground and laughed. “You’re definitely a fiery one. But you’ll lose. You can’t win with these odds.”

  “She can with a little help!” The male voice had a heavy Mexican accent and was followed by the sharp retort of a shotgun. One of the fledglings caught the blast full in the face. Whatever was in the rounds caused him to scream and race into the darkness before falling to lie still and silent at the edge of the next circle of light.

  Pablo carried a double-barrel shotgun, but Marco floated into the air with confidence. “I’ll take care of the little man. You handle the girl.”

  “Chicken!” I taunted him, not sure what I could do to help my friend. Then I realized he didn’t need help. Barbara stepped out of the restaurant behind him, also carrying a shotgun, followed by Juan, their oldest son—who looked serious and competent as he jacked a round into the chamber of his pump-action weapon.

  Nearby, two more shop doors opened and more shotguns appeared. A trigger was pulled. The young vamp to my right tried to dodge, but his chest exploded and he screamed as liquid fire burned through him. Then the one on my left was hit. I picked up one of the pellets that bounced on the ground and squished it between my fingers. I’ll be damned. I didn’t know they were putting holy water into pellets. It was like a high-powered paintball. Probably wouldn’t kill a regular human, just bruise. But a vamp? Instant agony.

  The third new-turn had enough sense to turn on his heel and run. Marco wasn’t so easily dismissed. He descended on Pablo like an eagle, long duster flaring behind him like a cape, fangs as sharp as talons. Without even thinking, I pushed Edgar out of the way and raced forward, knocking Marco out of the air before he could collide with my friend. Juan and Barbara started taking potshots at Edgar. He must have realized he’d lost the upper hand, but he took a flying leap and landed on top of me. My face planted into the asphalt, chin first, as Edgar grabbed Marco with one hand and soared into the sky.

  Edgar paused to give me a parting comment, just out of
reach of the rounds of holy water blasting out of shotguns from nearly every window on the block: “This isn’t over, Celia. My offer stands. You can’t stay awake forever and I know where you live.”

  I was bleeding from nose and mouth as Barbara rushed over to help me up. People were collecting the bodies of the two boys who were from the neighborhood. The people’s faces showed mingled pride and sorrow as they cut a branch from a nearby tree and sharpened the wood into a stake. The vamp with his face shot off was still alive enough to thrash under strong arms as the stake was driven into his heart. A wailing woman in the background was held back as three men struggled to put him down. Then he was still and the woman—probably his mother—was allowed forward to cry over the son she’d actually lost many nights before.

  “Celia,” Barbara admonished with both fear and cracking pride in her voice, “I told you he was a bad one. But did you listen?” She dusted off my clothes while handing me her dish towel to mop the blood from my face. I heard a sniffle and looked down to see her eyes wet with tears. “No, you didn’t. And it was a very brave thing. It made everyone feel ashamed that we hadn’t stood up to them earlier.”

  That hadn’t been my intent, but I was glad it worked out. Damn, but my mouth hurt. I didn’t think my nose was broken, but I definitely needed to see what my mouth looked like. “Bafrom?” I asked with a mouthful of cotton, and pointed to the open doorway. She let out a surprised sound and hurried me into the building. We were followed by a dozen other people, cheering and shouting my name like I was a conquering hero.

  Except the hero isn’t the one who’s supposed to need saving. I felt like a complete idiot. I’d taken the enemy for granted and barely scraped out by the skin of my teeth.

  Speaking of my teeth … I turned on the light in the ladies’ room and worriedly held back my lips. My bottom lip was cut in two places where my fangs had dug in. That accounted for the blood. But my two front teeth and one fang were loose. I could wiggle them and it hurt when I did. I didn’t know what would happen if I broke a fang. It was probably worth asking someone about. I was definitely going to have a fat lip in a few minutes. I hoped it wouldn’t last too long.

  When I exited the bathroom, cheers went up a second time. Barbara and Pablo bustled forward and guided me to a chair. My knives were on the table and I gratefully put them back in their sheaths. I really didn’t want Edgar to get his hands on them.

  The sumptuous scent of cumin, chili powder, and onions rose in the steam from a shake glass. Yum. A sunset smoothie. Just like Mama never made. I put the straw between my lips and … ow! Okay, sucking was a bad plan. Who knew it required uninjured teeth? So, while everyone stared at me, I drank down the shake like it was a tall glass of milk. I’d lost blood, so I wasn’t going to cringe about the contents.

  It was good enough that I ordered a second. At least two adventurous people ordered one as well. Who knew? It might be the next hot thing in the restaurant if the surprised but delighted expressions of the others were any indication.

  By the time I left an hour later, my purse still the same weight as when I arrived due to Pablo insisting my food was on the house, I was full but exhausted beyond all reason. Edgar and Marco were still out there, waiting for me to be alone. There was only one place where I’d feel safe, and it was the same place I’d woken up this morning.

  After I changed all the alarm codes and locks, of course.

  The night was about to get even longer.

  9

  I woke to the wailing of the front-door alarm. I’d like to say I leapt to my feet, ready for action. But in reality it was more a case of rolling off the couch to land in a heap on the floor while rubbing the crust of sleep from my eyes. Still, I made it to the door before more than a few seconds passed and bolted out into the hallway, my Colt steady in front of me, watching for threats.

  “Enter the code!” Ron was shouting to be heard over the siren. I could hear Dawna punching in numbers until he pushed her aside. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Let me do it.”

  It was worth watching from the balcony for a moment to see him enter the old code once, then twice, before pressing random keys and then banging on the box.

  “Jeez, Ron! Don’t break the thing.” I sprinted down the stairs and slid in front of him while holstering my gun. I entered the new code and the alarm shut off.

  While Dawna shook her head back and forth to get the ringing to stop, I explained: “I got attacked by some vampires last night. Two of them got away and one knows where this building is. I wanted to make sure he couldn’t get in without my knowing. Sorry about that. I’d expected to wake up before you got here.”

  Dawna let out a heaving sigh. “I’ll call the police and the alarm company. Shit, Celia. You could have left me a voice mail or something. I’m not in a mood to deal with filling out reports and now I’ve got a headache.”

  She looked like she hadn’t slept any longer than I had. “Sorry,” I repeated. Ron left in a snit, muttering something about bringing up changing codes at the next tenant meeting.

  “You okay?” I asked, noticing the dark shadows under her eyes that even the most skillful makeup couldn’t hide anymore. “Really. Be honest.”

  She stared at the phone, receiver in hand. Her eyes closed and her lip trembled. “I just need a vacation. Life is just too … well, too right now.”

  Now I felt like a heel. She was right. I could have left her a voice mail. Vampires or not, demons or not, Dawna was my best friend. I should have been more considerate. So screw Edgar and Marco. Gwen was right. Dawna needed to get away and so did I.

  But first things first. “Did Justin come by yesterday?”

  She nodded. “You were right … as usual. He found two upstairs. One in the hallway right outside your office and one in the light fixture next to your desk. Oh, and he said he has an idea about what to do with your safe when the baby’s born.” At least that made her smile.

  “Well, just in case he missed any, let’s go out for a quick bagel. I have news that I think you’ll want to hear. Give me ten minutes to run a comb through my hair. I literally just woke up.”

  She grimaced. “Ron will be pissed. He has clients coming in, and you have a meeting in thirty.”

  I reached across the half wall and put my hand over hers. Then I looked firmly at her and squeezed her hand. “Screw Ron; screw his clients and mine, too. We need ten minutes out of here. It’s important.”

  She’d just opened her mouth to respond when the first clients came in. She held up her hands helplessly and there was nothing I could do. I’d wanted to tell her about the spa thing early so she could plan to have the weekend off, but it’d have to wait.

  On the plus side, I could get cleaned up for the day and maybe have time to go online before my first appointment arrived and find just the right spa. I decided to make three reservations. After the stress of Kevin being captured, I had no doubt Emma could use a break, too. I hoped I could convince Gwen of that. Emma was still in her first thirty days at Birchwoods. There weren’t supposed to be any day passes and she’d already had one, for our shopping trip.

  It took twenty minutes and many mouse clicks before I found just the right place. There would be facials, massages, and even a seaweed wrap. I’d never had one of those before, but for some reason it appealed to me.

  “Celia,” came Dawna’s voice from the speakerphone. “Your … client is here. I think.”

  Well, that was an interesting way to phrase it. “Okay. Send them up.” I took the final sip of my vanilla shake and dropped the can in the trash as I glanced at my calendar. Maria Bustamante was the client, but the handwriting wasn’t mine or Dawna’s. It looked like … Ron’s.

  Huh?

  One nice thing about our group is we freely send clients back and forth. But while I’ve had several referrals from Bubba pop up on my calendar, not one had ever come from Ron.

  A tentative knock sounded, just a light tapping that I might not have noticed if I hadn’t been expecting it
. “Come in.”

  I checked my outfit as I stood. Royal blue slacks, patterned sky blue top, careful makeup, and just a little curl in my hair. Putting on the blazer was hard after having my arms nearly ripped out, but at least my teeth didn’t hurt anymore. Still, every time I looked in the mirror lately I saw chalk white skin and dark, bruised-looking circles under my eyes. Add in the fangs and if I didn’t start to get some more sleep, even more people were going to think I was trying out for a horror movie.

  The door opened and the woman … actually, the child who walked in had the gun-shy look of someone who was being threatened. She watched every corner, every shadow, in the room. Her wide brown eyes moved constantly as she walked forward. She didn’t acknowledge the hand I held out but instead sat quickly in one of the big chairs and immediately curled her legs up under her thighs.

  Oookay.

  “So. Maria?”

  She nodded and finally focused on my face. Her eyes were showing too much white and her breathing was fast and shallow. “Yes.” The movement was tiny and frail, a baby bird who knew the hawk was watching … waiting until she was in the open.

  “Are you even fifteen yet?” I’d never been hired by someone younger than that. Most of my child clients were actors or singers who were being stalked by fans or needed guarding from their own family. But usually I was hired by a publicist, agent, or parent—someone who could legally sign the agreement.

  Another movement, this time a shake. My firm voice startled her and actually calmed her down. “I’ll be thirteen in March.”

  Twelve. Dear God. I’d been right when I thought child. I started envisioning an abusive parent or a sexual predator. Those weren’t the sort of things a bodyguard could fix. But I was at least willing to listen. “Okay. So tell me what the problem is.”

  Somehow her eyes got even wider. “I need a bodyguard.”

  No, duh. “I presumed that. Why did you go to an attorney first and why did he refer you to me?” Ultimately, my mind kept going back there. What had she told Ron that he felt he couldn’t help her with? Because as much of an ass as I thought he was, he was a hell of an attorney. Even if he couldn’t have helped her, he would have referred her to one of his own. Why a bodyguard?