The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song)

by Adams, Cat

  and

  gorgeous

  architectural details. It probably wasn’t

  old enough or important enough to

  qualify for the historical society mission

  trail, and it was too small and outdated

  for a modern congregation. The church

  and grounds were surrounded by a gated

  wall; as we drew up to the gate, I

  spotted a parking area on the east side

  and a small cemetery on the west. I

  wondered who had been buried there—

  perhaps the very first missionaries

  stationed there?

  “Is it decommissioned?” I was

  wondering if the place still qualified as

  holy ground.

  “It’s in the process,” she said with a

  smile. “But even after the paperwork’s

  done, this place has seen years and years

  of daily masses and prayers of the

  faithful. I’ve been told by a church

  authority that the prayers have sunk into

  the stone itself.”

  Wow. I whistled as she slowed the

  SUV. “It’ll probably take a hundred

  years for that kind of protection to wear

  down.” Emma would be safe—safe from

  vampires and demons. It wouldn’t be

  anathema to werewolves, but that was a

  good thing, since her brother, Kevin,

  turned into a wolf with the full moon.

  “Welcome

  to

  my

  Fortress

  of

  Solitude,” Emma quipped. Hitting the

  button on the garage-door opener she’d

  clipped to her sun visor rolled back a

  gate that looked like wrought iron, but

  was probably heavy-duty, spelled silver

  steel. There was barely enough time for

  her rear bumper to clear the perimeter

  before the gate began moving back into

  place. And that perimeter! As we

  crossed it, the magic hit my senses like a

  ripsaw, making me yelp in unexpected

  pain. I’ve been able to sense the magical

  perimeters around most buildings for a

  while now. Most barriers are no big

  deal. The better ones are a little

  uncomfortable. But this … wow … and

  OW.

  “Damn, girl, who did your spell

  work?”

  “Kevin had somebody do it. It’s

  seriously over the top, right? The wards

  aren’t lethal, but only because I

  insisted.” She shook her head.

  I paused, trying to come up with a

  tactful way to ask a very personal

  question. Kevin had been my friend.

  Maybe he still is. We’ve had our issues,

  but I still care about him. He’s a tough

  SOB, but sometimes even tough isn’t

  enough. Things happened to him that

  nobody should have to go through. It left

  him with a bad case of post-traumatic

  stress disorder. Paranoia was just one of

  his issues. “Is he getting therapy?”

  “Yeah. But I’m not sure how much it’s

  helping.” She stopped the car. I saw

  tears in her eyes as she turned to me.

  “I’m really worried about him, Celia,

  but I just don’t know what to do. He’s

  been through so much. Most of it he can’t

  or won’t talk about, even to a therapist. I

  want to help, but I have no clue how.”

  The unfortunate truth was that there

  probably wasn’t a lot we could do other

  than be there for him and be as

  supportive of him as we knew how to

  be. Of course in my case, being

  supportive might actually be better

  accomplished by my absence. How

  much did that suck?

  I opened my mouth to say as much, but

  she held up a hand to stop me. “Don’t.

  Just … don’t. It isn’t your fault. None of

  it is.”

  Then why did it feel like it was?

  “Celia, he was in black ops. No

  matter how bad the crap you’re involved

  in gets, none of it is as bad as what he

  got into on his own. Remember, he was

  going on missions with Jones and the

  others for a decade before he even met

  you. He’s seen things that would put the

  rest of us in the psycho ward. And you

  weren’t the one that got him put in the

  zoo. You’re the one who got him out.”

  “The zoo” was what most folks called

  the jail for werewolves and other

  preternatural types. It had been a really

  high-tech, highly spelled installation out

  in the desert. Had been, until it was

  taken over by demons. Now it was a

  layer of glass and blasted earth.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I

  changed the subject. “So, how did you

  find this place?”

  She blushed and I just knew there was

  more to it than she was willing to tell.

  Instead, she backed the SUV into the

  spot closest to the front walkway. “Wait

  till you see the inside. Kevin’s been

  helping me renovate. Some of the stuff

  he’s installed is just so cool. ”

  “I

  don’t

  doubt

  it.”

  Kevin’s

  background has given him access to all

  the best toys. Besides which, he works

  in IT when he isn’t running around being

  a soldier of fortune. He’s a serious geek

  with major skills in all sorts of areas.

  We wrangled the slab of glass from

  the back with me holding most of the

  weight. Emma set down her end of the

  mirror and pressed her palm against a

  recessed reader. When a button flashed

  green, she typed a five-digit code onto

  the keypad. I heard the click of the locks

  opening.

  She pushed the door open, and we

  carried the mirror inside and set it down

  in the entryway. I took another step, into

  Emma’s new private domain.

  It was gorgeous. The décor was the

  perfect marriage of tech and classic

  design. All but one of the stained-glass

  windows had been replaced with

  frosted, so the open main area shone

  with light. The remaining stained-glass

  pane sent patterns of color across

  planked

  wood

  floors

  that

  were

  beautifully rustic. It felt wonderful;

  peaceful, positive energy just seemed to

  emanate from the place.

  “Oh, Emma.” The intonation of my

  words made her smile broaden.

  “You like it?” she asked eagerly,

  practically hopping from foot to foot

  with excitement.

  All I could do was make an

  incredulous noise and nod. I finally

  found my voice as my eyes danced over

  the detailed architecture around the top

  of the wall. “Are you kidding? I love it.

  Give me the tour.”

  The more she showed me around, the

  stranger something seemed. Everywhere

  she mentioned a wall had been repaired

  or d
amaged door frame had been

  replaced, I noticed a particular pattern to

  the placement of the nails. Finally, I

  couldn’t contain my curiosity any longer.

  “Is Kevin the only person who’s been

  helping you with the renovation?”

  She blushed and turned away. It was a

  simple question and had she simply

  answered it, I wouldn’t have thought any

  more about it. But her reaction made it

  clear to me that she was getting

  construction help from Matteo DeLuca,

  one of Bruno’s brothers. He’s a Catholic

  priest and my guess was that he’d helped

  her find the church in the first place.

  He’s performed both of my exorcisms,

  so he would understand why it was

  important that Emma be on holy ground.

  He had also helped Bruno and me

  work on my beach house after a spell

  went awry and damaged the floor. I’d

  noticed that he put in the nails in a

  slightly zigzag pattern that he swore he’d

  learned from an old book. He said that

  old houses stood so long because the

  nails weren’t hammered in right in a row

  so they never split the planks. The

  pattern was very distinctive and easily

  recognizable.

  But it was her reaction that I found

  even more interesting. It gave her away

  and was the reason why she couldn’t

  answer me directly. If Matty was in

  regular orders, his helping her wouldn’t

  be a problem. Regular priests are able to

  have relationships and get married. But

  the militant orders have always required

  vows of celibacy.…

  “You are kidding! You and Matty? O-

  M-G!”

  Her red cheeks remained. “We

  haven’t told anyone yet. They can’t

  approve his transfer to regular duty until

  after he becomes Bishop. Until then…”

  “He has to remain celibate,” I finished

  for her. “Bummer.”

  “Actually, it’s okay.” She smiled and

  it lit up her face. Oh, she was so gone

  for this guy. It made me happy. Matty is

  a great guy. But oh Lord, Mama DeLuca

  would have a fit. Emma’s no more her

  idea of the perfect daughter-in-law than I

  am, and Isabella DeLuca is a force to be

  reckoned with.

  I raised my brows, not speaking my

  concerns. But she just continued to

  smile.

  “Really. He’s worth the wait.

  Besides, it’s given us the chance to get

  to know each other better, to not rush

  into anything. Between him and Bruno,

  I’ve heard so much about the family that

  I feel like I’ll be able to recognize

  everyone once we meet.”

  If she was happy, I was happy for her.

  But it felt a little weird that everyone

  was so happy when I was so … well,

  miserable. Why couldn’t I be happy with

  what I had?

  All told, my visit with Emma was

  exactly what I needed after the stress of

  the day. She was so content and the

  house gave off such good vibes that I felt

  completely relaxed and at peace with the

  world as we drove back to campus.

  I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

  6

  “Have fun tonight,” Emma teased as I

  climbed out of the SUV near La Cocina.

  I was going to retrieve my car and head

  for Bruno’s, and Emma was going back

  to the office. She hadn’t bothered to pull

  into the restaurant’s parking lot—it was

  practically bumper-to-bumper in there

  and there was no reason for her to waste

  time to get me a few feet closer to my

  car.

  “Oh, I fully intend to.” My answering

  grin was probably a little bit wicked. I

  was really looking forward to an

  evening with Bruno. And if that went

  well, I was looking forward to an

  excellent night with Bruno. “I’ll call you

  tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  I opened my parasol as I got out of the

  car, then slammed the door and went

  around the front of the vehicle to cross

  the street. I had been well trained in my

  youth; now I looked both ways, then took

  advantage of a break in traffic to start

  across the busy street.

  I heard an engine revving and the

  squeal of tires, and smelled rubber

  burning against hot asphalt. Even though

  I couldn’t see the car’s grille past the

  parasol that kept the sun from scorching

  my skin, thankfully my vampire reflexes

  had kicked in at the first growl of the

  motor. I dove for the far curb with

  everything I had. Normally that would be

  enough, since I can jump really fast and

  far with my enhanced muscles and most

  drivers steer away from people in the

  middle of the street.

  But this guy corrected, making it very

  clear it was intentional. My body was

  still airborne when the car hit me—

  probably the only reason I wasn’t badly

  hurt. I landed on the hood and rolled off

  past the driver’s side window, catching

  a glimpse of the man at the wheel before

  falling to the street. The vehicle sped

  off.

  Ironically, I landed facedown on the

  white pedestrian stick figure in the

  crosswalk. Everything hurt. A lot. And I

  was pissed off.

  Because I knew who had hit me.

  “Oh my God! Celia, are you all

  right?” Emma jumped out of the SUV

  and rushed up as other cars swerved

  around me. No one stopped, of course.

  “I’m okay,” I assured her as I pulled

  myself slowly to my feet, surveying the

  damage. Thankfully, I didn’t seem to

  have any broken bones. A quick tongue

  survey of my mouth revealed I’d

  managed not to lose any teeth, although

  one fang had cut the inside of my lip.

  Blood brings out the vampire in me

  quicker than almost anything. The smell,

  unmistakable copper and salt; the taste.

  Both my rage and my newfound hunger

  made me want to ignore my human

  nature and rip into the woman standing

  beside me. I could hear the rapid beat of

  her heart, smell the sweat of her fear.

  Emma is my friend. She is not food. And

  I am not a fucking bat.

  I clenched my fists so hard that my

  nails dug into flesh. My exposed skin

  was starting to singe—I could smell it

  burning. I embraced the pain, using it to

  home in on my humanity. My voice was

  still a little rough when I asked, “Did

  you get the plate number?”

  I opened my eyes to see her blushing

  furiously. I guess not. “It was so fast. ”

  Digging the cell phone from her

  oversized bag, she said, “I’ll call nine-

  one-one.”

  I stopped her with a hand on
her

  wrist. “Don’t.”

  Overhead, seagulls were swooping

  and cawing, obviously upset. I tried to

  think calming vibes at them. It didn’t

  work.

  “What do you mean, ‘don’t’?” Emma

  stepped back, angry and offended. She

  looked a little like an avenging angel,

  given her air of righteous indignation

  and her cloud of dark golden hair

  blowing in the breeze. “It was a

  deliberate hit-and-run. Whoever that

  was tried to kill you. We have to call the

  police.”

  When I trusted myself to sound calm I

  answered her, lying smoothly so she

  didn’t go ballistic. “Emma, it won’t do

  any good. He’s long gone. I can’t

  describe the car or the driver. You don’t

  have the plate number.” I shrugged. “The

  last thing I need is more trouble with the

  police. Please, just let it go.”

  I could tell she didn’t want to listen.

  But she put her phone away, lips pressed

  into a thin line of disapproval, then

  strode over to where I’d dropped my

  purse, her sensible heels clicking

  sharply against the concrete sidewalk.

  “You realize you’re insane?” she said

  as she returned and handed me my bag.

  “Emma—.” My voice held a note of

  warning. I love Emma, I really do. But I

  was stressed, I was angry, and the last

  thing I needed was a lecture.

  She gave me a long look through

  narrowed eyes before lifting a hand in a

  gesture of reluctant surrender. “Fine, but

  don’t expect me to like it.” She would

  like it less if she knew I was lying a

  little. I’d gotten a good look at the

  driver. Emma added, “Let’s get inside.

  You need food. You’re starting to

  glow.”

  Wel l , hell. That wasn’t good. I’ve

  gotten a lot more control of my inner bat

  recently, but stress and physical exertion

  aren’t helpful. I should probably eat

  something. Not too much; I didn’t want

  to ruin my appetite for dinner. Maybe

  just one of the special Sunset Smoothies

  La Cocina makes just for me. “I thought

  you needed to get back to the office and

  grade papers?”

  “Screw it. They can wait another day.

  This is important. Go see if you can get

  us a table while I park the car.”

  There weren’t any tables. In fact, the

  press of people was such that I had to

  take refuge on the patio and order my

  Sunset Smoothie to go. Better to leave,

  before people started looking like

  bloodsicles. Besides, I wanted a long

  hot bath and plenty of time to primp for