Cat Adams - Blood Song

before they think, just like I did. How are you feeling?”

I shrugged. “Physical y, I’m recovering. Mental y, I don’t remember much and am stil pretty much in

denial.” I made my voice as soothing as I could. “I know it’s going to catch up with me eventual y. But

right now, I’ve got to find out what happened, before the bat that attacked me comes back to finish the

job.”

Again her eyes went wide, as she realized what I meant. “Oh dear. We can’t have that. Absolutely

not.” Dottie appeared flustered. “No, of course not. Come in, come in. Have a seat on the couch while

I go get my supplies. I won’t be a minute.”

Wel , didn’t I just feel like a heel, scaring the crap out of a nice little old lady. Not that I could help it. But

stil … I could only hope my gran didn’t react the same way next time she saw me. She’d already had

one heart attack. A bad enough shock might actual y kil her.

I fidgeted on the overstuffed sofa and looked around to waste some time. It was a nice apartment. A

little excessive, what with al the knickknacks, floral patterns, and doilies, but nice. The entire place

smel ed of air freshener and there wasn’t a trace of dust on any of the ceramic and pewter statues,

cups, and col ector plates that fil ed the shelves attached to the wal : kittens and cats mostly, in al sorts

of poses. Painted kittens romped around the base of the lamp sitting on the end table. But there wasn’t

a real cat in sight or any evidence of one. Then again, this was government housing. They probably

had a “no pets” clause. Pity. She seemed like she would be good with pets.

Dottie reappeared in short order. A tray was hooked to the front of her walker. Balanced on the tray

was an elaborately etched crystal bowl with a silver rim and a plastic half-gal on jug of One Shot brand

holy water. With every step she took, the bowl clanked against the metal walker leg and the jug rocked

back and forth.

I started to rise to help her, but Gibson beat me to it. He grabbed the bowl with both hands, moving it

gently to the top of the coffee table. Next he took the bottle of holy water, uncorked it, and began

pouring it into the bowl as Dottie careful y lowered herself into a worn but fluffy recliner.

“Do you have anything that was with you when you were attacked?” she asked. “It can be anything

smal enough to fit in the bowl. Rings, car keys—” She left the sentence unfinished because I’d already

started nodding. My clothes might be trashed. My keys hadn’t been with me. But there were little garnet

studs in my ears. Since I woke up with them, I must have been wearing them last night. Best of al , they

were set in silver, which should make them even better for the purpose.

I reached up to take them from my ears as she placed one frail hand on each side of the bowl and

began muttering a soft chant that I recognized as a basic focusing exercise. I dropped the earrings

into the center of the bowl without being told.

Concentric circles of water raced toward the edge of the bowl. When they hit the glass, flames

erupted, racing around the silver rim. Smoke gathered above the water’s surface to form a black-andwhite image of a sleazy bar. I watched myself from above, looking simultaneously bored and disgusted

by the lewd scene just over my shoulder. There were too many nude, sweaty limbs and groping hands

for my taste. I was keeping an eye on the prince—whom I recognized from the file in my car—and

apparently I wasn’t liking it. There are some things it’s better not to remember. Then a pair of men

rushed into the room and the situation took on an urgent feel. We raced out into a darkened al ey. The

image was so detailed that I could make out individual bricks and the long scaly tails of the rats feasting

on a pile of garbage. I could actual y hear their chittering and squeaks, along with the distant sounds of

the city.

Vicki uses a mirror as her focus. It’s impressive. But this was just … cool. I watched, mesmerized, as

shadows shifted, then solidified to reveal vampires lying in wait. I held my breath as a rectangle of white

light appeared as the back door of the building opened. The miniature image of Bob Johnson stepped

into the al ey with me fol owing a few steps behind him.

Bob was there? But he’s based out of New York now. What the hell? I shook my head, forcing

myself to concentrate on what I was seeing. I watched myself look both ways down the al ey.

One of the rats bolted, and I saw myself turn, my gun tracking its movement. The vampires struck.

As the fight played out in front of me in miniature, visceral flashes of memory hit me like punches to

the gut—the smel of cordite mixed with the heavy scent of blood overwhelming the stench of the al ey,

the pounding of my heart as I dragged Bob toward the light and safety, only to have the escape route

cut off behind us by the … thing pretending to be the crown prince.

Sweat beaded my forehead. Panting, I felt myself struggling as they ripped off my jacket to get at

wrists and throat, felt arms like iron bands pinning me to the ground as sharp canines tore into my

upper thigh. Though I knew I was sitting, safe and sound, on Dottie’s comfortable sofa, I couldn’t

escape the sensations.

I heard myself screaming, a sound of hopelessness and rage, and though a part of me knew that

Dottie had cut off the spel , I remained trapped in the memory. In my mind I saw a dark-haired vampire

raise his head from my upper thigh, my blood smeared across his face, dripping from the sil y little soul

patch on his chin as he began chanting in a language I didn’t know. Magic rose in a wave. I couldn’t

breathe, and I felt myself weakening as blood pumped from my wounds.

A female form rose in a liquid movement from where she’d been feasting on Johnson. “Are you

insane? You’l get us al kil ed. She’s supposed to die so they can blame it on Edgar.”

She started to move forward, to interfere, but a melodic voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Real y? How very interesting.”

Every vamp in the al ey turned at the sound of that voice. The chant above me stopped in midsyl able. Soft as a sigh, three forms dropped to opposite ends of the al ey from the rooftops. Only

three, but even in miniature you could see the fear in the eyes of the bats who’d been feasting on me. I

assumed the new bat was Edgar. He and two companions glided slowly forward. In the distance I heard

the screech of tires and the slam of car doors fol owed by running feet. Edgar swore softly and

gestured to his companions.

Edgar and the two vampires with him vanished, without so much as a puff of smoke, leaving the other

bats to deal with the pair of snarling werewolves who tore through the mouth of the al ey.

A harsh slap rocked my head back, and I blinked, trying to focus, as I found myself abruptly back in

Dottie’s sunny living room. My throat ached from screaming and the carpet was wet from where the

crystal bowl had been knocked off the table.

I shivered, my teeth chattering, cold from physical and psychic shock.

I remembered.

Furious pounding at the front door made Dottie jump to her feet abruptly enough to stumble. Gibson

managed to grab her before she could fal , then hurried over to deal with whoever. An alarmed neighbor

probably. Not that I cared. I didn’t. I couldn’t even think past the roar of my own pulse, pumping

adrenaline-laced blood through my body.