Cat Adams - Blood Song

“Maybe there isn’t one.”

I puffed up my chest and imitated El Jefe at his most pompous. “In magic, as in nature, there is

balance. Where there is a spel , there is a counter.”

She smiled, but not like she meant it. “Pretty to think so.”

“Dr. Landingham knows his stuff.”

“Absolutely. But this isn’t just magic. It’s anatomy. And that is a whole lot less … flexible.”

Just like the pul of my sire’s eyes was inflexible. He was stil out there, stil cal ing me. I just couldn’t

hear it over the sound of the ocean. My muscles started to flex, to pul me to my feet. I wanted to

leave, even though I didn’t know where I wanted to go. I could feel my wil lessening with each moment,

until— “Are you sure the ocean sounds originated from this room?”

“Like there was a boom box on ful crank.”

I shook my head. “That is so weird. I wasn’t making any noise, but I could hear it in my dream.”

Her careful y plucked brows lowered even as she reared back a little and looked around the room.

“Weird. Very weird.”

She was so right. Sadly, however, this was the least of my worries. I’d lost a lot of time snoozing. If I

wanted to find and kil my sire I needed to find out where and how now.

It was time to visit Vicki.

9

One good thing about my nap—it had given my new phone time to charge. It didn’t take long at al to

load the minutes on it. I gave Dawna the new number so that she could contact me if there were any

new emergencies and dashed out the door. I dialed Kevin. Again it went straight to voice mail. “Hi, Kev.

It’s me. I’m on the way to Birchwoods to see Vicki, to see if she can give me a lead on my sire’s lair.

Look, I know you’ve got to go out to the desert tonight, so I’l cal you in the morning. Try not to worry.”

Useless request. He was already worrying. But hey, it was the best I could do. And at least he wouldn’t

be able to bitch at me about not returning his cal s.

I also considered phoning ahead to Birchwoods to let Vicki know I was coming, but she has group

from 3:00 to 5:00. By the time she got the message I’d be there. Besides, I was stil a little shaken by

my dream/vision. I needed a little time away from everything.

I did make a cal to the phone number on the file I had on the prince. I got a recording tel ing me it

wasn’t in service—al three times I cal ed. Not good. I needed to deal with the vampire sire thing first,

but tomorrow I was going to be checking in with the royal family. If Gibson didn’t like it, that was just too

damned bad.

I set the cel phone on the passenger seat in easy reach and started the car. I took Ocean View

rather than the expressway, tel ing myself that I didn’t want to get caught in bumper-to-bumper rushhour traffic, but I probably would’ve done it anyway, to be near the sea. I drove the Miata faster than I

should’ve over the winding roads in the lengthening shadows cast in the fading daylight. The ancient

trees and tal wal s had been landscaped in such a way as to provide security and privacy without

looking grim. I could taste the tang of salt on the air from the breeze blowing in from over the water. The

racuous cal of the gul s was louder than normal, but I’m one of those strange people who actual y like

the noise that gul s make. Most people around here consider them rats with wings, like pigeons are

back east. But I like them … the way they swoop and dance on the currents around the shores. I

couldn’t ride with the top down, but nothing stopped me from opening the widows wide and watching and

listening.

I was stil feeling a little bit nauseous. Part of it was nerves. But I hadn’t eaten since dinner last night. I

can skip one meal without too much trouble, but if I let it go too long, I end up feeling sick, grumpy, and

not at al hungry. I’d probably have to force myself to eat, but that would be later. First, I wanted to pick

my best friend’s brain for any memories she had of her two years of vampire studies. Then I’d have

her take a peek in that mirror I’d bought her, see if we could find any useful information.

If al else failed, I’d see if she could wrangle me permission to camp out overnight in the facility’s

chapel. Assuming I could. Thus far I’d been doing pretty wel against anti-vampire tools, but I hadn’t

tested myself against holy ground. But hel , if I let myself think too hard about it, the list of things that

were liable to be a problem would just overwhelm me. I needed to focus. Take one step at a time. Visit

Vicki. Find a safe place for the night. Then, when daylight came and Kevin was back from his hunt,

we’d talk and plan.

Thinking about my friends made me feel a little better about the whole mess. Not a lot better. But hey,

I’d take what I could get. They’d stick by me, no matter what. They already had. And if there was an

answer, we’d find it. Al I had to do was stay alive long enough for it to do me some good. I could do

that.

Maybe.

I took a deep breath, trying to convince myself that I was capable of getting a handle on the situation.

I almost started to believe myself. Right up until the temperature in the car began to drop.

Have I mentioned I’m haunted by ghosts? It was my one weirdness when I was stil vanil a human. My

baby sister had been a powerful medium. Whether the last name Graves came from an ancestor with

the same talent or was just a dose of irony I don’t know. I do know I’m grateful I wasn’t born with the

“gift.” The dead may try to contact me, but it ain’t easy. They can’t use what isn’t there. So only the

most powerful spirits can get through—those and the one spirit who attached herself to me on her

death … Ivy herself.

She doesn’t manifest often, but it’s general y memorable when she does. If I had the talent, she could

use my body to talk to me with my own mouth. I don’t. So she has to do things the hard way. Sometimes

it makes her frustrated and I wind up with poltergeist-style behavior. Kids think they have the best

temper tantrums, but ghost kids have them beat by a mile. Not what you need when you’re at the

wheel.

I pul ed onto the nearest side street and up to the curb, my breath fogging the air inside the car,

despite the open windows. One of the first manifestations of a spirit is a rapid, drastic temperature

drop.

“I know you’re here. It’s al right. Just don’t mess with the Miata, Ivy. You know how much I love this

car.” I kept my voice low, using soothing tones. Getting agitated creates a kind of energy that makes

the ghost more likely to act out.

The dome light flashed on and off. If it was Ivy, we’d worked out a code over the years. Once was a

yes. Twice was no.

“Ivy, is it you?”

Two flashes. No?

Well, shit. Not Ivy, but whoever it was knew the code? Did ghosts talk? I mean, if they cared enough

to stay and latch onto someone, there was general y a reason, and they almost always tried to talk to

the living, but do they communicate with each other ? That I didn’t know. Damn it. I wracked my brain.

Ghosts attach to a person or thing that was important to them in their life, someone or something that

they consider unfinished business. Until that business gets settled or the body gets cremated, they