Cat Adams - Blood Song

how difficult it can be to adjust. Combining that with the physiological changes—”

“No.”

He held up a placating hand. “I’m not suggesting one of the state-run facilities.” He shuddered. “I

wouldn’t consign a rabid dog to one of those. But—”

“No. Not there. Not here.” I wouldn’t go. I’d literal y rather die than go to a “facility.” If even half of what

I’ve heard happened in those facilities is true, it would be far, far more merciful to just kil those

committed. Other magical y dangerous types get locked up, but vampires get staked and beheaded. An

abomination? Who knew? At least there’s a hope of getting out for some people. A minuscule hope, but

a hope. Not for the furry, like Kevin. And, I suspected, not for me.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t voluntarily lock myself away and risk being official y labeled dangerous. That

might put me in line to go to one of those places if anything went wrong in the future. Yes, Birchwoods

could probably help me. And I make a good living, so it wasn’t the money, although God knew a place

like this would set me back. But unless I absolutely knew I was a menace to myself and the public, I

wasn’t checking in. Stil , I needed to be careful. Because the good doctor could commit me. There

wasn’t a judge in the country who wouldn’t back him up on it. The standard for commitment was “is

he/she a danger to him/herself and others?” Based on my display a little bit ago, I quite obviously was. I

kept my voice calm, not betraying even a hint of fear. “If possible, I would prefer outpatient treatment.”

“Ms. Graves—”

“Dr. Scott, I’m not being deliberately difficult. Truly. But there are … practical considerations, things I

need to deal with that can’t be put off. I didn’t attack you. You said I need to eat every four hours. I can

do that as an outpatient. You say I’l need therapy. I can do that, too.” I needed him to believe me.

Needed him to work with me on this. As I focused my thoughts, I realized I could almost hear the sound

of lapping waves through the window behind him. I smel ed salt water on the air.

He stared at me through narrowed eyelids. I felt the weight of that gaze. He was testing me. Long

minutes passed before he spoke. I sat silent, waiting. I didn’t squirm. Didn’t react much at al .

“The two people with your condition that I read about were kil ed by their sires within twenty-four hours

after leaving a protected facility.”

“And the one you treated?”

“Suicide—again after leaving the facility. She apparently couldn’t live with the guilt of what she’d done.

”

I asked because he expected me to, not because I wanted to know. “What had she done?”

“She murdered her mother … tore her throat out, drank until she was ful , and then left her to bleed to

death. Even though she remembered who she was, the bloodlust was too much for her.”

If he was hoping to shock me into submission, it didn’t work. Oh, I’d be careful, damned careful. But

the only way he was getting me to be an inpatient anywhere was by force. “I’m not easy to kil and I

haven’t murdered anyone. I can do outpatient treatment, Dr. Scott. I can. ”

The silence stretched long again. Now I could hear the rol ing crash of waves against rocks … even

though there were no cliffs outside. The harsh caw of seagul s seemed right outside the window. My

eyes flicked up when I saw movement over Dr. Scott’s shoulder. There were gul s right outside his

window. Floating and dipping in a glimmering dance. Quite a few for some reason. A bit odd for nightfal ,

but I’m not an expert on shorebirds.

Dr. Scott’s head cocked and he spun his seat toward the window. He watched the gul s swoop around

in the glow of the lamp, for al the world like giant moths near a flame. He shook his head as if trying to

clear it and blinked repeatedly. When he turned back and spoke, his voice was strained. “I wil make

you a deal, Ms. Graves. We’l try it your way— if you agree to fol ow the diet I am about to give you,

take the supplements and medications I am prescribing, and come to this facility on an outpatient basis

three times per week. But if I determine the situation has become too dangerous, you wil agree to

abide by my judgment and voluntarily commit yourself for two months of inpatient treatment.”

It was the best offer I was going to get. I could tel from the set of his shoulders, the grim

determination on his face. He didn’t like bending even this far.

“I’l agree—as long as you agree to give it a fair shot. No cheating and ordering me in without cause.”

“No cheating .” He repeated the word drily. “Fine. We’re agreed. Don’t make me regret it.”

I didn’t answer, merely watched as he scribbled a long list of notes. Pausing briefly, he tapped the pen

against his teeth a few times, then continued until most of the page was ful . I decided to use the time to

watch the birds outside, but when I looked out the window they were gone. Who knows why. So I stared

at the twinkling lights down on the beach instead. Someone was having a party, if the flickering tiki lights

were any indication.

When he final y looked up again, he met my eyes. “I’l have my assistant cal these in to your

pharmacy. That way they can have everything ready and waiting for you when you arrive. You should

take a dose of the supplement immediately. While we have no way of knowing for sure, it seemed to

help Rachel control her bloodlust.”

I nodded my agreement. “I’l do that.”

“Where should I have Heather cal ?”

I gave him the name and address of the place I usual y use for my birth control and vitamins and he

scribbled the information at the top of the page.

“I think we’re done here for now.” He rose and I did the same. “In answer to the concerns you didn’t

get the chance to express earlier, independent examiners wil be on site to look into Vicki’s death

thoroughly . I should also mention that the reason I’m tel ing you any of this is because Vicki signed a

written request that we explain the details of her death to al of the heirs and devisees in her Wil .

Natural y, we wil abide by her wishes and keep you apprised of the results of any investigation. I

imagine the investigators wil want to speak with you as wel .”

His words confirmed what I’d suspected for some time now. He was a telepath, and a damned good

one. He’d pul ed the question about an investigation out of my head, plus God alone knew what else,

without my even noticing. Dangerous man. Of course, it wil be easier to be in therapy with someone

you don’t actual y have to talk to. There are a lot of things I’d rather not reach air.

If, as he seemed to be hinting, I was inheriting money from Vicki, I’d have had one hel of a motive,

and in the circles I ran in it would probably even be possible for me to arrange for a professional hit. I

wouldn’t. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t. Shit.

He led me to the door of the office, and was holding it open for me when I answered. “It doesn’t

matter if they investigate me. Let them know I’l cooperate ful y. I loved Vicki very much. She was a

genuinely good and gentle person.” I smiled, knowing as I did that the smile didn’t reach my eyes and

showed more than a hint of fang. “For better or worse, I’m not. If she died of natural causes, fine. But if