Cat Adams - Blood Song

I was swearing pretty steadily under my breath by the time I reached the third floor. I walked past the

locked offices of Freedom Bail Bonds and the empty office that we al used to store spare junk and let

myself into my space. Most of the places I needed to reach wouldn’t open until nine or ten. My gran

gets up about seven, and I real y needed to talk to her, to reassure us both. That gave me a couple of

hours to eat and go through the research.

At which time I realized that al I had in my office micro-fridge was a soda. There would be food

downstairs—if nothing else one of those wretched diet shakes Dawna favored. But they were

downstairs. Just the thought of it was daunting. I was so freaking exhausted.

I was having my own personal pity party when I heard someone opening the downstairs door.

“Graves, it’s me,” Bubba’s voice cal ed out. “Don’t shoot.” There was a swift series of beeps as he

keyed in the alarm code. Heavy footfal s started up the stairs.

I yel ed out through the closed door, “Bubba, do me a favor?”

“What?” He sounded grouchy. Not good. My bet was he’d had to hunt down a jumper. As a bail

bondsman, Bubba worked very hard to make sure his clients showed up for their hearings. When they

don’t, he hunted them down. He’s good at it. He might be a “good ole boy,” but he’s smart and tough.

But tracking and hauling in a bail jumper is a lot of work, a lot of bother, and it always, always, makes

him irritable.

I raised my voice to just short of a shout. “Go into the kitchen and see if Dawna has any of those

Ensure things or maybe a diet shake?”

“Do it yourself,” he grumbled.

“Can’t. I’ve screwed up my knee and I need to have something nutritious to drink.”

“Wel , hel .” He gave a gusty sigh. “Give me a minute.”

He stomped back downstairs and I heard him banging around in the kitchen, muttering under his

breath the whole time.

Eventual y he started climbing up again. He cal ed out, “Got it. Hope you like banana.”

I loathe banana in al its many forms. But beggers/choosers and al that.

“Thanks, Bubba. Leave it outside the door.”

He snorted. “Whatever.”

I waited until I heard his footsteps go down the hal to his own office before I levered myself out of the

office chair and limped over to the door. My knee wasn’t happy about it. Healing abilities aside, three

flights of stairs had been a mistake. Opening the door, I found a four-pack of twelve-ounce cans.

Bending awkwardly from the waist, I picked it up, using the holes in the cardboard carrier.

“Dawna told us what happened, but I didn’t real y believe it.”

I looked up, meeting Bubba’s gaze. He was standing in the doorway of his office, staring at me. His

eyes were wider than they should’ve been, with whites showing al around the blue of his pupils. He

didn’t look afraid, precisely, but more startled. “You look like …”

“A bat. I look like a freakin’ vampire.”

“Yeah. But you’re stil you?” He made it a question.

“I’m stil me,” I answered him, “and I intend to stay that way.”

“Attagirl! You decide you need help hunting, you let me know.”

“Thanks, Bubba.”

He nodded, then shut his office door as I opened the first shake and chugged it down fast enough

that I managed not to gag on the taste. I heard the snick of the dead bolt sliding into place, smel ed gun

oil. I could just imagine him pul ing the .38 from his drawer and setting it on the desktop in easy reach.

Just in case. I couldn’t blame him. I’d have done the same thing.

I fel asleep studying … again. I woke up to the sounds of phones ringing and the smel of brewing

coffee. The swel ing in my knee had gone down some, but my neck and back were stiff from sleeping in

an unnatural position and my mouth tasted like something had crawled in it and died.

The grandfather clock struck eight. I sat up, blinked a couple of times, and tried to stretch out some of

the kinks. As I ambled down the hal to use the facilities I noticed that Bubba was gone. Not only was

his door closed and locked, but there was no smel of gun oil, and I couldn’t smel him or hear anyone

moving around in his office.

“Celia?” Dawna cal ed up the stairs. “You up? Want any coffee?”

“Coffee would be wonderful!” I hol ered back. “Oh, and I drank a couple of your shakes.”

“Yeah, Bubba told me. Hang on a minute, I’l be right up.”

I washed my hands and went back to the office. It was time to try cal ing my gran again. If I didn’t

reach her this time, I’d go by the house. I was starting to worry. I hear from her once or twice almost

every day. Yesterday I hadn’t been able to reach her at al . It could be nothing, but she’s not a young

woman… . I punched the buttons and waited.

She answered on the first ring. “Celia! Where have you been? I’ve been cal ing and cal ing ever since

the news about Vicki broke on the TV. Are you al right? I’m so sorry, punkin. I know how much you

cared about her.” The words tumbled over each other in a rush.

So. The press had got hold of the story. “I’m sorry, Gran. I tried to cal a couple times yesterday, but

there was no answer at the house.”

“Oh, you must have cal ed when I was out.”

Her voice changed abruptly, taking on an evasive tone that I didn’t like, mainly because I knew it too

wel . She only sounded like that when she’d done something she knew I’d be upset about, usual y

something involving my mother.

“Gran—”

“Real y, Celia—” She got defensive, the second surefire sign. “You’re so suspicious! What I do with

my time is none of your business.”

Absolutely true. And normal y I didn’t pry. But the last time she sounded like this, Mom had just

“borrowed” ten thousand dol ars, leaving Gran with no savings and not enough money to pay her

property taxes for the year.

I didn’t say a word. There was no point in starting another argument. Not now. She wasn’t going to

change. Taking a deep breath, I changed the subject.

“There’s something I need to tel you, Gran. The other night, when I was on a job, I got hurt.”

“Oh, Celie!”

I plowed on, ignoring the interruption. “A vampire bit me, tried to turn me. Kevin and Amy rescued me.

I’m not a bat. But I’m not completely human anymore, either. I’m pale, and I have fangs… .” The words

trailed off uncertainly.

There was no hesitation in her voice, no fear, and a huge weight lifted from my chest. If my gran had

thought of me as evil — “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

“I look like a bat, Gran. I do. It’s awful.” Tears fil ed my eyes, but I blinked them back. I would not cry,

dammit. Not again.

I think she was stunned. The silence on the other end of the phone was profound.

“I wanted to let you know, to prepare you so you wouldn’t get scared when you see me.”

“You could never scare me, punkin. Have you told your mother?”

“No.” It came out cold and harsh.

“Celia, she’s your mother. She loves you. She deserves to know.”

I didn’t want to argue, so I didn’t. Besides, she had a point. Lana is my mother. “Fine. I’l cal her.”

There was an awkward moment. “You’l need to wait until tomorrow. Sometime in the afternoon.”

“Why?”

The silence stretched between us. She didn’t want to answer, that was obvious. I waited. Eventual y

she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Your mother got picked up again for driving without a license—”