Cat Adams - Blood Song

man I’d thought was the love of my life back in col ege.

My mouth went dry, my heart racing. For just a minute the rest of the world disappeared and it was

just me and him.

Bruno had changed. He was stil five feet, eleven inches, of pure Italian studliness. But there were

touches of gray at his temples, and worry lines had appeared between his brows and at the corners of

his mouth. A smile was twitching at his lips and there was laughter sparking in his dark brown eyes.

Then again, there nearly always was, when he saw me.

It was my mother who broke the spel , drawing me back to the present with more speed than grace.

“Celie?” My mother’s voice rose nearly an octave between the first and second syl ables of my name.

“Oh my God, honey, what’s happened to you? You look like hell. ”

Everyone turned to stare—including Ron. He seemed to see past his anger, fear, and the fangs for

the first time, looking me over from head to toe.

“She’s right, Graves. You look … terrible. Are those your pajamas ?”

Oh, hell. I decided to take charge of the situation before things got any worse. It didn’t seem likely

and the mere thought was horrifying, but you never could tel . “Yes, Ron. I came here in my pj’s

because the gas company wouldn’t let me back in the house.” I turned to my mother. “Hi, Mom. It’s

been a rough couple of days. Come by the office when you’re done with Bubba and I’l drive you home.

Kevin, Bruno, why don’t you go join everybody else up in my office? It’s a regular party in there.” Okay,

the sarcasm was a little overdone, but I couldn’t help myself.

I stepped aside so they could trudge past. Bruno gave my shoulder a quick squeeze on the way. It

was a smal gesture, but it real y did make me feel better. When they were past the landing, I turned

back to Ron. He was stil staring, his eyes too wide. “Are you tel ing me the truth? Did somebody real y

try to kil you?”

“Yessss.” I pointed at my mouth “Notice the teeth? I didn’t have them last week.”

“Twice?”

“Yup.”

“Why?” He seemed truly puzzled. Apparently, he didn’t not like me enough to even consider

elimination. That was sort of flattering.

I shrugged. “Damned if I know. But I intend to find out.”

15

I had Dawna deliver the photocopy of the cocktail napkin to Cassandra and make my excuses to

everyone. I needed a shower, and I wanted to put on some clothes fit for wearing in front of people.

Selfish, probably. Chicken, definitely. But screw it. The fact that I’d gone downstairs for a confrontation

with Ron showed me more clearly than any words that I was reaching the end of my rope.

So I locked the bathroom door, stripped, and turned the water on as hot as I could stand. I scrubbed

until I was as clean as I was going to get, checking my injuries as I went. The knee was the worst. Joint

injuries suck. Even with the boost to my healing, it was swol en and hurting. I’d been an idiot to go

downstairs, and now I was paying for it.

If I’d had any sense I’d have put an Ace bandage on the list I’d given Dawna. But I hadn’t thought

about it, which meant that I was probably going to be taking another trip to PharMart. I’d read enough of

the research before I fel asleep to get a fair guess of how fast I could heal—roughly a day’s worth of

healing each hour. At that rate, my knee would be a problem for a few more days— if I took proper care

of it.

I climbed out of the shower and toweled myself off. I used a second towel to rub most of the moisture

from my hair before combing it out. It’d have to air-dry. I hadn’t thought to bring a blow-dryer to the

office. But that was al right. It was clean. I was clean. I opened the bag and found myself grinning.

Leave it to Dawna. She’d bought me underclothes al right. Lingerie- type underclothes. Lacy and pretty,

in silk. And the top wasn’t just an ordinary tee. Nope, she’d supplied me with a matching tank and

overblouse in black, probably the only color that would actual y look good with my new complexion. The

jeans were black, too, and my favorite brand. She’d even sprung for jewelry—smal hoop earrings and

a delicate pendant. White gold, not silver. I hadn’t given her enough money to pay for half of this. But I

was real y, real y glad she’d done it. Because Bruno was here and Kevin and … wel , strangely, Creede.

And in this outfit I wouldn’t have to feel completely outclassed by Cassandra.

The socks were just as pretty but were nylon rather than cotton. I detest nylon ones because they

make me sweat, so I pul ed the tennis shoes on over my bare feet. I left the denim jacket in the bag. It

was too warm to wear it inside. It was probably too warm to wear it outside, too. But I had to cover as

much skin as I could.

I reflected sourly that while covering up would keep me from burning, dying of heatstroke was a

distinct possibility. But wearing the jacket would enable me to carry my weapons.

The whole process probably didn’t take more than fifteen to twenty minutes. When I was as ready as

I was going to get, I took a deep breath, grabbed the door handle, and stepped out into the hal ,

expecting to hear voices and see a crowd in my office. Instead, I was met with blessed silence except

for the gentle clicking of the keys on a laptop computer.

“Where’d everybody go?” I muttered.

Bruno DeLuca’s disembodied voice answered me, coming from my office. “Mrs. Cooper and her

entourage left with her copy of the funeral information. Fair warning, she doesn’t like the ‘no cremation’

thing.”

“Terrific. Just ducky.” I walked back down the hal to my office. I felt an odd tingle as I stepped over the

threshold. Sort of a pins-and-needles sensation that prickled against my whole body. It was unnerving. I

would’ve said something, but Bruno was already talking.

“Kevin is taking your mother home. After the scene with the attorney downstairs, I think he was afraid

what you might do to her if the two of you left here alone.”

I blushed. I probably shouldn’t have threatened Ron. Yes, he was being an ass, but it’s not like he can

help it. It’s his nature. You might as wel blame a dog for barking. And they were right about my mother,

too. Because while Ron is annoying, my mother takes me to a completely irrational level as easily as

breathing.

“Relax.” Bruno looked up at me and smiled, and it warmed me to my toes. We were both older. Maybe

we were even wiser. But looking at that smile, I felt the familiar tug on the old heartstrings and had to

remind myself why we hadn’t worked as a couple.

“You didn’t hurt him, and from what I heard, he deserved an ass chewing.” Bruno looked me over,

from head to toe. “Like the outfit. It almost makes the coloring look normal.”

“Thanks.” I draped myself sideways in one of the visitor’s chairs and ignored the sudden twinge in my

leg. “And yeah, Ron deserved that and more. But I don’t like the fact that I keep almost losing control.”

Bruno turned away from the laptop he’d been working on to give me a long, level look.

“You’re going to need to be careful about that, Celia. I’ve been reading up, and while the effects of