Cat Adams - Blood Song

that wasn’t what this was supposed to be.

“I feel better knowing you’re here.” Bob admitted quietly.

“Back atcha, big guy.”

The elevator bel rang. We stepped inside the elegantly appointed cabin. Pressing the button for the

top floor, I turned to face the front as the doors whooshed smoothly closed. When they reopened I

stepped into an expansive living space. One entire wal was a bank of windows, open to show a

panoramic view of the city lights sparkling below.

Stupid. Unless those windows were bul etproof, I could see three perfect spots for a sniper’s roost,

and that was without real y trying. I thought about the demon again. What if he was in the room with us

already? I needed to figure out a way to check each person. I couldn’t do it openly for fear of a violent

reaction with possible hostages. But leaking a little holy water onto my palm and then shaking hands

with everyone would just make it look like I had sweaty palms.

“You’re early.” The retainer repeated his earlier complaint. In photographs in my research file, he was

always just a pace behind the king, always with the same dour expression. I turned to face him, keeping

my expression neutral. He stepped away from a group of men standing by the bar. His voice was

disapproving. I’d thought that the photos just made him look cranky, but they’d only captured the real

him. I immediately felt sorry for whoever his significant other might be.

Standing at about five nine, he was a little bit shorter than me. I could tel he didn’t like it. He was

apparently used to looking down that beakish nose and glaring with those beady black eyes until the

person opposing him backed down. If that’s what he wanted, he’d picked the wrong girl. I wouldn’t start

trouble. Certainly not with a client. But I wouldn’t grovel or toady, either. Wouldn’t be much use as a

bodyguard if I did. I gave him the pleasant, not-quite-blank expression I reserve for difficult clients. He

didn’t seem to like that, either. Sometimes, you just can’t win. I held out my water-soaked hand. He

looked at it like it was a distasteful bug.

Crap. Now what?

I lowered my hand after a few awkward moments. There would be other opportunities before we left.

“I came in a little ahead of time to check the perimeter, meet up with the other guards, find out who’s

going to be in charge, and iron out the details.” I sounded polite, professional, without even a hint of

irritation or sarcasm. My gran would be so proud.

“ I wil be in charge.”

The man who glided away from the bar spoke with a hint of an accent and more than a hint of

condescension. I recognized him from his pictures. The prince was six two and slender, he moved with

a sleek grace that should have been effeminate but wasn’t. He was wearing gray dress slacks with a

cream-colored silk shirt that had enough buttons left open to expose a lightly muscled but hairless

chest. His light brown curls were artful y mussed; his dark eyes narrowed with appraisal as he looked

me over from head to foot. He kept his hands clasped behind his back.

“Ultimately, of course”—I gave a respectful nod—“but general y with a multiperson team, there’s a

coordinator the other guards report to. I was wondering who that was going to be.”

He stopped, barely two inches away from me. I think he expected me to react. He was obviously

used to women reacting sexual y and men backing down. I didn’t do either. I simply stood my ground,

pleasant and impassive, waiting for him to respond. I was pretty sure I knew what he was going to say.

But maybe I was wrong. Surely he wasn’t that much of an idiot—

“ I wil be in charge,” he repeated.

Apparently he was that much of an idiot. Oh joy. I cringed inwardly but kept my mouth shut, counting to

ten so that I wouldn’t say anything stupid. I could walk away from the job, but the money was damned

good and the connections were better. Any smal business grows by word-of-mouth referrals. Tick him

off and I could be going hungry for a long time. But it was tempting. Because his stupidity could get me

kil ed. On the other hand, Bob was here. He’d have my back—and I’d have his. Risking my life is part of

what I get paid for. And, again, I was going to be getting an almost obscene amount of money for this.

I glanced across the room to where the rest of the security team was standing. I mean, I couldn’t

actual y be the only person worried about this, the only one to notice the prince’s glassy, bloodshot

eyes, could I? Surely somebody else was bothered by the situation?

Two of the guards stared past me as if I were beneath their notice. I felt my jaw clench, and had to

force myself not to grind my teeth. I didn’t know either of them, which surprised me. I’m fairly wel

connected in the industry. I’ve worked with most of the independents at one time or another, and most

of them have come to respect my abilities and treat me as an equal. I’d have bet half of what I was

making that they were pissed because I was a woman. I’ve dealt with the prejudice before. You’d think

I’d be used to it.

You’d be wrong.

Bob’s soft cough drew everyone’s attention while I was shaking hands with the third guard. He was

clean … or at least human.

“We checked the perimeter. There was evidence it had been broken by a demonic presence. Ms.

Graves put together a temporary patch, but we need to contact the authorities.”

He said my name as if he’d never met me before tonight. I might have said something, but he gave

me a quel ing look. He was probably right. The prince didn’t seem the type to appreciate socializing

among the staff, and it wouldn’t do to have the other guards pissed at him, too.

The prince’s eyes narrowed, and he gave me a long, assessing look. “My people contacted the

authorities while you were on your way up.” He turned to one of the nearest retainers, a short, square

man with blunt features and smal dark eyes. “Jean Paul, take Josef downstairs and deal with Ms.

Graves’s ‘patch.’”

The two men hustled off, not looking particularly happy. Then again, they didn’t seem the sort to be

happy about much of anything. Maybe they were paid to be surly. In which case, Josef deserved a

bonus.

Prince Rezza stared at me, trying to judge my reaction. I tried to keep it neutral but failed. His

expression darkened. “It’s being dealt with. Satisfied?” His tone was chal enging.

Not real y. I’d be more satisfied when some of the militant religious were on scene. But saying that

would just piss him off more. So would forcibly touching him. It might even create an international

incident. We’d already started off on the wrong foot, so I kept my mouth shut and gave a curt nod.

“Good.”

2

The prince hadn’t wanted to get entangled with the authorities. So we left before they arrived. I didn’t

like it. Since I was the one who’d discovered the breach, I was pretty sure they’d want to talk to me, not

Jean Paul. But it was made very clear that arguing would cost me the job. So I settled for leaving a

business card with my cel number in case they wanted to cal , along with an offer to give a statement

the next day.

So, with minimal delay we had started the prince’s night on the town. Now, at 3:00 A.M., my shift was