Cat Adams - Blood Song

tipped me off to it. Whoever it is, they’ve eliminated the few clairvoyants we had on the payrol .”

“So, what’s the message?”

“We’re in the middle of a high-profile assignment. It’s too important to let it fail over a rogue. So

they’re offering Kevin a deal. A one-year limited contract, hunting hard targets, starting with the rogue.

He can write his own ticket. And they’l guarantee your safety. No one associated with the firm wil ever

use you or harm you in any way. They’l take whatever binding oaths he wants on it.”

“Why would he care about my safety?” I wouldn’t have said it out loud, but we were operating in a

dream, in my thoughts, so he heard it just the same.

“You don’t know?” He chuckled and it was creepy as hel . “Oh, my. Wel , if he hasn’t told you, I

certainly won’t. But be sure to give him my message. Word for word.”

He stepped forward, very deliberately rubbing out the edge of the circle with his foot. The image in my

mind went to black. Apparently our conversation was over.

I opened my eyes, no longer able to sleep. As I did, I became simultaneously aware of several things:

I wasn’t in a sleeping bag on the floor of the study of Reverend Al’s church; my head was pounding;

and I had a terrible, metal ic taste in my mouth. I was in a straitjacket, on the floor of a padded room,

and Dr. Greene was watching me from behind the safety window.

26

You are a damned nuisance.” Greene’s voice was only slightly distorted coming through the speakers

into the room. “The drugs in the pizza were supposed to keep you out for twenty-four hours.”

I’d been drugged. That explained the taste and the bindings. I’d never have let myself get in this

situation otherwise. The pizza was delayed, cold, and tasted like crap. You’d think I would have been

suspicious. Sheesh. And while I was stil a little thickheaded, I was starting to be able to think through

the sedative-induced fog. Let’s hear it for the vampire metabolism. Or maybe siren. Or both. Whatever,

I was awake. But I couldn’t do anything. Yet.

“They haven’t even had time to get to the church yet, let alone link it to you and declare you a danger.

I haven’t had time to meet with Dr. Scott.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. She stood behind the window

in her sensible gray suit, arms crossed over her chest, fingers drumming absently against her arm.

“Personal y, I’d rather just kil you outright. But that would bring your werewolf into things and my

employer has been very clear about not wanting him involved until after sunrise tomorrow.” My

werewolf? Kevin wasn’t anywhere close to mine. Her fingers drummed faster. “We’l try another shot.

Perhaps a higher dose—” She turned and walked from the observation room.

I didn’t have long, perhaps only a minute or two. “Ivy, Vicki, are you here?” I tried to keep my voice a

bare whisper so that it wouldn’t get picked up by the room’s monitoring equipment. Of course Greene

had talked freely, so she had probably turned it off. But I decided to be quiet, just in case.

The temperature of the room dropped until I could see my breath fogging in the air. I wasn’t surprised.

Ghosts are more likely to manifest when the person they’re attached to is in a strong emotional state.

Can’t get much stronger than life-threatening terror. I could almost feel the adrenaline bubbling through

my veins. “Find Dr. Scott. Tel him what’s happening. Then warn Reverend Al. Get Gran and Mom out of

there.”

I rol ed onto my back and began pul ing against the confining straitjacket with al of my might. I’d had

enough strength to strain the metal of the table back in the lab. It should be easy to Hulk my way out of

a contraption of mere canvas and leather. Assuming, of course, it wasn’t bespel ed. Which it probably

was. But it wasn’t like I had a glut of options. So I struggled, and I pul ed, and succeeded in just about

pul ing my own arms from their sockets. But spel ed or not, the fabric was starting to give. I strained

harder. To hel with it. My shoulders would heal. I wanted, needed, this damned thing off.

As if from a distance I heard the crash of waves, the cal of gul s. And suddenly I knew. I had cal ed

power when I fel asleep at the office, had influenced Dr. Scott. And I could do it again . I concentrated

as I pul ed, thinking of Dr. Scott, of Gerry and every other male I knew who worked at Birchwoods. I

didn’t know what time it was, didn’t real y know what I was doing, but I had to try. Because here came

Dr. Greene, carrying a needle, her sensible heels clicking briskly against the linoleum.

I pul ed harder against the bindings, adrenaline roaring through my system, giving my senses the

hyperfocus they’d had the other morning. Her breathing, harsh and loud. And, fainter, in the distance,

but closing fast, running footsteps.

She lunged at me, syringe at the ready, but I was too quick for her. Moving with unnatural speed, I

rol ed, kicking at her knee with both feet. The blow connected hard, and with the extra strength behind it

her knee didn’t just give, it tore, the bone breaking through the skin with a spray of blood.

Screaming, she fel to the floor, her lower leg nearly severed. Blood was everywhere, the scent nearly

overpowering. She grabbed her leg, trying to apply pressure, but it wasn’t working.

My stomach growled, my eyes started to bleed red. I could see the needle, far from her reach. Hear

the sound of her racing pulse as she stared at me in horror and growing fear. My arms were free, the

straitjacket torn apart, but I couldn’t remember doing it. Couldn’t think past the roaring in my ears and

the hunger that had drool running from the corner of my mouth.

She tried to back away, shoving herself with her good leg, a trail of smudged blood shocking red

against the stark white linoleum.

I fought not to fol ow, fought every instinct with the one remaining shred of humanity left to me.

The door to the observation room slammed open. Gerry and Dr. Scott burst into the room, both

panting hard from exertion. They took in the scene on the other side of the window with a single

horrified glance.

“Thank God!” Greene shouted. “Save me. She’s gone feral!”

“Liar.” My voice sounded not the least bit human.

“Dr. Greene, please. Don’t antagonize her.” Dr. Scott’s voice was stil a little breathy, but calm, and I

could feel him using his talent to try to reach the part of me that was stil human, to soothe and calm

me. “Celia, you must stay calm. Vicki told me everything. The police are on the way here and to the

church. You’ve done nothing wrong, and we’l find proof of that. But you must hold on.”

I turned to look at him, the movement difficult and disjointed, as if my body were unwil ing to fol ow the

orders my brain was giving it. My skin was glowing.

“I’m going to send Gerry to get you some food, and then I’m coming in to treat Dr. Greene’s injury. I

can’t let her die. Can you let me do that?”

“Yes.” I forced the word through clenched jaws.

“Good. Now if you’l back up to the far corner, please.” He moved past Gerry, who was standing, pale

and shaking, in front of the door. He’d switched off the intercom before turning to leave, but with my