Cat Adams - Blood Song

opposite side to land in a heap. I grunted and missed one of the words being chanted. I opened my

mind to them and felt the words come again—whether by spel or some sort of psychic attachment. My

voice was deeper this time when I chanted, a solid alto.

Again the demon attacked and this time I felt searing pain in my cheek as a claw slipped through a

break in the circle. The wound began to smoke and burn, as though my skin was on fire. Even the

vampire part of me was having a hard time healing a demonic attack. The scent of frying flesh made

my stomach roil and my eyes water. He started to hammer at the weak point with a force that could

probably shatter brick. I pressed myself as tight against the far side as I could, hoping against hope

that this was not a long spel .

I saw a circle of figures began to converge on us across the parking lot. Al of them were chanting the

same words I was using. Each carried a symbol of their faith that shone with a blindingly pure white light

that hurt the eyes. Crosses and stars and crescents and bel s, al glowing brighter with each word.

The demon threw back his head, letting out a harsh bel ow of pain and frustration that was both sound

and more—the power of it washed over me and slammed into the vehicles around us, rocking them on

their wheels, shattering windows, and setting off alarms.

The demon let out a scream that caused fire to spray in a wide arc. The priests scattered, their

concentration broken by the nearly sentient hel fire that began to chase them across the pavement. He

screamed again and I found myself racing around the inside of the barrier, trying to escape the tiny line

of fire that chased me, putting out the flaming bits of brimstone that were landing on my hair and

clothing. Who knew demons could breathe fire? Either that never came up in class or I played hooky

that day. Either way, I was getting an education. I hoped I’d live to share it with El Jefe.

I kept chanting as the demon laughed and began to hammer again at the opening, which was now

large enough to fit his muscular arm through. I was running out of options and the spel didn’t seem to

be working. Soon al I could do was curl up in a fetal position at the very bottom of the barrier, doing my

best to protect Kristoff’s unconscious form, just out of reach of claws that crept closer with each

second that passed. I snapped my jaw at the demon when I could between words. My fangs seemed

longer than I remembered and actual y made him pause. He wasn’t sure what to make of me—but that

didn’t mean he wasn’t going to kil me.

I was so tired. My voice was getting hoarse, cracking over some of the stranger Latin words. The fire

was growing, too, licking at my clothing and skin. If I didn’t pass out from pain, I was going to lose my

voice. His arm was ful y inside now, reaching … pressing … grasping. He caught my hair and yanked

me toward the hole. I screamed the next word, knowing it was going to be my last.

“Amen!” The word startled both of us. The demon’s eyes went wide and he froze—his hand clutched

around my throat. There was a sudden change in pressure inside the circle … a nauseating,

disorienting sucking sensation. My ears popped painful y, and I had to close my eyes to keep my

balance. I threw up. The claws burning into my neck spasmed and then the demon screamed again. It

was a sound I’d hear in my nightmares, worse than the screams of my sister as she died, worse than

anything I’d ever heard. It seemed to last forever, but it was probably only a moment. When it ended, I

opened my eyes.

The demon was gone.

Unfortunately, his claws, with no hand attached, were stil embedded in my neck and were stil on fire.

I final y was able to scream with al the agony I’d been ignoring. As I gathered what might be my last

breath, I spotted the others running my way, Kevin and Bruno battling for the lead.

That was the last sight I remember.

28

I can’t believe they let you out of the hospital to come to a wake.” Bruno shook his head and handed

me a frozen margarita. I licked some of the salt off the wide rim to blend with the sweet, powerful drink

as it slipped down my throat.

“Wel , I was nearly healed anyway, and they had to let me out tomorrow by court order. I have to

report to Birchwoods.” The authorities have no sense of humor. They tried to prove telepathic

manipulation in connection with my release prior to the bal game. On Roberto’s advice I agreed to take

a battery of tests, al of which I failed spectacularly. I’m not a telepath. I’m a siren. But they didn’t ask

that specific question, and my attorney felt no need to offer the information. Said it “wasn’t pertinent.”

“You should have appealed,” Emma added. “You know the law school faculty would have helped you

fight it. You’re admittedly a little nuts, but a dangerous animal ? Just because of the abomination thing?

”

I shook my head and took another sip of drink before answering. “There were a lot of witnesses to

the Birchwoods incident. But they couldn’t push too hard. Not after somebody leaked it to the press.

Besides, there must have been twenty ordained priests, pastors, rabbis, and monks lined up to testify

at the hearing that I was fighting the demon, not helping him.” Stil , it was touch-and-go, and I’d been

forced into agreeing to an inpatient stay until the extent of my disability is known.

Bruno nodded at Emma. “The Feds pushed to put her in a state facility.”

That made me spit out a harsh laugh. “Fat chance. I can afford Birchwoods. Sixty days, with day

passes for Vicki’s and Gibson’s funerals, and I get to stay in Vicki’s old room that looks out over the

ocean. I can do that.” I hadn’t asked for the view, Dr. Scott had insisted. Partial y because of my siren

blood, no doubt. But also I think as an apology. After al , he’s the one who’d pushed for Dr. Greene to

be my therapist.

They laughed just as another poor soul stepped up onstage to assault our ears with bad karaoke.

This time it was Alex, which made me smile. She began to sing “Wind Beneath My Wings” and the air

chil ed again and confetti began to spin and rain down on the hardwood floor. It was nice that Vicki had

decided to attend her own wake.

Her parents weren’t too happy with this particular aspect of her last wishes. I think they’d expected a

more somber affair, a tasteful memorial service that the press could attend, rather than a wild wake at

La Cocina y Cantina, with cheesy sombreros and piñatas for decorations. The piñatas were fil ed with

both confetti and little pouches of Pop Rocks—Vicki’s favorite guilty pleasure when she got drunk. The

place sounded like there were firecrackers going off after we broke open the first papier-mâché burro,

and the cops had come in more than once, only to leave with annoyed shakes of their heads when they

saw the cause of the commotion. The police are my special escort . The court deemed me a security

risk because too many people felt I shouldn’t be committed. The judge was afraid someone would slip

me out of the country before the hearing. Since I report for my confinement tomorrow, the judge

insisted on guards at the door of the wake and Dr. Scott attending to be sure I wasn’t endangering

anyone. He seemed to be having an okay time—if the pickup game of darts in the corner with El Jefe