Cat Adams - Blood Song

of another piñata being beaten to a pulp. Every half hour or so one would start to spin and dance in the

air. Vicki was choosing the victims and then someone would grab a stick and start to pound away.

I noticed Dawna sitting in the corner and started to go over to talk—but she saw me coming and got

up, hurrying off in the opposite direction. That hurt. A lot. I hate that she’s avoiding me. Bubba says she

feels guilty. Lilith got the information on where to find me from her. I don’t blame her. Nobody could

stand up to that level of mental manipulation. Hel , I’m just grateful she’s stil alive.

I glanced over at the corner of the bar. Seems the good doctor is quite a darts player—if the grin and

the green pieces of paper crossing his palm were any indication. I made a decision and headed that

way, with a wave of my hand to tel Bruno I was going to be another minute.

“Dr. Scott? Can I talk to you for a second?”

He clapped a man I didn’t know on the shoulder and nodded. He sat down at the only free table in the

place and looked me over careful y. “Is everything okay? The stress getting to you?”

I let out a harsh laugh. “I’m fine. After the past few days this is hardly what I’d cal stressful. But thanks

for asking. No.” I careful y pointed my thumb toward where Dawna was sitting at a different table

chatting with Emma. “See that woman over there? Her name is Dawna Long. She’s a friend of mine

and the receptionist at my office building. Remember I told you about the vampire, Lilith?” He nodded

and I took a deep breath. “Lilith tracked me down by attacking Dawna on her way out of the parking lot

at work. She didn’t kil her, but the bite and the psychic trauma have been devastating. I don’t know if

she’l ever be able to come back to the office. Is there any way you could talk to her a little? I know

you’re not real y here for business, but—”

His face grew concerned and he looked at her the same way he’d looked at me. Then he frowned.

“Actual y, business is exactly why I’m here. And you’re correct. She’s not dealing with things very wel .

Very close to suicidal, actual y. I appreciate your bringing it to my attention.”

Suicidal? Crap. I hadn’t realized it was that bad. I felt sick to my stomach and wanted to race over to

her to try to make it better. But the fact that she hadn’t already sought me out … no, it was best if this

was dealt with by a professional. “I don’t know if she has the money to afford you, though. We pay her

pretty wel , but you guys are sort of pricey.”

“I’m sure we can work something out.” He added, quickly, “Now, if you’l excuse me.” I looked across

the room. Dawna stood up, looking dejected, terrified, and nearly angry. Dr. Scott rose smoothly and

touched my hand. “We’l talk more later. Right now, I think I need to speak to your friend before she

does something she’l regret.”

I stared after them until I saw that he’d caught up with her and offered his arm with a kind smile. She

hesitated, then accepted, and they stepped outside into the cool night. I caught a glimpse of the

entrance that told me that the police department had added another two uniformed officers to the

contingent at the door. Probably not the best advertisement for the business, but I … or, rather, Vicki

was paying through the nose to rent the whole place for the night, so it was real y nobody’s business.

I slid back into my chair after a few dodges around the newest piñata to fal . “Did I miss anything?”

Emma and Bruno shook their heads, each lost in their own thoughts as another round of firecracker

mouth candy exploded in unison. This batch appeared to be glowing in the dark, because green and

pink sparkles began to fil the air as people walked around the room. I would rather not know what

ingredient would cause glowing sparkles, and I certainly didn’t want to put it in my mouth.

A little chirping sound caught my ear from my wristwatch. It was 1:00 A.M.—last cal . La Cocina had

always shut down in plenty of time for the 2:00 liquor cutoff. They do a first-last cal and a last-last cal ,

so that al cups were off the tables by 1:30. It was time for the toast.

I stood up and shouted over the laughing, yel ing crowd, “Hey! Hey, everybody. Listen up!”

Nobody responded.

After two more attempts with my stil -hoarse throat, Bruno stood up. He put his two baby fingers

between his lips and let out a blast of noise that stopped al sound in the place and caused the front

doors to open—revealing officers with guns drawn. Bruno ignored them and shouted, “Celia wants to

talk. It’s time for the toast.”

Everybody nodded and gathered round our table. I thought about going up onstage and getting the

microphone, but with everyone quiet, it should be fine.

“First, thank you al for—” I coughed, cleared my throat, and took another sip of margarita. “Thank

you al for coming. As you know, this is a triple wake. Some of you are here to offer fond farewel s to

Vicki Cooper, some for Bob Johnson, and some for Karl Gibson. They were al great people, and I was

proud to know them.”

There were a few “Hear, hear!” comments from the back of the crowd.

“We’re honored to have Vicki attend her own wake.” Confetti and cool air began to swirl around my

head and I smiled. “Few people ever get the chance to hear how people feel about them after they’re

dead. So, I’m going to open the floor to let you al tel her directly how you felt, how she made a

difference in your life, and why you’l miss her.”

A woman’s voice I didn’t recognize came from the farthest row of people. “You could always drink me

under the table, Vic! Only person to ever have done it! You rocked!”

General laughter erupted and then Larry Davers, an old friend from our freshman year, spoke up, his

voice serious and cracking with emotion. “You saved my life, Vicki, and I never thanked you. You

insisted I not ditch chemistry to go skiing because you saw that something bad was going to happen. I

was pissed that you kept fol owing me, pul ing my arm. I final y got mad when you threatened to turn me

in and went to class with you. And then the avalanche hit, on the very slope I was going to use, and

kil ed those rangers. I would have been out there, too. I would have died if you hadn’t made me listen.

Thank you … on behalf of myself, my wife, and the children I never would have had.” Confetti rained

down on him and he laughed through his tears as he pul ed a dark-haired woman close and kissed her.

More people started to talk, one on top of the other—tel ing stories of Vicki saving them, or setting

them up with the person they’d wind up marrying, or just hanging out and having fun. There was a little

piece of me that was surprised by how many people she’d affected. There’s always a part of you that

thinks you know your best friend better than anyone … and yet there were dozens of people here

whom I’d never known she knew.

A woman named Laura was just explaining how Vicki had saved her when the music started to play

again. We looked up to see if it was Vicki doing it, but instead, we saw a drop-dead gorgeous woman in

a slinky black dress pick up the microphone. She began to sing, and every person in the place turned

as one. It was the theme song from The Phantom of the Opera and she was not only singing on-key