Cat Adams - Demon Song

So I’d decided it was time to tell her.

Bad move. That was the part that still haunted me. It had been another breakthrough … of sorts.

A small part of me had hoped that once she knew, she’d turn away from the booze. I’d expected her to pick me over the bottle. She hadn’t. It had merely ramped up the tension, because we’d both been deluding ourselves about the other. She’d apparently thought I didn’t mind her getting drunk. Once she knew otherwise, my disapproval became an embarrassment to her and she tried to hide her drinking from me. It put another wedge of distance between us that had yet to be removed.

Those were my happy thoughts as we reached Gwen’s office. I was surprised at the changes to the place. The room’s colors were the same—light sandy brown, plus muted blues and greens. But she’d moved the desk closer to the door and rearranged the furniture so it seemed more … relaxed. The pictures were different, too. Just as tasteful and expensive, but different.

She walked around to the other side of the desk and sat down in the chair that had once been Dr. Scott’s. He was a big man, so when Gwen sat down she looked a little like a child playing in her parent’s office. “Thank you for coming. I apologize once again for the way you were greeted.”

I leaned back in my seat, tipped my head, and raised my shoulders slightly. “There’s no need. I’ve heard worse and probably will again. I’d rather focus on which one of my friends is in trouble. You know I don’t use that word lightly, so I presume you didn’t, either.”

“No, you’re correct. I’m very careful with my words with you. I said a friend of yours and I meant it.” She leaned forward and rested her arms on the desk with an expression of total earnestness. “I received a call a few days ago from a colleague who expressed a concern about his patient. He knew that I once treated you and he wanted some insight into what he perceived as a threat to her healing.”

The only two friends I had in therapy were Dawna and Emma. A threat to their healing was a big deal. “Who is it?”

She grimaced slightly. Clearly she was reluctant to tell me.

“How can I help if I don’t know who it is, Gwen?”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “You’re right, of course. The patient is Dawna. According to her doctor, she’s actually doing quite well. She’s able to drive alone and walk to her car without an escort.”

That made me happy. Lilith had grabbed Dawna on her way to her car, so no doubt that was a huge trigger to a panic attack. “Great! I’m so glad for her. But what’s the problem?”

“Unfortunately, she was alone in her house when you killed Lilith. She was still bound to her and felt her die.”

Oh, fuck a duck. “I knew she’d been tortured. You mean she’d become Lilith’s servant ?” My head started reeling when Gwen nodded. The master/servant relationship was a strong one. Breaking it by killing the master, rather than cleansing the servant, could have long-term repercussions. I couldn’t even imagine what it might have been like for Dawna to go through that with no priests nearby and no one to comfort her.

Now I felt like a total heel. No wonder she’d been suicidal. It had never even occurred to me to ask if she’d been bitten. Of course, I hadn’t even known Lilith had attacked her until after, but still, I could have asked .

“Crap. I don’t know how to fix that. What does her doctor say?”

Gwen took a deep breath and let it out slow. Her French-manicured nails started lightly tapping on the desk. “He doesn’t think she should live alone right now. It’s when she’s alone that the fear sets in. But she’s still not trusting enough to even start looking for a roommate. He thinks she needs to live with someone she already trusts—and someone who is not a direct family member.”

Yeah. I totally understood that. Dawna loves her family desperately, but they’re major control freaks. They want to have input into every aspect of her life—from the clothing she buys to the food on her plate. Every decision should be a family decision. They had driven my very independent-minded best friend right out the door.

Gwen’s voice cut into my thoughts: “Perhaps she needs to live with someone like … you.”

Me? “You just told me I killed her master. How would that possibly make living with me a good choice?”

Gwen smiled softly. “You freed her from her master. There’s a vast difference, Celia. Apparently, she told her therapist that you are the one person in the world she truly trusts; that’s why she came back to work at the office before the doctor felt she was ready. Dr. Dewer was only concerned that moving in with her might harm your own therapy or, worse, lead to a codependent relationship where, in her mind, you would take the place of the master she lost.”

Both were very valid concerns. “I honestly don’t know what to say. I mean, sure, it would be fun to live with Dawna in the short term. But we get along well because we don’t spend every waking moment together. I can’t tell you what would happen if we did.” I gave her a wry smile. “I don’t have a very good track record of making relationships work, if you remember.”

We both chuckled, though my laugh was a little nervous. It was true and she knew it. “Well, despite your family and love life, you have a solid group of friends. You’re loyal, encouraging, and, from all reports, fun. Why don’t you try a small experiment instead of leaping in with both feet? Go on a ‘girls’ retreat,’ where you and Dawna stay in the same hotel room, maybe for a long weekend. You need a break yourself. Don’t think I didn’t notice you have surgical gauze on your shoulder.”

Oops. “About that…”

She waved it away with a hand. “I don’t need to know. If it was important, you would have mentioned it, and it obviously didn’t affect your movements at the gate. But be honest, Celia, with me and with yourself. When is the last time you had an actual vacation ? Not something for work or your family, just a regular vacation?”

One of the things I like best about being a bodyguard is the chance to visit new places and attend special events. Even though I’m working, guarding the client, I can listen to the music and meet interesting people. But when she put it like that— “Probably when Bruno took me home to meet his family. We stayed in a hotel in Manhattan and spent two days seeing the sights.”

Her face showed real surprise. “That was several years ago.”

I shrugged. “I like to work.”

She raised her brows at me. “Some time off would do you, as well as Dawna, a world of good.” Then her head tilted and the last rays of sunlight caught me in the eyes.

I could feel the world slipping into shadows. My first sunset after I turned had been spent in this room and it hadn’t been fun. Now I was more in control, but I could still feel my muscles preparing, gearing themselves up to chase down prey. But my human brain refused to obey. I realized then that her lips were moving, but I wasn’t hearing any sound. “Give me that last sentence again please? The sunset got to me for a second.” My voice had become more harsh, with a light growl on the ends of the words.

“I asked whether the sunset was bothering you and if you’d like to move to a different room.”

Oh.

“No. It doesn’t matter whether I can actually see the sun set. I feel it in my bones, in my blood. See, this is part of the problem, Gwen. There’s no way to take a vacation when if I relax my guard for even a second I turn into a predator. And the last few weeks have just been one crisis after another.” I didn’t go into details. She wasn’t my therapist. She’d made that clear. I respected that and refused to dump on her—to put her in a situation where she would have to either treat me or stress about not treating me.