Cat Adams - Demon Song

“Well, I guess the best thing I can do now is find out everything I can about the horns.”

Dawna smiled slyly. “I bet I know where you’re going to go look.”

I returned her smile. Kill two birds with one stone. “Want to come along?”

She shrugged and laid her hand on the mouse. “Sure. I’ve got nothing better to do and I have some stuff I want to tell you. Just let me shut down.”

Yeah, I had stuff to tell her, too. I didn’t know whether to bring up the idea of living together yet. So far she’d been a trooper with the vampire thing, but she was always careful to stay behind glass or concrete or such. The last thing I wanted was to be a source of trauma to her.

Actually, that wasn’t true. The last thing I wanted was to be the source of her death.

12

I wasa little worried about getting into the campus library. Though I’d graduated, I was still officially a student—I took a class or two every semester to maintain my health insurance. Right now I was getting a D in ornamental gardening because I hadn’t been showing up for class and I’d missed the midterm exam. Well, my life had gotten just a little complicated. I think the only reason the instructor hadn’t failed me outright was because he was giving the class for the same reason I was taking it, so he was somewhat loathe to make me lose my benefits. But he did warn that I was going to have to spend some time with the design books and a hedge clipper after the winter break or he wasn’t going to be able to let me skate by anymore.

And while the vampire healing was holding up so far, I’d hate for something else to change in my life and leave me with no healing and no insurance.

But despite my status as a student, I might be kicked out of the library. I’d been eighty-sixed by Anna herself not long ago. She considered me a risk to the patrons. A normal vampire certainly would be, and she’d outed me as a bat the minute I was turned. That was one reason I’d brought Dawna along. She could get through the magical barriers to the basement level even if I couldn’t and could give Anna the address where she could find Kevin. But I was hoping Anna hadn’t increased the shielding.

Dawna obviously had had similar thoughts. As we drove toward the library she said, “Why don’t I go in first? I can take her the note and see if you can come in. Just drop me off and drive around in case we’re being followed. I’ll call you in a couple of minutes.”

While I didn’t like the thought I could never go back to the library—because it was one of my all-time favorite places—the discretion made sense. Maybe hooking Anna back up with Kevin and making sure he was safe would get me back on her good side.

“Sounds good. And hey, if you manage it, I’ll give you your Christmas present early. It’s really nice.” Actually, I had no choice but to give it to her early. The reservations were for the coming weekend.

She lifted her chin and looked coy. “Not as nice as the one I got you, I’ll bet.”

Oh-ho. A competition. “Think so? Can you top a luxury weekend at the Oceanview spa—including hair, nails, facials, and massages? You, me, and Emma and the pampering of our lives?”

She squealed in delight and bounced in her seat, looking the most excited she had in months. “Omigawd! That place is the best ! It got five stars from Resorts magazine. When is it for?”

I smiled. “This weekend. You hadn’t mentioned any plans.”

Her sparkling eyes got even happier. “That’s in the Napa Valley, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Right in the heart. Not sure why they called it Oceanview, but the pictures on the website are gorgeous.”

She started bouncing again. “Omigawd! It’s perfect. I think we’re both psychic or something … because look at your present!”

Dawna reached into her purse just as we reached the library’s parking lot. I found a spot under one of the big twin fluorescent lamps and light flooded the car. She passed me a gilt-edged envelope of heavy pressed linen. Pretty snazzy.

I opened it and removed three slips of cardboard with more gilt scrollwork and engraved lettering. I turned the shining letters into the light and … “Oh, no way! There is no fucking way I’m seeing this!” My jaw was well and truly dropped. Somehow she had managed the absolutely impossible. I was holding a personalized ticket to the event of the year. “How the hell did you get tickets to the release party?”

She smiled smugly and shook her head, refusing to answer.

California is wine country, so anytime a new wine shows up it’s news. About two years ago, twin sisters with no grape-growing background came in and set up shop. They took over a little private winery and planted all new vines. It was very hush-hush and nobody really gave them a chance of success. Everyone expected them to do some big-time begging for press. Surprisingly, they didn’t seek attention. They wouldn’t even give interviews to the major wine magazines. There was a lot of buzz that they’d been in negotiations with the state growers’ association and the EPA about whatever they were doing, and nearly every week some scandal sheet would claim to have the inside track on what sort of wine the sisters were making.

Then they started entering European wine competitions. The little California start-up took gold medals in both the red and white categories. But no one wrote or spoke about the wine itself—even the judges of the contests kept silent. A couple of French and Italian winemakers’ groups protested, as did a consortium of Australian companies, and the courts got involved. The sisters’ company insisted the court records be sealed because of trade secrets—and they were.

In the end the sisters gave up the medals, which ended the case with the nature of the wine still concealed. There was a full-blown riot in the press. Nobody in the public had tasted the wine. Nobody could find it. Nobody could beg, borrow, or steal it.

After all that, Saturday night was the big event—the official, very exclusive, public debut. The wine was named Witches’ Brew and everybody who was anybody was going to be there. Connoisseurs from all over the world had been offering up to six figures for a single ticket, if Internet reports could be believed. But there were none to be had. And each and every one of the few legitimate tickets—like the one in my now-shaking hand—was engraved with the name of the guest.

“Oh, before I forget.” Dawna took the ticket away from me, turned it over, and pulled a strip of cellophane from one corner. “You need to put your right thumb there and hold it for five seconds.”

Okay, I was curious. I did as she asked. I felt an odd sensation on my skin, a sort of tickle. When I picked up my thumb after a count of five there was a perfect impression of my fingerprint on the gold foil, as though it was engraved. “Biometrics?”

“Of a magical variety,” Dawna replied. “They really want to make sure nobody crashes the party. You can’t scan or photocopy the ticket. It comes up blank.”

Wow. This was just so … wow. “Who did you have to kill or screw to get your hands on these?”

“No killing, no screwing, and very sorry, but no telling.” She stuck out her tongue and unlocked her seat belt. “I’m off to get you lots of books. Enjoy staring at the pretty gold letters and thinking of what you’re going to wear.”

“Uh-huh.” I really couldn’t take my eyes off the ticket. I liked wine and I’d been following the story for two full years, ever since I saw the first little page 10 blurb in the Times. I had to taste that wine. I already had an order in with my local store for a bottle when one became available. Now I had the chance to drink a glass before nearly everyone else in the world. Wow.