Blood Song (8 page)

I slid the photos back into the envelope and reached over to open the glove compartment. Normally I tuck my cell phone in there when I go out on a job. After all, no calls when you’re on duty.

It wasn’t there. I swore under my breath. If it wasn’t in the glove box, it had probably been in my pocket. Which meant it was gone—along with who knew what all else.

Since I put the file in the car, I must have gone to the job, and I would have been wearing my jacket and carrying my new gadget—both of which were valuable and neither of which I had any longer. Dammit!

I thought about what to do as the car engine did its best to blast cooler air through the vents. I reached back into the glove compartment and grabbed a bottle of suntan lotion. SPF 30 would have to do. I could already feel my skin reacting where it was exposed to patches of sunlight. The smell of coconut, aloe, and chemicals filled the car as I slathered thick white liquid on my exposed flesh, hoping what I was about to do wasn’t as stupid as I thought it was.

Pay phones aren’t easy to find in the cellular age. The days when Superman could pop into the nearest phone booth have been gone longer still. About the only place you can find a usable public phone is at the occasional convenience store, and even then it’s just as likely to be out of order.

Fortunately, I was on campus. I knew of at least three convenience stores that catered to students. Surely one of them would have a phone I could use. I left the parking lot with a particular 7-Eleven in mind.

The first store had a phone, but the cord had been severed. I struck pay dirt at the second shop. The phone was even in the shade. Yeah, there was graffiti on it, but the cords were all attached, it wasn’t covered with anything sticky or awful, and when I picked it up I got a dial tone. I dropped a pair of the coins I’d rummaged from the ashtray of my car into the slot and dialed Gran’s number from memory. I let it ring eight times. No answer. Since she didn’t have voice mail or an answering machine, I hung up.

But I have voice mail. Maybe she left a message. I dropped the coins back in the slot and dialed the number of my mailbox. Unfortunately, the recording told me the service was
presently unavailable
and suggested I call back later.

Well, that was a waste of money, but I’d definitely be checking back frequently. It might be the key to my own past.

After scrounging around between the seats, I found more change. I dropped another pair of coins in the slot, dialing a different number.

The phone rang exactly once before a businesslike female voice answered. “Police, Detective Alexander speaking.”

“Hey, Alex.” I greeted the woman on the other line with breezy familiarity that was only a little bit forced. I like Vicki’s lover. The three of us have had dinner a few times since they met, including, apparently, the birthday party. But I have to admit it’s been a little bit awkward. Maybe Alex and I are just too much alike—both hard cases with a sarcastic bent. Whatever the problem, things between us have always been just a little
strained
. Still, we both love Vicki to pieces. She’s my best friend and Alex’s lover, so we all pretend everything’s peachy.

“Graves. I just got the weirdest call about you.” Alex’s voice was gruff but not unfriendly. “A friend of mine from downstairs called, said there was a report of you getting bit by bats and being taken for medical treatment, but nobody could find you at any of the hospitals. Then, when they checked out the site of the supposed attack, there was no evidence of anything. The alley was clean. Which is just fucking weird.”

“Well, I was attacked. I was damned near killed—apparently some time after Vicki’s birthday. So there
should
be evidence if they look hard enough.”

“Are you all right?”

I thought about how to answer that for a few seconds. The cops didn’t like monsters. Would she consider me one? I hoped not. But what was the point in lying? First time she set eyes on me she’d know the truth. “Yes, and no. Ever heard of an abomination?”

“No. What’s that?” Her voice was tired, resigned, like she didn’t really want to know but knew she needed to.

I explained what had happened and as much of what it meant to me as Jones had had time to impart—not much, really.

“If that’s true, then the master that bit you is going to be after you—and you’re liable to wind up with bloodlust.”

“I’m not a monster, Alex. I’m not going to
be
a monster. I’m just a human in need of a good dentist.” My voice was cold, hard, and uncompromising.

“I hope you’re right.” Alex’s voice was as hard as mine had been, maybe more so. Then again, she’s a cop. “But let’s get this real clear right up front. If you ever show signs of slipping over that edge I’ll take you out. No hesitation. Vicki or no.”

She would. I knew it. In fact, I was counting on it. “If I slip over that edge, I want you to.”

There was a long moment of silence between us, each of us lost in thoughts that were best unshared. I didn’t want to think about bloodlust, the urge to look at my fellow humans as snack food, but I needed to. I needed to think about that and so many other things. But if I did, I was liable to lose it, and that could get me killed. So, I forced the fear and worry down hard, knowing even as I did that I’d pay for it. Denial is a great short-term coping mechanism. Long-term it’s pretty destructive, but hey, I just wanted to
get
to the long term.

I broke the silence before it got too uncomfortable. “Can you get me the address of the alley? I’m going to have to see if I can get a hunt sanctioned, then see if I can get any evidence and track the bastard down while it’s still daylight.”

“No, Celia. You don’t understand. And I’m not allowed to explain some of it to you. Suffice it to say that the alley your friend sent us to is
clean.
Someone even hauled away all the trash. The rest of the neighborhood’s a dive, but my friend swears you could eat off the pavement in that alley.”

“What the—” I blinked a few times with shock. “That’s just … bizarre.”

Her tone said she agreed. “Like I said, weird. Somebody went to a
lot
of trouble to get rid of the evidence of something—presumably your vampire attack. My friend would like to know why.”

“So would I.”

“They’re going to see if any of the shops in the area have video surveillance, but he’s not particularly hopeful, considering the neighborhood. Obviously, he’ll want to take your statement.”

“How soon do I need to be there?”

“Sooner is better than later. Go to the front desk and ask for Gibson. I’ll tell him to expect you.”

I sighed. I didn’t want to do this. But if I played nice with the cops, they were more likely to issue the warrant sanctioning my hunt and I might be able to keep my concealed-carry permit. If I didn’t agree to the questioning … well, paperwork can be lost, delayed, misfiled, all kinds of things. They wouldn’t do it to get me killed. In fact, they’d probably be hunting for the bastard who did this to me just as hard as I was. But they’d keep me out of it. I didn’t
want
out of it.

She laughed, but not like it was funny. “You sound so martyred. It won’t take that long. Besides, if you cooperate he may be willing to pass along what little information they’ve been able to gather. The master vampire that tried to turn you is going to try to either kill you or finish bringing you over. And someone went to a lot of trouble and expense covering this up. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

“Yeah. Wish I knew what I needed help
with
.” I said it for Alex’s benefit, but it was the truth. Vamps frequently run in packs, but they’re not
organized.
They don’t generally clean up their messes, either. Something big was going down and, lucky me, I’d stepped right in the middle of it.

“Look, you’re only about ten minutes away. Come straight over. I’ll meet you in the lobby and bring you up. Otherwise people are liable to freak when they see you.”

She wasn’t wrong. Just on the short trip to the car from the lab I’d noticed a couple of people doing a double take and hurrying away from me. Daylight or no, something about me scared them, even with me carrying Emma’s pretty floral umbrella.

Alex seemed to sense something in my silence. “Just get here. One step at a time.”

“Right. See you in a few.”

She hung up without saying good-bye, but then, she usually did. I set the handset back in its cradle and steeled myself to go inside. I wanted a replacement cell phone sooner than later. You can get a basic phone cheap and easy at pretty much any convenience store—such as the one I was standing in front of—and it only takes a couple of minutes to activate it and load up some minutes. Maybe I’d find my regular phone. If not, I could get it replaced for a small fee by the company that held my plan. But in the meantime, I needed something.

I took a deep breath, told myself that it was broad daylight. Everybody knew that bats were nocturnal. I’d be fine. I was still repeating it like a mantra when the clerk behind the counter let out an earsplitting shriek of abject terror, grabbed one of those huge multitank squirt guns, and began hosing me down with holy water.

It wasn’t how I would’ve wanted to test whether or not I could handle holy water, but hey, I got lucky. It didn’t burn. Nor did the cross she held up glow, burn, or react to me in any way. I was grateful for that. But it embarrassed the hell out of me, and made me just a little bit pissed. Because everybody in the store was staring and muttering to each other under their breath, even as the clerk apologized and handed me paper towels to dry my face and hair.

I practically threw the money onto the counter for the phone, the minutes, and a large blessed cross set with enough rhinestones to blind the unwary, and ran from the store.

Sitting in my car, I fought not to cry. Stupid, really. I was alive. The water hadn’t burned me, hadn’t hurt me at all. For a brief moment, I was relieved beyond measure.

But I could still see the expression on that woman’s face, the naked
fear
in her eyes, could see and hear the pulse pounding at her throat.

It made my mouth water.

I hate feeling helpless. Yeah, I know, pretty much everybody does. But I
hate
it. I’ve spent years in therapy, and more years doing just plain hard work, to gain as much control as I can over my life. I train my body, my mind. I run my own business so that no one can order me around. I make sure that each job is planned to the last detail, and that I have the absolute best equipment so that I can control everything as much as I can.

Her fear had made me
hungry.

How the
hell
was I supposed to cope with that?

I thought about calling in to my office, but I had to charge the phone first and then load the minutes. A black and white police cruiser pulled into the lot and I decided against using the pay phone again. Apparently the clerk didn’t like that I was still “lurking” outside. I said a couple of uncomplimentary things under my breath and started the engine. I even gave the cops a cheery little wave as I drove past. Bitchy? Possibly. But it made me feel just a teeny bit better. Today, I’d take every little bit that helped.

I’d stop by the office and check my messages after I finished talking to the police. I wouldn’t stay long. I was already tired, and I had lots of things to do if I was going to get ready to hunt my sire.

I was distracted enough that I almost missed my turn. I managed to get onto the Loop, but I had to cut across two lanes of traffic to do it. Traffic was lighter than usual, so I made good time. Normally I’d have slipped in a CD, but I turned on the radio instead. I was listening for the news. If I’d made it to the job and the prince had gone down, it’d be a headline story at the top of the hour. If he hadn’t, the politicos would probably sweep the whole thing under the carpet. Because while the press may love a scandal, royalty generally doesn’t, particularly when the folks back home are fundamentalists.

The news came on just as I was pulling into the multilevel parking garage that serviced the Santa Maria de Luna PD. Nothing about the prince. In fact, other than the unrest in Pakistan and the peace talks going on in the former Soviet satellite nations, there didn’t appear to be much going on at all.

I knew from past experience that if I parked in the garage attached to the police department I could take an elevator directly into the second-floor lobby of the building. No sunlight. Which, all things considered, was probably a good idea. Yes, if I had to, I could use the umbrella again, but I didn’t want to. Maybe it was denial, or just plain stubbornness, but hiding from the sun just felt … wrong.

The parking garage was dim and cool enough to be almost welcoming after the car’s heat. The soft sound of my sneakers was lost in the wail of a car alarm echoing off of the concrete.

Pressing the button for the elevator, I tried to shake off a growing sense of unease. This entire situation was just too strange. Nothing made sense. Emma would never believe it, but I’m actually a creature of order. I plan things practically to death, and then I double- and triple-check ’em. Because I want to control what I can. Invariably there are lots of things you
can’t
control—completely unpredictable things that force you to improvise and think on your feet. But if you’ve got a handle on the other stuff, you have a better chance of success in dealing with the random crap. At least that’s what I tell myself.

But in the words of my gran, this whole situation was “hinky” and “stank like week-old fish.”

The bell rang, and the elevator doors slid open with a gentle whoosh. I stepped over the metal threshold onto white speckled linoleum waxed to a high gloss. Air-conditioning hit my wet clothes, making me shudder. In the distance I could hear the soft rush of water over stone. I froze. Running water—a big vampire no-no. Was it going to be a problem? The holy water hadn’t been. I tried to think of a way of finding out without making a spectacle of myself and came up blank.

Screw it. Just suck it up, Graves.
Squaring my shoulders, I marched toward the lobby. The piped-in stream that fed the moat of magical water surrounding the holding cells was surprisingly pretty. Not only was the waterfall supposed to inspire peaceful feelings in the prisoners, but it also nullified any spells that might try to break people out.