Blood Song (Blood Singer #1)

Blood Song (Blood Singer #1) Page 18

Gwendolyn Talbert had been one of the best therapists in the business until she retired two years ago due to health problems. She had specialized in trauma victims—particularly children. She saved my sanity and probably my life after the events that led to my sister’s death and my own torture. It was Gwen’s delicate use of magic that had blunted the memories of the trauma, making them bearable, enabling me to eventually have a normal, loving relationship with Bruno DeLuca. No, I hadn’t dated anyone since we broke up, but that was by choice, not because I wasn’t able to.

Now I needed help. I was hanging on to my sanity with my teeth and toenails, mostly by very deliberately not thinking about things. But that wouldn’t last. The shock would wear off, and when it did I was going to need a damned good therapist. I wanted it to be Gwen.

The phone rang three times before going to voice mail. Apparently this was not my day to reach anybody. I listened to the calm, feminine voice saying, “You have reached Gwendolyn Talbert. If you have called on a professional matter, I regret that I am no longer seeing patients. If this is a personal call, please leave your name and number after the tone.”

I waited for the beep. Taking a deep breath, I spoke as clearly and calmly as I could manage. “Gwen, it’s me … um, Celia Graves. Um, something’s happened. I need to talk to someone. I know you’re retired, but I don’t trust anyone else. If you can’t see me, can you at least give me a name? Somebody you trust? Please?”

God I sounded pathetic. Desperate. Then again, I was. I left the office number and hung up. I would have left the new cell number, if only I’d written it down somewhere to remember it.

While I was making useless calls, I left a message for El Jefe. I needed to find out everything I could about abominations and brush up on any successful techniques hunters had used to find the daytime lairs of master vampires. I wasn’t sure if he was back from Chicago, so I decided to start doing a little research on my own.

But first, I had one more call to make.

I had Dawna get me the number from the Internet. I hadn’t been sure she’d be home. Still, I recognized Vanessa’s voice when she picked up the phone on the third ring.

I tried to break it to her gently. I was rewarded by a stream of expletives screamed at top volume—loud enough that I had to move the receiver away from my ear the length of my arm. She followed this by blaming me for his death, then weeping hysterically and hanging up on me. Bob didn’t have any other living relatives, so I didn’t know who else to call. But it seemed wrong. He’d been a good man. Not perfect, but who is? He deserved to have somebody more than just me to mourn him. Maybe there was someone. I hadn’t realized they’d gotten divorced until the screaming voice in my ear informed me of it in no uncertain terms. Did he have a new girlfriend? I had no way of knowing. I sure as hell wasn’t going to call Vanessa again.

Maybe in a day or two, when things settled down, I’d put some effort into looking into it. But first, I wanted to take care of the crisis du jour.

I braced myself and sprinted from the curb to the front doors of the university library. Since most of the building’s front facade is glass, I wasn’t really safe until I’d gotten halfway down the stairs down to the basement.

I’d always considered it a nuisance that they’d put the paranormal section down there, all by itself, behind every known kind of protection. Now I wasn’t sorry. Being in the basement meant that I would be able to have a windowless study room to work in.

Halfway down the stairs I hit a magical barrier I couldn’t see and nearly lost my footing. I had to grab onto the handrail and steady myself for a minute before I could move forward. When I did it felt … odd … like I was forcing my way through a wall of Jell-O. Tiny sparks exploded against my skin. None of them were strong, but there were a lot of them. The sensation was similar to that of being in a room with too much static electricity. I couldn’t move backward at all and moving forward was slow. It didn’t get better until I stepped off of the staircase. When I did, the change in pressure made my ears pop and my nostrils twitch.

I recognized the staff member behind the reserved desk. Anna had been in charge of the Paranormal and Metaphysical Desk for over a decade. She’d helped me with research for many a project, and could recite where every book or artifact was from memory. A soft-spoken woman of “a certain age,” she had iron gray hair and warm brown eyes hidden behind thick-lensed glasses. I’d always admired her droll sense of humor, and knew she had enough mage talent to be able to handle any student-related accidents that might occur due to mishandling of the merchandise. I didn’t doubt that it was her spell I’d passed through a moment before.

“Stop right there.” Her voice rang with authority. She rose, leaning both hands on the counter. “You have no business coming here.”

Anger rose up in a wave. How dare she? “It’s full daylight, Anna.” I didn’t bother to keep the scorn from my voice. “I’m not a bat.”

“If you were a bat,” she answered coldly, “you wouldn’t have made it through the wards. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t dangerous. In fact, it makes you more so. Because you’re still human enough to pass through unhindered.”

I felt a surge of rage that sent the blood pounding through my veins. My vision narrowed, focusing on the pulse throbbing at the base of her stringy neck; the adrenaline-laced scent of her fear rose to my nostrils like the bouquet of a fine wine. I could almost taste—

I closed my eyes, shutting out the image of her pulse. Slowly, carefully, I fought to rein in my temper by controlling my breathing, panting through an open mouth so that the scents wouldn’t overwhelm me. It didn’t feel close to nightfall, but my brain was telling me, Time to go hunting.

I am not a vampire. I am not a fucking bat. I will not do this.

It took time. It wasn’t easy and it probably wasn’t pretty, but I fought down the beast within me. When I opened my eyes, I was myself again.

Silence dragged on for long moments as Anna stared at me. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and careful. It was the same tone you use to talk to people standing on a ledge, or wild animals you don’t want to spook. “I shouldn’t have threatened you, Celia. That was stupid. But you don’t belong here. You don’t belong anywhere in public. It isn’t safe. There are too many people. Too much temptation.”

Her expression was so serious, so pained, that I knew there was personal history behind her reaction. I knew I should care. But God help me, I didn’t. Not really. All I cared about was getting away from her and finding out what I could do to fix this. There had to be something. When it comes to metaphysics, there are very few absolutes. There’s almost always something you can do. It may be difficult to the point of being damned near impossible—but almost nothing was actually undoable, with enough power, time, and money.

“I need to know about abominations, Anna.” I said it quietly, and while I couldn’t quite manage not to lisp, I did my absolute best to stifle the part of me that wanted to rage at the injustice of the situation. “I need to know how to fix this.”

“You can’t.” Her whispered words were just a bare breath of air. Normally I wouldn’t have heard them.

I closed my eyes against her pain. I didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to know. I had enough problems of my own. “Please. I have to try.”

I heard her chair scrape back as she moved away from the desk. “I suppose you do.” The words shook, just a little. But from the sound of it, her fear was being overcome by a combination of sorrow and determination. “But you don’t have to do it here. And I will not allow you to endanger the other students and staff.”

“So, what? What do I do?”

“Go to your office. I’ve already scanned and e-mailed copies of everything we’ve got to Dr. Reynolds, Professor Landingham, and a police detective.” Duh. Why was I surprised that everyone had the same idea? “I’ll send the documents to your student account. You can print out whatever you need. Now go!”

I felt the air between us harden into a solid wall of force. Slowly, inexorably, it began pushing me backward. It was actually kind of cool that she could do that. I was still annoyed. I could appreciate the technique without admiring the cause.

The drive back to the office didn’t take long, but by the time I got there the place was locked up tight. It was lunchtime, and Dawna had hung up one of those little clock face signs saying she’d be back at 1:00.

I let myself in, grabbed my messages and faxes, and climbed the stairs to the copy room on the second floor. My laptop was locked in the safe, but we’ve got an old desktop hooked up in the copy room for people to use in an emergency. It’s hooked directly to the big printer, so even if the network goes down, it’s still possible to print. I had no idea if Dawna had managed to get the computers fixed, but even if she hadn’t, I should be able to bring up Anna’s e-mail and print it. While I was at it, I plugged the new cell phone in to charge.

It didn’t take long to log on and find the right e-mail, but it took a while to print. There were a lot of pages. Good news for me. Maybe somewhere in there I’d find information to help me get through this. God I hoped so.

While I waited for the printer to finish, I started flipping through my messages. Kevin had called some more. Dawna had finally resorted to a sort of code—“K 29.” Twenty-nine? Wow. I’d try him again as soon as I got up to the office.

None of the other messages were earth-shattering: some work stuff, a call from Gibson asking if I was sure about the address I’d given him, and Dr. Reynolds saying I’d left in such a hurry that he hadn’t had a chance to give me my follow-up orders, so he’d be faxing them to my office.

I flipped pages until I got to his fax. His orders were handwritten and barely legible. I was exhausted. It wasn’t long before the words on the pages began blurring in front of my eyes. I didn’t intend to close them, had no intention of falling asleep. But there you go.