Blood Song (Blood Singer #1)

Blood Song (Blood Singer #1) Page 41

“And in case I am a fool, and my sons are better liars than I believe them to be, I will also have with me skilled telepaths to read their thoughts as you arrive.”

Now that was more like it.

“In exchange for this, I will pay you the money that was promised when you thought you were guarding my son, and the amount your insurance would have paid for your injuries.” He gestured to the driver, who came to stand in front of us. The king stood in a single fluid movement, and I stood with him. “To ensure that you will be alive on Friday, I have taken some … additional precautions.”

On cue, the servant unzipped the front of the bag, revealing the bloody severed head of my sire.

Um, wow. Okay then.

And while he didn’t show it to me, I was betting the heart was in the second compartment. How they’d found him I had no idea. But it was him. No doubt about it. Wow. That went way beyond the pale as far as payment in advance.

I was more than mildly surprised that I hadn’t noticed when it happened. Shouldn’t I have had some sort of attack or felt pain or something?

I looked at the pleasant, debonair man standing calmly beside me. Everything he’d said had been excruciatingly polite, but I wasn’t being given a choice about this and I knew it. I could assist him willingly, or not. But I would assist him. Or it would be my head in the bowling bag.

I took a deep breath, and it came out in a sigh. I was incredibly tired of being corralled, but I would like this to be over. “I’ll be there.”

20

Dawn took its own sweet time coming but eventually arrived. When it did, I got into the rental sedan and drove my sire’s head to the nearest crematorium. It was one of the big chains, so the minute they saw the head they knew what had to be done. I was told it would be given priority treatment and that I could pick the ashes up anytime after two. The look the clerk gave me said that he’d probably like to shove me into the furnace after the bag. Fortunately, I was standing in a broad ray of sunlight, so he couldn’t quite decide what to make of me and just took the head and walked away.

That done, I drove back to the expensive hotel where Bruno had been staying.

There was no way I wanted to brave the lobby, what with the bloodstains and my vampy appearance, so I parked around back. Using his guest key card, I let myself in through one of the secondary entrances. I could have gone home. The gas company had made their repairs. But David had called and left a voice mail telling me how the intruder had gotten through our security. He’d killed our pool boy and taken his right hand. Exactly what had happened to Louis at Birchwoods. Home might not be safe, which made a nice, anonymous hotel room seem pretty damned attractive.

I trudged wearily up a set of concrete fire stairs until I reached the appropriate floor. Pushing open the door, I came face-to-face with a pair of men in almost identical navy suits with crisp white shirts and dark ties. Each also wore a barely perceptible little ear-radio and a gold cross and each discreetly held a single-shot pistol filled with holy water. They stood in front of the doorway looking stern and alert. Well, crap.

“Good morning, ma’am. We’re with hotel security. We’d like to ask you a few questions.” Of course they would. Who wouldn’t at this point? I smiled pleasantly. I’d seen the security cameras downstairs. I wasn’t surprised that security had spotted me. My appearance was somewhat … irregular. “Of course. My name is Celia Graves. I am Mr. DeLuca’s former fiancée and I’ve just gotten back from a police-sanctioned vampire hunt of the bat that tried to turn me dead. Mr. DeLuca and his brother, Father Matteo DeLuca, will verify it. I’ll be perfectly happy to wait here in the hall while you check with the police.”

The larger man grimaced at the thought of us standing here, in the hall, in full sight of any guests who might pass by. But I was too paranoid right then to go anywhere with someone I didn’t know. Hell, I was having a hard enough time with people I already knew.

Yes, they looked like hotel security, but no, I wasn’t taking any chances. Besides, the odds of anyone actually being up and wandering the halls at this time of day were minimal. So long as we stayed quiet and didn’t wake anyone, everything should be just ducky.

The shorter man reached to the small black box affixed to his belt and began speaking very quietly to the dispatcher downstairs. It only took a few minutes for someone to call the police, confirm my story, and get a detailed description of my appearance.

“A sanctioned vampire hunt, huh?” The big man looked down at me with some surprise. Apparently he wasn’t used to the idea of women being hunters. It also isn’t easy to get the authorities to give you the nod. They’re jaded about that sort of thing. I suppose it comes from all of the idiots and teenagers who go out and get drunk, then think they can take on the bats.

“Looks like you got him.” His voice was low and respectful as he gestured at my bloodstained jeans.

“Got one, anyway.”

“There was more than one?” The shorter man sounded surprised. Obviously he’d never had to deal with vampires. His partner, however, was more savvy.

“Aren’t there always?” The big guy shook his head sadly. “It’s why I stopped hunting. If you don’t get them all the first time, it just pisses the survivors off. You do not want to deal with a pissed-off bat.”

“Think they’ll be coming here?” The boy sounded both nervous and eager. He was so damned young. Or maybe I was just getting old. There’s more to age than chronology.

The big man shook his head. “It’s daylight, John. The bats are all dead in their coffins for now. But we’ll call Maintenance, have the wards upped just in case.” He glanced down at the pale tan carpet that was now stained with a trail of drying blood in the shape of my shoes. Oops. “And Housekeeping. They’ll want to get the carpet cleaned before the rest of the guests get up and moving.”

He gave me a curt nod as I slid the plastic room key into its slot. “Good luck, Ms. Graves.” His expression grew very serious. “I hope you get the rest of them before they get you.”

“Thanks. So do I.”

I tried not to think too hard about his words as I stepped into the room and immediately slapped the DO NOT DISTURB sign onto the doorknob. That done, I ducked into the bathroom and stripped off my clothing. I didn’t want to think. I wanted a hot shower, a stiff drink, and sleep. Oh, God, how I wanted sleep. Yes, I was worried about Matteo and Bruno, but my body was on the verge of collapse. Only sheer stubbornness and fear of what might jump me unawares was keeping me upright. I needed rest; I was practically useless. But I was afraid of what might happen if I gave in and closed my eyes. I stepped into the shower. The clothes were trashed. I had no idea what I was going to wear when I left this room, but I’d worry about that later. Right now I was cold and shaky from exhaustion and nerves. No big surprise. I’m one of those folks who do great during the crisis, then fall apart afterward, when the adrenaline drains off. I’d managed to hold it together long enough to get behind a locked door, but I was done. Stick a fork in me, not only done but also burned to a crackly, crunchy done. I turned the shower on full blast, hot as I could stand it on full-body massage, and stepped in, letting the water sluice over me in torrents, washing away blood, sweat, and, yes, tears.

I don’t know how long I was in there. Long enough that my skin turned wrinkly. My water heater at home would’ve given out from the strain. But when I stepped out and dried off I felt better. Not good. That would’ve been expecting too much. But definitely better. I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped into the dim confines of the main room.

I sank onto the edge of the bed and grabbed the telephone. Hitting the button for an outside line, I dialed Bruno’s cell number. It was answered on the first ring.

“’Lo.”

“Bruno?” It didn’t sound like Bruno. The voice was too low, with a basso rumble to it that seemed vaguely familiar but that I couldn’t quite place.

“Who is this?”

“Celia.”

“Ah, Graves. I shoulda known. Hang on a sec. Sal wants to talk to ya.”

Sal—as in Uncle Sal. Oh, crap. I’d been talking to Bruno’s cousin, Little Joey. No wonder the voice had sounded familiar. I’d only met him once, but he’s the kind of guy who leaves an indelible impression.

A smooth baritone came onto the line. His voice was pleasant and cultured. Almost exactly like King Dahlmar. A part of me was absolutely positive Uncle Sal would sound pleasant and cultured ordering someone to break your kneecaps. Not that he would ever do such a terrible, wicked thing. The Italian Mafia was an invention of the media. Total fabrication.

Right.

Still, whatever else you may say or believe about him, Uncle Sal never loses his cool. “Hello, Celia.”

“Hello, Mr. DeGarmo.”

“I assume you called to check on my nephews?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Matteo came through the surgery just fine. He’s stable. The next few hours will make all the difference.” He paused, and I waited, twitchy with nerves, for him to continue.

“They’d drugged him pretty heavy, but he woke up about a half hour before dawn. Said she was calling him. Even drugged and on holy ground, he could hear her. He says her name is Lilith.”

Oh, shit. She had enough control of his mind to introduce herself? That was so not good.

“But he didn’t try to go. Said he could hear her, but he didn’t feel a pull, even though he remembered getting bit.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding in a rush.

“Bruno tells me it was you who thought to look for the bite and clean it with holy water?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That was smart.” He paused, like he wasn’t really surprised. “Thank you.”

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. I mean, I would’ve done it for anybody. But he was thanking me, and I had to say something. “You’re welcome. It wasn’t a big deal.”