Demon Song (Blood Singer #3)

Demon Song (Blood Singer #3) Page 15

After a long moment, he nodded. “I’ll be going down to the gate now, and I think there should be several armed officers with me, ma’am.”

Gwen let out a sound that was as close to a growl as a refined professional woman in charge of a large facility could allow herself. Then she turned to me in full sight and hearing of Jesse. “Celia, on behalf of the administration and the owners of Birchwoods, please accept my apology for that … serious breach of protocol. I assure you that guard will be terminated.”

The part of me that was insulted and hurt would be happy to have Gerry fired on the spot. But the other part of my brain made me let out a sigh. “You can’t stop people from being prejudiced. All you can do is make it painful for them to say out loud what they really believe. If you fire him, it’ll be all my fault and he’ll never rest until he puts me in a grave. I never did a thing to hurt Gerry and it really bugs me that being attacked and nearly killed has somehow made me his enemy. It sucks, Gwen; it really does.” That was an understatement. Gerry’s reaction brought home every emotion I’d bottled up since I was attacked. I was a vampire now. Evil. Undead.

Damn it.

Maybe she saw that when she stared into my eyes. I looked away first. “Go ahead and discipline him. Dock his pay or give him a tail chewing. But don’t fire him. Please. At least with a job he’ll be busy most of the day and won’t have as much free time to spend trying to shove a stake through my heart.”

“Damn. You’re nicer than me,” Jesse said. “I’d have knocked him on his ass and then got him fired.”

Gwen reached out and touched my shoulder. To my credit, I didn’t flinch. “Celia Graves, you have turned into an amazing young woman. You’ve taken a difficult situation and, while I might suggest avoiding physical confrontation in the future, have handled it with grace. I’ll take your advice and be very certain that Gerry knows it was only because of your plea for mercy that he still has a job.” Her eyes sparkled. There was a surprising amount of humor in her voice as she concluded, “That should keep him confused for quite a while.”

Jesse snorted. It was obvious he was on my side; I hoped he’d stay that way after he talked to Gerry. Jesse headed for the security office, probably to assemble the team he’d take down to the gate.

As Gwen and I walked down the quiet, carpeted hallway toward her office, I let out a deep breath. “So, now that I’m here, what did you need to see me about?”

“Let’s talk when we get to my office. For the moment, we’ll let our thoughts drift.”

Ah yes. I’d forgotten about the “thoughts drifting” thing. Gwen had always been big on the idea that solutions would come to us if we just allowed our minds to work, unhindered by emotion or intent. In a way, she was right. The twilight time between alertness and sleep was often when I got my best ideas or solved work problems that had confounded me for the whole day. There had been whole therapy sessions where we’d do nothing but stare at the walls, silent but touching hands or feet, to become “grounded and centered.”

I remembered one particular breakthrough that had happened during such a time. I’d been staring at a painting in Gwen’s office, a still life of a bottle next to a bowl of wax fruit. I’d blurted out a truth that still haunts me to this day: “Mom doesn’t even realize she’s hurting me, does she?”

Gwen’s response had been, “No, she doesn’t. How does that make you feel?”

I’d realized that just like Gran, I’d been enabling my mother’s behavior. I’d never told her that her drinking bothered me. I’d just stayed silently annoyed and resentful.

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.”