Blood Song (32 page)

I took a ragged breath, fighting to get myself under control. It took a couple of false starts before I could speak, forcing words past the hard lump that had formed in my throat. I kept my eyes closed, preserving the illusion of the Vicki I remembered. “Your mom loves you, Vicki. That’s why she tried to slap me. She thought I’d betrayed you, and them.”

“You wouldn’t.” Anger was seeping back into the voice, it was getting hollow, deeper.

“No. But she didn’t know that. She’s never
had
a woman friend. There’s no way she could understand.”

I heard movement, smelled a different, heavier scent, and knew Cassandra was there. She spoke to the ghost, her voice rough with emotion. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I was wrong, about her, about
everything.
I’d do anything to take it back, to fix things.”

“You can’t. I’m dead.”

Ouch.
Ghosts can’t lie, but that was cold, and harsh as hell.

I opened my eyes, staring at the man whose body she was using. “Vicki. She said she’s sorry, that she was wrong. What else can she do?” I felt the air go still around me. I was close, so close. If I said the right words, Vicki would let go, cross over, and be free. But she’d also be lost to me forever. It took more effort than was pretty for me to make myself say the words I uttered next, but sometimes you have to do the hard thing. “I love you, Vick, I do. And I don’t want you stuck here forever because you refuse to forgive her. You deserve better than that. You
are
better than that. You have to let it go.”

The ensuing silence was profound. I think we all were holding our breath, waiting. And then the bodyguard spoke again. “I’m not here because of
her,
Celie.” Just that. Then the air pressure in the room changed enough that my ears popped. And the hulking bodyguard I’d been talking to collapsed bonelessly to the floor.

Well, that
was certainly …” Dr. Greene struggled to find the right word. She eventually settled on, “interesting.”

I smiled a little wryly, and she smiled, too. It was a good, professional smile, showing straight teeth and general good humor, but without any particular meaning. I wasn’t surprised. She looked every inch a professional, from the tips of her sensible-but-stylish pumps to the no-nonsense-but-flattering cut of her short, dark hair. Her makeup was understated, her jewelry tasteful. Her suit was nice and fit well but was a mid-range gray, worn with a plain white blouse. Her whole appearance was meant to be professional, comforting, and non-threatening. Which, I supposed, made perfect sense.

We had adjourned to her office, leaving Dr. Scott to deal with Cassandra, Jason, and everyone else in the lobby. I was glad to be away from them. The whole scene had been too much. An emotional ambush. I closed my eyes, feeling exhausted and old. A part of me wanted to strangle my mother. This
had
to be her doing. She’d be more than happy to sell Jason and Cassandra out for whatever the tabloids would pay. And Gran certainly wouldn’t stop her. She might not even discourage her much. Gran didn’t approve of the way the Meadowses had treated their daughter and was big on humiliation as a teaching tool.

“Do you need something to eat or drink?”

“Water would be lovely,” I admitted. Actually, a pizza would be lovely, but it would only depress me more when I had to throw it up.

“I’ll be right back.”

I opened my eyes, taking a look around. It was a nice office: not as nice as Dr. Scott’s, but he was the head administrator. She was just one of the psychiatrists on staff. Still, the room was spacious, the walls painted a gentle robin’s egg blue with off-white trim. There was only one window, but it was a large one. Heavy satin drapes in a rich shade of royal blue matched both the upholstery of the chairs and the print in the plush Oriental rug beneath my feet. The furniture had a polished cherry finish that picked up the burgundy in the rug and the shade of the lamp on her uncluttered desk. A grouping of black-framed family photos were arranged on the credenza behind her seat, showing the doctor, two handsome children, and a huge Old English sheepdog in various combinations.

The doctor reappeared, carrying a crystal glass and a bottle of water. “Here you go.” She passed them to me before resuming her place in the chair behind her desk. “We can sit in the conversation area if you prefer,” she suggested as she reached over to set the timer on her BlackBerry for thirty minutes.

“No, this is fine. Where do you want to start?”

“Well, I suppose we should start with introductions. I’m Evelyn Greene.” She held out her hand for me to shake. I took it and answered, “Celia Graves.”

“It’s a pleasure.” She smiled again. “Do you know why Dr. Scott recommended me to Dr. Talbert?”

“Because you’re good?” I suggested.

“Yes, in general,” she answered without even a hint of false modesty. “But he could have suggested any of our therapists. He chose me for a specific reason.”

I felt my eyebrows raise. I knew she wanted me to ask, so I did. “Why?”

She watched me intently as she spoke, her expression guarded. “He was very disturbed by the fact that you were able to use vampire powers to manipulate him psychically to the point where he agreed to your ‘deal.’”

I felt my eyes go wide.
What the hell?
“I didn’t.”

She steepled her fingers. “Oh, you did. He did tell me he didn’t believe you did it
intentionally.
But in order to make sure nothing like that happens again, accidentally or otherwise, he asked me to work with you.”

I held back my irritation, keeping my expression as neutral as I could. I realized suddenly that she was one of those therapists who made you do all the work, never actually
telling
you anything, just leading you around by the nose until you got where they wanted you to go and drew the conclusions they wanted you to draw. A large part of me wanted to act dense, just to see how long it would be before she told me what she was getting at. But it could be years. And I was paying for this out of my own pocket. I
hate
wasting money.

“You’re a null?” I guessed.

This time her smile actually reached her eyes. “Yes.”

Well, that was kind of interesting. Before the bite I’d been plain vanilla human. I couldn’t use magic and didn’t have any psychic gifts. But magic and psychic stuff had worked on me. A true null was different, and much, much rarer. A psychic has a mental radio that plays in their head non-stop. In most people, that mental radio is turned off unless specifically turned on. Dr. Greene didn’t even
have
a radio. Magic didn’t work on nulls. Psychically they were unreachable. Clairvoyants couldn’t “see” them; telepaths couldn’t read or influence them. They can walk through magic power circles without anyone even knowing they are there. It was considered by most to be a rare birth defect, but I’d always thought that in work like mine it’d be damned handy. Vampires could use their physical strength on a null, but they couldn’t bespell one, would never be able to turn one. A null bitten by a werewolf might die, but they’d never turn furry.

“I wanted you to know, so that there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings between us.”

“Thank you.”

“Dr. Scott also wanted me to ask you to seriously reconsider becoming an inpatient for the next few weeks, until you’ve had a chance to determine the full extent of your physiological changes and adapt to them. What has happened to you is extremely traumatic physically as well as mentally and emotionally. It is dangerous for you—”

I interrupted her, “I know that. But right now I have things I have to do. In a few days—”

It was her turn to interrupt. “You may not have a few days. We are talking about your physical and mental survival. Surely whatever it is can wait.”

Her disapproving tone made it more of a statement, but I answered as if it had been a question. “No, it really can’t.” I sighed. “Other than the incident with Dr. Scott, I’ve been able to keep things under control.”

She opened her mouth, but I waved her to silence.

“I’m following his directions to the letter.” Well, maybe not exactly to the letter, but close. And it wasn’t easy, either. “But in the past few days I’ve had multiple attempts on my life. I can’t be stuck in one place where they can find me and get to me easily.”

“I assure you—”

I interrupted again. “They got to Vicki. They had to kill Louis to do it. But they got in, and they killed her. And you know it.
And
they got in through protections that were just as good at Vicki’s estate. They killed a sweet kid who just liked to clean pools, because he had a useful body part. No, thank you. I’m not going to be a sitting duck, and I’m not putting your patients and staff at risk.”

“I could force the issue.” She said it coolly.

“That would be a mistake,” I replied, just as coolly. Except I wasn’t cool. I was pissed. As I looked into her deep blue eyes it occurred to me that she was provoking me deliberately, trying to get me to lose it, so she’d have the excuse.
Bitch.
I kept calm and didn’t take the bait.

We sat in a silent battle of wills for long moments, neither of us willing to give an inch. Each tick of the wall clock fell into the silence, and the sound of the air conditioner kicking in was almost startlingly loud. I leaned forward, opening the water bottle, pouring the fluid into the glass. I sipped it quietly, comfortably, crossing my legs with deliberate casualness. I was not giving in to her bullshit. If this was her way of doing things, I was not going to be her patient much past the first meeting. Dr. Scott would just have to refer me to someone else. Of course the doctor might have to do my counseling while sitting inside a sacred circle.

“This is getting us nowhere,” she announced.

I couldn’t argue with that, so I didn’t. Instead, I raised my brows and took another sip of water, being ever so careful not to show any hint of pleasure at her being the one to break the silence.

“It’s going to be very difficult to make any progress if you refuse to cooperate.” She sounded a little waspish. Her professional demeanor was slipping just a tad.

“I am not refusing to cooperate. I am merely choosing outpatient treatment, which was an option offered to me.”

She let out an irritated little huff of air, her eyes narrowing. She glanced at the elegant gold watch on her wrist and shook her head. “We don’t have much time left.”

“Where do you want to start?” I asked.

“I suppose that would be up to you. Where do
you
think we should begin?”

I leaned back, thinking about it. There were so many possibilities. But the one that was top of my list at the moment had to do with the scene in the lobby.

“Let’s stick with tradition and start with my mother.” I’d intended it to sound more humorous than it came out.

“Your mother?”

“Have you talked to Dr. Talbert about my past?”

“I like to start fresh.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “What do you want to tell me about your mother?”

Wow.
Where to start? I mean, there was just so
much
and none of it particularly good. I didn’t even know if I loved her anymore. But I sure as hell didn’t
like
her.

I was still trying to come up with the right words when the bell rang, indicating the end of the session. Typical.

Dr. Greene picked up her BlackBerry with a sigh. “Why don’t we set you up for Monday at eleven fifteen? That will give you the weekend to decide how to begin.” She looked up, meeting my eyes directly, “Although I really feel I must try one more time to convince you that it would be in your best interest at this point to pursue inpatient treatment… .” She let the end of the sentence drag on hopefully. She needn’t have bothered. I shook my head no.

She let out a little sniff of displeasure but didn’t raise any further objection. “Fine. Monday at eleven fifteen.” She entered the appointment into her BlackBerry.

I was still thinking about my mother as I drove the Miata down the main highway back to the city. Traffic wasn’t good, which meant I wasn’t going to have time to stop and buy decent clothes. Not if I wanted to get some nourishment into me and arrive at the church before sundown.

Part of me wanted to throttle my mother for what she’d done. Oh, I didn’t have proof. But I knew. It was just so …
her.
Damn it anyway.

I knew I shouldn’t let it bother me. I mean, God knew it wasn’t the first time she’d betrayed me. I should be used to it and not expect any better from her. And yet there was that little part of me that just wouldn’t give up hope: hope that she’d change, dry out, become the mother I remembered from before.

Hurt and anger formed a hard knot in my throat that made it hard to swallow. “Grow up, Graves,” I told myself sternly as I took the Thirty-eighth Avenue exit that was the quickest route to Old Town. “She is what she is. She isn’t going to change.” And maybe she’d always been that way and I was just remembering her through rose-colored glasses. Maybe it had only been my father who kept her in any sort of check.

I went through a drive-through pharmacy and bought some more nutritient drinks and the liquid version of a popular multi-vitamin. I chugged two of the former and took a dose of the latter before I even left the parking lot. I was going to a church, my
gran’s
church, for sanctuary. I needed to make damned sure I wasn’t going to lose it when the sun went down.

I forced myself to pay close attention to where I was going. I didn’t want to get lost, not in this neighborhood. When my gramps had been alive, Old Town had been a working area. Very blue-collar. Back then, there were no gangs to speak of and the bats and monsters weren’t nearly the problem they were now. Things change.

Christ Our Savior Chapel is a little white clapboard and brick building in one of the more run-down sections of the Town. The parking lot is bare dirt, but there isn’t a spot of trash on it. The windows are clean and the wooden doors gleam with polish. The last time anyone tried to graffiti the place, Reverend Al caught him at it. With the approval of the kid’s mother, the good reverend set the kid to scrubbing the sanctuary floor—with a toothbrush—while Al read to him from the scriptures. My gran swears the kid still comes to services every Sunday and alternate Wednesday nights.