The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song) Read online

The others finished dressing long

  before I did; of course, none of them had

  to arm themselves. Most of the

  weaponry I was carrying, including the

  holster with my 1911 Colt, was

  concealed by the spells put on my

  tailored black blazer. Even with the

  armament, you couldn’t have faulted my

  fashion statement. I wore a red silk shell

  and new black jeans under the jacket; the

  Colt’s black leather holster perfectly

  matched my short black boots, one of

  which had a built-in holster for my

  derringer.

  When I was finally ready, Queen

  Lopaka and her security detail led the

  bride and her bridesmaids out of the

  store, leaving the attendant spluttering in

  our wake. A black stretch limo pulled up

  to the curb as we flowed out of the

  building.

  Adriana and I were the last to exit the

  shop, and I stopped abruptly when my

  boots hit the sidewalk. Something was

  wrong. I couldn’t have said what exactly

  was bothering me, but it didn’t matter.

  “Down!

  Everybody

  down!”

  I

  screamed, swinging my arm out and

  snagging Adriana around the waist. I

  shoved her behind me, almost throwing

  her to the pavement, as I put myself

  between her and the roadway.

  For a fraction of an instant, time

  seemed to slow drastically. More guards

  appeared, seeming to hover in midair as

  the queen’s eyes went wide. The back

  windows of the limo rolled down. Rifle

  barrels appeared. Natasha and Olga

  froze as members of the security team

  reached for them. The bridesmaids

  looked like deer caught in the headlights

  of an oncoming car—stunned and blank.

  Guns roared. Men and women screamed,

  glass shattered, and car doors slammed.

  I got all this in fragments; I was busy

  trying to wrestle Adriana into the limited

  safety of the bridal shop when what she

  wanted was to rush to her mother’s side.

  I heard an engine roar and a squeal of

  tires as a second limo tore off into

  traffic. In the silence that fell I realized

  that Lopaka, Natasha, and Olga had been

  driven away, leaving me and my cousin

  alone with the gunmen. It’s not the way I

  would have done it, but I suppose it

  made sense—I was a bodyguard, and

  Adriana was my responsibility. It was

  actually sort of flattering that the Siren

  Secret Service presumed I’d get her to

  safety.

  I tried to get her to calm down, saying,

  “They’re fine. I don’t smell blood

  behind me.” But Adriana kept struggling

  with me. I suspected she didn’t believe

  me—and she was right not to, because I

  was lying.

  Finally I lost all patience and just

  slugged her in the jaw, then picked her

  up bodily and dragged her into the store.

  More gunshots sounded as the guards

  fought the gunmen.

  Lopaka’s voice rang in my mind,

  telling me to do what I was already

  doing. Celia, get her out of there. Keep

  her safe.

  I kept my body between Adriana and

  any open space. The two remaining

  bodyguards seemed to be giving me

  some cover with their Kevlar-covered

  bodies. We passed the bloody form of

  the dying bridal consultant, her body

  riddled with bullets and shards of glass.

  My cousin began to come back to her

  senses, which meant she was no longer

  dead weight, but it was still hard to

  move her. “Damn it, Adriana, come on. ”

  I was shouting, but since my ears were

  ringing from the gunfire, I assumed

  Adriana was similarly affected. I didn’t

  remember pulling a weapon, but there

  was a gun in my left hand. I dragged her

  past a pair of circular racks filled with a

  rainbow selection of floor-length gowns,

  toward the back door.

  Then I saw movement and ducked,

  pulling her down with me, gesturing for

  her to hide in the dress racks and to stay

  absolutely silent. It was a bridal shop,

  so nearly all of the racks had floor-

  length

  gowns.

  Peeking

  around

  a

  gorgeous, slinky red silk I couldn’t wear

  on my best day, I saw a pair of men in

  business suits moving quickly but nearly

  silently through the store, guns in hand.

  That must mean the two guards outside

  hadn’t survived. Damn it.

  The first covered the second, who

  pushed back the door of each dressing

  room in turn. The way they moved told

  me there were wearing bulletproof vests

  under their dress shirts. They switched

  positions for the second rank of changing

  rooms. They were definitely pros.

  Adriana stayed silent, but only to

  those with no telepathy. In my head, she

  was terrified, indignant, and angry. You

  expect me to hide ?

  Hell, yes. You’re the one they’re

  after and you’re unarmed. Let me do

  my damned job. Stress always made my

  telepathy work better and I knew

  Adriana could hear me clearly.

  Fine. But give me one of your guns.

  I risked a glance at her. What? Are

  you nuts?

  My cousin gave me a scathing look. I

  know how to shoot. And if something

  happens to you, I’d like to at least be

  able to defend myself.

  She had a good point and I didn’t have

  time to argue. I handed her the derringer

  from my boot and slithered as quietly as

  I could to the next rack.

  They’d reached the last dressing room

  and found it empty. Scowling, they

  started scanning the store. They knew we

  had to be in here. But they didn’t see us

  and they were running out of time. Police

  sirens wailed in the distance, closing

  fast. If the attackers didn’t go soon,

  there’d be no chance of escape.

  They split up, each moving down an

  aisle of racks. I shifted position, getting

  ready. Switching off the safety, I braced

  my gun hand and waited until the first

  man leaned down to check under the

  counter. Then I stood. It only took a

  second, but I felt like I had all the time in

  the world. The second guy turned at my

  movement, his gun pointed straight at

  me. But he hesitated for just a fraction of

  a second. I didn’t. I fired three rapid

  shots into the central mass of number

  two’s neck before diving under a

  clothing rack, rolling as fast as I could

  through the tangling fabric. Even if the

  bad guys always seem to wear vests,

  they nearly always forget to protect their

  necks. A head or neck
shot will kill you

  just as dead.

  Number one fired at where he

  assumed I must be. Close, no cigar. I felt

  the sting of splintering white oak

  flooring entering my flesh through my

  jeans, but the bullets themselves missed.

  The police sirens were close now.

  Swearing, the assassin bolted out the

  back door. I heard the roar of an engine

  and the squeal of tires, and he was gone.

  I bolted out from under the rack and

  started to give CPR to Thug Two. I

  would be damned if he was going to die

  before he told me why they wanted

  Adriana dead. My cousin joined me a

  moment later, just before the police

  edged in cautiously, weapons drawn. I

  would have done just the same,

  considering the dead bodies and blood

  everywhere. They found me keeping the

  guy’s heart beating—a bit of a losing

  battle because Adriana was having a

  hard time keeping his blood in his

  carotid artery. I hadn’t meant to sever it,

  but there you go. Adriana and I had tried

  to save him, and I knew the EMTs

  who’d come with the cops would do

  their best, but the odds weren’t good.

  11

  “One more time, if you would, Ms.

  Graves. I understand that you called out

  as the car was pulling up to the curb and

  shoved your cousin behind you. No one

  else had noticed anything wrong with the

  limo. How did you know there was a

  problem?”

  I sighed and tried to stay calm. It had

  been a very long, stressful day. I needed

  to eat. I’d been at the police station for a

  number of hours by now and, while I can

  go longer between feedings than I used

  to, my control isn’t perfect by a long

  shot. Especially when I’ve been busy

  trying to save lives.

  My stomach growled impatiently. I

  tried to ignore it, forced myself not to

  look at the pulse beating so temptingly in

  the detective’s throat.

  Deep breath. The man’s just doing

  his job. Stay calm. “Most of the others

  were probably at bad angles, and the

  windows were tinted. Adriana and I

  were the last to leave the store, so we

  had a different point of view, through the

  windshield.”

  “Ah. And what did you see that tipped

  you off?”

  I’d had time to think about it and had

  finally realized what had been bugging

  me. “It wasn’t the same driver we’d had

  earlier in the morning. The first guy’s

  hair was really short; the second guy’s

  hair brushed his ears and collar. It also

  seemed to me that the car was moving

  too fast. I mean, yeah, the driver

  might’ve been the kind to slam on the

  brakes at the curb, but most pros aren’t

  like that, especially when they’re driving

  royalty.”

  “Detective Rawlins,” my attorney,

  Roberto Santos, said in his honey-

  smooth voice, “my client has been

  extremely cooperative. She has given a

  full statement.” He was sitting next to

  me, which was the usual for me when I

  was being interviewed by the police, at

  least in this country—even when I was

  just a witness. He hadn’t had a lot to do

  thus far, because there were all kinds of

  witnesses saying that I’d basically saved

  the day and helped foil an assassination

  attempt.

  Self-defense and defense of the life of

  another notwithstanding, I’d put three

  bullets into a guy’s neck. He was dead

  and I’d killed him. It was all clearly

  visible on the store’s security feed.

  Roberto continued, sounding perfectly

  reasonable, “Ms. Graves has worked

  with your sketch artist and given a

  description of the man who escaped. But

  she has a serious medical condition that

  is made worse by stress. I really must

  insist that we take a break at least long

  enough for her to use the facilities and to

  eat so that nothing … unfortunate

  happens.”

  Okay, maybe that was pushing it a

  little. Of course, Roberto couldn’t know

  how much progress I’d made in

  controlling my condition.

  “Mr. Santos.” The detective’s lips

  moved up in a semblance of a smile, but

  his eyes were cold, hard pebbles set in

  an equally stony face. “A man is dead.

  Your client killed him. She shot him,

  deliberately and repeatedly. She will sit

  here answering questions for as long as I

  feel it’s necessary.”

  I didn’t sigh. I didn’t fidget. I just

  closed my eyes and counted to twenty.

  Perhaps Detective Rawlins was just a

  good,

  old-fashioned,

  hard-headed

  detective. Then again, it was possible he

  was one of the members of my “fan

  club,” the group of officers who’ve

  decided I’m a monster and are willing to

  go to almost any lengths to prove it.

  They want me locked behind bars or put

  down like a rabid dog. Either way, he

  was pushing my buttons. That was a very

  bad thing.

  There was a tap at the door. Rawlins

  made a low, grumbling noise, then rose

  and left the room, closing the door

  behind him. I’m sure they didn’t think I

  could hear them through a closed door,

  especially since they were speaking

  softly. But my vampire nature was very

  close to the surface now, and that made

  eavesdropping easy.

  “You have to let her go,” said a man’s

  voice, not one I recognized.

  “The hell you say! She’s a freaking

  killer. She’s admitted it.” That was

  Detective Rawlins.

  “Doesn’t matter. It was a righteous

  shoot. Even if it wasn’t, she’s got

  diplomatic immunity from two countries.

  She’s also a freaking celebrity, and she

  just foiled an assassination attempt on

  members of a royal family. We’ve got

  press screaming for blood, politicos

  riding our ass, and no good reason to

  keep her. We can bring her back in if we

  need to. For now, cut her loose.”

  “Have you looked at her? She has

  fangs. She should be staked or put in a

  fucking cage. Even her attorney admits

  that she could lose control if she doesn’t

  eat.”

  “So let her eat, and let her go.”

  “Is that an order?”

  A pause and then the voice lowered to

  a growl. “Does it need to be?”

  There was a long silence. I could hear

  Rawlins breathing harshly. “We’ll wind

  up regretting this. When that time

  comes…”

  “If that time comes, there’ll be a note

  in your file.” The voice made it
a threat.

  “Good,” Rawlins spat. “Glad to hear

  it.”

  When they cut me loose, the first thing

  I did was grab my cell phone and dial

  Adriana’s number. The call went straight

  to voice mail. Annoying, but not

  unexpected. Roberto had told me that

  Lopaka and the others had been taken to

  the secure ward of a local hospital, but

  he didn’t know which one. If Adriana

  was there with her mother, it was likely

  that no call could reach her. So I dug out

  the card Baker had given me and keyed

  the number into my phone. The line rang

  only once.

  “Princess.” Ah, caller ID, gotta love

  it.

  “Special Agent Albright.”

  She sounded both amused and

  exhausted. “Am I to assume the police

  have finally tired of interrogating you?”

  “They have. How is the queen? Where

  are Adriana and the others?”

  “Her Royal Majesty is in intensive

  care at St. Anthony’s Hospital. Princess

  Adriana is with her.”

  Intensive care? It was that bad? I

  couldn’t help but worry. Despite only

  knowing her for a short time, I really

  liked Lopaka.

  “What about Olga and Natasha?”

  “They’re secure at the Ruslandic

  Embassy.”

  “As soon as I can get some weapons,

  I’ll head over to the hospital.”

  “Don’t bother. We’ve got it covered

  for now. Get some rest. Check in again

  in the morning.” She hung up before I

  could argue. No surprise. She had a lot

  on her plate.

  My aunt, the queen of queens, the most

  powerful siren in the world, was in

  intensive care. Crap.

  It took a minute for that to fully sink

  in, which told me just how distracted I

  was. Sirens are hard to kill. Very, very

  hard to kill. I’d seen one get shot to

  pieces and she had kept breathing, her

  damaged heart still beating. It isn’t

  public knowledge, but I had it on good

  authority that the only things that can

  actually kill a pure-blooded siren are

  weapons wielded in jealousy—an

  emotion that is a poison to us—or

  certain specially made magical artifacts.

  The shooters in the car hadn’t been

  women, so jealousy wasn’t a factor.

  That told me two things. First, someone

  in the know had leaked exactly where

  we were going and when we’d be there.

  Second, the attackers had arranged for

  literally dozens of bullets to be spelled

  —because that was the only way to try

  to kill royal sirens. Even a thousand

  standard rounds wouldn’t be enough.