The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song) Read online

  my date with Bruno. I texted Emma and

  told her not to bother coming in. She

  replied, “You okay?” I assured her I

  was, and wasn’t staying long. A minute

  or so later I saw her SUV pull away.

  Thinking about Bruno while I waited

  for my smoothie helped me relax a little.

  It had been a long time since we’d had

  an actual date-date. He’d been busy with

  his studies; I’d been on a job. And while

  they may work for other people, I think

  long distance relationships suck. E-

  mails, calls, and texts are just not the

  same

  as

  face-to-face,

  skin-to-skin

  communication. Absence does not make

  the heart grow fonder. It makes it grow

  lonely. At least in my case.

  Juan paused as he crossed the patio,

  carrying a tray laden with food that

  smelled like heaven, to hand me my

  drink, already in a to-go cup. I forced

  myself to look away and took a long pull

  of my Sunset Smoothie, a concoction

  whipped up specifically for me and only

  available at La Cocina, where I’ve been

  a regular since my first week of college.

  When Barbara and her husband found

  out I’d never again be able to eat solid

  food, they took it as a challenge and

  created something that I could actually

  drink, digest, and enjoy. When I first

  heard what was in it, I was a little

  freaked.

  I

  mean,

  cow’s

  blood?

  Seriously? But it tastes great and I

  always feel better after I’ve had one.

  I can try to deny it, but the vampire

  part of me has different nutritional needs

  than the human and siren parts. It’s a bad

  idea to ignore them. Control is about

  knowing your limits and working within

  them, not pretending they don’t exist.

  I plunged back into the crowded

  restaurant, heading for the cash register

  line to pay the tab. It was a long line, so,

  rather than waste time being bored, I

  decided to call Dawna and check in.

  “Are you coming back to the office?”

  She had to shout so that I could hear her

  over the restaurant noise.

  “I hadn’t planned on it.”

  “Crap.”

  “What’s up?”

  “There’s an Agent Baker here from

  the Serenity Secret Service. She says she

  has the packet you requested and needs

  to brief you before you start your

  assignment tomorrow.”

  Shit. I looked at the clock. I didn’t

  have time to go back to the office for a

  briefing and still get ready for my date

  tonight. I just didn’t. And while most

  times I’m all about the work, today I

  wasn’t. I needed a night off.

  “See if she can meet me at the office

  tomorrow morning early, say eight

  o’clock? I doubt Adriana gets out of bed

  that early.”

  Dawna put me on hold; I’d moved up

  to the second spot in line by the time she

  got back to me. “She has another

  appointment at nine o’clock, so eight

  won’t work. But she can do six thirty or

  seven.”

  Six thirty? Really? There must be a lot

  of information to cover. I did some quick

  calculations in my head, considering

  travel time from either my house or

  Bruno’s, and made a decision. “Tell her

  seven o’clock is as early as I can do.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  We hung up without saying good-bye

  and I paid my tab, then headed out the

  door, still sucking on my smoothie. But I

  was especially careful crossing the

  parking lot and I used the little button a

  friend in the FBI had given me to make

  sure nobody had tampered with my car.

  It’s not paranoia if they’re actually

  trying to kill you.

  7

  After the hit-and-run, it took a little

  effort, but I succeeded in pumping

  myself up once more. I kept telling

  myself that tonight was going to be a

  good night. I was going to Bruno’s for

  our long-awaited and (in my case) much-

  anticipated date. I’d be going back to the

  old neighborhood and seeing what Bruno

  had done with my grandmother’s old

  house while I’d been gone.

  Gran’s working-class neighborhood

  had been on a downward slide for a

  while, but now the area seemed to be

  turning around. The most recent wave of

  newcomers had been yuppies with small

  children; they wanted to live close to the

  city without paying exorbitant prices.

  Before Bruno moved in, the Murphys

  had briefly lived in the house. I really

  liked Molly and Mickey and their girls,

  Beverly and Julie. Beverly was going to

  be a true siren, the first Atlantic siren

  since the Magna Carta, and her family

  had spent about a year living in my

  grandmother’s small house so Beverly

  could benefit from being near Serenity

  and Queen Lopaka.

  But the whole family missed their old

  home in Arkansas, and when they

  decided to go back, Bruno bought the

  house from them. It’s a pretty little

  place, gray with white trim and a big

  front porch. The old rocking chair where

  Gran had nursed my skinned knees is

  still there, joined now by a matching

  antique glider just big enough for Bruno

  and me to sit on comfortably enjoying

  the sunset and the distant sound of the

  ocean.

  He’s been tending Gran’s flower beds

  religiously; the poppies and Shasta

  daisies gave the place plenty of color

  and brought bumblebees and butterflies

  calling.

  By the time I got there, it was almost

  too late in the afternoon for butterflies.

  I’d taken my time getting ready. I wanted

  to look my best. At the risk of going too

  dressy, I’d pulled on a strapless little

  black dress that was cut to make the

  most of my natural assets, short enough

  to show off my long legs and the ivy

  tattoo that wrapped around one of them,

  and low cut enough to flaunt a bit of

  cleavage. I’d even put on high heels. I

  wouldn’t be able to run worth a damn,

  but I wasn’t planning on running. My

  only concession to safety was a little

  black bolero jacket that was spelled and

  tailored to hide a pair of knives, a stake,

  and a little One Shot brand squirt gun

  filled with holy water. I never go out

  without some weapons. Besides, the sun

  was setting. The monsters would soon

  be on the prowl.

  Fortunately, the smoothie had taken

  the edge off of my hunger. I wasn’t

  having the usual problem with sunset
r />   bloodlust. Nope, instead I was feeling

  another kind of lust entirely. I hoped that

  once he got a look at me in this outfit,

  Bruno would share the sentiment.

  Just thinking about it made me want to

  stomp on the gas pedal of my little blue

  sports car. But these days, when I drive,

  I make sure to obey all traffic laws. I

  glanced in the rearview just to make sure

  and, yep, as usual, there was a cop car

  following me, staying a couple of cars

  behind. The guy at the wheel was way

  too big to be my old friend Officer

  Clarke. Of course, I’d already seen

  Clarke, earlier that day, when he’d tried

  to run me over. I wondered idly where

  he’d gotten the car, but figured a cop

  would have easy access to a stolen or

  towed vehicle.

  Don’t think about it, Graves. It’ll

  make you grumpy. And tonight is no

  night to feel grumpy.

  A wicked little smile tugged at the

  corners of my lips as I pulled the car

  into Bruno’s driveway and parked. As

  the cop who had been tailing me drove

  past, I reached out the window and came

  this close to flipping him the bird. I

  settled for a cheery little wave that

  would probably irritate him almost as

  much. I got out of the car and went

  around to the passenger side to retrieve

  my purse and the bottle of wine I’d

  brought as my contribution to dinner.

  I strolled happily onto the porch and

  rang the bell.

  No response. I took a deep breath and

  smelled … food burning. Leaning closer,

  I peered through the window and saw

  Bruno lying limp and unmoving on the

  couch.

  Oh, shit.

  I grabbed the doorknob as the smoke

  detectors inside the house blared to life

  —and the protective wards on the house

  blew me off my feet, throwing me over

  the porch railing. I landed hard on my

  ass on the front lawn and skidded across

  the grass.

  Bruno appeared in the doorway,

  yawning and half-befuddled by sleep,

  but radiating power. He took one look at

  me and said, “Oh fuck, Celie, are you all

  right?”

  I was breathless. Lethal wards are

  illegal, but his had packed quite a punch.

  I managed to wheeze out “Peachy” and

  “Fire?” That got him swearing again,

  and he rushed back into the house,

  presumably to deal with whatever was

  going on in the kitchen.

  I rose creakily to my feet as some of

  his neighbors appeared at windows and

  doorways. The new people didn’t

  recognize me, but old Mrs. Evans gave

  me a wave. Her husband was sitting in a

  lawn chair on their porch and laughing

  so hard there were tears on his cheeks. I

  was pretty sure he was going to wet his

  pants.

  “Ow.” I limped carefully toward the

  house. One of my shoes was simply

  gone. The seat of my dress had mostly

  vanished from my little trip across the

  lawn on my bottom, exposing the

  expanse of pale, bruised flesh my thong

  didn’t cover. My vampire vision and

  hearing had kicked in—looking through

  the front door, I could see Bruno in the

  smoky kitchen, flinging open the

  windows to air the place out. I could

  hear Mr. Evans gasp, “Ethel, that’s one

  boy who won’t be getting any tonight,”

  before falling back into helpless

  laughter.

  I found the wine bottle, miraculously

  unbroken, a few steps from the porch.

  And while true aficionados would throw

  twelve kinds of fit at how it had been

  shaken, screw ’em. I needed a drink.

  Bruno met me at the door. His

  expression was a strange mix of sorrow,

  frustration, and embarrassment. “I fell

  asleep.”

  “I can see that.”

  He didn’t touch me. Instead, he took

  the wine bottle from my hand and backed

  up enough to let me pass. The smoke

  alarm cut off abruptly. In the sudden

  silence I heard a car pulling to the curb

  in front. I could hear Bruno swallow

  before he headed down the steps.

  Glancing back, I saw that the new

  arrival was a police car.

  Bruno began explaining even before

  he reached the cop, who was a woman.

  Evidently Clarke’s buddy hadn’t been

  the one to respond to the call—a small

  mercy, but I’d take it. Although Lord

  help me if the officer wasn’t wearing

  one of the police force’s anti-siren

  charms. I tended to bring out hostility in

  most women. That’s never good, and

  worse when I’m dealing with the police.

  “It was just an accident, officer. I was

  cooking lasagna for dinner and fell

  asleep on the couch. I’ve got the wards

  set to activate automatically when I fall

  asleep. When my friend arrived, she saw

  me lying on the couch and smelled

  smoke…” Bruno let the sentence drift off

  unfinished. “We’re both fine.”

  “I think I’d like to check that out for

  myself, if you don’t mind.” The

  policewoman stepped onto the porch and

  into the doorway.

  I turned to face her from the entrance

  to the kitchen, giving her a rueful smile.

  “Hello, Officer…?”

  “Dade. Karla Dade. Are you all

  right?”

  “I’m embarrassed more than anything.

  I’ll probably have some bruises. Did

  you happen to see my shoe?”

  “It’s in the next yard.” She returned

  my smile. “Do you want me to call the

  paramedics so you can get checked out?”

  “No. Thankth.” Crap. A lisp. I’d

  avoided it before, but sometimes those

  final ess sounds gave me trouble. And

  just like that, she saw the fangs she

  hadn’t

  noticed

  before.

  Her

  eyes

  narrowed and she gave me a long, long

  look.

  “What is your name, ma’am?”

  “Celia Graves.”

  She

  gave

  a

  little

  nod

  of

  acknowledgment.

  The

  name

  was

  familiar. The face probably was, too.

  But she was smart enough to check. “Do

  you have any identification?”

  “In my purse.”

  Bruno handed her my bag—he must

  have retrieved it from the lawn; I hadn’t

  even thought to look for it—and she

  handed it to me. I opened it and shoved

  aside my travel toothbrush and comb to

  pull out my wallet, which I passed to

  Officer Dade. She checked out my

  driver’s license and my concealed carry

  permit
before flipping the wallet closed

  and returning it to me. “Everything

  appears to be in order, Ms. Graves. If

  you’re sure you don’t want medical

  attention…”

  “Not nethethary.” Damned fangs. It

  was harder to control my speech when I

  was rattled, which I was, a little, though

  I was trying not to be. I fought hard not

  to react when she flinched. “Thank you

  anyway.”

  “Sorry for the trouble, officer,” Bruno

  mumbled.

  She eyed the charred remains of the

  pan of lasagna in the sink. “No trouble,”

  she assured him. “You two try to enjoy

  the rest of your evening.”

  He led her back through the house and

  closed the door behind her. I went back

  to looking for a corkscrew.

  “I am so sorry.” I turned to find Bruno

  standing in the kitchen doorway, looking

  frustrated and hurt. “I wanted everything

  to be perfect. Fucking Creede, with his

  winery, and his…” I stepped forward

  and put my finger to his lips, cutting off

  the flow of words. He looked down and

  discovered my cleavage. There was a

  long, silent moment. When he was able

  to speak, his voice was a little rough.

  “That is a really nice dress.”

  “You’re just now noticing that?” I

  teased.

  He lifted his head and I saw that his

  eyes had darkened with desire. “You

  wore heels”—he took a breath—“and a

  thong.”

  “Yup.” I was smiling now.

  “You hate thongs.” He stepped into

  me, his body pushing mine against the

  kitchen cabinets.

  “I didn’t want to ruin the line of the

  dress.”

  He drew a ragged breath, his eyes

  locking with mine. “Is there any possible

  way for me to salvage this evening?”

  “Tell you what. You fix me some

  broth and a stiff drink, and we’ll find

  out.”

  It was his turn to smile. “I can do

  that.”

  8

  The earthquake woke me at 3:00 A.M.,

  even though it wasn’t a particularly bad

  quake and didn’t last long. It was just

  enough to rattle the windows and knock

  things off shelves. I’m pretty used to

  them; this is California, after all. But

  even little ones tended to wake me up

  since I changed, and I didn’t know if that

  was the vampire, the siren, or just me.

  Not surprisingly, Bruno was still out

  cold. He was so exhausted I think he

  could probably have slept through

  Armageddon.

  He’d been pushing himself too hard.

  Again. He was finishing his doctoral