The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song) Page 9
thesis, teaching classes, and I was
betting he was moonlighting, quietly
helping his brother Matty. Matteo’s job
is to take down major demons,
übervamps, and all kinds of big-bads.
But he’s only a level-four mage—
average—though with Matty’s training,
it’s enough to make him a force to be
reckoned with. But Bruno is a level nine,
and I knew he’d never forgive himself if
anything happened to his brother that he
could’ve prevented.
Bruno needed sleep, and he wasn’t
going to get it if I was fidgeting next to him. So I very carefully disentangled
myself—from Bruno and the bedding—
and climbed out of bed. Pulling on
Bruno’s discarded long-tail T-shirt, I
padded
down
to
the
kitchen,
straightening pictures and picking up
fallen knickknacks along the way.
I started coffee brewing and downed a
nutrition shake while I waited for my
caffeine fix. A stack of mail had fallen
off of the counter. When I picked it up, a
photo fell out. A sticky note in Bruno’s
mom’s handwriting covered most of the
image. “Angelina Bonetti is back in
town. Her annulment is final. She asked
me to give you this.”
I do not believe in snooping. I don’t.
It’s wrong. People are entitled to their
privacy.
But I had to know. Had to.
So I lifted the sticky note off the
picture.
The image was a surprise. It was a
group shot of teenagers standing on a
boardwalk. The one in the middle was
Bruno, younger and wearing a Metallica
T-shirt, worn jeans, and a grin. He had a
girl on each arm, but the one on the left
was his girlfriend. I could just tell. The
girl on the right had bigger hair, more
makeup, and less clothing, but the girl on
the left had it. Charisma, star quality—
whatever you want to call it, she had it
in spades. Clouds of dark curls had been
pulled back from a face dominated by
huge dark eyes and the kind of sultry lips
that just beg to be kissed. She wore plain
shorts and a T-shirt, but they didn’t look
plain on her.
Angelina Bonetti, I assumed. I found
myself fighting down a wave of pure
jealousy.
“Morning, sunshine.” Bruno greeted
me from the kitchen doorway.
“Good morning.” I held out the photo
to him. Taking it from me, he glanced at
it and gave a gusty sigh, then leaned
forward to give me a quick kiss and set
the picture on the kitchen counter behind
me.
“Your high-school sweetheart?” I
supplied, guessing.
“Yup.” He slid one arm around my
waist and pulled me against him. Since
he was only wearing a thin pair of
pajama bottoms I could tell he was
happy to have me there. But he didn’t
make a move on me. Instead, he righted
the little metal cup tree on the counter,
pulled off a mug, and put it down in front
of the coffeemaker.
When he spoke, his voice was calm
and matter-of-fact. “Angelina, and pretty
much everyone else, assumed that we’d
get married and that I’d take over Uncle
Sal’s business while she stayed home
and raised babies.”
Uncle
Sal
probably
has
some
legitimate businesses. But that’s not the
kind of business Bruno was referring to.
The fact that Sal isn’t in jail with Gotti
and the others says he’s smart and
dangerous. “I’ll bet Joey didn’t make the
same assumptions.” Joey was Bruno’s
cousin, Sal’s son and heir. I like him …
sort of. But he’s a scary bastard. Not as
scary as Sal, but impressive enough all
on his own.
“No. Joey didn’t.” There was a long
silence. Bruno was lost in thoughts of the
past. I didn’t rush him. He’d tell me in
his own time and his own way. “Joey
and I get along okay now. But back then
it was … tense. One of the reasons I
came to the West Coast for college in the
first place was to get away from the
family, from everybody’s expectations,
so I could figure out what I wanted. All
my life, all my decisions had been made
for me. I wanted to make my own
choices.”
I thought about that for a long moment.
It made sense. It also explained why he
has had a hard time sharing in the past
and including me in the decision making.
I didn’t like the notion. But at least it
made sense. I filed that thought away for
thorough consideration later, because
Bruno was talking again.
“Angie wasn’t happy about my
leaving. She wanted me to go to school
in New York so we could see each
other. We broke up right before I left.”
He shook his head ruefully. “Broke my
heart.”
The coffee was ready. I moved aside
and he busied himself pouring us each a
cup. I started to say something, but he
continued.
“I hated it here at first. I didn’t fit in at
all. My roommate in the dorm was a
total asshat. Sal told me to give it time.
‘Finish out the year. You still don’t like
it, then we’ll talk.’” He took a sip of
coffee. His eyes met mine over the rim
and started sparkling. “Second semester,
the roommate dropped out, I met you,
and I had my first class with El Jefe.”
“You think Sal knew?”
“Maybe. He’s got clairvoyants on
staff. I know he was worried about me
and Joey. He never said anything, but I
could tell.”
I took a sip of my own coffee, and
some of the tension in my shoulders
eased a bit. “Did I ever tell you about
the vision Dottie showed me last
Christmas?”
With his mouth full of coffee, he
raised one eyebrow in inquiry.
“I was really depressed because of
the whole thing with Gran. She showed
me what would’ve happened if I’d been
killed with Ivy. It was pretty scary—sort
of It’s a Wonderful Life as produced by
Tim Burton.”
He put down his cup and looked at me
seriously. “I’m not the same person I
would’ve been without you.”
“No, you’re not.” I brought the cup to
my nose with both hands, deeply
inhaling the wonderful scent of liquid
nirvana before taking another drink. It
kept me from shuddering at the memory
of what Bruno might have become.
He smiled. “I like this me be
tter.”
It was my turn to look quizzical. “But
you haven’t even heard—”
He held up one hand. “Don’t need to. I
know what I was like then and I have a
pretty good idea of what kind of man I
would’ve become.” He set his cup down
on the counter and pulled me close. I put
my coffee down, too. We were standing
face-to-face, bodies pressed together.
“Sweetheart, you don’t need to worry
about Angelina Bonetti.”
The photograph drew my gaze like a
magnet. Damn, she was beautiful. And
she was the type who would only have
gotten better with age. And Mama
DeLuca liked her.
“Celia.” Bruno’s voice was gently
chiding. I looked up and found I couldn’t
look away. His gaze was intense, the
flames at the backs of his eyes flaring. “I
love you. I want you. And even if we
don’t work out, I’m not going back. I’m
not that person anymore. I bought this
house for a reason. This is my home
now.” He continued, speaking softly and
with amazing intensity. “I like teaching.
I’m good at it. Once I finish my
doctorate and my course work, I’m going
to apply for a university staff position.
I’ll still make artifacts, but I’ll choose
what to create and who to make them
for.”
Wow. Part of me was shocked … and
another part wasn’t. No, he hadn’t
discussed any of this with me before.
But I wasn’t upset about that. We aren’t
engaged. We aren’t planning a future
together. Not yet; maybe not ever. I’d
been dating both Bruno and John Creede
for a while and I would have had no
right to bitch if he dated Angelina
Bonetti or anybody else—even though I
had to admit to myself that I wouldn’t
like it.
Teaching at Bayview would be a
really good fit for him. He’d hate the
politics, but he’d be good at it. And if
we did manage to work things out and
become a “real couple,” well, he’d be
right here. No more long distance.
“I’m happy for you. I think it’s a good
idea.”
“But?”
I smiled at him a little sadly. “I feel
like too much happened while I was out
of town. Everything’s changed.”
A quick shrug. “You’re tough, Celia.
And smart. You’ll catch up.”
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure what to
say.
He smiled and took my hand. “Come
back to bed. Who knows, maybe we’ll
even get some sleep.”
9
“I’m sorry,” I said as I extended my
hand to the woman who had stood upon
my entering the conference room. Helen
Baker is a member of the Serenity Secret
Service. She is tall, with chiseled
features and a seriously buff body
underneath the conservative black suit
she was wearing with a dove gray
blouse. The last time I’d seen her she’d
had a buzz cut. Apparently she’d
decided to let her blond hair grow out a
bit; though it was still short, it was not
as short, and it had been styled to look
more feminine. She looked good, I
thought.
Baker rose from the slight bow she’d
given me and accepted my handshake.
“There’s no need to apologize, Princess.
You’re not late, I arrived early.” That
was obvious. She’d had time to take
over the conference room, setting up her
computer and a projection screen. And I
spotted several old-fashioned display
boards leaning against the wall.
I realized Baker was still standing.
Apparently she wouldn’t sit until I did.
She was probably following royal
etiquette.
That
was
something
I
definitely needed to brush up on for my
new assignment. I’d done a bit of
research a couple of years ago, but it had
been awhile. I’d forgotten most of it.
“Actually,
I’m
apologizing
because…”—I paused for a second,
searching
for
the
right
phrasing
—“bringing me in makes it seem that you
guys aren’t capable of doing your jobs.
And that is not true.” I’d worked with
Baker and other members of the Siren
Secret Service before. They were
efficient, well trained, and scary good.
“I can’t imagine why I’d be needed.” I
pulled out the chair directly across from
her, turning it so that I would have a
good view of the projection screen.
Baker smiled and took her seat. “But
you are needed.” She reached into the
padded laptop case on the table and
withdrew a manila folder. “I’m a
clairvoyant. I’ve seen it myself. There
are no specifics. The people moving
against us have used powerful black
magic to shield their actions—demonic
magics. You, Princess, have more
experience fighting the demonic than
anyone on our staff. You also have
fought and executed at least ten
vampires, even one übervamp. There
has never been a vampire on Serenity, so
none of our people has that experience.
We’ve trained for it, but training and
experience are two very different things.
Don’t presume we’re insulted. I assure
you, we’re not. We’re eager to learn
your techniques.”
It was weird, hearing my last few
years summed up so neatly. Baker made
everything sound so matter-of-fact, but
every one of those incidents had been
terrifying, dangerous, and damn near
fatal to me and lots of other people.
“So there’s no friction?”
Her expression grew rueful. “Not
from me. But I can’t say that everyone on
staff is thrilled. Especially since it’s
been made clear that the queen wants us
to protect you as well.”
“No.”
She raised her eyebrows but didn’t
say anything.
“Say it to her as respectfully as you
can, but no. If I’m going to do Adriana
any good at all, I have to be able to do
what is necessary. That means I have to
take risks. I may have to throw myself in
front of a bullet. I can’t do that if you
guys are protecting me. It won’t work.
And it puts your team in an untenable
position. So, tell the queen that I refuse.”
“Refuse to be in the wedding party or
refuse to be protected?”
I shrugged. “I’d prefer protected. But
whichever is necessary.”
“She won’t like that.”
is a sensible ruler. She’ll see the logic.”
And while she liked me, she loved her
daughter. Protecting Adriana would be
her primary concern.
“Very well, if you insist.” She
gestured toward the screen. “Shall we
get started?”
“Please.”
Baker’s briefing was fairly thorough,
especially considering they didn’t know
much about the Guardians of the Faith.
They were a terrorist group that had
started up about two years earlier,
beginning with some anti-siren chatter
on the Web. They hadn’t become really
organized or vocal until King Dahlmar’s
engagement to Adriana went public.
Since then, they’d mobilized, taking
credit for a number of smaller events
before the plane crash and bombing of
the shop where Adriana had bought her
bridesmaids’ dresses. All of the
Guardians’ propaganda was virulently
anti-siren, and there were specific
threats against Adriana, Queen Lopaka,
and me. Their stated goal was to prevent
the royal wedding at any cost.
I didn’t like the “any cost” part,
because that put them on a fanatic list
that only a few groups in the world
could lay claim to. Worse, despite all of
the Guardians’ activity, the siren and
Rusland intelligence organizations had
no names or locations for any members,
and any leads tended to quickly peter
out.
Baker turned to her laptop and began
her next prepared presentation, on the
wedding
itself,
complete
with
PowerPoint slides. Nice that the queen’s
staff had embraced technology.
The ceremony on Serenity would be
short and casual … and a security
nightmare. In the distant past, sirens
didn’t marry. They used the men they
wanted for as long as they wanted and
then compelled them to leave and never
return. Girl children were kept and
raised. Boys weren’t. But while change
came slowly among the sirens, it did
come. Marriages now existed, mostly as
a promise to keep and support all
children of the union. For the average
siren and her husband, that meant posting
an intent to marry in the newspaper and
signing official papers in front of a local
judge.
Adriana’s marriage on Serenity would
be a bit more formal than that due to her
rank, but not much. The day of the
wedding had been declared a national
holiday. Streets were being blocked off
along the entire 2.3 mile route from the