To Dance with the Devil (The Blood Singer Novels) (10 page)

Nothing.

Despair, rage, and overwhelming pain swept over me.

Sirens are attracted to water, and vice versa. Even my little bit of siren power was enough to call the ocean; spray splattered over me. The tiny, wet drops of cool water felt wonderful—until the instant after they struck, when the salt in the water hit my wounds and sent me into more spasms.

I was going to die, alone and in torment, burning to death, if I didn’t think of something.

Then I heard the flap of nearby wings, felt the faintest of breezes against my face, and it struck me.

The gulls. They’re always around me, whether or not I want them. Well, I wanted them now—needed them. I concentrated on summoning them. Dozens, maybe hundreds of birds were likely to be in range of this thin strip of abandoned beach. They couldn’t understand words, but they understood intent. I needed them to shade me, to cover me. I heard the rush of hundreds of wings. The cawing of angry birds overwhelmed the sound of the surf. At my mental urging, some birds landed on me, shielding me beneath their wings as others flew in waves above me, blocking the burning sunlight. The birds’ sharp claws and their weight were a new misery, but the shade they created was a blissful relief. I could actually feel my body trying to heal the hideous damage that had been done to it.

But better even than the respite from torture was the surge of hope. I was going to survive.

Pain and rage had driven the human part of my consciousness into a small corner of my mind. Far more powerful were the aggression and naked hunger of the vampire. The binding spell had eased a little, though not enough to allow full movement. Now that I could, I closed my eyes, letting my body heal them as I used my other senses to search for prey.

There, in the distance. Faint, beneath the roar of the waves and the sounds of the gulls … human voices.

“She should be here somewhere. Wait, over there. Oh, no! The birds! Oh, God, are they eating…” I heard the woman gag, retching, obviously unable to finish her sentence. In the dim recesses of my mind I recognized her voice, but it took me a minute to place it: Dottie. Her name was Dottie. The image of an old woman, slow, weak, came into my mind.

“It’s all right, honey. I don’t think they’re hurting her,” the man—Fred—answered. “It almost looks like they’re protecting her.” He took a breath, then added, softly, “That smell…”

I heard the pair of them struggling to hurry across the wet sand. They stopped, too far away for me to attack without dislodging the birds. It was so frustrating! I could hear the rapid beat of her heart, could smell her fear even over the scent of my own burnt flesh. I knew that she would taste
wonderful
and that fresh blood would help my body heal faster, ending the maddening torment that roiled the entire upper surface of my body.

“Stop, Fred. Don’t go any closer. She’s in too much pain. She won’t be able to control herself.” Dottie’s voice was commanding. “Celia, we’ve brought you food. I’m going to toss it over to you. You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”

Yes, I would. If they would only come a teeny bit closer—either of them. Despite the pain, I flexed my toes—the binding spell was gone. They were old and slow. Even hurt as I was, I could take them. Then I would feel so much better. I waited, keeping still. Perhaps if they believed I was still frozen in place, they would come closer.

I heard the soft thud of something hitting the sand beside me. Whatever it was sloshed; it smelled of plastic and human food, and beneath that, blood. Before I could think, my hand shot out, grabbing the container in a blur of speed and bringing it to my mouth. I tore through the plastic with my teeth as dislodged gulls circled overhead, cawing.

The blood tasted glorious—hot, sweet, salty … but there was a faint aftertaste that I recognized from another time, years ago. I started to pull back, but it was too late. Powerful drugs laced with magic were already hitting my system. My pain vanished, and the world with it.

*   *   *

I woke with the sunset. I could feel it sinking below the horizon, feel my body tensing to rise. I felt the pull of the moon, the need to stalk prey, to hunt.

I opened my eyes. I was alone in a hospital room, my body pinned to the bed by metal restraints. I hissed in anger, pulling against the brackets. The metal groaned but did not give way.

There was a crackling noise above and behind me as a speaker was activated. A female voice, tinny sounding from the distortion, spoke to me. “Ms. Graves, I can see you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Ms. Graves. The name was familiar … it was
my
name. I was Celia Graves. Memories flooded over me. I remembered who I was. I remembered what had happened to me. I strained to look at myself, naked on the bed, without so much as a hospital gown to cover me.

My skin was whole again. Not scar tissue, whole, new, and as clear as if it had never been burned. Only one thing was different. Years ago, I’d gotten a tattoo to honor my baby sister; ivy twined up one leg from ankle to hip. Now, the back of my leg, where the skin had remained unburned, looked as it had ever since, covered with green leaves and vines. But the front of my leg, where the skin had burned completely off before the gulls covered me, was unmarked. It looked … strange.

“Ms. Graves?”

“I’m here. Give me a minute.” My voice was a hoarse croak, harsh from disuse. “How long have I been out?”

“It’s Thursday. We kept you unconscious with magic and drugs for two days while your body healed the worst of your injuries. We’d hoped to keep you under for another forty-eight hours, but now that you’re mostly healed, your body is processing the drugs too quickly, and using magic alone wasn’t deemed advisable.”

I looked at the tubes and machines I was connected to: IVs, a catheter, a feeding tube. A heart monitor that beeped frantically in response to my racing pulse as I fought to suppress my fear, anger, and the vampire instincts that were as near the surface as they’d been the first night after the bite.

“Ms. Graves, I need to ask you a few questions. Answer as honestly as you can.”

“Okay.” I closed my eyes and took deep, cleansing breaths: in through the nose, out through the mouth. I could get a handle on this. I could control it. I’d done it before. I could do it now.

“Tell me about your family.”

I recognized the question. It’s the first question asked of vampire bite victims, to make sure they’re still human, that they haven’t been brought over. New bats are practically feral. They have no sense of identity, no self, until their master imprints one on them. So if you’ve been bit, EMTs and doctors routinely ask about your human life, questions they have the answers to, to make sure you’re still you. The fact that they recognized how close I was to falling over that edge was terrifying. If I didn’t answer well and quickly, they’d cut off my head while I was pinned to this bed, then stake my heart to finish me.

“My name is Celia Graves. My mother, Lana Graves, is in prison after multiple DUIs. My gran is living on the Isle of Serenity so that she can visit her. My sister, Ivy, died as a child, and my dad bugged out when we were both little.” I paused, steeling myself to say the part that was still fresh enough to hurt. “My sister’s ghost passed over just the other day.”

“Ah. Good. You remember.” There was a pause before the speaker crackled again and the tinny voice continued, “We need to send someone in to change your IV bags. Are you in control of yourself enough for us to do that?”

I was in restraints. Did she really think it was that much of a problem? Why? What had I done while unconscious? I wanted to know—and at the same time I didn’t. A tight knot was forming in my stomach—pure nerves. I couldn’t have done anything too bad. If I had, I’d be dead. At least that’s what I told myself as I answered, “I’m fine.”

“Very good. Stay very still, please.”

I could do that. At least I told myself I could. But it wasn’t easy. Not at all. As soon as I smelled the faint scents of human flesh with a fresh hint of soap, heard steady footsteps on the linoleum floor of my room, my body tensed, muscles coiling. The predator in me prepared to spring.

I am
not
a fucking bat. I am not going to
be
a bat.
I clenched my jaw tight enough to hear my teeth grinding and feel my fangs biting into the flesh of my own lip. But I made myself lie still, kept myself under control. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t pretty. But I did it.

The nurse who moved around me was older, thick-bodied, her short dark hair cut in a no-nonsense bob that was in stark contrast to her playful pale blue scrubs patterned with Sylvester stalking Tweety as the little bird quoted his usual line. The woman looked vaguely familiar, and I flogged my memory trying to come up with either her name or a reason why I would recognize her.

“I’m glad you’re awake. We’ve been worried about you.” She smiled down at me as she began switching the plastic fluid bags with practiced ease. “You probably don’t remember me, but I was on duty when you and your friend helped us during the M. Necrose outbreak. The zombie you took down in the hall was coming right at me. If you hadn’t stepped in that day, a lot of people would have died. I probably would’ve been one of them.” Her blue eyes locked on mine, her expression serious. “A lot of the nurses were afraid to come in here with you. But I don’t believe you’re going to attack me. You’re stronger than that. I’ve seen it.”

My eyes filled with tears. “God, I hope so.”

She gave me a reassuring smile before adjusting a knob. Fluid flowed freely through one of the tubes into my arm. As the fluid flowed in, consciousness flowed out.

I slept.

10

“Hello.” I
opened my eyes at the sound of Alex’s voice. She was sitting in a chair next to my bed. “Up and at ’em, sleeping beauty. I don’t have all day.”

“Hey, Al.”

“Celia.”

“Not exactly beautiful,” I grumbled as I tried to sit up. Of course I couldn’t, because of the restraints, which I’d forgotten about until they brought me up short.

I was dressed now, if you call a hospital gown dressed. It was better than being buck naked, I suppose. Still, the skimpy gown didn’t do much to ward off the chill, and the room was definitely on the cool side. Funny, I hadn’t noticed that before.

I turned my head toward Alex, who looked tired. She was wearing her usual neatly tailored suit and her makeup was understated and perfect, but I could see the dark circles under her eyes and the slight slump to her shoulders.

“Honey, compared to what you looked like a couple of days ago, you’re freaking
gorgeous.
Although I have to admit it’s a little odd seeing you without eyebrows or lashes.” She forced herself to smile, and while I didn’t have Adriana’s ring, I caught a flash of thought from her. She’d been worried about me, scared I’d be permanently blinded or hideously scarred. Of course she’d never say that out loud. It would violate the unwritten “tough broad” rules.

“I don’t have any eyebrows?”

“Nope. The skin’s grown back, but the hair’s taking longer. You’ve also got a receding hairline.”

“Oh,
hell.
” I felt tears sting my eyes. Stupid, I suppose. I was alive and not blind or maimed. I was also myself, in full possession of my memories, and not feeling the least bit like munching on my friend. All of these were good things. But my
hair.

“Don’t feel too bad. You can already see little spikes where the hair’s growing back in. You’ll probably look perfectly fine before long.”

“When do you think I’ll be out of here?” I hate hospitals. I know they have a benign purpose, but they make me feel trapped and they smell funny. Mostly I worry that if I’m confined for too long, somebody’s going to come up with a way to keep me confined permanently. It’s not paranoia if there really are people out to get you. Since the vampire bite, I’ve had ample proof that there are
lots
of people after me.

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “They’ve moved you out of the burn unit because you no longer have any open sores, but they want to be sure you’re not a danger to anybody.” She sighed. “You should know there are folks trying to get you declared a monster and put down.”

I started swearing under my breath.

“Not to worry; it isn’t going to happen. You’ve done good in the past and there are lots of people on your side because of that. Bruno’s never farther away than the cafeteria. Your gran’s here, and Queen Lopaka, King Dahlmar, and Queen Adriana have all called regularly. Still, what’s made the most difference is that a bunch of doctors and nurses are on your side. They swear you’re yourself and that you’re going to be fine.” She leaned closer and smiled. “I think so, too.”

Knowing I had support was a huge relief, as was hearing that the medical staff thought I was going to be fine.

I was beyond grateful to the doctors and nurses for speaking up for me. I wasn’t sure I would have if I were in their shoes. I felt better today, much more normal. The bat was there, but in the background. I could control it. But they couldn’t have known that. They’d taken a terrible risk to save me.

“I’ll update you on everything in a minute, but first, I’m here on business. Who did this to you and why? Are you strong enough to work with our sketch artist?”

“There were three males physically present, and another guy via some kind of hologram spell. Two of the ones with me were white, one black.”

She sat up straighter in her chair. I wasn’t surprised. She’s smart enough to put two and two together. Or in this case three and three. Three men had snatched Abigail Andrews off of the street and three had attacked me. Coincidence? Not likely.

“What did they want?”

“To scare me off.”

“Off what?”

“I haven’t got a clue. The only potential client I’ve met with lately is Abigail Andrews. But she didn’t hire me, and like I told you before, she was lying through her teeth the whole time she talked to me.” So whatever that scary man thought I knew, I didn’t.

“All right, we’re going to investigate it thoroughly. There’s a good chance the two incidents are connected, but we’ll keep an open mind just in case they’re not. In the meantime, if you’re willing, I’d like you to work with an artist we’ve got on staff. She’s a telepath—you can just think the images at her and she can draw them.”