Blood Song

“I’m not. ”

“You’re not what?” We turned in unison at the sound of Kevin’s voice.

He stood outlined in the doorway, looking better than any man had a right to. My heart sped up at the

sight of him. At the moment, his sandy blond hair was just a little long, so that it fel in front of eyes the

color of a perfect summer sky. His T-shirt and jeans were faded and worn, and just tight enough to

show off a body to die for. I never managed to look at him without my body reacting. It’s not just his

looks, either. He’s the whole package, brains, body, and a sense of humor. His strong jaw is softened

by the deepest dimples. He has a smile that could make the clothes melt right off my body. I’ve wanted

him from the minute I first laid eyes on him. I wouldn’t have done anything about it when I was with

Bruno, but that’s been over for a long time now. But Kevin’s with Amy. I don’t know if she’s a werewolf

or not, but it doesn’t matter. I have ethics. Besides, that woman is scary.

“What are you doing up?” The words were directed at me. The look, however, was for Jones first,

then Emma.

“I did it,” Jones said. He gave Kevin a broad smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s necessary. We

have to find her sire. Doing so in daylight, when he’s helpless, would be preferable, don’t you think?”

“Not if it kil s Celia in the process.” Kevin snarled.

The smile grew, and Jones’s eyes started to twinkle. “Wel , you’re in luck. She’s not dead.”

I let out a very unladylike snort of laughter. I couldn’t help it. I’m a sucker for sarcasm. Besides, he

was right.

Al three of them turned to glare at me. I not only didn’t wither, I didn’t even flinch. Bul y for me. I held

up a placating hand. “There’s no point in arguing. I’m up. No harm done. And I’ve got work to do.”

Kevin’s expression grew stubborn. He crossed his arms over his chest, his stance balanced and

solid. “Tel me what you remember.”

Shit. He would ask that. “Not a damned thing.”

“The fourteenth,” he said with significance. Should that mean something? I already knew I’d lost a ful

day.

Well, crap. Yesterday had been Vicki’s birthday. I’d gotten ready to go, but had I even visited her? I

didn’t remember it. She’d be upset that I was injured. But she’d be hurt if I forgot her birthday. And I

wanted her to have her gift. I mean, that present had taken months to find and get the spel s worked.

But she wouldn’t know that if I hadn’t made it out there to give it to her.

Kevin stared at me for a long moment, as though he were reading my mind. “You think you’re fit to go

out hunting your sire, when you can’t even remember a birthday?” He didn’t bother to hide his derision,

which raised my hackles.

“I think I’m not going to have much choice, Kevin. Jones just told me I’m going to feel compelled to

find him pretty soon. I’m not just going to sit around waiting for him to hunt me, and would rather go

looking before I turn into a drooling idiot. You don’t go after a master vamp after dark, and if I don’t find

and kil him first, he’s going to be stalking me just as soon as the sun goes down—unless your friend

Jones over there was lying.”

“He’s not,” Kevin admitted grudgingly. “But you don’t have to be the one to hunt him.”

“Did you have any luck tracking him back from where you found Celia?” Jones’s tone was deceptively

bland.

Kevin answered Jones’s question with one of his own. “It’s broad daylight. Celia. Do you even know if

you can go outside?” Kevin’s voice had softened just a hair, as if he sensed the distress I wasn’t wil ing

to show. Maybe he could smel it? I didn’t know enough about werewolves to know one way or the

other. I’d passed up on that class in favor of two semesters of history of magic.

I flinched involuntarily, just a little. I needed to keep my head in the game, but I real y was having a

hard time focusing. Shit. “Only one way to find out.” I gave him my perkiest insincere smile and was

rewarded by a dark flush creeping up his neck.

“You”—Jones looked from me to Kevin and back again—“are either very brave or very stupid.”

“Both,” Emma said drily.

“Gee, thanks.” I was stil lisping a little but was determined to ignore it. I rummaged around in the duffel

for sweat socks and running shoes, then plopped down on the edge of the slab to pul them on, leaving

the others to argue among themselves, which they proceeded to do. With vigor. I ignored it for the

most part. I had other things on my mind. Like sunlight, spontaneous combustion, the fact that I would

have a real y, really hard time explaining an aversion to holy objects to my gran.

The three of them were stil arguing when I finished with the shoes and socks. I think that’s why they

didn’t hear the commotion in the hal way. Emma might have missed it either way, but werewolves have

excel ent hearing and from the jolt I got when I touched him, Jones wasn’t your average human, either.

But I heard and, even more weird, scented it. Three men in hard-soled dress shoes were coming down

the hal . They walked with the kind of confidence that comes with the weight of authority. I smel ed gun

oil and the tiniest hint of powder, as if the weapon hadn’t been cleaned quite as wel as it should have

been after its last use.

They slowed to a stop outside the heavy steel of the main door. I heard the metal shift as someone

began pul ing it open, and a voice I recognized as belonging to Dr. Reynolds from the university health

clinic, babbling nervously. I watched, alert, as their figures were silhouetted against the sunlight of the

glass-wal ed outer hal way. The sunlight seemed too bright, like staring into a spotlight onstage. It made

my skin itch even from a distance, and I felt my muscles cringe. That annoyed me.

From the corner of my eye I saw the argument between Emma and Kevin cease. Jones had simply

disappeared. Like magic. Except that I know magic … and nobody I’d ever known or heard of was

capable of that particular trick.

The man who held the door was familiar to me, and probably to every student who graced the hal s of

USC Bayview. University president Donald Lackley had movie star good looks, a permanent tan, and

shoes that had once roamed free in the Florida swamplands. His designer suit was impeccable,

perfectly tailored, and probably worth as much as the car I drive. He is a presence, and as such never

misses a photo op or a chance to cadge donations for the campus. That said, he is stil one hell of an

able administrator. No detail is smal enough to escape the notice of those sharp dark eyes. Most

people would have been surprised that he’d choose to lead the charge down here himself. I wasn’t. If

he was here he could control the situation. Like most administrators, Lackley was all about control. If