The Isis Collar

almost in panic.

“Other schools?”

“Oh, um, you know … in the district. Other grade schools.”

He was lying. But before I could follow up on it, Parker tapped on the glass door behind us, making Jamisyn and me both jump in surprise.

“I gotta get back to work. Good luck,” he called over his shoulder as he bolted.

The way things were going, I’d need it.

4

Since I’m a glutton for punishment I went straight from the school to the police station. I mean, really, why not make a day of it? I pulled into the covered parking garage attached to the Santa Maria de Luna PD, cruising around and around until I found the spot I was looking for right across from the little white Toyota belonging to none other than Detective Alexander. If Jamisyn’s good-luck wish worked, she should be getting off- shift soon. If not, well, I was in a dark, cool, quiet place that was ever so much better for my headache.

I only had to wait an hour.

“Oh, shit. It’s you.”

“Gee, Heather. You’d think you weren’t happy to see me or something.” I was mostly being sarcastic. Still, a little part of me was hurt that she had been ducking my calls and was obviously unhappy to see me. We might not be close, but we’d always been friendly.

“What do you want?” she snapped. She tried to walk around me, but I stepped back in her way.

“Were there bombs in more than just the one school?”

“Damn it, Graves!”

Wow, not even “Celia” anymore. This was serious. “What?”

She ran fingers through her hair and let out a frustrated breath. “You keep doing this. You keep putting me in the hot seat, asking me to do things I can’t, wanting me to tell you things you’re not supposed to know. Do you have any idea how much trouble you get me into? You want information? Why come to me? Why not ask Rizzoli?”

I took a step back, my hands coming up in a defensive gesture. Alex was practically snarling at me. This was way more attitude than usual. More than the situation deserved. I was about to say so, to ask what had her so hot under the collar, when she winked at me, her eyes flickering in the direction of a camera I’d seen posted in a nearby corner.

Aha. Okay, so she wasn’t really pissed off. Which was good. But she also couldn’t talk. Still, she’d managed to pass on one important kernel of information. Rizzoli is Special Agent Dominic Rizzoli, FBI. Who wouldn’t be involved if this were just a local matter. Which meant that somehow, somewhere … this had crossed state lines. Holy crap.

“Heather…”

“Don’t you ‘Heather’ me,” she snarled. “You were Vicki’s friend, not mine. Vicki’s dead. Don’t think you can use her memory to make me forget my duty. ’Cause that’s not going to happen.”

The words stung. Even if I’d read the wink right, that we were putting on a show for the cameras, it still hurt. Mainly because I still missed Vicki. Maybe just as much as Alex did.

“Fine. I won’t bother you at work again.”

“Good. Don’t.”

5

I wasn’t able to reach Rizzoli either that day or the next. Frustrating, but not unexpected. I might have a handy-dandy consultant’s badge, but there are limits to how much good it does me. Rizzoli would get hold of me when he was ready, and not until. I, meanwhile, had other things on my mind.

Dusk was falling as I entered the Pacific Health Complex. It wasn’t so much a hospital as a clustered group of private-practice specialist physicians. If this doctor couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me, I was afraid I was going to have to give up. Of course this one had been recommended by Gwen Talbert, my therapist and a very highly respected physician, so maybe he’d have better luck. Or more skill. Either one was fine with me.

I looked at the building directory when I walked in. Most of the offices were closed for the day, but this particular doctor offered evening hours. And why wouldn’t he? He was an Orvah practitioner. It was an art distantly related to Voodoo whose doctors sort of depended on darkness for a lot of their healing. He was the only certified specialist in this area of the state.

The amber-skinned receptionist with a name tag that read Simone smiled as I reached her desk. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” I replied, “I’m Celia Graves. I have a seven o’clock appointment with Dr. Jean-Baptiste.”

She checked a list and then nodded before rising from her chair. “Of course. Right this way, Ms. Graves. I’ll need you to fill out some insurance forms.”

I almost laughed and decided not to mention that said forms probably wouldn’t yield any actual payment from my insurance. I couldn’t remember whether I’d brought my checkbook.

“The doctor is running a little behind, so we have some time.”

Naturally. What doctor isn’t running behind? “Could we at least draw the blood? You asked that I not eat, but I have a … medical condition. I really need to get something in me so bad things don’t happen.” That was putting it mildly. I was trying really hard not to stare too long at Simone’s lovely, slender neck. Pretty, silken skin that was alive with color. One of the things I wanted to see the doctor for was how my inner vamp was wanting to come out and play more often since the bomb and it was getting harder to fight it. I clutched my purse tighter, feeling the outline of one of the nutrition shake bottles inside. It wasn’t what my stomach wanted this close to sundown, but it would satisfy the hunger.

“Oh! Of course. We can certainly do the lab work first. I’m sorry. I remember you mentioning your … condition when you set the appointment close to night. But the doctor did insist on an evening appointment. And I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Well, they’d better be damned good reasons, because everybody I’d run into for the past hour had looked pretty much like a Happy Meal. It was all I could do to keep myself in check.

“We’ll get you taken care of.” And she did. I was whisked into a brightly lit, modern lab where obviously well-trained techs found a vein on the first try. I felt the pinch in my arm and had to shut my eyes. Smelling the blood was bad enough. I wasn’t sure what would happen if I actually saw it—thick and red in the glass tube.

The second the blonde in blue pressed a cotton ball to the crook of my arm, my other hand was in my bag. I slugged down one bottle like it was the first taste of water I’d had in a week. The second one I sipped more leisurely and I felt the twitching under my skin ease. I wasn’t sure if removing the symptoms was good or bad, but the vampire thing wasn’t something the doctor was going to fix, so I figured I’d take my chances.

I was sitting in the hallway finishing the last of the chocolaty goodness when Simone reappeared.

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Graves, but I’m afraid I need to get identification and credit card information from you.” Her face flushed, whether from embarrassment or anger I wasn’t sure. “I just spoke with your insurance carrier. It seems they’re denying your coverage. They claim you’re, well, dead.”

So much for not mentioning it. I figured at least it would have to go through the processing period or not get noticed until working hours tomorrow. I sighed and began rummaging in my purse. This was just getting ridiculous. The minute I got back to the office I was scanning those letters and sending them to my attorney. Let him deal with the idiots at the insurance company.

Simone glanced from my driver’s license to my face and back again until I felt compelled to explain. “It’s the Abomination thing. They’re claiming I’m dead so that they won’t have to pay any of my claims.”

“I see.” She handed back my license, but took my credit card with her. She’d barely gone when a nurse in Snoopy scrubs weighed me and lead me into the exam room.

When I followed the nurse through the doorway at the end of the hall all impressions of the shining white and stainless-steel office disappeared. The room was dim, lit with burning torches set into pockets in the walls. I could barely hear the low whir of fans that pulled the smoke upward and away from the room. Mostly the sound in the