Blood Song

better by the time Gibson pul ed into the parking lot of my office building. My office isn’t quite in central

downtown. Even with office sharing I couldn’t afford that. Instead, we’re about four blocks off. It puts us

closer to the county jail, which works wel for the bail bondsmen. Being in the same building with the bail

bondsmen (who do not and ethical y cannot actual y refer clients to a specific attorney) is good for the

attorney. Because let’s face it. Even without a referral, sheer placement means they’re going to get

noticed.

Left over from a bygone era and surrounded by squat office buildings, our three-story Victorian, once

a mansion, has more charm and style than anyplace else within miles. The bulk of it is painted slate

gray, but there’s lots of gingerbread trim that is done up in white, burgundy, and black. A portion of the

rents is pooled into a fund that pays for building maintenance, including lawn care, so David’s son

comes by once a week to keep the grounds picture perfect, including the huge trees that shade the

front and back porches.

The place has its drawbacks. The parking lot is smal , only holding six cars. And the high ceilings and

choppy floor plan make it hard to keep it a reasonable temperature. In summer, the upper floors can be

wretchedly hot. In winter … wel , let’s just say I’m glad it’s California and it doesn’t get too cold. Stil , it’s

a gem of a building, with the original dark wood stain on trim and doors, a huge stained-glass window

on the second-floor landing, and a turret where I can sit and eat my morning bagel and watch the world

go by. I rent about half of the third floor, including said turret.

Gibson pul ed his sedan into the spot marked with my name. It was one of only two in the shade. I

watched him take a seemingly casual look around while taking in every detail. I didn’t mind. The place

looks good. Even the windows get washed on a regular basis.

He looked around and grinned. “Nice. You want to clean up before you go inside?” He unfastened his

seat belt and got out of the car. He was moving slowly, with an unnatural stiffness that spoke of the pain

he was trying to hide.

That made me frown. “No. Why?” I climbed out as wel . As I shoved the door closed I caught a

glimpse of my reflection in the car window. Gibson was right. I looked awful. Somewhere during the

course of the morning I’d lost the ponytail holder, and my hair was hanging loose. Raking my hands

through the tangled mass didn’t help much, and nothing was going to make the dark circles under my

reddened eyes any less obvious.

Ah wel . There was nothing I could do to change things right now, so there was no point in dwel ing on

it.

Gibson waited patiently for me to join him on the steps onto the wide front porch. I touched my finger

to the porch swing to set it moving. I do it every time I walk by, and have no idea why. Maybe just as a

counterpoint to the other furniture. It wouldn’t do any good to push the wicker chairs. They were

permanently affixed to the floor.

He graciously held open the door for me, so I stepped into the muted shadows of the lobby. It took a

minute for my eyes to adjust to the relative darkness, so I heard Dawna’s gasp before I saw her.

“Celia … Oh my God. ” Dawna’s eyes are large and doelike under normal circumstances. Now they

were the size of plates. Her jaw dropped open. “What’s happened to you? I mean, Kevin said you’d

been attacked last night, but ohmigod you have fangs and your skin … ” The words tumbled out in a

breathless rush. She was swaying on her feet enough that Gibson rushed forward to help her into the

nearest chair—the little rol ing number behind the reception counter.

“I got attacked by bats. One of them was a master, and he started to turn me, but the cavalry arrived

before he could finish the job. I’m not a bat. I’m not going to be a bat.”

“But you look—, ” she was whispering.

“Like something that should be staked and beheaded.” It came out more bitter than I had intended it

to, and she flinched, tears fil ing her eyes. Crap. “I’m sorry, Dawna. I didn’t mean—”

She shook her head. “It’s al right. Real y. I mean, I can’t even imagine—” She stopped, evidently at a

loss for words, which was so not Dawna. I love her like a sister, but she can and wil talk your ear off

given half a chance. Which we didn’t have time for right now.

“This is Detective Gibson.” Gibson turned from where he was examining the elegant impressionist

print hanging above a fireplace framed by built-in bookcases on the far side of the room. I continued,

“He’s investigating an incident from last night. He’s going to need copies of some of the phone

records… .” The sentence trickled to a halt as she shook her head.

“Hel o, Detective.” She rose, extending her hand as he approached, and I got a better look at her.

She was wearing a classic silk suit in navy with a crimson blouse. The skirt was short enough to show

an excel ent pair of legs, made to look longer by a set of heels I wouldn’t have attempted. Stil , she

looked good. Then again, she always does, and without resorting to any magic. Just good genetics and

an eye for how to make the most of her assets.

She ral ied enough to put on her best professional demeanor, but I could tel she’d had quite a shock. I

was sorry about that, and wished to hel I’d taken the time to cal ahead. Then again, Kevin had warned

her and that hadn’t done any good.

“I’m sorry Celia, I’d normal y be happy to help the detective. But my computer crashed this morning.

Al the computer files; al the bil ing; everything … just gone. ”

Oh, crap. Wel , that sucked. Big-time. But while she obviously wasn’t happy, she wasn’t throwing a fit.

Maybe seeing me put it into perspective.

“Oh, Lord. I hope you’ve backed up.”

She sighed. “The backups are wiped, too. Must have been some sort of freak electric surge.”

I cringed in sympathy. I keep hard copies of everything, in addition to my flash drive, but some of the

others don’t. It was going to be a monumental task to re-create al of the records from scratch. At least

I could give her one bit of good news. “Wel , if it makes you feel any better, I’ve got al my stuff backed

up onto a memory stick and my laptop is in my safe. It’l save you having to re-create my stuff at least.”

“That’s something, I suppose.” She sighed and turned to face me, her expression worried. “Are you

sure you’re okay? A pair of federal agents were in here earlier looking for you. They said you’d been

hurt last night, made me check to make sure you weren’t unconscious in your office. That’s why I cal ed

Kevin. He usual y knows where you are.”

Federal agents? I glanced at Gibson, but if he was surprised, he didn’t show it. He just continued to

take in the decor with a seemingly innocent face. But what happened? I knew now, but I didn’t want to

talk about it. The memories were stil too raw. So I brushed it off by turning to Gibson. “That was awful y

quick. Think your people cal ed them?”