Blood Song

They couldn’t even spare one monk? That made no sense. Unless … “It isn’t just one minor demon

anymore, is it?” I spoke softly, mainly because I was scared. I might not remember everything from

col ege, but the chapters on demonology were gruesome enough to be unforgettably etched in my

mind.

“I did not say that.” Matteo had paled and started trembling. “And don’t you say it, either. We can’t

afford for word to get out. It’d start a panic.”

“Oh, shit. Should you even be here?” Bruno’s voice was a little breathy. Evidently I wasn’t the only one

who remembered my studies.

Matteo closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m supposed to be on medical leave. I’m not al owed to help

with the other problem, so I might as wel be here.”

I hadn’t seen any injuries, but if he was hurt enough that they weren’t letting him on the demon hunt,

he was probably too hurt to be doing this. I opened my mouth to say just that, but a look from Bruno

silenced me.

Ah, male pride—or maybe just DeLuca pride. Matteo couldn’t be in on the big demon hunt, but he

needed to do something. So we were giving him the next best thing, an ubervamp. If things went

according to plan, we should be able to take her down without anyone getting hurt. Of course, how

often do things actual y go according to plan?

I squashed that thought like a roach. It was as good a plan as we could make. We were wel armed.

Matteo was the weaker of the two brothers when it came to magic, so he reactivated the outer ring of

defenses. It takes less power to recharge something that’s already established than to set up

something new. Bruno would have the harder job, but I didn’t doubt he was up to it. I was just there to

play trigger woman.

If the authorities showed up they’d do the dirty work for me, but I didn’t think they’d be here. I’d done

my civic duty and cal ed in to get the kil sanctioned, but the police forces were stretched pretty damned

thin this week. Anaheim was hosting the World Series for at least two games—night games. Al hands

had to be on deck, particularly with the militant priestly orders otherwise occupied. Then again, maybe

that was why the demons and bats were moving now. They might be evil, but they weren’t stupid.

Matty walked the ring using holy water. I felt the hum of magic vibrate through the ground at my feet. It

raised the hairs al over my body, and I wondered if it was too much. If I could sense it, maybe she

would, too. If she did, she wouldn’t cross the line and get caught in our trap. I opened my mouth to say

as much, but the magic eased back down before I could get a word out.

Shaking my head, I went back to examining my weapons. Nothing had changed since I’d checked

them earlier, but I needed reassurance. I find the razor’s edge of a knife and the smel of gun oil

comforting. So sue me.

An old beater of a Chevy pul ed into the parking lot and the teenage clerk climbed out. He was in his

uniform, ready to go on shift. He noticed me and gave me a smile and wave as he hurried into the

building.

That was creepy. I mean, I knew he didn’t remember being bespel ed. But I did.

The sun sank farther in the west and the automatic lights flicked on, il uminating everything with flat

orange light that made the shadows seem al the darker. Day transitioned into night with little fanfare.

Cars drove by on the main road, radios blasting. When the light turned red, mariachi horns competed

with the thumping bass of hip-hop. I was hunched down in the seat of Matty’s rental sedan, waiting out

of sight, alternately hoping and worrying that I had been wrong, that she wouldn’t show up. I didn’t know

where Matty and Bruno were hiding.

Time dragged. My back started spasming in protest at the unnatural position I was in. The discomfort

was such that I was almost tempted to get out of the car and stretch. I might have, if I hadn’t heard the

purr of a car engine pul ing slowly into the shadowed parking lot a short distance away. I heard the soft

whump of a car door closing and the unmistakable crunch and click of high heels on rock- strewn

asphalt.

And then I felt her, like the faintest hint of a breeze across sweat-soaked skin: power, soft as a

lover’s whisper, cal ing. It was seductive, irresistible. Right then and there I thanked God that she

wasn’t cal ing me. Because I would’ve gone, gone with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. I’d

have gone rushing headlong, gladly, to the arms of death. She was that good.

I heard the automatic door of the store whoosh open, heard voices cal ing out in protest. And stil I

waited. Hurry up, guys. We’re running out of time here.

Almost as if they heard my thoughts I felt the surge of energy as strong wal s of power snapped into

place.

Time to rol .

I rose and climbed from the car, pul ing my gun and flipping off the safety as I did. I wasn’t moving fast.

I didn’t want to take any chances.

She heard me coming and turned, hissing, flashing ivory fangs; the skin of her face was stretched

taut over her skul in a way that bore no resemblance to humanity. Her skin glowed, creating its own

light, so that I could see my target with utter clarity.

I heard the kid shout and run for the door of the store, her spel over him broken by her distraction.

Setting myself into a classic shooter’s stance, I very deliberately fired two shots at her chest. After the

first shot, blood and skin exploded backward to run down the thickened air that formed the wal behind

her.

The second shot missed the vampire, embedding itself in a newspaper rack. By then she was

moving, racing between the two rings of power, trailing gouts of blood as the arteries pumping into her

shattered heart hosed their contents into the night. She was searching for a weakness in either wal , an

escape, but Matteo and Bruno had done their jobs too wel .

She screamed, an unearthly sound of rage combined with raw magical power that nearly deafened

me.

In my peripheral vision I saw the boys step out of their hiding spots. Bruno aimed the gun I’d loaned

him. Matteo was armed with something just as deadly to a bat—one of the oversized water guns, fil ed

with what had to be holy water.

He opened fire, aiming not at her neck or heart but across her legs in a steady stream. It wasn’t

enough to cut off her legs, but it dropped her to the ground in screeching agony, giving me a chance to

fire again into a chest that had already almost healed.

I was nearly deaf at this point, and felt fluid running down my neck. Whether it was sweat or my ears