Blood Song

but I’d worry about that later. Right now I was cold and shaky from exhaustion and nerves. No big

surprise. I’m one of those folks who do great during the crisis, then fal apart afterward, when the

adrenaline drains off. I’d managed to hold it together long enough to get behind a locked door, but I was

done. Stick a fork in me, not only done but also burned to a crackly, crunchy done. I turned the shower

on ful blast, hot as I could stand it on ful -body massage, and stepped in, letting the water sluice over

me in torrents, washing away blood, sweat, and, yes, tears.

I don’t know how long I was in there. Long enough that my skin turned wrinkly. My water heater at

home would’ve given out from the strain. But when I stepped out and dried off I felt better. Not good.

That would’ve been expecting too much. But definitely better. I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped

into the dim confines of the main room.

I sank onto the edge of the bed and grabbed the telephone. Hitting the button for an outside line, I

dialed Bruno’s cel number. It was answered on the first ring.

“’Lo.”

“Bruno?” It didn’t sound like Bruno. The voice was too low, with a basso rumble to it that seemed

vaguely familiar but that I couldn’t quite place.

“Who is this?”

“Celia.”

“Ah, Graves. I shoulda known. Hang on a sec. Sal wants to talk to ya.”

Sal—as in Uncle Sal. Oh, crap. I’d been talking to Bruno’s cousin, Little Joey. No wonder the voice

had sounded familiar. I’d only met him once, but he’s the kind of guy who leaves an indelible

impression.

A smooth baritone came onto the line. His voice was pleasant and cultured. Almost exactly like King

Dahlmar. A part of me was absolutely positive Uncle Sal would sound pleasant and cultured ordering

someone to break your kneecaps. Not that he would ever do such a terrible, wicked thing. The Italian

Mafia was an invention of the media. Total fabrication.

Right.

Stil , whatever else you may say or believe about him, Uncle Sal never loses his cool. “Hel o, Celia.”

“Hel o, Mr. DeGarmo.”

“I assume you cal ed to check on my nephews?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Matteo came through the surgery just fine. He’s stable. The next few hours wil make al the

difference.” He paused, and I waited, twitchy with nerves, for him to continue.

“They’d drugged him pretty heavy, but he woke up about a half hour before dawn. Said she was

cal ing him. Even drugged and on holy ground, he could hear her. He says her name is Lilith.”

Oh, shit. She had enough control of his mind to introduce herself? That was so not good.

“But he didn’t try to go. Said he could hear her, but he didn’t feel a pul , even though he remembered

getting bit.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding in a rush.

“Bruno tel s me it was you who thought to look for the bite and clean it with holy water?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That was smart.” He paused, like he wasn’t real y surprised. “Thank you.”

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. I mean, I would’ve done it for anybody. But he was thanking me,

and I had to say something. “You’re welcome. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Maybe not at the time, but it wound up being important. So I’m going to give you some advice.”

Al right then. Advice from Uncle Sal is like hearing from E. F. Hutton. He talks. You listen.

“Don’t be coming down to the hospital. Bruno’d be glad to see you. Hel , Matty would, too, after that.

But my sister … not so much. I’l tel the boys you cal ed.”

“They admitted Bruno?” I was surprised. He hadn’t been hurt. A little shocky, but I hadn’t thought he’d

been that bad off.

“Exhaustion, overstraining his magic.” Sal chuckled. “I told him to stay put. He didn’t like it much. First

time he’s ever real y argued with me. He wants to go after the bat that did this, but he’s not up to it. Not

right now.” He gave a meaningful pause. “Neither are you. Daylight or no.”

I wasn’t going to argue. He was right. Some of the real y old vamps don’t need much rest at al . A

couple hours and they were as fresh as a daisy. They might not go out in daylight, but you couldn’t

count on them being down for the count, either. Since she was old enough to be an ubervamp, she was

probably up and about by now. Of course, come nightfal , she’d be looking for me. She as much as said

so.

“I don’t plan on going hunting.” I was honest with him. “But she threatened me. We hurt her and kil ed

her partner, and she blames me for that.”

“So I heard.”

I’d bet he had. I could just imagine Bruno saying it. Loudly. And it wouldn’t have made a damned bit of

difference to Sal. Because, ultimately, Bruno is family. I’m not. Keeping him alive is more important to

them than I am. More important to me, too, come to think of it.

Sal kept talking. “So I made a cal ; told Archbishop Fuentes about this bat, how she could cal a priest

on holy ground. He didn’t like the sound of that. Decided that maybe they should send some

reinforcements in from Mexico and South America. A few dozen or so. You manage to lay low for a

day or two, this could al be taken care of. ”

Whoa. When he said it like that, I realized he was right. A vamp cal ing an ordained priest on holy

ground? That probably raised a few eyebrows at the Vatican. “Thank you.” I meant it. I mean, not

everybody would’ve been able or wil ing to do something like that, particularly not for their nephew’s exgirlfriend.

“You’re welcome.” He quoted my own words back at me with just a hint of amusement. “It wasn’t a big

deal. Take care of yourself.”

“I’l try.”

He said good-bye and hung up and I fol owed suit. For a couple of minutes I just sat on the edge of

the bed, staring blankly at the opposite wal . Wow. Um … Wow. Okay, then.

I decided I was going to strain myself if I thought too hard about it, and I was too tired to think

coherently anyway. So without further ado I dropped the towel on the floor and climbed under the

blankets. I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pil ow.

21

Dawna said, “You are the only thing standing in her way now. She’l kil you if she can.”

I choked. “That’s the message?” I’d cal ed the office while waiting for Room Service to bring up my