Blood Song

“Water would be lovely,” I admitted. Actual y, a pizza would be lovely, but it would only depress me

more when I had to throw it up.

“I’l be right back.”

I opened my eyes, taking a look around. It was a nice office: not as nice as Dr. Scott’s, but he was

the head administrator. She was just one of the psychiatrists on staff. Stil , the room was spacious, the

wal s painted a gentle robin’s egg blue with off-white trim. There was only one window, but it was a large

one. Heavy satin drapes in a rich shade of royal blue matched both the upholstery of the chairs and

the print in the plush Oriental rug beneath my feet. The furniture had a polished cherry finish that picked

up the burgundy in the rug and the shade of the lamp on her uncluttered desk. A grouping of blackframed family photos were arranged on the credenza behind her seat, showing the doctor, two

handsome children, and a huge Old English sheepdog in various combinations.

The doctor reappeared, carrying a crystal glass and a bottle of water. “Here you go.” She passed

them to me before resuming her place in the chair behind her desk. “We can sit in the conversation

area if you prefer,” she suggested as she reached over to set the timer on her BlackBerry for thirty

minutes.

“No, this is fine. Where do you want to start?”

“Wel , I suppose we should start with introductions. I’m Evelyn Greene.” She held out her hand for me

to shake. I took it and answered, “Celia Graves.”

“It’s a pleasure.” She smiled again. “Do you know why Dr. Scott recommended me to Dr. Talbert?”

“Because you’re good?” I suggested.

“Yes, in general,” she answered without even a hint of false modesty. “But he could have suggested

any of our therapists. He chose me for a specific reason.”

I felt my eyebrows raise. I knew she wanted me to ask, so I did. “Why?”

She watched me intently as she spoke, her expression guarded. “He was very disturbed by the fact

that you were able to use vampire powers to manipulate him psychical y to the point where he agreed

to your ‘deal.’”

I felt my eyes go wide. What the hell? “I didn’t.”

She steepled her fingers. “Oh, you did. He did tel me he didn’t believe you did it intentionally. But in

order to make sure nothing like that happens again, accidental y or otherwise, he asked me to work

with you.”

I held back my irritation, keeping my expression as neutral as I could. I realized suddenly that she was

one of those therapists who made you do al the work, never actual y telling you anything, just leading

you around by the nose until you got where they wanted you to go and drew the conclusions they

wanted you to draw. A large part of me wanted to act dense, just to see how long it would be before she

told me what she was getting at. But it could be years. And I was paying for this out of my own pocket. I

hate wasting money.

“You’re a nul ?” I guessed.

This time her smile actual y reached her eyes. “Yes.”

Wel , that was kind of interesting. Before the bite I’d been plain vanil a human. I couldn’t use magic

and didn’t have any psychic gifts. But magic and psychic stuff had worked on me. A true nul was

different, and much, much rarer. A psychic has a mental radio that plays in their head non-stop. In most

people, that mental radio is turned off unless specifical y turned on. Dr. Greene didn’t even have a

radio. Magic didn’t work on nul s. Psychical y they were unreachable. Clairvoyants couldn’t “see” them;

telepaths couldn’t read or influence them. They can walk through magic power circles without anyone

even knowing they are there. It was considered by most to be a rare birth defect, but I’d always thought

that in work like mine it’d be damned handy. Vampires could use their physical strength on a nul , but

they couldn’t bespel one, would never be able to turn one. A nul bitten by a werewolf might die, but

they’d never turn furry.

“I wanted you to know, so that there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings between us.”

“Thank you.”

“Dr. Scott also wanted me to ask you to seriously reconsider becoming an inpatient for the next few

weeks, until you’ve had a chance to determine the ful extent of your physiological changes and adapt

to them. What has happened to you is extremely traumatic physical y as wel as mental y and

emotional y. It is dangerous for you—”

I interrupted her, “I know that. But right now I have things I have to do. In a few days—”

It was her turn to interrupt. “You may not have a few days. We are talking about your physical and

mental survival. Surely whatever it is can wait.”

Her disapproving tone made it more of a statement, but I answered as if it had been a question. “No,

it real y can’t.” I sighed. “Other than the incident with Dr. Scott, I’ve been able to keep things under

control.”

She opened her mouth, but I waved her to silence.

“I’m fol owing his directions to the letter.” Wel , maybe not exactly to the letter, but close. And it wasn’t

easy, either. “But in the past few days I’ve had multiple attempts on my life. I can’t be stuck in one place

where they can find me and get to me easily.”

“I assure you—”

I interrupted again. “They got to Vicki. They had to kil Louis to do it. But they got in, and they kil ed

her. And you know it. And they got in through protections that were just as good at Vicki’s estate. They

kil ed a sweet kid who just liked to clean pools, because he had a useful body part. No, thank you. I’m

not going to be a sitting duck, and I’m not putting your patients and staff at risk.”

“I could force the issue.” She said it cool y.

“That would be a mistake,” I replied, just as cool y. Except I wasn’t cool. I was pissed. As I looked into

her deep blue eyes it occurred to me that she was provoking me deliberately, trying to get me to lose it,

so she’d have the excuse. Bitch. I kept calm and didn’t take the bait.

We sat in a silent battle of wil s for long moments, neither of us wil ing to give an inch. Each tick of the

wal clock fel into the silence, and the sound of the air conditioner kicking in was almost startlingly loud.

I leaned forward, opening the water bottle, pouring the fluid into the glass. I sipped it quietly,

comfortably, crossing my legs with deliberate casualness. I was not giving in to her bul shit. If this was

her way of doing things, I was not going to be her patient much past the first meeting. Dr. Scott would

just have to refer me to someone else. Of course the doctor might have to do my counseling while

sitting inside a sacred circle.

“This is getting us nowhere,” she announced.

I couldn’t argue with that, so I didn’t. Instead, I raised my brows and took another sip of water, being

ever so careful not to show any hint of pleasure at her being the one to break the silence.

“It’s going to be very difficult to make any progress if you refuse to cooperate.” She sounded a little

waspish. Her professional demeanor was slipping just a tad.

“I am not refusing to cooperate. I am merely choosing outpatient treatment, which was an option