Demon Song

12

I was a little worried about getting into the campus library. Though I’d graduated, I was still officially a student—I took a class or two every semester to maintain my health insurance. Right now I was getting a D in ornamental gardening because I hadn’t been showing up for class and I’d missed the midterm exam. Well, my life had gotten just a little complicated. I think the only reason the instructor hadn’t failed me outright was because he was giving the class for the same reason I was taking it, so he was somewhat loathe to make me lose my benefits. But he did warn that I was going to have to spend some time with the design books and a hedge clipper after the winter break or he wasn’t going to be able to let me skate by anymore.

And while the vampire healing was holding up so far, I’d hate for something else to change in my life and leave me with no healing and no insurance.

But despite my status as a student, I might be kicked out of the library. I’d been eighty-sixed by Anna herself not long ago. She considered me a risk to the patrons. A normal vampire certainly would be, and she’d outed me as a bat the minute I was turned. That was one reason I’d brought Dawna along. She could get through the magical barriers to the basement level even if I couldn’t and could give Anna the address where she could find Kevin. But I was hoping Anna hadn’t increased the shielding.

Dawna obviously had had similar thoughts. As we drove toward the library she said, “Why don’t I go in first? I can take her the note and see if you can come in. Just drop me off and drive around in case we’re being followed. I’ll call you in a couple of minutes.”

While I didn’t like the thought I could never go back to the library—because it was one of my all-time favorite places—the discretion made sense. Maybe hooking Anna back up with Kevin and making sure he was safe would get me back on her good side.

“Sounds good. And hey, if you manage it, I’ll give you your Christmas present early. It’s really nice.” Actually, I had no choice but to give it to her early. The reservations were for the coming weekend.

She lifted her chin and looked coy. “Not as nice as the one I got you, I’ll bet.”

Oh-ho. A competition. “Think so? Can you top a luxury weekend at the Oceanview spa—including hair, nails, facials, and massages? You, me, and Emma and the pampering of our lives?”

She squealed in delight and bounced in her seat, looking the most excited she had in months. “Omigawd! That place is the best! It got five stars from Resorts magazine. When is it for?”

I smiled. “This weekend. You hadn’t mentioned any plans.”

Her sparkling eyes got even happier. “That’s in the Napa Valley, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Right in the heart. Not sure why they called it Oceanview, but the pictures on the website are gorgeous.”

She started bouncing again. “Omigawd! It’s perfect. I think we’re both psychic or something … because look at your present!”

Dawna reached into her purse just as we reached the library’s parking lot. I found a spot under one of the big twin fluorescent lamps and light flooded the car. She passed me a gilt-edged envelope of heavy pressed linen. Pretty snazzy.

I opened it and removed three slips of cardboard with more gilt scrollwork and engraved lettering. I turned the shining letters into the light and … “Oh, no way! There is no fucking way I’m seeing this!” My jaw was well and truly dropped. Somehow she had managed the absolutely impossible. I was holding a personalized ticket to the event of the year. “How the hell did you get tickets to the release party?”

She smiled smugly and shook her head, refusing to answer.

California is wine country, so anytime a new wine shows up it’s news. About two years ago, twin sisters with no grape-growing background came in and set up shop. They took over a little private winery and planted all new vines. It was very hush-hush and nobody really gave them a chance of success. Everyone expected them to do some big-time begging for press. Surprisingly, they didn’t seek attention. They wouldn’t even give interviews to the major wine magazines. There was a lot of buzz that they’d been in negotiations with the state growers’ association and the EPA about whatever they were doing, and nearly every week some scandal sheet would claim to have the inside track on what sort of wine the sisters were making.

Then they started entering European wine competitions. The little California start-up took gold medals in both the red and white categories. But no one wrote or spoke about the wine itself—even the judges of the contests kept silent. A couple of French and Italian winemakers’ groups protested, as did a consortium of Australian companies, and the courts got involved. The sisters’ company insisted the court records be sealed because of trade secrets—and they were.

In the end the sisters gave up the medals, which ended the case with the nature of the wine still concealed. There was a full-blown riot in the press. Nobody in the public had tasted the wine. Nobody could find it. Nobody could beg, borrow, or steal it.

After all that, Saturday night was the big event—the official, very exclusive, public debut. The wine was named Witches’ Brew and everybody who was anybody was going to be there. Connoisseurs from all over the world had been offering up to six figures for a single ticket, if Internet reports could be believed. But there were none to be had. And each and every one of the few legitimate tickets—like the one in my now-shaking hand—was engraved with the name of the guest.

“Oh, before I forget.” Dawna took the ticket away from me, turned it over, and pulled a strip of cellophane from one corner. “You need to put your right thumb there and hold it for five seconds.”

Okay, I was curious. I did as she asked. I felt an odd sensation on my skin, a sort of tickle. When I picked up my thumb after a count of five there was a perfect impression of my fingerprint on the gold foil, as though it was engraved. “Biometrics?”

“Of a magical variety,” Dawna replied. “They really want to make sure nobody crashes the party. You can’t scan or photocopy the ticket. It comes up blank.”

Wow. This was just so … wow. “Who did you have to kill or screw to get your hands on these?”

“No killing, no screwing, and very sorry, but no telling.” She stuck out her tongue and unlocked her seat belt. “I’m off to get you lots of books. Enjoy staring at the pretty gold letters and thinking of what you’re going to wear.”

“Uh-huh.” I really couldn’t take my eyes off the ticket. I liked wine and I’d been following the story for two full years, ever since I saw the first little page 10 blurb in the Times. I had to taste that wine. I already had an order in with my local store for a bottle when one became available. Now I had the chance to drink a glass before nearly everyone else in the world. Wow.

I only realized that Dawna had left the car when I saw her halfway across the parking lot, heading for the library entrance.

Well, either I could sit here and keep staring at the ticket until my eyes bled or I could do something constructive. First on the list was calling Gran.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t home. She’d been home a lot less since she’d moved, but I was glad she was spending time with friends. I waited for the beep, then said, “Hi, Gran. Sorry I missed you. I’ve got great news. Queen Lopaka said that Mom’s problem was being separated from the ocean. She convinced the judge to move Mom to the Isle of Serenity to finish her sentence. They’re going to get her into alcohol treatment and give her counseling. Isn’t that wonderful?” God, I hoped she thought so. “I’ll be out of town this weekend with Dawna and Emma, but give me a call. My phone should be on.”

I clicked off the call and heard the chime that told me someone had called while I was leaving the message. Typical. I expected it to be Gran because that usually happens. But the number was one I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t even a California area code.

I called my voice mail and heard a male voice: “Ms. Graves? This is Mick Murphy.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “I know you’ve been working really hard on our behalf, but Molly and I have been talking and we’re starting to think that … well, that maybe it would be better to just stop this whole thing. It’s ruining our life. It really is. I don’t know the laws in California, but I’d imagine there’s a way to refuse a bequest in a probate. I know there is here in Arkansas. Anyway, I just wanted to call and let you know. We’ll be calling the lawyer tomorrow to see how to get the paperwork started. Thanks again. We both appreciate it.”

Oh, crap. I mean, I understood what he meant. My bequest was a major pain in the butt—just thinking about owning a building and being responsible for the grass cutting, the perpetually leaky roof, and all of the other things that I usually had handled by the owner. His bequest was just cash, but it was a lot of cash.

And none of us knew the reason Vicki had left the Murphys all that money. Even Vicki didn’t know, though she insisted there was one.

I hit the calls-received list and dialed his number. He picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Mick? It’s Celia Graves.”

He let out a small, embarrassed breath of laugh. “You know, I was actually relieved when I got your voice mail. I didn’t want to have to defend our decision.”

I wasn’t going to pick on the guy. “Hey, it’s hard. I understand. The whole idea of that kind of money messes with your head.”

The sound he made was a sort of laugh but really closer to a donkey bray. “It isn’t my head as much as everyone else’s. The calls have been non-stop since it made the press here.”

“Press? What press? Nobody was supposed to know about the probate while the court case was going on.”

“This is a small town, Ms. Graves. Nothing, and I mean nothing, goes unnoticed in Fool’s Rush. Someone like your investigator comes to town and everyone knows the story before lunch.”

I winced. I knew all about bad press and people calling at all hours. “Everybody in town has probably called asking for loans, huh?”

“Or trying to sell me something I don’t need or want. People started out happy for us, but now they’re getting aggressive and pissy. I mean, yeah, it’d be nice to give my girls some security—a college education and a trust fund. Maybe buy a new house or expand the restaurant. But we get by okay. It’ll get worse if we keep going. I know it—”

A noise started in the background on his phone, making it hard to hear the last few words. “Sorry. I couldn’t hear that last part. There’s a really odd sound in the background, like a cat yowling on a fence.”

He let out a burst of sound that was part laughter and part struggling not to laugh. “It’s sad, but that really is what it sounds like. I’m at the school Christmas pageant. I didn’t want to take the call in the auditorium, so I stepped into the hallway. You just heard my daughter Beverly singing a solo. I love my baby to pieces, but she can’t carry a tune in a bucket. I know the choir director wants to be fair and give everyone a chance, but it’s torture to listen to.”

My face felt hot because that’s just what Gran and Mom used to say about me. “I can’t really comment because I have the same affliction and remember really well the music teacher wanting to be fair with me. I wished she would have been realistic, not fair. If anything, Beverly sounds better than I did. Does your younger daughter … Jody, was it? Does she sing any better?”

There was a creaking sound and the background music dimmed. He must have gone back into the hallway. “It’s Julie and yeah, she has a better voice. She got most of the talent in the family, in fact. I love them both, but they’re very different girls. Beverly’s kind of standoffish and scored nearly zero on the standard paranormal tests. But Julie is outgoing, smart, can sing and dance, and has an affinity with ghosts.”

I felt a cold chill crawl up my spine. “She’s a necromancer?”

“Nah,” he said, and I breathed a little sigh. “Does a little channeling. Remember I said at the Will reading that my granny’s ghost stayed in the house after she died to show us where her Will was?” I did and said so. “Julie communicated with her to get the information. She was just a little thing back then, but it was pretty spooky to watch. It doesn’t seem to bother her as much now that she’s older.”

I was getting an awful feeling there was a really good reason why Vicki picked this particular family. Two daughters, one twelve and one eight, one who was odd and couldn’t sing, the other talented, with an affinity for the dead? That was just too close for comfort. “Mr. Murphy, could you give me a few days before you call the lawyer to refuse the bequest? Talking to you just now, I had an idea why Vicki might have left you the money. But I need to talk to a few people. I’ve got to go out of town this weekend, but I promise I’ll call you on Monday. Can you wait until then to do anything? Please?”

There was a pause where the only sound was children singing “O Christmas Tree” in high, clear unison. The notes were pure and bright. Beverly must have been mouthing the words. Finally, Mick sighed. “I don’t suppose it’ll do any harm to give it a few more days. Okay. I’ll talk to Molly and we’ll hold off doing anything until Monday. But whether or not you call, we’ll be contacting the lawyer then.”

The door of the library opened and I saw two figures emerging. Anna was slinging her purse over her shoulder hurriedly, and Dawna was loaded down with a stack of books that reached her chin. “I understand. We’ll talk more once I ask some questions of a friend of mine. Thank you and thank your wife as well. And I know it’s none of my business, but I suggest you let Beverly complain about the music teacher on the way home. I’m betting she’s fully aware of how bad she sounded and needs to get the frustration off her chest. I remember how much I hated seeing the pity in people’s eyes when someone forced me to sing.”

I remembered only too well Gran cautioning me to “be nice” and not to talk back or complain. My embarrassment had made me furious and I wished I could have just talked to them about how horrible it felt to be put on the spot like that.

His voice sounded thoughtful, with just a touch of worry: “Y’know? I remember her saying that once after another concert. Never thought much about it. But I saw pity in a man’s eyes once when he looked at me, and I didn’t much like it. I’ll give it a shot, let her speak her mind, and tell Molly to hush about politeness. Never hurts to give a horse its head every once in a while. Thank you, Ms. Graves.”

It made me smile to know he was thinking about Beverly’s feelings. I wished I could have had a dad like him. “No problem. I hope it works out. We’ll talk more next week.”

I hung up just as Dawna reached the car. I leaned across the front seat, struggling against the seat belt to push open the door. She caught it with an elbow and swung it wide enough to hold it with her hip. She stuck out her tongue. “You could have helped, you know. It’s a long way across the parking lot.”

Oops. “Sorry. I was on the phone with Mr. Murphy, the mystery heir.”

“S’okay. I didn’t notice you were on the phone. But damn, these things are heavy!” She put down the front seat and started to stack the books on the floor of the backseat.

Anna had reached her car, a little silver sedan that suited her personality—dependable and sturdy. She met my eyes for a brief moment and bowed her head once in what I assumed was a gesture of thanks.

Three things happened at once: Anna turned to get into her seat, Dawna finished stowing the books and sat down, and I noticed a shadow moving toward the silver sedan. The shadow was fast … too quick to be human. I had my seat belt unfastened and the door open before I even realized I was moving. My leg muscles tensed and I sprang forward. My hands planted on the roof of Anna’s car hard enough to make dents and then my hips swiveled, spinning my legs around in a circle as my right arm rose to make way.

The kick caught the vampire who’d been about to grab Anna across the side of the head. He fell back and down. “Shut the door!” I yelled at Anna as I slid down onto the asphalt. “Lock yourself in!”

She did as commanded as the bat got to his feet. He’d been no more than twenty when he died. He had the awkwardness of the newly dead, so he should be no trouble. He bared fully extended fangs and hissed at me. I hissed right back and it startled him for a moment. I guess he’d expected me to be just a brave human.

“Leave now and you don’t have to die.” I pulled both of my knives in a cross draw as I spoke. “You’re out of your league, kid.”

“Or maybe you’re out of yours … Celia.”

Oh, fuck a duck.

Although I didn’t recognize the face, I sure recognized that voice … and the evil chuckle straight out of hell that followed.

Note the word “hell” in there, because that’s just what he was. While I’d never heard of a vampire hosting a greater demon, it’s not that big of a jump. There’s a reason why holy objects are a primary defense against both.

There’s a time when bantering with the bad guys is a good idea—it gives you a chance to think and plan. But the demon had a voice that could make my body react sexually and make my mind turn off. I’d barely escaped with my life and soul the last time.

“Come to me, Celia.” He turned on the voice and I felt it pulling at my stomach, right through my clothes and skin. But so no. Oh, I’d go forward all right, but not like he wanted.

I lunged forward, making sure to lower my head so he couldn’t get those fangs anywhere near my neck. I had no idea what would happen if I got bit again, and I couldn’t imagine that a demon inside the bat at the time would be a good thing.

I head-butted him in the stomach with every ounce of strength I could muster and simultaneously stabbed one knife toward his heart. He grabbed my arm and tried to pull the knife away. But I’d anticipated that. My goal was to put him off-balance and off-guard so that when he jerked away from my head butt he backed straight into the second knife waiting between his shoulder blades.

His eyes went wide and his mouth open in a soundless scream as the enchanted metal slid effortlessly into his heart. “Go back to hell, asshole.” I threw myself away, making sure to yank my second knife with me. “And stay there this time.”

The vamp slid bonelessly to the ground, unable to speak past the blue and gold flames that licked at him from the inside out. When Lilith had burned up from within, I’d thought it was a fluke. Apparently not, because this guy did the same. But while the vampire was burned to ash, it wouldn’t kill the demon. You can’t actually kill a greater demon. All I’d done was remove another link between him and this world. He’d have to find another portal. He’d made a mistake by choosing a new turn. I’d be watching now that I realized the demon was still trying to get to me. Especially for the next few days.

Because come hell, high water, or bats in the night … I was going to that wine debut.