Cat Adams [Blood Singer 02] Siren Song (pdf)

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undead.
By the time the food arrived I looked presentable. I even had a cute little purse to go
with the outfit. When I m working, I just slip my wallet and phone into the pockets of my
jacket, but I was feeling girly today. Seeing Ren looking so flawless had pricked my
vanity a little, much as I hated to admit it.
I wolfed down the warm, buttery, maple-flavored slushy, suddenly sorry I hadn t asked
for two. It seemed hard to believe there was actually nutrition in it. Even better, the meat
protein the chef had chosen was a maplewood beef sausage that went perfectly with my
waffle. It tasted like real food and I d have paid money for it in any restaurant, even
before the attack.
I was ready to dive out the door when a nurse stopped by with a syringe and a tray of
tubes. What s this for?
Your treating physician said we needed to test your blood to see if you were linked
magically to anyone.
We d talked about that in therapy. I was confident my vampire sire was dead. King
Dahlmar had taken care of that as an advance payment for helping him with his son and
the demon. I was grateful enough to have my sire dead that I d wrapped my body around
the unconscious prince to protect him while a seriously ticked-off demon sliced and
diced me. But there were still questions about other vamps and sirens and heaven only
knows what. Yeah, I wanted to know who I was linked to. Oh, right. Can you make it
quick? I need to get going.
Do my best.
It probably only felt like he drew as much as the bloodmobile would. Still, I managed
not to complain. I am trying very hard to be a cooperative patient . . . with limited
success. But I am trying. Several tubes later I was able to grab the Wadjeti and dive out
the door.
As the gate to the facility swung closed behind the back bumper of my Miata I felt a
surge of pure joy. Freedom! There s nothing like it. I hate feeling trapped, and a gilded
cage is still a cage. So while I might only be out for a mere twelve hours, I was going to
make the most of it.
First stop the university and a meeting with Warren Landingham. He was my favorite
professor in college and had earned the affectionate nickname El Jefe. He s one of the
top experts in the world on all things paranormal. And if he doesn t know the answers,
he s bound to know someone who does. I couldn t wait to show him the Wadjeti and the
curse mark and to find out what had been going on with my friends during my absence.
As Kevin and Emma s father, he generally stays pretty well in the loop in our little circle of
friends.
I turned onto Ocean View, windows down so that I could feel the early-morning breeze
blow through, hear the sounds and smell the scents of the ocean.
It was going to be a busy day. There were a lot of things I needed to do and one or two
others I wanted to. Top of the latter list was attending the reading of Vicki s Will. Jeff had
actually suggested (strongly) I not go. If he d had his normal presence of mind, he would
have remembered that the reading was today. I felt a little bad about not reminding him.
But only a little.
Vicki s mother is fairly ruthless and a little unscrupulous. I worried that if I didn t attend
the reading, things could mysteriously . . . happen to the original Will. Yeah, it sucks to be
that paranoid, but my own mom is no prize, so I have low expectations. Such were my
none-too-pleasant musings when my cell phone rang. Swearing, I tried to keep my eyes
on the road and the steering wheel steady with my left hand while I rummaged in my
purse with my right.
I managed to get my hands on the phone without doing anything unfortunate and
flicked it open, hitting the buttons to answer and put it on speaker. Celia here.
Oh good, I caught you.
I recognized Warren s voice immediately. He wasn t the first person I d called about
Ren s little gift. I d tried to ring Bruno the moment I was outside the facility s cell phone
jamming range, but he didn t answer. I really hoped to get his take on it. Even more
important, I had a couple of questions about the death curse and the mark on my palm.
Like why hadn t anyone noticed it before this and, oh, I dunno, maybe, how the hell can
we get rid of it? But with the time difference on the East Coast, he was probably already
at work, doing something where he couldn t take calls. I d left a voice mail. Even if he
didn t get back to me today, I was pretty sure he d be at my hearing tomorrow. Then I d
called Warren.
Now, I couldn t help but smile. What s up?
I called a friend of mine over at UCLA. If you can put off your visit to the campus until [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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