Blood Song (5 page)

Chills radiated up her arms as she collected the items that had scattered along the throw rug and pushed them back into their compartments. Whether she wanted to believe it or not, the evidence was mounting that she’d lost consciousness at some point last night. And if things got worse, who knew how much longer she could control herself?

She sat on the edge of the bed and rummaged through her purse for her cell phone. Maybe it was time to call Dr. Alden again, the paranormal psychiatrist who’d helped before—the only one she’d ever confided in about her strange situation. She’d told him she wouldn’t be back in touch unless something serious happened. Did this fit that description? She stared at the phone a moment longer, then tucked it back into the side pocket of her purse. “No,” she said, standing. “I don’t want to alarm him. Last night was a fluke.”

Careful not to think about what had or hadn’t happened last night, she gathered what she needed for the day, and then headed down the stairs and out the front door.

Ethan’s eyes popped open the second the sun dipped below the mountain peaks.

Immediately, he experienced an uncomfortable feeling he’d never had before. Concentrating, he tried to understand the wispy perceptions and couldn’t shake the idea that he’d been...
interrupted
. Or something. Who knew what went on in his brain while he was dead during the daylight hours, but he had the craziest sense that he’d been
thinking
a few seconds ago when his life force—death force?—reanimated his body. His sire, Alexander, adamantly insisted vampires became empty shells while the sun ruled the sky, nothing but paralyzed cadavers. But if that were true, he must be losing whatever passed for his mind. Maybe he was. First he’d lurked around the human woman without fanging her and then he’d
dreamed
, of all damn things. Which, of course, was impossible.

It was her. The mortal female. Grace. Her scent was all over him. She’d done something. He just knew it.

He sat up in one of the cardboard boxes that passed for coffins in the basement of the vampires’ headquarters, then gathered the bottom of his T-shirt under his nose so he could sniff it. He sighed and flopped back, feeling suddenly relaxed and limp as a drained meth addict. Even her smell melted his bones. He wished he’d kept her bloody clothes, but bringing them to a vampire nest would be like ordering a keg for an AA meeting.

The last time he’d fantasized about a female so obsessively had been when he’d fancied himself madly in love with the drummer in his first teenage rock band. Lulu, the percussionist in question, had been a rebellious, well-endowed sixteen-year-old who resembled a young Marilyn Monroe. Ethan had behaved like a hormonal moron, following Lulu around, spending every penny from his part-time job showering her with drumsticks, rhythm instruments he found in pawn shops and the latest LPs of her favorite bands. He remembered the way his heart—when he still had a human one—used to trip at the sight of her. Not to mention the effect she had on other parts of his anatomy. In fact, he was pretty sure his brain had an “out to lunch” sign posted during that time, since the only head he ever used was the southern version.

With a sigh, he sat up again. His fixation on Lulu had only lasted a few years, until she ran away with one of the roadies from Eric Clapton’s band. Ethan had believed in Lulu’s faithfulness and discovering her betrayal changed everything. From that time forward, he never let himself become ensnared by love—or lust—again. He kept things strictly impersonal. No woman would hurt him again. Ever.

Last Ethan heard, Lulu had become a heroin addict and died of an OD in London. She probably didn’t deserve that fate, but if she’d stayed with him, maybe...

“Well, shit! That’s the last thing I need to be thinking about.”

The strong feelings he’d suddenly developed for the human woman Grace made him nervous. He’d managed to avoid emotional commitment throughout his short mortal life and during the last four decades as a vampire. What did it mean that he was experiencing old, reckless thoughts?

Compelled to see her, and unable to stop himself, he quickly showered, then changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a Jimi Hendrix T-shirt. He ran a comb through his thick, dark hair and skulked out the hidden exit of the coven’s lair. It wouldn’t do for Alexander to become too interested in his activities. The master had forbidden his offspring to take any action that wasn’t a direct order or undead business. If the short-tempered vampire knew about Ethan’s new obsession, there would be hell to pay.

Ethan wasn’t an idiot. He usually gave every appearance of following the rules, but he couldn’t seem to dampen his fascination with the blonde-haired human.

What he intended to do was dangerous. Going to the human’s—Grace’s—studio meant being in the vicinity of other mortals. Other mortals with beating hearts and the pungent, intoxicating aroma of blood flowing beneath the surface of their skin. He’d never been able to control himself before. Was he willing to go berserk and massacre an entire building full of people?

Apparently, he was.

“Hey, where ya goin’, man?”

“Damn, Nelson!” Ethan jumped. “What the fuck you doing sneakin’ up on me?” Crap. He didn’t want to have to explain anything to his friend. His trouble-making partner in mayhem would want to tag along.

“You weren’t paying attention. So much for your enhanced vampire hearing, Dude.”

***

Ethan thought about the lame excuse he’d given Nelson for wanting to go off alone. He’d claimed he was depressed, which happened to him pretty regularly, and didn’t want to talk to anyone for a while. There was enough truth to it in general that Nelson bought it.

On his walk downtown Ethan practiced saying her name aloud, “Grace, Grace, Grace...” The sound enchanted him. He got so caught up in his verbal trance that he almost missed all the startled reactions of the humans he passed on the busy pedestrian mall.

They’re going to call the men with the white coats and butterfly nets if I don’t try to blend in better.

The full moon illuminated the night like a lighthouse beacon. He stared up at the sky, remembering the tales of madness inspired by the lunar glow. Humans supposedly lost their minds under the influence of the frenzied light. He suspected vampires were to blame.

When he arrived at Grace’s studio, he slipped around behind the building and leaned against the brick wall. Suddenly his knees buckled as the realization hit him. Had he just walked along a street filled with his favorite food source without attacking anyone? The thought stunned him, and then he laughed as he noticed he’d actually clutched his chest in the familiar, mortal
heart attack
gesture. It had been a long time since he’d done anything like that. Something almost frighteningly freaky was happening. He hadn’t felt this odd since becoming a vampire decades before. Almost
human
.

Beautiful chanting caught his attention.

Inching toward the music studio window, he peeked in, expecting to see a roomful of mortals, but the large space was empty. Where was the music coming from? He took a step back and focused on listening to the sweet sounds still flowing from somewhere nearby. Lowering his gaze, he tracked along the foundation of the building until he came to an open window in the ground level, then stepped closer and squatted to investigate.

The basement of the structure had been transformed into a sound chamber. Instead of muting the voices, the acoustics of the room exaggerated the depth of the tones, causing the frequencies to reverberate in breathtaking ways.

The chanting vibrated every cell of his body. Or whatever made up his body these days. His eyes stung from the sound, as if he fought back tears. Crying was supposed to be impossible for his kind.

He stared through the window. The chamber appeared larger than he’d expected. At least fifty people sat in concentric circles on the marble floor. Grace knelt in the center, next to a sobbing woman who lay on a body-size pad, clutching her stomach. Ethan’s keen vampire nose told him the woman was sick. Not far from death. Why had she come to Grace’s gathering on her deathbed? Maybe she wanted to experience the same odd peaceful feeling he’d noticed at Grace’s bedside. He knew from personal experience how horrible it was to die a painful death.

The chanting became so loud and powerful, his consciousness started to slip away. He didn’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t suddenly been overwhelmed by the scent of blood—so many humans in one place—which immediately thrust him deep into his vampire nature. He growled and slowly rose to his full height, just in time to be surprised by a pair of mortals turning the corner, heading toward him. His mind churned as he obsessed on the aroma of the blood pulsing through the hapless mortals’ veins. His fangs descended and he crouched, ready to spring.

“Hi! Are you here for the sound circle? We’re late, too. Why don’t you come on in with us?” The female of the couple moved to the door of the underground area and stood, waiting, a smile on her friendly face. Her companion waved.

As if he hadn’t regressed into a snarling, bloodthirsty beast, he forced himself to straighten, then snapped his shoulders back and raised his chin. “Yeah, okay.” He clenched his fists at his sides.

Yeah, Okay? What the hell? Nobody ever told me vampires could have psychotic breaks. Maybe all the drugs I did in the ’60s finally caught up with me. Did I just choose not to attack them because they were nice to me? Am I insane? Since when does my brain work when I’m near mortals?

He edged over to the door and held it open while the two humans entered and descended the staircase, then he followed, already enraptured by the engulfing sound.

Can’t these people sense me? Don’t they realize a predator is behind them? What’s happened to human instincts?

They entered the chant-filled sound chamber and quietly found places to sit in the outermost circle. Keeping a distance between himself and the others seated nearby, he scanned the room. It was incredible. Whatever Grace had done to the walls made the area seem as if they’d stepped inside an amethyst quartz crystal. The circle area consisted of gentle risers, so that people in each ring sat slightly elevated over the row before. Scented candles burned atop tall, ornate holders, creating soft light and shadows. His vampire vision, especially attuned to the darkness, allowed him to see the blissful expressions on the faces of the participants. The sounds washed over and through him. Fifty voices chanted unfamiliar words, creating extraordinary harmonies. The vibration lapped against his ears like the soothing waves of a vast sea. He imagined himself back in the womb.

His gaze finally locked on the only person who mattered, and he studied her as she sang, her face ecstatic. Grace’s long, blonde hair flowed down the front of her body, hiding all but the sleeves of her shiny, white shirt. With his sensitive hearing, he was able to eliminate all the other voices and tune into hers. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Her timbre caressed him like summer rain. His heart sputtered, then beat wildly, which startled him. He’d previously had no occasion to allow his cold, dead heart to mimic life.

He closed his eyes, lost in the pleasure of her vocalizations, and began chanting himself. Or, more accurately, the chant took control. The sound simply happened. He’d heard about the concept of
channeling
, but he had always thought it was a scam. He’d never have guessed what an amazing sensation it was to simply allow sound to flow from his body without any conscious direction. He hadn’t sung in so many years, he was surprised by the power of his own tenor voice.

Suddenly, everyone in the room went silent. Everyone except Grace, that is. He’d stopped singing, too, without even being aware of it. Had there been some imperceptible signal? Her glorious voice soared through the rarified space as she leaned forward, bringing her face near the woman on the floor, whose hands had relaxed at her sides. The sound was eerie and unearthly. Goosebumps rose on his arms, something else that shouldn’t have been able to happen.

After a few seconds, Grace stopped singing and eased back from the woman. Like releasing a taut rubber band, the formerly limp recipient sprang to her feet, thrust her arms into the air, threw her head back and laughed. “She did it! Grace did it! I’m pain-free for the first time since my cancer was diagnosed. Thank you, Grace! Thank you!”

Grace stood, opened her arms, and the woman collapsed against her, sobbing.

Ethan sniffed in the woman’s direction, expecting to recognize the familiar scent of impending death again and instead sensed... life. Shocked, he focused his full attention on the woman, reading her body with his expanded perception, and was forced to acknowledge that he’d either been wrong when he declared her near death, or... no. Impossible. Chanting couldn’t have altered the woman’s physical body. Grace couldn’t possibly do anything so astounding. Things like that simply didn’t happen.

Then he frowned. Even if Grace
had
been able to do the impossible, the healing wasn’t the most bizarre thing in the room. Erasing cancer with sound was nothing compared to rising from the dead and drinking human blood to survive. Would all these people who took Grace’s miracle for granted be as open-minded about him? Yeah. He wouldn’t hold his breath—so to speak.

Still hugging and patting the woman, Grace addressed her audience. “Thank you all for coming tonight and for lending your voices and your positive intentions to Mary’s healing. We’ve shared something magical and special. It has been a wonderful session. I look forward to seeing you next time.” At her words, everyone stood quietly and began filing toward the door. They appeared to be in a light trance.