Blood To Blood (14 page)

Don't you have anything
else to do besides eavesdrop on all my conversations?

Sally’s knowing nod caused
her hastily pulled together bun to bob up and down on the nape of her veiny
neck. She proceeded to give us a brief rundown of the properties she was about
to show us. There were four in all and she was positive they all met many, if
not all, of Sawyer’s requirements. The main need was, of course, finding a good
layout to accommodate his home studio.

The first house had four
stories. Sally gave us a tour of the upper levels, which contained most of the
five bedrooms. We then stood on the entry-level looking out of the French doors
that lead to the back deck. Sawyer turned to me. “What do you think?”

I took stock of the
landscaped backyard and imagined what kind of flowers bloomed there in the
spring. “It's light and airy,” I replied.

“Yes, it is,” Sally agreed.
“And the lower level would be perfect for your studio. It gets a good amount of
natural light and opens directly to the backyard.

“Let's take a look,” Sawyer
said. He descended a couple steps before extending his hand to me.  I
refused to take it. After all, why would I need help going down the stairs?
Hadn't I assured everyone I was recuperated? He threw me an annoyed look from
under his brows before moving on through the space. There was a full bathroom
down there and a small kitchen.

“When they first built these
houses, the popular thing was to have the kitchen on the lower level,” Sally
said. “Years later, the main kitchen was added to the entry-level floor but the
owners decided to keep the original kitchen and rent out this level. You can
get rid of it if you like.”

I thought having a separate
kitchen for the studio was awesome and said as much. “That way you can stock it
with whatever your people need while working; water, tea, snacks.”

Blood.

“See, that's why you're
here,” he remarked. “I’d have never thought of that.” He raised his hand and
touched the ceiling. “Ceiling's too low, though. I'd feel cramped.”

You two might as well get
married already, Angel.

Drop dead, Cici.

Sally flipped through the
small mass of paper in her expandable folder. “We have three other properties.
We can put this one on our short list, no pun intended, and go look at the next
one.”

She told us the second house
was about a ten-minute walk away.  Concentrating on walking at mortal
speed, I matched my pace to Sawyer's and we ended up trailing behind her. “How
long have you been writing music, Angel?” he asked in a casual tone.

“When I was really young, I’d
hear melodies in my head and sing them out loud.” I left out the part about
remembering them note for note. “When I was about nine or ten, I started
writing them down with lyrics.”

“So you’ve been singing all
your life.”

We waited at the intersection
for the light to turn pedestrian, and I turned to him. “According to Mom, I
came out singing.”

He was staring at me and
didn't even try to look away. Or perhaps, like me, he was simply unable to look
away. I breathed in, grateful to be surrounded by the myriad smells that
ensured his aroma wasn't dominant, and therefore didn't drive me crazy. He
guided me by the elbow as we started across the street.

You must not mate with
him.

I nearly twisted my ankle in
the middle of the intersection. Sawyer caught me in mid-trip, making sure I was
steady before leading me to the curb and dropping his hand. Mortified, I tried
to play it off. “Didn't see the little pothole.” I glanced at him quickly. He
had a small smile on his face. Probably because, clearly, there was no pothole.
Confused, I took extra time straightening myself and looking down so I wouldn't
see his mocking expression.

Cici, I'm not going
to...mate with Sawyer.

Good. Because you could
kill him if you did.

I gazed up at him, wanting to
ignore this insane telepathic conversation. “And you? When did you know you
wanted to do music?”

“I always knew.” In response
to a gust of wind, he hunched his shoulders and pulled his baseball cap further
down on his head. “Music was my way of coping with reality. I grew up in…a less
than ideal environment. If it weren't for music, I'd be a totally different
person.” I didn't realize I was hanging on his words until we caught up with
Sally. She came to a stop. 

“This area's had its share of
foreclosures,” she said. “In fact the next property’s one of ‘em.”

“So we can probably get a
good deal,” I said. Sawyer glanced at me with an amused look.

“Yes. It's quite possible,”
Sally said. “As quiet as it's kept, it's still a buyer's market, even in this
fancy neighborhood.”

I became excited about the
prospect of saving a few thousand on a house, even if it was someone else's
money. During the Great Depression, Dad bought the brownstone next to our
family's original house and knocked down the walls to create one large home.
Seemed like his love for real estate had rubbed off on me.

Maybe you can buy your own
soon. Fun, isn't it?
She
was right. It was fun.

Cici, what are you
actually doing right now?
I imagined her lounging in a cafe, sipping a lidded coffee cup full of warm
blood and tuned into my escapades.

I'm in L.A. Sitting in
Satchel’s lap.

Alrighty then...that
explained the turn of the conversation. My stomach growled.

Angel!

I know!

I glanced at Sawyer out of
the corner of my eye, wondering how it would look if I broke out a thermos
right there.

Sally led us into the next
property. “How simply beautiful,” I exclaimed loudly, as I slid a thermos into
position within the secret compartment of my bag. “Wow, look at this sitting
room,” I bellowed while continuing on further into the house. I quickly took
the thermos out, downed it, and put it back inside the bag before they made it
into the room behind me.

As they walked in, I
suctioned my teeth with my tongue to make sure all residue of blood was gone
before turning to Sawyer. “Interesting wallpaper,” I said. He grimaced at the
pink rose-pattern on the walls.

Cici's laugh rang in my head.
You should go into acting
.

I feel like a fraud.

Welcome to immortal life
in mortal territory. Just be glad you're too quick for them to see what you
just did.

“You seem excited about this
one,” Sawyer said with a frown. “What is it you like?”

I felt like a fool for having
underestimated him. I looked around the room. “The ceilings. If they're this
tall on the entry level, they might be high enough downstairs. Higher than the
last place, at least.”

“Well, let's go see, shall
we?” he said.

Downstairs, he reached up to
touch the ceiling and couldn't. Sally pointed out the small kitchen and French
doors opening out to the garden. “And we have a similar layout to the last
property,” she said. Sawyer seemed pleased as he prowled around the space.

And then I heard it. The
sound of two human heartbeats up on the second floor. Deciding to investigate,
I used the excuse of having to go to the bathroom.

“Need tissue?” Sally asked.
“There may not be any in there.”

“I have some in my bag
thanks,” I lied as I closed the door behind me.

When I heard Sawyer and Sally
open the French doors and head into the backyard, I moved up the stairs in
overdrive. I stood still in the hallway outside what must have been the master
bedroom.

“Sounds like they're going in
the backyard. I say we make a run for it,” one voice said. It was female, and
sounded almost elderly.

“But what if they see us,
Ellie?” That was a male with a voice that sounded like he was around the same
age as his friend.

I peeked around the corner.
They were standing in the walk-in closet, and both wore large, hiker backpacks.
The man closed up her backpack and secured it onto her back before pulling a
handgun out of the outer pocket.

“Bill, we don't need that
here. It's broad daylight and it's probably just another agent showing the
place again.”

“I'll keep it handy, just in
case.”

“Bill, we have to leave. It's
not our home anymore.”

“Like hell it ain't,” he
grumbled.

I stepped into the room.
“What are you doing here?”

My intention was to scare
them into leaving before Sawyer and Sally found out. But it didn't quite work
out that way. I didn't count on Bill freaking out and shooting me. I watched
the bullet enter my heart.
Good shot
, I thought as I felt the hot metal
searing through the muscle. There were two possibilities before me. I could
fall to the floor and play dead. Or I could give into the red rage threatening
to grow in the wake of Bill's impulsive stupidity.

Don't kill them Angel!
I fell to the floor and tried to figure
out what to do next.

That's right, just lay
there, bleed a little. And calm down.

Sawyer ran into the room.
Bill dropped the gun to the floor and Sawyer kicked it away before catching
sight of me. He exclaimed and staggered to his knees beside me while visibly
trying to pull himself together. “Angel, you’ve been shot.” He took my hand and
the red haze cleared up. “Oh, my god,” he said looking at the pool of blood I
could feel expanding around me. Sally was calling 911, Ellie was apologizing
and weeping, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of Sawyer. For some reason, as I
lay there looking up at his beautiful face, I wanted to cry, too.

He leaned over me and my eyes
fluttered. The bullet began to move its way out as my body rejected it.
Fascinating. It hurt like a bee sting more than anything else, but the loss of
blood weakened me.

Dad’s sending an
ambulance. You'll have to work your way through this one until they get there.

Sawyer gave me water from his
bottle. I coughed and spluttered as it went down my throat. “Easy,” he said
gently. There were tears in his eyes. “It looks like the bullet went right into
your chest.”

When the ambulance came, I
recognized the drivers from the night of Heist's death.
Dad has a special
arm of staff that deals with what they call immortal mishaps
. Sure enough,
they took over, and covered up the bullet, now on the floor underneath me. One
of the workers winked down at me. “You just take it easy, miss. You’re lucky to
be alive.” They placed me on a stretcher.

The police arrived and took
Bill into custody. “It was self defense,” he cried as they led him away. “She
just showed up in our bedroom.”

“My blood’s all over the
floor,” I told Sawyer before they wheeled me away. “Guess that means you’ll
have to buy this house.”

“As far as everyone knows,”
Dad said in his matter-of-fact, doctor voice, “the bullet only grazed your
chest and you are on track to a quick recovery.”

I looked up at him from my
hospital bed.

“The mortal who shot you is
being handled by our police,” Mom seethed. She was a livid shade of red, but
thanks to Dad's glamour, no mortal could see it.  “You will have to press
charges, of course,” she continued. “But all the details will be cleaned up.”

“You have a visitor,” Dad
said.

The nurse entered. “There's a
Sawyer Creed here to see Ms. Brown,” she said.

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Are
you up to it, Angel?” he asked. Ignoring the irony in his tone, I nodded to the
nurse and soon Sawyer came in carrying a large bouquet of flowers that smelled
almost as delectable as he did. Cici and Mom appreciatively inhaled both.

After greetings, Dad said,
“Cleo, this is Sawyer Creed. He works with Angel. Sawyer, my wife Cleo.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs.
Brown.” Sawyer extended his hand to Mom.

I found myself holding my
breath. Whenever Mom touched a person, especially for the first time, she was
able to read them on the molecular level, as if she were running a person
through an X-ray. Physically, there was very little you could hide from her.
She clasped his hand. “Please call me Cleo, Sawyer.” I could tell from her tone
that something caught her attention. Cici and I exchanged a quick glance.

“How are you?” he asked me.

“Alive,” I said. “The bullet
just grazed my chest. Might even be out by the morning.” He looked relieved and
offered me the flowers.

Mom and Dad did their secret
communication thing again.

They think he's your
boyfriend
, Cici thought.
So do I
.

Whatever.

“Thanks.” I took the flowers.
“They're nice.”

Hmmm, he's kind of sweet.
In a hostile, mortal way.