Demon Song (Blood Singer #3)

Demon Song (Blood Singer #3) Page 43

His voice said he’d already thought out the problems: “Yes, ma’am. He even offered to carry a loan if our bequest wasn’t enough. So I guess that sort of puts the skids on our plans to cancel the bequest … at least until we know what this is about. Molly agrees with me that it’s too coincidental to ignore. I told him I’d call him back next week, after I’d talked with the attorneys and my family. I didn’t mention telling you, but you’re sort of part of the attorneys, in my mind.”

“I appreciate you calling. Let me see what I can find out and why don’t you do the same there. Don’t tell anyone about it, but do some discreet work to find out his background.”

He chuckled. “Molly has already started her quilting circle finding things out. By morning, we’ll know everything there is to know about his family. I’ll let you know what we find out, but it might not be until Tuesday. He asked if he could come over and talk with us tomorrow. He’d like to meet Molly and the girls, but he made it clear it had to be in the daylight. The only way to do that is to have him over at the diner at noontime. We all meet there and eat together every day.”

This was all happening really fast, but that’s the way it is with visions sometime. Hit just the right trigger and the whole thing unreels. Movement caught my eye and I looked toward the vehicles to see a dust devil forming. The wind picked up sand and spun it. The sand sparkled in the afternoon sun. Or was it not the sand that was sparkling? “Mr. Murphy, I think Vicki’s here. Let me talk to her about it and see what she thinks.”

He let out a light laugh. “Please call me Mick. My dad’s Mr. Murphy. I find it funny you say you think Miss Vicki’s there like she’s walking up the road. You seem to handle ghosts pretty well. Sure you’re not a channeler, too?”

I asked that of myself for a long time. But it’s only select ghosts. “Thankfully no. But they do seem to like me.”

He chuckled again and said his good-byes while I stared at the sparkling whirlwind that was bouncing off the car roofs. I walked out into the warm sun and felt an immediate sting in spots on my nose that said I’d sweated too much and some of the sunscreen had rubbed off. I addressed the circle of dust: “So, did you hear? What do you think?”

Of course there wasn’t any way for her to respond in writing—no windows. But once again I was wrong, because she shot up into the sky and my eyes followed. Words appeared on my picture window in frosted letters two feet high. Yes! Find out … urgent!

Urgent? Why was it now urgent rather than a mildly frustrating curiosity on her part? But she seemed really agitated. So much so that the people in the house came to the window to stare at the hovering tornado of sand. “It’s okay. I’ll be talking to him again on Tuesday.”

She wrote again, right over the tops of the other words. That was really unlike her. It took me a second to make them out: No! Go there. Hurry.

Go there? To Arkansas? “Sweetie, land sales take months to complete even if they signed the deal today. We’ve got a pretty big crisis right here to deal with first.”

Once again, letters appeared over the top of the others without her waiting for the sun to warm the previous words away: Same crisis … I know it!

Oh, crap. Was there a second rift opening in Arkansas? Why now, and why there? Or was it more simple than that? I needed to talk to people who would know, and fortunately, they happened to be just upstairs. “You’re too upset, Vick. You need to relax and regroup. I’ll talk to the others and then we’ll talk again. Okay?”

’Kay.

Then she was gone, leaving the sand to drop to the ground with the force of a dump truck spreading its load. I sighed, grabbed the broom I keep near the stairs, and scattered the pile before my bushes broke under the weight.

As I climbed the steps to the front door, my mind was racing. How could the owner of a diamond mine in Arkansas have anything to do with a demonic rift in California? Why would the Murphys need to own the land?

A dozen more half questions and random thoughts were racing through my mind as I opened my front door. “What was that all about?” Bruno asked, and I looked up from contemplating my sneakers to see his concerned face. He was standing near the window, trying to make out the words Vicki had written. Being backward and on top of each other didn’t make it easy.

“Long story,” I admitted. “You want it first, or you want to tell me what you’ve been talking about?”

“We should definitely proceed with all available information. It might answer questions we’ve been asking each other,” Dr. Sloan said, and, as usual, he made sense. The dessicated little man’s freckled brown skin seemed pale, as though he’d received a shock. His watery eyes told me the same.

So I told them about the call and Vicki’s reaction. There was silence all around for a long moment. I took the opportunity to look around the room for somewhere to sit. I don’t generally give parties, and having this many people in my living room filled every chair. Creede was installed in my favorite recliner, a big brute of a chair that enveloped me in cushiony softness. A wooden chair from the kitchen would have to do, because I wasn’t about to kick a guest out of his seat, especially when he looked so damned comfortable.

As I headed for the kitchen, he stood and stepped in front of me. “You sit down. I’ll get one.”

Okay, having a telepath in the house wasn’t always a bad thing. I smiled and gratefully sat in my chair, made all warm and tingly by his residual magic. Bruno noticed the interaction and didn’t like it much, but how could he say anything about John being a courteous guest that wouldn’t make him sound like a troll?

Thankfully, Creede decided to be a gentleman and brought not one but two chairs. He put one on either side of my chair and sat down in one—offering the other to Bruno with his eyes and a tip of his head. Okay, he was trying to play fair. That won him a few points. Bruno sat and touched my hand. I smiled at him, too. I was happily lulled by magic beating on me from both sides like a shiatsu massager.

“Ms. Graves,” said Dr. Sloan after a few seconds, “could we hear a demonstration of the horn’s tone?”

Yeah, that would be a good idea. Adriana held it out toward me. When I went over to get it, she didn’t let go for a moment. Her eyes were sparkling with amusement when she whispered, “If you ever have cause to wonder whether you come from our line, don’t. I became a garden statue in their eyes when you walked into the room.”

My blush was immediate. Next to Adriana, Dawna smiled like the Mona Lisa. I didn’t dare turn around and let the boys see my reaction, so I picked up the horn and put it to my lips. Like in the car, a low, clean note filled the room. I heard glass shattering somewhere in the distance and immediately stopped blowing. The sound didn’t dissipate for long moments after I’d put down the horn. I felt a hand on my elbow and turned to find Bruno holding my arm. “Come over here and do that again.”

Creede was drawing symbols between two circles of chalk … on my polished wooden floor.

“Aw, man. You’d better clean that off when we’re done. It’ll ruin the wax.”

He looked up at me with bemusement before looking down again to complete the last symbol. “You’ll thank me later when you’re cleaning up only a few pieces of shattered glassware in your hutch instead of all of them.”

Touché.

Bruno held me back for a moment while he studied the circle. “You laid down two identification spells. What else are we looking for?”

Creede shrugged. “The spell might be on the shell or it might be on Celia. No sense doing a second circle to find out.”

Bruno grunted and nodded. Then he positioned me in the middle of the circle. His brow furrowed and he knelt down to add another precise, complex symbol in a very different handwriting than Creede’s smooth, flowing loops. Creede noticed and crossed arms over his chest with raised brows. “Interesting. Hadn’t considered a trip wire to pull away the horn if it goes south. Good thinking.”

“Unique circumstance,” was Bruno’s reply, but I could tell he was pleased. The sad part was they could probably be really close friends … if not for me. He touched my leg to get my attention and then stood. “Okay, here’s the plan. Put the horn to your lips and take a breath. But don’t blow until we have the circle up.”

“Why not put the circle up first?”

Creede answered, “There’s a chance that whatever the spell is will have safeguards that prevent it from being identified. Neither of us could find any overt spell or residual magic in the shell. So it must be in the sounding. I felt … something when you blew it. Something that wasn’t there before.”

Bruno nodded. “So did I. But with a circle around you, you might be unable to lift the horn or take a breath. You shouldn’t be prevented from releasing a breath, but if you are, raise your hand or stomp a foot or something and we’ll pull the whole works down.”

“Gee, you guys are making this sound like so much fun.” I looked down at the circle, now mildly nervous. “Damned good thing I trust you both to keep me safe.” I stared from one to the other, bringing home the point.

Creede winked. “Damned good thing you’re hard to kill.”

Bruno’s smile made me feel better. “That vampire did make it a lot easier to protect you.”

Okay. One more time for the cameras. I lifted the horn to my lips and took a deep breath. I raised one finger to let them know I was ready. Golden and dark eyes began to blaze with power. They stood on either side of the circle and began to whisper words and sounds that seemed better suited to a dark night with cool sheets.

If I hadn’t already inhaled, the feel of the magic would have stolen my breath away. Power crackled across my skin and pressed against me with claustrophobic closeness. They gave no signal, but I could tell the circle was complete by the way my every hair was standing on end. I blew the horn, this time not tentatively. I gave it all I was worth. The sound filled the circle and pushed at the edges, wanting to go farther. It vibrated in my chest but didn’t seem to bother my ears. The sound was a pleasant, low hum, like a distant interstate. I risked a glance at the mages and found they’d had to step back several feet. The circle wasn’t straight up and down anymore. It was cone shaped and it apparently was all they could do to keep it intact. Their hands were blurs in the air; and their eyes, pairs of twin stars. I didn’t start to worry until Bruno turned his head and yelled something to the other people in the room. I couldn’t hear him past the deep, dark wall of sound from the ancient horn, but the panic on my friends’ faces made me pull the horn from my lips. Everybody either ducked behind furniture or bolted out of the room.