1
“Celia, everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see.” Dr. Scott gazed at me earnestly in the back of the sleek black limo, willing me with every fiber of his being to believe the words.
Unfortunately, no matter how sincere the assurance of the handsome, dark-skinned psychiatrist with slightly silvered hair and a calming demeanor, we both knew he was lying. Nothing was ever going to be fine again. A week ago I was an ordinary human bodyguard, living a normal life in beautiful California. Now I was part vampire, part siren, and struggling to maintain not only my sense of self but also my sense of humor. He wasn’t helping either one with that line.
I raised my brows at him as I gave him the snort his words deserved. My first meeting with him had resulted in my stalking his secretary like a deer—complete with fangs bared and red eyes glowing. I’d even chased the good doctor out of the room in a panic. I hadn’t been safe to talk to until after he locked me inside his office with a full pitcher of barely cooked beef juices, which in my sunset-induced predator mode I’d happily sucked down like a strawberry milk shake.
I was still trying not to think about what I might have done without that pitcher of bloody juice. It had only been a few days ago and dawn was still hours away.
His expression changed as though he knew what I was thinking. I was aware that Dr. Scott was telepathic, but ethics and the law should prevent him from “peeking” outside of official therapy sessions. Still, he couldn’t miss my physical reaction to his statement, and after a staring match where he blinked first, he finally had the decency to look chagrined.
The sound of the driver’s door of the limo slamming shut shifted my attention away from Dr. Scott, giving him the opportunity to fiddle with the buttons on the side panel. Probably looking for another stiff drink to bolster him for the start of this adventure. We were on the way to Birchwoods, an ultra-private psychiatric facility for the very rich and famous, where I was to be evaluated before I had to appear to defend myself against charges of mind manipulation.
While I’m neither rich nor famous, I’m not poor, either, and it was so worth the money to stay in a place that might someday release me. St. Mary’s Detention Center was the only other choice outside of the state facility. But it’s only licensed for short-term care, and with the looming legal problems caused by my newfound physical and psychic abilities I could be looking at a very long-term, even permanent, commitment.
My brow furrowed suddenly, because I felt . . . something. It was similar to the odd, pins-and-needles tingling sensation that I was beginning to associate with magical barriers. I’d never been able to get even a hint of the magical before the vampire bite. Now I’m aware of far too much. It was actually getting painful to walk around Los Angeles, since the city is the hotbed of magic you’d expect. The more power magic wielders use to guard mansions, protect movie stars, and banish evil forces from public buildings, the more intense it feels to me. This one hurt.
I sat bolt upright in my seat, actually flinching when I heard the automatic locks click with what felt like an ominous finality.
“What’s wrong?” As a trained observer of human behavior, Dr. Scott didn’t like the vibe I was giving off. He was suddenly very alert and looked completely businesslike.
“Maybe nothing,” I answered. My voice stayed steady but sounded uneasy. It didn’t feel like nothing. I could sense pressure building, making me want to wiggle my jaw like you do in an airplane to get your ears to pop. There are protective spells that can be used to keep moving objects, including vehicles, from damage. But they’re hideously expensive, difficult to do, and create enough friction when a car is in motion to make any model a gas hog. A limo like this one was built like a tank. It shouldn’t need that kind of a spell. But if it wasn’t a protection spell, then what was it?
Maybe it was the liquor I’d just imbibed at the wake for my recently deceased best friend, Vicki, that had me feeling slow, but I couldn’t think of a single reason for the powerful spell I’d sensed. Yes, I’d gone to college to get a preternatural degree. But at the time, I hadn’t been able to feel magic. It’s one thing to know that forces like gravity exist and relate the properties on a test paper. It’s another entirely to feel the weight of it on your skin and know something’s not right. Which made me suspicious. Well, more suspicious. I’ve been a bodyguard so long that I’m always a little bit paranoid. “Can you sense the driver?”
The car moved smoothly away from the curb, fitting nicely in between the pair of police cruisers I could see through the window . . . barely. Mostly I just saw my reflection on the inside of the glass. The woman I saw was attractive but cold, hard. It was my “business face.” I use it a lot. So often that sometimes even I forget the softer me exists.
“That would be illegal.” Dr. Scott didn’t bother to hide the disapproval in his voice. It was combined with the stern look of an instructor.
I shook my head. “No, Doctor. Reading his mind is illegal. Just sensing to see if he’s ‘there’ isn’t.” It was a fine distinction, but I was learning a lot about those as my attorney and I prepared for my upcoming trial. I had one of the best defense attorneys in the business. If he was successful, I would be a free, if considerably less wealthy, woman. I could live with that. If I stayed out of jail or a psychiatric facility, I could always earn more money.
I pretended not to notice Dr. Scott staring at me, concentrating instead on the scene outside the glass. We’d turned left. It wouldn’t have been a big deal except for one little detail. We were supposed to be heading for Birchwoods, on Ocean View. The nearest exit to Ocean View was three blocks down and on the right.
Dr. Scott’s eyes locked with mine in the glass. If he was checking my thoughts, I couldn’t tell. At the moment I wouldn’t even mind. Best for him to find out for himself that I wasn’t joking. I was beginning to suspect we were in very real trouble. I watched his reflection as he pursed his lips thoughtfully. As he seemed to reach a decision, his face went distant and blank for a few seconds.