Read Online Demon Song by Cat Adams - Free Book Online Page B

a good idea to take a look at my shoulder, too. It used to be that the only refrigerator in the building was in the lunchroom on the first floor. But since I need nourishment every four hours, I decided that having a fridge in my office would be a good idea. In part because of Dottie, we were also looking into an elevator for the building. It was officially a landmark building, so the elevator would probably have to be either a period art deco one or a freestanding external one that wouldn’t alter the building’s lines, with a window becoming a door. We’d had two tenant meetings on it without coming to an agreement.
    Eventually I’d have to decide, providing the Will was deemed valid. Vicki had left the building to me. I hadn’t told the guys yet—Bubba would be fine with the idea, but Ron, the attorney who has most of the first floor, would have a conniption fit. But hey, Ron was an ass. Vicki had even asked in her video Will if her ghost could watch when I told him.
    After grabbing a chocolate nutrition shake from my mini-fridge and drinking down half, I walked to the bathroom. In the mirror, which was framed by bright pink, candy-stripe wallpaper, I looked a wreck. No wonder Dawna had asked if I was okay. My face was blood smeared and my hair was sticking out at all angles.
    I used to have pale, translucent skin that burned easily. Now it was white enough to cause guys like the father in the mall to spritz me with holy water. It might be even more noticeable if not for my light blond hair. Dark hair would make me look three days dead. We’d been experimenting with makeup palettes to make me seem more … natural. The shopping trip had mostly been a success—nobody had gone screaming or running until I went vamp and got all glowy—so I was satisfied with the foundation and blush we’d settled on. I’d bought three sets of the colors. One for home, one for here, and one in my purse for emergency touch-ups.
    The shirt I’d woken up in was a man’s … and from the way it hung on me, the man was a linebacker. I sniffed at the collar to see if I could get a hint of who it had belonged to, but it just smelled of clean cotton and Downy fabric softener. Stripping it off, I was pleased to note that I was wearing a bra. Strange how the little things like modesty ease the mind. But there was blood on the bra as well as the gauze bandages, so it would have to go. Let’s see … three hours. Would I have healed under the bandages? Would it be safe to shower? Hmm.
    Naw. Probably best to give it another half day. Gaetano said he’d had to reopen the wound. I would take a sponge bath and wash my hair in the sink. Alex would understand. She’s been through more than one messy raid.
    In fifteen minutes I was clean, blow-dried, freshly painted, and dressed in my own clothes. The linen cabinet now doubled as a wardrobe, so I had client-worthy clothes available whenever needed. Another reason for our shopping trip. Pale colors offset with black or rich, intense colors like burgundy seem to suit the “new me,” so I put on a pair of black jeans and a pale yellow sweater set with baby blue and pink embroidered roses. Not too bad, actually, with the light brown eyeliner and “peace rose” blush. Not stark, not threatening, and very not vampirey.
    Since I wasn’t sure whether Alex was here as Alex or as Detective Heather Alexander I definitely wanted to appear non-threatening. Nothing to see here, Officer. Just a peace-loving citizen … not a prison-raiding, shopper-terrifying, fanged monster.
    I drank the rest of the shake as I walked back into my office. It really tasted good after toothpaste—a chocolate cool mint shake. They should team up to market that flavor.
    Alex was waiting for me in a client chair, reading the latest issue of Bodyguard Quarterly . They have trade journals for nearly everything now and it was a great place to find out about new gadgets. Crap! That reminded me. I didn’t remember seeing the