Blood Song by Cat Adams Page B

around and risked it a couple hours later, but still. I turned to look her in the eye. “Thank you.”
    She blinked, obviously startled. “You’re welcome.”
    “So, you admit to bringing a potentially dangerous monster onto campus and not reporting it.”
    Emma flushed at the implied criticism. “I did report it. To the local police, over the phone, while Dr. Reynolds was giving Celia the blood transfusion.” She met Lackley’s gaze head-on, her chin thrust up in defiance. “And if you check the voice mail for your office, you’ll find an urgent message from me.”
    Lackley didn’t rise to the bait. “What did the police say?”
    “They said they’d look into it.” She turned to me then. “When I called back they said there were no dead bodies at that address, or even in the area, monster, human, or otherwise.”
    I blinked. That made no sense. None. I blinked a few more times, trying to process what she’d just said, without much success.
    “The officer I spoke to seemed to imply that I was being hysterical. He was polite.
Extremely
polite. But I got the impression he considered me a nutcase.”
    Whatever he’d implied, they were most likely working on it. She probably hadn’t made a particularly good impression—she could be a raging bitch in heels, and they wouldn’t take to it. But somebody was probably doing the legwork. They take talk of monsters and dead bodies very seriously.
    “For the record.” I turned and spoke directly to Lackley. I didn’t want Warren and the others getting in trouble for saving my life. From the sound of it, they would. If not from the university, from the authorities. Endangering the public is a serious crime. I couldn’t do much about that, but I could deal with the university brass. At least I
thought
I could. “I’m one of the students who signed up for the
full
alumni package.”
    “I know.” Could Lackley have made those words any drier? Of course, I didn’t really blame him. Bayview, like every institution of higher education, was always in need of donations. Someone had come up with a bright idea that would get alumni donors to fork over more cash. It was based on the same principle as gym memberships—and the same assumption of attrition. Offer a limited time deal. Donate a certain hefty amount and they reactivate you as if you were a student. You get full benefits—use of the athletic facilities, student discounts,
use of the student health facilities, and insurance
—as long as you enrolled in two classes per semester and remained in good standing.
    Most people who could afford that level of donation really didn’t need the benefits. The first time it became inconvenient, they’d stop signing up for classes, and that would be that—the university would have their money and no further obligation to them. I’m not most people. Considering how hard it is for a woman with my job description to get health insurance, the deal seemed like a steal at twice the price. I jumped at the chance, and have been working my way through every elective in the schedule. Hell, at some point I might even get serious about it and get my master’s.
    “What courses are you taking this semester?” I could hear the resignation in Lackley’s voice.
    “Music Appreciation and Ornamental Gardening.”
    Kevin snorted and I glared at him. “Don’t laugh. David’s been talking about making changes to the grounds and Vicki thought that at least one of us should know what he was talking about.” David and Inez lived at the estate and ran the place for Vicki. I rented the guesthouse. It was an arrangement we’d worked out shortly before graduation and one that had worked well for us for several years.
    “The ghoul-proof table means they took precautions not to endanger the campus.” Rocky’s voice was a low, soothing rumble.
    Lackley’s eyes narrowed, but he gave Rocky a curt nod. It was obvious Lackley was very unhappy about the situation, but even he would hesitate to