Bloodline World Seven Book Bundle: 7 Books from the Bloodline Awakened Series and Scarlet Dragon Saga

by J. P. Rice

  I’d nearly forgotten that he didn’t know Brighid was my mother. “Let’s just say, we have a bit of a past.”

  He chortled. “I caught that from the whispers after you left the reception. So you’re mad at me?”

  I looked around the dive bar making sure no one was eavesdropping. Convinced we were safe, I said, “No. I couldn’t care less about you. It has nothing to do with you. She knows what she did. She screwed me over on something and she knew I would get back at her. I probably could have handled it better, I suppose. How pissed are the Gods?”

  Mike thought for a moment, scratching the peach fuzz on his chin. “I can’t speak for all of them, but they weren’t jumping for joy about it. To be honest, about an hour after you left, people stopped talking about it and just had a good time.”

  That didn’t surprise me in the least. Apparently, I was easily forgotten. By my mother, by my husband and by the Gods. The fact that doing the right thing had put me further away from my induction into the pantheon of Gods made it difficult to keep choosing the righteous path.

  “So how come you two don’t like each other?” Mike asked, his eyes suddenly coming to life.

  Apparently, everyone liked gossip. I was relieved he hadn’t figured out that Brighid was my mother. Or had he? The less he knew about me, the better. I lied, “We’ve just butted heads over the years and sometimes it spills over.”

  Mike squinted, questioning my detail free story. I turned to the left to avoid eye contact and noticed someone approaching.

  The bartender walked over with two menus under her arm. “Yinz eatin’?” she asked and pulled a small notepad from her wool coat with a mitten-covered hand. She hopped up and down trying to stay warm as she struggled to grab a pen out of her coat pocket.

  Copper blond hair poked out of the bottom of her gray winter hat, hanging just past her shoulders. Her full lips trembled from the chill, her blue eyes staring intently at Mike with her pen at the ready. I looked closely at her nametag, which said Queen Yinzer. Pardon me. I hadn’t realized we were among royalty.

  “I’ll have the fried fish sammitch.” Mike ordered the Pittsburgh classic with an oversized, breaded filet hanging out of the bun.

  “Fries and cold slaw good on ‘at?” the full-figured woman asked, and yes, she’d called it cold slaw. In her defense, the shredded cabbage side dish was always served cold.

  “Yep. And could I get some ketchup and a Coke too, please?” Mike requested politely.

  “Coke. Got it. Ketchup. Got it.” She wrote down the order, cupped her hands and blew into the opening of the wool mittens. She turned to me. “Whatta yinz wanna eat?”

  It surprised me that they were taking orders under the frosty conditions. “I’m not eating or staying long for that matter.” Taking into consideration the grunginess of the bar, I didn’t think they knew how to make a Sazerac. “Could I just get a shot of Jameson, please?”

  The bartender’s natural frown melted upward, curling into a grin of admiration at my drink choice as she jotted it down. “I can definitely do that. I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as the bartender cleared earshot, Mike leaned forward and said, “Have you heard about people randomly dropping dead?”

  That was one hell of a way to start a conversation. “Not specifically.”

  Mike grabbed the space heater from the windowsill and set it on our table. The stretched cord pulled it back a few inches. Mike leaned over and made sure it was still plugged in. He straightened into his seat, his face red from the blood rushing to his head. “Crazy stuff is happening. In our city. Three people last night. Witnesses say one victim just dropped over dead and a 3-D image got up from the body and flew away.”

  “The soul is flying away,” I said and leaned back in shock. How could normal people see the souls? And where were the confused souls going?

  Mike arched his eyebrows and nodded. “I know. But that’s all I know. Can you help?”

  So the Morrigan wasn’t lying about the death cards. “I might. Let me ask some questions.” I didn’t want to reveal too much to this kid.

  He opined, “I think it has to be the death cards.”

  In the immortal words of Owen Masterclaw, oh heavens. He knew more than I’d realized. “That was my first guess too, but I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.”

  “I plan to go talk to the Morrigan in Clara Spiritus because I’ve seen her with those before. But other than that, I don’t have any leads,” he revealed, which shocked the hell out of me.

  It didn’t shock me that he didn’t have any leads. I hadn’t realized he was friendly with the Morrigan. It made sense considering he was the Pony Boy of the Celtic Gods, but I didn’t think she would warm up to him like the rest of the deities.

  “Don’t worry about talking to the Morrigan. I’ll talk to her. You can keep checking around Pittsburgh for more clues. There may be a Death Card thief running around claiming the souls.”

  The server came up to the table with Mike’s Coke and my shot of whiskey. She set them on the table. “Your lunch should be ready soon, too. Sorry, new guy down there.” Queen Yinzer shrugged her shoulders and walked back to the bar.

  “Back to the death cards.” Mike got right back on task. “I wondered if a merchant of death is selling them to someone who is then going on a killing spree. Or maybe one of the merchants is randomly claiming souls?”

  That wasn’t a bad theory. I tapped my shot glass on the table, said my father’s special toast under my breath and downed the Irish whiskey. I spoke in a husky voice as the alcohol was still tickling my throat, “I can see that. However, I can see a hundred other scenarios playing out too. I’ll be sure to mention that to the Morrigan when I talk to her.”

  Mike took a big gulp of his Coke and extended his hand forward. Smiling, he asked, “Need a chaser?”

  “I’m good. Thanks, though,” I replied, waving him off. He pulled his hand back and set his Coke back on the table.

  “So, do you want to work together on this one?” he asked unsteadily.

  If I would partner up with anyone, it would be the Morrigan. Although it never hurt to share information with other people. “We don’t have to work hand in hand on this one, but we could definitely put our heads together to figure it out.” I threw the kid a bone, but I had no real plans to work with him. His info could prove valuable, though.

  He smiled and leaned back in the chair. “Finally. Was that so hard?”

  Actually, it was. I didn’t like working with other people. I had also been finding out I didn’t like living with anyone either. Titania was great, but also messy and constantly wanting to talk about the most mundane subjects, ad nauseam. The past few weeks had made me realize how much of a loner I truly was.

  “Have you talked to Jonathan lately?” I asked, trying to feel out the vampire situation.

  He nodded and peeked around the bar before he said, “Yeah, I saw him yesterday. He still insists he wants a duel with Octavius, and I hate to say it, but it might be the best option with the lowest body count. I didn’t hear it from his mouth, but common sense tells me Octavius will likely send wolves after Jonathan.”

  Considering the alpha had already sent one after me, that move seemed natural. “Why did Jonathan try to ransack the Wolf House?” I asked, inching my frozen fingertips closer to the glowing orange heat coming from the space heater.

  Mike shrugged as he shook his head and a wave of disbelief ran through his eyes. “I’ve been trying to figure that out. I noticed the men he had sent weren’t exactly the top of the Purple House totem pole. They seemed like expendables.”

  The kid made another valid point. I wondered rhetorically, “Why would he further the escalation knowing his men were going to die?”

  Mike tapped his drink on the table to chase out the carbonation bubbles. “That’s the part I can’t figure out. Does he want Octavius to send some wolves after him? Is he luring them into a trap? The guy’s been so erratic lately, I can’t put my thumb on
it.”

  “I haven’t even been to see him since the incidents with Octavius. What did he say about me?” I needed to know.

  Mike craned his neck around looking for his food, then focused back on me. “Did you go back to Octavius’s to steal Lugh’s Spear and almost slit the alpha’s throat?”

  Damn. I was hoping he hadn’t heard about that. If he knew, that meant it was going around town. The embarrassing story would only enrage Octavius even more. “Where did you hear that?”

  “From fucking Jonathan,” he revealed, raising his voice. “So you did go back? I thought you were trying to bring peace to Pittsburgh.”

  I defended myself immediately, “I’m trying to bring peace to the world. I tried to rescue the spear from Octavius before he sold it to Arawn and started the destruction of the world. I made a calculated decision for the benefit of mankind.”

  “That doesn’t take care of the problem you stirred up around here. I’d watch my ass if I were you,” he warned.

  I laughed. If I spent every day worrying about the wolves, the vampires, the Norse, the Bounty Huntress and all the other random enemies coming after me, that would leave little time for anything else. I didn’t like being followed constantly, but I had grown used to it by now. Justinian had come after me. How had that worked out for him?

  Mike said, “One last thing. I’m guessing you know why winter won’t leave Pittsburgh, correct?”

  I responded nonchalantly, “I believe it might have to do with the Dagda’s Harp.” I knew damn well the powerful relic was causing the extended winter.

  Mike agreed, “I thought the same thing. It doesn’t make sense for it to start now. As far as I know, the demons of the Red Cavern have had the harp for years.” He turned away and scratched his red neck. It seemed like he was leaving something out.

  Since I felt he was holding back on me, I had to be careful how much I revealed to this kid. I measured my words before speaking. “I’ve heard that the demons didn’t know how to use it properly. They didn’t know that they had to play it on the earth’s surface, in the region that would be affected. I assume they’ve figured it out.”

  Mike’s eyes widened, and a crazed look glazed over his sapphire blues. “I’m planning to crash the Red Cavern and steal it back.” He slapped the table for added effect, but his gloved hand didn’t make much sound.

  Despite the dud of an exclamation point on his statement, the more I talked to him, the more I liked Mike Merlino. He was just as wild as I. “How? They keep their portals under wraps.”

  “I know where the portal is located. It’s well guarded, just like the Red Cavern, but that’s never stopped me before,” he said, punctuating his words with a clever smirk.

  I had to stick a pin in that one. I couldn’t reveal my experiences from the Red Cavern to Mike. I needed to stuff those experiences back down and forget about them right now. The pain was still fresh.

  The bartender came over and blew into her mitten-covered hands. Her smoker’s breath tinted with a hint of vodka offended my nostrils and I turned away. Out of breath, she said, “Sorry it’s taking so long. New cook’s a freaking nightmare. Guy’s a real space cadet. But he basically works for booze, so you know how that goes. Todd better get his ass in gear though, cuz it’s my tips that will suffer.”

  “You don’t say,” I uttered without thinking. It appeared I’d found Thor.

  The bartender tilted her head. “What don’t I say?”

  I’d hoped she hadn’t even heard me. I tried to play it off. “Just a stupid joke from a movie.”

  “Oh, I love movies. What movie?” she asked, suddenly interested.

  “I forget,” I told her, trying to end the conversation.

  “Well who was in it? I’m pretty good with actors and actresses.”

  “Just drop it, all right?” I snapped. The dark blood in me had no patience. I was working on that. “Sorry. I just can’t remember right now.”

  “Okay.” She turned to walk away and mumbled under her breath, “No more Jameson for the crazy lady.”

  I didn’t care, and ignored Mike’s dirty looks, as I analyzed the situation. The Norse God of Thunder had just dropped into my lap. I didn’t plan to talk to him today. But I knew where he worked now, and with him being stuffed away in the basement kitchen, he hadn’t seen me.

  Chapter 4

  My doorbell rang. As I walked out of the kitchen, the Morrigan materialized on my welcome mat just inside the front door. Her arms emerged from her raven feather cloak and she played with her wild hair, not having much effect.

  She said, “I know I scare you when I just show up, so I figured I’d ring the bell this time.”

  “Probably because I’m on edge all the time with all these jagoffs coming at me. Let’s go sit down in the kitchen.” I led her down the short hallway and into the kitchen.

  She hooked the leg of the chair with her foot and pulled it out. As she was plopping into the seat, she asked, “What do you have to drink around here?”

  Never the shy one, the Morrigan. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want?”

  “You have any of those caffeine boosters?” she asked and one side of her mouth curled up.

  She was talking about an energy drink. She didn’t need them, but she sure loved them. “I’ve got a Red Bull in the fridge.” I grabbed the silver can toward the back of the top shelf. I tossed it over to the Morrigan, who snatched it out of the air.

  I warned, “Don’t...”

  But before I could get out another word, she cracked it open and sprayed herself with the foamy liquid. Her neck jerked toward me, her face tightening in anger, and I put my hands up as if to say, I’m innocent. The intensity of her stare had killed men before. I turned around and ripped three paper towels off the roll.

  I spun around, took two steps forward and handed them to the Morrigan. As she dabbed her raven feather cloak, it appeared to shed a few layers and clung closer to her body. Her signature outfit seemed to have a life of its own and react to her emotions. The warm confines of my house and her anger caused the cloak to shrink from a heavy winter garment to a long-sleeve dress that hung right above her knee. When it was time for action, her cloak formed into a tight body suit.

  The Morrigan finally broke the silence, “Have you thought about what we talked about outside the Triskele Room?”

  I tried to think of an excuse. If I were going to be a better person, spending an extended period with the Morrigan would make that nearly impossible. She wasn’t a bad immortal per se. She just operated under a different set of rules than the rest of us.

  At the end of the day, she peddled in death. The inconvenient truth. She did the job that scared the wits out of everyone else. She and the other merchants kept the natural order. A necessary evil.

  I couldn’t think of a good excuse, so I went with a classic. “I’ve got a lot of stuff going on right now. Especially with the vampires and werewolves. My hands are kind of full.” I knew it was weak sauce, but it was all I had on the spur of the moment.

  She kicked her feet up on the table, her shiny leather boots running up her calf and disappearing into her cloak. She tugged on the red laces of her boots. “I could really use some help on this one. You know that no one else will work with me.”

  “Gee. I wonder why.” I pointed to her dirty boots, muck and slushy snow dripping from the grooves of her soles. It shocked me that the snow hadn’t melted during her transfer. I went for the paper towels again. “What exactly is going on?”

  The Morrigan chugged some Red Bull, belched loud enough for my neighbor to hear, and said, “The merchants aren’t sure yet. Someone is producing their own death cards and he or she is using them at will. Some of the reported stiffs still had active death cards. I had three that died, and someone else claimed their souls. An outsider.”

  Her nostrils flared, her red pupils dilated and her expression hardened, bordering on venomous. My friend was pissed someone was infringing on her territory.


  I leaned back against my counter. “Could one of the merchants be producing and selling them on the side?”

  The Morrigan got up and stretched out her back. She moved her upper body from side to side as she spoke, “Very unlikely. Once we produce one of our cards, it can’t be replicated. Or so I’d thought. If one of the death merchants violates our pact, they know it’s instant death. For instance, it’s never even crossed my mind.”

  That statement carried a great deal of weight. She was by far the most reckless person I knew. She enjoyed breaking the rules and hoping that the opposing party backed down. Normally, she was right.

  I threw the paper towels over the Morrigan’s mess on the table and asked, “Could someone else have gotten greedy?”

  The Morrigan stopped stretching and opened the refrigerator. “Sure, but not likely. Ereshkigal had two of her cards stolen, but that’s it. She’s the only one who has reported anything out of the ordinary. Nobody has tried to steal any from me.”

  I thought about the bigger picture. “I might be a little obtuse, but what is the point of stealing them?”

  The Morrigan opened the jar of kosher dill pickles without picking it up from the door of the fridge. She plucked a whole pickle out, closed the jar and shut the door. With pickle juice dripping on my kitchen floor, she took a big bite and spoke over the crunching, “Someone gets to play a God and decide when someone dies and where his or her soul will go. Or they could sell the souls to someone. All I know is this asshole is messing with the natural order.”

  I turned away and pretended to stare out the window. She looked gross talking with her mouth full of dull green bits. I also didn’t want to mention that she and the other merchants gambled over the cards, which I could only assume meant they were messing with the natural order. It was right on brand for the Gods not to practice what they preach. Even my friend, Mo, was guilty of the hypocrisy.

  “What could they do with the souls?” I asked.

  She crunched down on the pickle again and continued, “That is the part that we are freaking out about. We don’t know where they are taking the souls or what they plan to do with them. We need to find a pattern. Sometimes the other Gods will ask me to find a particular soul. A brilliant doctor for instance. Or is everything being done at random? I don’t like not knowing what’s going on.”