The Bone Scroll: An Elemental Legacy Novel

by Hunter, Elizabeth

  Finding it could cost them everything. Wielding it could mean their end.

  * * *

  The Bone Scroll

  It’s a secret lost in time, a myth among immortals, a relic of such power that vampires around the world have quietly harbored the hope that it doesn’t really exist.

  It’s a mystery that Tenzin and Ben cannot resist.

  But to obtain the bone scroll, they’ll need leverage over the most powerful and mercurial vampire in the known world. Saba, oldest of immortals and mother of the vampire race, has returned to her homeland in the highlands of Ethiopia, searching for the scroll with a cadre of elders. In order to outsmart them, Ben and Tenzin will need to walk a literal and figurative ledge through a maze of vampire loyalties, shadowy motivations, and ancient secrets.

  If Saba wanted them gone, she could command the earth to swallow them whole. But the mother of vampires is playing her own game, and both Ben and Tenzin are no more than pawns.

  Can they outsmart and outmaneuver the most primeval beings in their race to find the bone scroll before it lands in the possession of those who care only for their own selfish gain?

  The Bone Scroll is the finale of the Elemental Legacy series by Elizabeth Hunter, USA Today best-selling author of the Elemental Mysteries, the Irin Chronicles, and the Glimmer Lake series.

  The Bone Scroll

  An Elemental Legacy Novel

  Elizabeth Hunter

  The Bone Scroll

  Copyright © 2021

  Elizabeth Hunter

  ISBN: 9781941674673

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Cover: Damonza

  Content Editor: Amy Cissell, Cissell Ink

  Line Editor: Anne Victory

  Proofreader: Linda, Victory Editing

  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, please delete it and purchase your own copy from an authorized retailer. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Recurve Press LLC

  PO Box 4034

  Visalia, California 93278

  USA

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  First Look: Martyr’s Promise

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Elizabeth Hunter

  To all the scientists,

  The researchers,

  Protocol watchers and data-junkies,

  For all the healthcare workers,

  The doctors and nurses,

  Lab techs and therapists,

  And for all of their families who have sacrificed countless hours without them,

  For the people who held the hands that we could not,

  Looked in the eyes of the lost,

  And mourned with each family,

  Thank you. We cannot say it enough.

  Thank you.

  Thank you.

  Thank you.

  1

  The water vampire wanted to meet at a self-storage yard near the airport, which didn’t instill a sense of confidence in Ben Vecchio. The damp night air over San Francisco wrapped frigid fingers around his throat and slid down his collar as he hovered over the appointed meeting place. In the distance, the seemingly endless queue of jumbo jets circled, waiting for their turn to land at the airport by the bay.

  The storage yard off Old Bayshore Highway was like any other anonymous industrial complex in the United States. Painted a dull, salt-speckled taupe, it sat under the evening fog in a half dozen neat rows. Nothing about the yard would have seemed off to a human, but Ben could scent multiple threads of amnis, the immortal power that animated their kind, drifting in the air.

  Vampires guarded the place. Not wind vampires like Ben—not that he could detect anyway—but multiple immortals were present, which meant the Trader wasn’t alone.

  Not necessarily a threat. The vampire was known for doing business with legitimate and slightly less legitimate businesspeople, which meant that security was prudent.

  What Ben wasn’t sure of was if he fell under the “legitimate” or “slightly less” label these days.

  Probably slightly less.

  He descended from the darkness and landed under the cool glow of a streetlamp, deliberately making himself visible. He saw a guard behind the chain-link fence emerge from the darkness, nodding toward a narrow gate next to the car entrance. The guard took a device from his pocket and pressed a button, speaking into it.

  Ben stood at the gate, waiting. He knew he was on camera; he could feel the electronic waves emanating from the building. It was an erratic ability that had emerged in the past few months that was both useful and annoying.

  Being a fairly new vampire, Ben was still developing his amnis. Having been sired by an ancient wind vampire, that also meant that when new abilities emerged, they often came on full blast. It was a little like dropping into a vehicle going one hundred miles an hour. Sure, you could get used to it, but it would be a lot nicer if you were there for the buildup.

  The guard got the approval he needed and opened the gate for Ben. Neither one of them spoke the obvious: Ben was a wind vampire. He could have flown over the gate as easily as breathing, but he was showing the Trader respect.

  See? I will respect your rules even if I don’t have to.

  The silent guard walked into the anonymous maze of storage units, and Ben followed. They turned right, then left, following no obvious landmarks other than painted numbers on units. When they reached C-201, the guard opened a smaller door next to the large garage door and pushed it open, motioning Ben to enter.

  The interior of the unit was pitch-black, and Ben could scent two vampires inside.

  Okay, here goes nothing. If he had to beat up his hands tearing open the roof of the unit to get out of a sticky situation, he was going to be pissed. But Tenzin had vouched for this trader, and she was his partner, so he trusted her.

  Mostly.

  Ben stepped through the doorway and heard the door shut behind him. A light flipped on, nothing harsh enough to blind an immortal, but it still surprised him, as did the view.

  In front of Ben, there was a very comfortable and well-appointed office. A thin, pale vampire in a business suit was sitting at the desk, his hand on a switch.

  “Mr. Benjamin Vecchio?” The vampire spoke with a slight French accent, and if Ben hadn’t known any different
, he would have thought he’d walked into the offices of a fashion magazine.

  The art on the wood-paneled walls was modern with a distinct Asian flair. The concrete floors of the unit had been covered in thick, polished wood and wool rugs so luxurious he could feel his feet sinking into them.

  “I’m Ben Vecchio.” Ben stepped toward the desk, close enough to be polite but not close enough to be a threat. “I’m here for a meeting with the Trader. My partner called a few days ago.”

  “Of course. She is expecting you.” The man nodded a head of wavy brown hair. He motioned to a set of leather chairs on one wall. “If you’ll give her a moment, she’ll be right out.”

  Ben sat and examined the space. How many exits? It was an old game he’d played with Tenzin for years. One, the door behind him. Two, the window in the back that probably led to another storage unit, which would have another door. Three, the vent over the head of the fashionable secretary, easily ripped out to access the sky. Four, the door leading to the neighboring storage unit on the left. Five, the door leading to the storage unit on the right.

  Five exits was acceptable. It was quite ingenious when he thought about it. No one from the outside would ever suspect the offices of an international antiquities trader were veiled by an industrial storage unit. The units were light safe and only accessible from single points unless expanded.

  A few minutes later, a thin woman with Southeast Asian features emerged from the office on the left. She was wearing a black top that wrapped around her slim figure and a flowing skirt in black with striped floral panels in what looked like traditional silk fabric. Her jewelry was simple: gold hoops in her ears, a gold chain around her neck, and a thick jade bracelet on her left arm.

  “Mr. Vecchio?”

  Ben rose, trying not to show his surprise. He’d been expecting something different. He wasn’t sure what, but it wasn’t a seemingly young vampire who looked like she’d be running a high-end gallery, not a sometimes-illicit antiquities trade.

  He stopped a few feet from the Trader and bowed his head slightly. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you. Tenzin speaks highly of you.”

  The woman smiled. “That is very flattering.” If she wasn’t a native English speaker, you’d never know it—her accent was impeccable. “I’ve enjoyed working with your partner in the past. We share an appreciation of directness.”

  Ben smiled. “Yes, she does appreciate that.”

  “Tenzin told me you were looking for something quite specific for a client.” She motioned to what he assumed was her office door. “Please join me and we’ll talk. Gregory can get us something to drink if you’d like. Blood-wine? Coffee? Tea?”

  Ben turned to Gregory. “Blood-wine would be great. Thank you.”

  “Of course.” He murmured a brand label in French, and the Trader nodded.

  Ben kept on alert as he walked into the Trader’s office, but he wasn’t feeling uneasy. So far the meeting had gone as expected.

  You can’t distrust everyone, his aunt would say. Then again, his aunt was a librarian. A vampire librarian and protector of rare books, but a librarian nonetheless. She didn’t deal with quite as many unsavory characters as Ben did in the course of his business.

  He looked for a desk but found only a sitting area in front of a wall of books and objets d’art. Thick coffee table books were stacked along the wall, interspersed with brilliant orbs of glass, shiny porcelain, and carved wooden pieces.

  “Your collection is diverse.” He turned when he sensed her behind him.

  “The world is full of beautiful things.” She spread her hands. “In my business, I aim to facilitate the right buyer finding the right seller.” She motioned to the sofas in front of the bookcases. “Please have a seat and tell me what you’re looking for.”

  Her power was a low thrum calibrated to set clients at ease, which was exactly what was happening to Ben. He was still working on his own ability to muffle the startling ancient power that blasted through him, and he was feeling good so far that neither the Trader nor her secretary seemed intimidated.

  “I’m looking for tenth-century African artifacts.”

  The Trader furrowed her eyebrows slightly. “Can you be more specific? Benin? Ghana? Egyptian?”

  “Ethiopian,” Ben said. “Specifically, ceremonial or imperial headdresses or crowns from the late Aksumite Empire.”

  The Trader pursed her lips. “Very specific. You do realize that much of the Aksumite treasury was raided in the late tenth century?”

  “I do.”

  “And many of the later antiquities, which likely contain the remaining Aksumite relics, were taken by the British.”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  The Trader said, “I know of an excellent collection of Aksumite gold coins that is available. Finest quality, and the seller is quite motivated.”

  Gold coins? He could always interest Tenzin in that.

  Keep on track, Ben.

  “I realize I’m looking for something very specific.” He shifted slightly. “We are also more than happy to trade for information.”

  “I see.” The Trader’s chin tilted up. “I can definitely reach out to contacts and possibly see what might not be on the market yet.”

  “But for the right price…?”

  She smiled. “For the right price, one can often obtain things that are not strictly for sale.”

  “Thank you. We appreciate your discretion and your connections. I do have one other inquiry.”

  The Trader spread her hands. “I am at your service.”

  Ben kept his eyes on the woman and relayed the information exactly as Tenzin had told him. “What do you know about the collection of Trevor Blythe-Bickman?”

  One eyebrow went up. “I know Mr. Blythe-Bickman’s family collection is quite extensive, and I do believe much of it was acquired in the Horn of Africa. His collection of Somali jewelry and gemstones is well known.”

  “I’ve heard that. I also have reason to believe he has quite a good collection of Aksumite manuscripts.”

  “It’s possible.” She took a moment to examine Ben. “I have not worked with Mr. Blythe-Bickman. His social circle and mine do not overlap.”

  Meaning: I am not a billionaire tech bro with an overblown ego and an elevated opinion of my own IQ.

  “I see.” Ben smiled. “We may have an interest in some of Mr. Blythe-Bickman’s collection.”

  “Even those not currently on the market?” The corner of the Trader’s mouth turned up.

  Trevor Blythe-Bickman was the heir to a massive British fortune who had made his home in San Francisco and also considered himself a technology guru. To his credit, he’d started some minor companies that had quickly been gobbled up by the titans of Silicon Valley, leaving him with both old and new money, a massive ego, and an enormous Tudor mansion in the exclusive Pacific Heights neighborhood of San Francisco.

  Ben definitely wanted to rob him.

  “As you said, for the right price, one can often obtain things that are not strictly for sale.” He leaned forward. “I think what we might be looking for is… information.”

  The Trader smiled. “You’re in luck. I also deal in that.”

  Tenzin leaned against the white-painted lighthouse on the tip of Point Reyes, waiting for the earth vampire to appear. She tucked her small frame into a shadow of the old structure and listened as the ocean crashed beneath her. The damp sea air permeated her shoulder-length hair; it hung like a heavy curtain around her face.

  Tenzin remained on alert despite the cover of darkness. The location was only a short flight north of San Francisco, and she’d come seeking information from a problematic source.

  Lucien Thrax appeared in the distance, steadily descending the many steps leading to the rocky promontory that jutted into the Pacific. The presence of another ancient progeny caused her feet to lift from the ground, the air drawn to her as her senses went into overdrive.

  The earth vampire reached the base of the stairs a
nd stopped, searching the darkness for her shadow. “I’m here, daughter of Zhang.”

  Tenzin emerged from the dark fog. “Son of Saba.”

  Lucien sighed, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and furrowed his eyebrows. “We’ve never been enemies, Tenzin. Why the formality?” He looked like a harried intellectual, not an ancient warrior turned modern healer. In reality, he was all those things. His stone-grey eyes, pale skin, and dark hair told humans he was a tall European in early middle age, but he was the last son of Saba, most ancient vampire known to their kind, mother of their race, and the woman who had manipulated Tenzin’s partner into losing his human life.

  “You are aware of the current status of Benjamin?” she asked.

  Lucien looked annoyed. “I know Ben is a vampire now, Tenzin. It’s been… What? Three years? We were at his aunt and uncle’s house for Christmas. My mate and Ben’s aunt are practically family.”

  She flew closer. “And do you know how that came about?”

  Lucien’s eyes grew wary. “I have heard… whispers.”

  “From your mother’s people?”

  “From Alitea. I wasn’t certain what was true or not. You know how rumors can fly in vampire courts.”

  Lucien’s mother was head of the Council of Alitea that ruled the Mediterranean, much of Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa. Tenzin’s father was the oldest of the Eight Immortals who ruled East Asia from Penglai Island. They were both children of power and politics, who knew that rumors could carry lies as easily as truth but were more often somewhere in the middle.