Blood Leverage (Bloodstone Chronicles Book 1)

by J S Hazzard

  His eyes fluttered open and when he gestured to the right, I took it as permission to enter. I pushed open the door and smiled. No wonder Ian had left the gold harp in the guest rooms. He had another harp here, larger and silver where the other was gold.

  “It’s beautiful. You know, when I went into the guest rooms last night, I went with the intent of learning about your harp. The gold one,” I clarified.

  “I know.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course. You left your printouts on the floor.”

  I’d forgotten. “Under the circumstances, I’m sure you understand why. But if you prefer this other harp, why bring Goldilocks in here?”

  He ran a hand lovingly over the strings. “Goldilocks, as you put it, needed cleaning after last night. It could have waited, but I realized you were interested in learning to play.”

  “You’ll let me use it?”

  “Of course. Goldilocks might be a better size for you anyway—‘just right’ as it were. If you have a minute, I’ll show you how to hold her.”

  “I have a few minutes. You can hear the stove timer from here, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then absolutely. I mean, yes, please.”

  Ian rose and gestured for me to take his seat. Then he stood in front of me and began to position my hands. And then he stopped. “I’m looking at this backward, I need to reverse everything. Better yet,” he decided, easing behind my chair, “I’ll look at everything the way it’s supposed to be.”

  It was nerve-wracking to have him in such close proximity, just beyond my line of vision. I felt his breath on my bare neck and his hair brushing my face as he leaned over to position my arms and hands.

  “Posture is very important, as is the amount of tension in your arms. You can’t keep them rigid, but a strong frame is required. Think fluid, think flexible, but nothing should be allowed to flop about.”

  Flopping. Something else I could never imagine Ian doing. Still, I pictured how his arms and hands had looked and did my best to duplicate it.

  “Like this? Is this… close?” I forgot my question as I turned to get his opinion and found his face a hairsbreadth away from mine.

  My carefully tensed arms went slack as our gazes caught and held. For a long moment we were immobile, until Ian pulled away.

  “Ah, the kitchen buzzer is going off.” Ian appeared slightly flustered, but less so than I—on multiple counts.

  “My dinner!” Though I’d left time to spare, I jumped like I’d been scalded. What the hell was wrong with me?

  He misinterpreted the cause of my agitation and reassured me. “Don’t worry, nothing has burned.” He sniffed the air. “In fact, something smells wonderful. What are you making?” he asked.

  I happily took the out I’d been offered.

  “You’ll have to wait and see, but it’s very fancy stuff.” I gestured to my outfit and laughed. “I was just thinking I should’ve brought something more appropriate to wear.”

  Ian’s eyes lit up and he moved to a slate fronted cabinet on the far wall. Before I could ask, he returned, offering me a pair of pristine white boxes bound with black cord. “Consider this payment rendered.”

  I shifted a balance scale in frosted glass to the back of his desk and set the boxes in front of it, tugging the twine over the edges of the larger box and lifting its lid. My mouth fell open.

  “Payment rendered, indeed.”

  Several weeks had passed since my pink dress had met its untimely demise, and I’d forgotten my friends had promised to replace it. Clearly, Ian hadn’t.

  Of course, the dress was beautiful. It was also wildly inappropriate for my normal life, but perfect for tonight. It was a deep blue, but with a dark green sheen to it. I tilted the box and realized the fabric changed hues as it reflected the light.

  I lifted the bodice of the dress from the box and laughed as the skirt exploded out from beneath it. It had elbow length sleeves, a squared neckline, a nipped in waist and a skirt that floofed to maybe mid-calf. It was hard to say without trying it on.

  “This is quite the dress.” I looked at the smaller box apprehensively. “Um, is that Keanu’s selection?” Not much dress would fit in that box.

  Ian laughed. “No, those are shoes. Keanu’s dress hasn’t come yet. He’s very cocky about his odds of winning, but I decided I couldn’t go wrong with a throwback to Dior’s ‘new look’—now Dior’s very old look.”

  He cocked his head and listened. “Keanu’s back. You’d best go get ready.” He gestured to the doorway.

  I hesitated, fingering the silky material. “I can’t go pick up a phone in this—they’d think I was insane. Will I have time to change after dinner and still fetch the phone before sunset? What’s the guy’s address?”

  Ian’s mouth flexed the tiniest bit in irritation. “We’ve run into a small snag there.”

  “Oh no, you didn’t win the phone?”

  “What? No, of course I won the auction. However, I received a response email saying the gentleman in question was away until tomorrow morning. I wrote back that you were in town on business and staying at the hotel. You can go meet him as soon as we have an address.”

  Panic flared. “Will Nicky be alright until then? What if Eggplant was his only source of food and water?” I fumbled the boxes and Ian promptly caught them.

  “Aurora,” he said gently, pressing the boxes back into my hands, “we know of several other vampires who’ve been in contact with him. I doubt Eggplant left him alone. Dominic should be fine. Don’t worry about it.” He nudged me toward the door. “Go on. I’ll make certain Keanu doesn’t wear jeans.”

  I felt surprisingly reassured as I left the room, enough to wonder if Keanu owned any pants other than jeans. I told myself I’d find out soon enough and hurried back to the kitchen to rescue my roast, finish dinner, and change into my new dress.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  BY the time I’d heated my remaining components and arranged them on the antique dishes, I’d lost my appetite. What a lot of work! I hadn’t realized how much Ms. B. had helped until I had to do everything myself. Even worse, I’d told her I was learning as a surprise for mom and Gigi, so I’d have to repeat everything in a couple weeks.

  Ian and Keanu gaped as I carried everything to the table, now tastefully adorned by a bouquet of goldenrod and indigo asters. Of course I acted as though it had been no work at all while silently vowing never to do this again. However, since the interaction among the three of us had reverted to normal, I decided my efforts had been worth it. Besides, if I couldn’t retrieve the phone tonight, I might as well enjoy the meal I’d slaved over.

  Fortunately, my appetite revived at the sight of Ian and Keanu dressed in formal suits and ties—black for Ian and gray for Keanu. Though both men looked wonderful, I couldn’t get over how handsome Keanu was in a suit. Not that Ian wasn’t stunning, but I simply expected that from him. Keanu in a suit was like a kid asking for a rocking horse and receiving a pony—a spectacular surprise.

  Once again, I’d resumed my place on the low end of the beauty totem pole, but I had to give Ian credit. The new dress and shoes fit like a dream, though he’d neglected to mention the dangling pearl earrings I’d found tucked beside the shoes.

  I had no intention of keeping the earrings, but I held my own at the table in both appearance and conversation. And I certainly did my best to keep up with the men in food consumption, though perhaps that’s not something to brag about.

  For that matter, both vampires ate more than I’d ever seen before—suspiciously large quantities for having been ill yesterday. It was as if they hadn’t seen the sunshine in years, but I refrained from asking questions. If they’d indulged in a side serving of Eggplant last night, I did not want to hear about it. Particularly not while eating.

  Despite the massive dinner, Keanu decided tonight’s ‘entertainment’ would consist of homemade ice cream combined with my introduction to old ‘Looney Tunes’ episodes. I
participated in the ‘great flavor debate’, but left the ice cream cranking to the vampires. After all, Eggplant’s demise hadn’t revived my tired muscles.

  Since homemade ice cream had been his idea, Keanu cranked the strawberry banana cheesecake and blueberry butterscotch shortbread while Ian grudgingly dealt with our third choice, chocolate marshmallow with caramel and salted peanuts. When Keanu deemed the ice cream ready, we loaded up metal dishes straight out of an actual 1950’s ice cream parlor, drenched them with high calorie toppings and settled in for cartoons.

  Or as Keanu insisted on calling them, first generation animation.

  Frankly, I paid more attention to the ice cream as the cartoons were more frustrating than funny. I lost interest the moment I realized the coyote never gets to eat the bird and if a moral existed in the stories, I certainly couldn’t find it.

  Ian either noticed my fidgeting or else he didn’t like cartoons either. After four or five skits ending with a happily beeping bird and a hideously maimed coyote, he mercifully reset the left side of the wall screens.

  Most of the screens resumed their security views but he also activated a news program—considerately subtitled for Keanu’s benefit. By all appearances, Keanu was mesmerized by the giant anvil prominently featured in the coyote’s latest plot. Could he not see where this new plan was headed? It was enough to make me doubt his intelligence.

  Ian’s vampire news program was a big step up. As interesting as it was to see vampires it was even more interesting to see their clothes. My ideas regarding fashion were literally centuries out of date. Some of the stuff made Eggplant’s vinyl ensemble look downright tame.

  From Ian’s expression I could tell it was nothing he hadn’t seen before and I smirked. “If those clothes are a prerequisite for eternity, I think I’ll pass.”

  He grinned. “A vampire could do cartwheels in those.”

  “Touché.” Inwardly, I admitted I wouldn’t have minded trying the clothes on. In private. Then the footage switched to vampires discussing companies I’d never heard of. I wasn’t interested, but Ian perked right up.

  Keanu was now staring at a gray rabbit I identified as Bugs Bunny from an earlier t-shirt. I was about to excuse myself to find yet another book when the fireflies caught my attention.

  I’m not a fan of insects but I enjoy fireflies because they’re rare. As they’re nocturnal, I’ve only seen three or four in my life—ones that somehow floundered inside during their dormant daylight period. A captive firefly guarantees a child instant popularity in my square, at least until the poor thing dies. I’d read about how their lights were used as mating signals and apparently Ian’s woods were a social hotspot. At times there were more than twenty silvery flashes on screen at once, blinking flirtatiously.

  “Hey Ian, pass me the remote please?” While I’d been watching the fireflies, Ian had begun writing the financial gibberish on a notepad. Without a glance in my direction or a single snag in his flawless cursive, the remote sailed through the air and bounced to a stop in the precise center of the cushion beside me.

  I sneered as I picked up the remote—freaking vampire coordination—and studied it. My goal was to zoom in, something I’d seen Keanu do before. Unfortunately, nothing was labelled ‘ZOOM’. So I pressed the ‘FUNCTIONS’ button, hoping for a list of options. Instead, everything went blank.

  Ian looked at me with amusement as Keanu hollered, “Hey!”

  “I’m sorry! I meant to zoom in, not turn it off.” My inept fingers fumbled and dropped the remote, earning me a dirty look from Keanu.

  Ian picked it up. “Keanu, it’s not like you don’t know how this ends. The rabbit will be fine and the hunter will shoot himself in an illogical defiance of physics.”

  Unless I was mistaken, I’d just identified a primary theme of cartoon plots.

  Keanu was not appeased. “That shows what you know. That was the opera episode! The hunter shoots the rabbit and is overcome with remorse. It’s—”

  “Classic?” inquired Ian politely, at the precise moment I said, “Vintage?” Then we snickered while Keanu gave us both death glares.

  “Be that as it may,” Ian said, “you still knew the ending.” He turned back to me. “Which screen were you trying to see?”

  “It was, um…” I shut my eyes. “Second row down, third screen from the left?”

  “Number thirteen,” Keanu contributed sulkily. “One of the grounds cameras.” He clammed up and ostentatiously ignored us as Ian pressed a series of buttons.

  “What was on screen thirteen?” His fingers danced across the remote and I gave up any plan of mastering it—too much work for too little gain. I was ready to tell him to forget it when the screens popped back on.

  “Oh, there.” I pointed at the newly restored image. “The fireflies, can you zoom in? I’ve never seen one at night.” Keanu looked at the screen with more interest as Ian battled the controls.

  Unfortunately, most of the fireflies had since moved on but there were still a few left if Ian could get the camera to work. After intense muttering on his part, the camera finally panned closer in a fit of jerky stops and starts.

  I carefully suppressed a grin. It made me feel better to realize Ian didn’t entirely understand his remote either. As the flashes of light grew larger, Keanu’s feet hit the floor with a thump.

  “Ian, those aren’t fireflies. We have company.”

  Ian’s feet came down so fast I never saw him stand. I also didn’t see him lunge over to snatch me to my feet, which he did with a lack of gentleness I’d only experienced in our first meeting.

  “Vampire eyes,” he said flatly, his own eyes focused on the screen without blinking. “Reflecting the moonlight.”

  “But that can’t be right,” I objected, watching the pinpoints of light. “There were lots more a minute ago, a whole group…” I stopped speaking as it sank in.

  “How many, Aurora? How many did you see?” Ian’s voice was harsher than I’d ever heard it—and that included our first unfortunate meeting.

  “No fewer than twenty, no more than twenty-five,” I said, and we all did the math. Approximately a dozen vampires, assuming my count was accurate.

  “Keanu, where is camera thir—?”

  “Facing the front entrance from forty yards out.” Keanu snatched the remote, his fingers flying over the keys in a blur. The screens reconfigured, one side enlarging the view from camera thirteen, the other switching to a view of the trapdoor. I saw Nicky’s truck, but none of the silver blips.

  Ian’s facial muscles relaxed infinitesimally. “They don’t know about the rear exit. They must have received their information from Eggplant. Dominic wouldn’t have known anything to tell her about it.”

  “Game plan?” Keanu’s body was tense, his expression more serious than I’d ever seen. More serious than I’d thought him capable of, truth be told.

  Ian gave an irritated shrug. “There are only a dozen.” Sheesh, only. “We might get banged up, but we can almost certainly take them. We can definitely give Aurora time to reach the truck and get away. They won’t be looking for a human if they’re looking for me—they’ll be too busy wishing they hadn’t found me.” The last words were a snarl.

  Keanu looked shocked. “There’s no possible way, Ian. We’ve been careful. It might be a rescue party for Eggplant, or—or they might be from the power facility and searching for an escaped—”

  An explosion rocked the front of the house, cutting Keanu off.

  Ian reached to steady me. “They’re inside,” he snapped, taking me by the shoulders and looking me in the eyes. “They’re inside,” he repeated unnecessarily. “Aurora, get to the truck. Drive to the vault and lock yourself in until morning.”

  I jolted in surprise. “You want me to go outside? Wouldn’t I be safer here?”

  Ian barely flinched as a loud crash came from the guest rooms. “Lack of an invitation won’t protect you in our quarters. You need to get to the truck.”

  “Believe
it, Rory,” Keanu put in grimly. “We’ll keep these guys too busy to notice.”

  “But what about you two?” I was surprisingly coherent under the circumstances.

  “We’ll be fine,” Ian said, his voice gentle.

  “But how will I know?” I blurted the words as he maneuvered me toward the door.

  “We’ll come to the vault as soon as we can.” He dipped his head down and kissed me lightly on the lips. “Remember your promise, Aurora. I’m telling you to run.”

  So I did.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  A tremendous din came from the guest rooms as I sprinted for the rear exit, punctuated by several screams. Though the noise was impossible to ignore, I didn’t let it slow me down. I had to get to the truck.

  The truck.

  The keys.

  Shit.

  I came to an abrupt stop in the kitchen, stupidly patting my new dress as if I expected to find pockets. Keys, keys… Keys! I’d emptied the contents of yesterday’s pockets in the laundry room.

  I made a beeline there and muffled a yelp as I jammed my finger against the doorframe, not that even a vampire could have heard me—the noise from the guest quarters was a prelude to Armageddon. My sweaty finger slid off the keypad and I had to wipe it on the underskirt of my dress before my print would clear.

  Inside, I all but incurred whiplash as I snapped my head back and forth, scanning the room for a glint of metal. There! On the laundry folding table. I darted forward and snatched the keys, wrapping my fingers around them to keep them from jingling as I ran back through the kitchen.

  Finally, finally, finally, I reached the first of the white rooms.

  Wiping my fingers again I activated the first key pad and stepped through the doorway, silently reciting the order I’d spent so long memorizing: Righteous Rebecca—to the right, to the right—smugly abandons Leroy— straight ahead, to the left—swimming at lake—straight ahead, to the left.