Blood Leverage (Bloodstone Chronicles Book 1)

by J S Hazzard

  With our plan in place, we all felt the awkwardness seep back until Keanu felt compelled to break the silence. “Well, I’m going to go check the site crater and make sure it’s stable. Rory, we’ll see you tomorrow.” He sounded desperate to escape and bolted after a quick hug.

  “Well that was a subtle exit,” I said lightly. “Nothing obvious there.”

  “Stealthy as a ninja,” Ian concurred. “Don’t mind him, he’s just nervous. Though we’ll have the element of surprise on our side, we’re still going into an unknown situation tonight. Keanu is wracking his brain to find us every possible advantage.”

  “God, I wish I could help. I hate feeling like dead-weight all the time. Don’t worry,” I hastened to add as Ian’s mouth tensed, “I know a vampire community is no place for a human and I won’t jeopardize anyone’s safety by doing something stupid.”

  Ian looked almost indecently relieved, to the point where I didn’t want to let him off the hook. “As I said, I won’t do anything stupid, but you ought to know that tonight will be very difficult for me. If I look for your message tomorrow and you haven’t left one, I’ll assume the worst about everything. Please, do not put me in that position. Please.”

  Ian took my hands and met my eyes. “I promise I won’t do that… Rory.”

  PART THREE

  From the desk of

  Lawrence Nickleby, CEO, Immortal Media

  April 24, 2377

  Dear Nora,

  I hope this letter finds you well, and Rory too. As you may have realized, January of 2379 will be the twentieth anniversary of your book. Immortal Media would like to produce a special anniversary edition to commemorate the occasion.

  The text of your book will, of course, remain the same. However, my colleagues and I feel it would be interesting to have a new foreword written – something looking back over the twenty years since its publication.

  With your approval, I would like to ask Aurora to write this new foreword. I believe she would provide an amazing perspective, having essentially grown up alongside your work. She also knows you in a way no one else does.

  In addition, over the years Rory has submitted a dozen essays and articles to us – any of which I would have been proud to publish. However, out of respect for your friendship, I have followed your wishes and never acknowledged her submissions.

  It is very evident that talent runs in your family and Rory has remained persistent in her attempts. Sooner or later, she’ll find another company that will be happy to oblige her. I sincerely hope you give my idea the consideration it warrants.

  Your daughter deserves a chance, Nora. After all, it’s her life.

  Your ever humble servant,

  Lawrence Nickleby

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  I’D never paid less attention while driving. All I could think about was how the next several hours would impact my life—and how little control I had over them. To make it worse, I couldn’t even summon any anger at being excluded. This summer had taught me to step up and do what had to be done, but accepting that some things were best left to those more qualified had been a much more difficult lesson.

  The idea of sitting on my ass tonight chafed more than I could say. Still, if I couldn’t help, at least there were things I could do to make Nicky’s adjustment easier.

  For one thing, Ian and Keanu would have no food, and without electricity, no means of preparing anything. Since I wouldn’t be able to sleep, I’d spend tonight cooking. Anything that could keep without refrigeration could be made in advance and re-heated on Nicky’s portable propane stove.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror and I smiled when I saw the camp stove still bundled on the backseat. As I scanned the other items to see what might be useful, my smile faded when I realized how dirty the truck was. Smears of ash smudged the upholstery and scraps of singed fabric were everywhere.

  Though post-trauma Nicky might not care about the appearance of his truck, I knew what his normal reaction would be. Imagining it made me cringe, but this was another problem I could fix.

  I felt better as my upcoming evening took on purpose. Once the frozen food was safely in my freezer, I’d go shopping. If I hurried, I’d have time to run back and clean the truck before sunset, though I’d need to move the truck back outside to clean it. The last thing I needed was mother finding scraps of charred clothing in the vault.

  Clothing. Surely Nicky would prefer his own. I could wash the clothes he’d left in his knapsack tonight, and stop at his place tomorrow to get more. In fact, it wouldn’t take two minutes to grab the blankets and pillows from his bed. Between the vampires’ healing abilities and my preparations, at least we could keep him comfortable and well fed.

  As for Nicky’s mental state, I couldn’t begin to guess. The only trauma experience I could claim was that of a frustrating childhood, and that was hardly on the same level as abduction and possible torture. If only we’d found him sooner.

  With Ian and Keanu leaving for the new legislative session and Luigi returning in two weeks, time was of the essence. No matter how hard we’d worked to pretend everything was normal, it wouldn’t work once Luigi was home. Not only would Gigi expect to see his son, he was also involved in our patronage arrangements—something I doubted Nicky would agree to continue.

  There was no ideal solution. No matter how terrible I felt considering it, I was relieved entrancement was an option—for Nicky or Gigi or both. Ideally Nicky would be able to function without arousing suspicion. If his personality had survived intact, he’d be able to deflect questions with a wink and a smile. If not, we might be filling in a lot of blanks in Nicky’s head and ‘persuading’ Luigi to believe his son was normal.

  The thought brought forth a mirthless laugh. On a similar note, I was surprised Ian hadn’t entranced me to keep me in line tonight. It made me pause. Was that a possibility?

  After a moment of probing to see whether my thoughts felt like my own, I realized I was being foolish. If Ian had wanted to force my compliance, he would’ve removed my anxiety for Nicky as well—possibly my knowledge of tonight’s plans altogether. I was too nervous for my mind to have been altered.

  A quiet ‘ping’ from the dashboard interrupted me with an alert that the solar gauge was nearly empty. The week-long delivery spree and heavy cloud cover of the past two days had taken its toll.

  “Damn it!” I didn’t need to add this hassle to my list and I pushed it to the back of my mind. The weather would clear, and the truck would get me to my destination tomorrow. Wherever it might be.

  With the house destroyed, I had no idea where Ian planned to take Nicky. I considered the possibilities and decided the question fell under the heading of not my problem. The allotted space beneath the heading of Rory’s problems was already full.

  My vampire friends were attempting a rescue in less than ten hours, mom and Luigi would be home in two weeks, I’d survived two invasions from hostile vampires within the past two days, I was still lying to my best friend, and I’d blown up my friends’ house. At their request, but still, not good. I’d also somewhat involuntarily engaged in a mind-meld/three-some with a pair of vampires and had straight-out voluntarily initiated what could only be called a make-out session with a millennium old vampire.

  I laughed out loud as Amy’s words came back to me. “I never thought this was possible, but your shot at a decent love life might be more screwed than even mine.”

  Biggest. Understatement. Ever.

  Aside from my first kiss at age fourteen—the unpleasant result of a lost bet with Amy—the only men to ever show interest in me had been Nicky and Ian. (And okay, Keanu, but I was determined to write that night off as a one-time catastrophe.) Neither option was ideal and both were fraught with complications.

  I’d never considered a romance with Nicky to be a serious option because we were too different. No matter how attractive I found him and how much I enjoyed his company, it couldn’t be wise to plan a future around someone who didn’t
share my goals.

  Ian, on the other hand, had the same dissatisfaction with the world as I did. Okay, he was apparently responsible for it, but at least he cared enough to try and fix it. However, no matter how much we wanted the same things, it was downright stupid to plan a future around someone seventeen centuries older than I and dead.

  It was also worth reminding myself that neither of them had indicated an interest in a future with me in the first place. Not to mention, one might have permanent psychological damage and I might never see the other again after tomorrow.

  Nicky would be back tomorrow, and once he was well, Ian and Keanu would leave. Then our parents would return, expecting stories of a blandly acceptable summer. My mother would bury herself in work and Luigi would resume scavenging as he always had—though his blood brokering might have come to an end.

  Would life just fall back into the pattern it had always followed? Would I find myself sneaking back to Ian’s ruined house years from now, just to prove it had all been real?

  As I pulled up to the vault, I indulged myself in a brief head-thwack against the steering wheel. Throwing the gearshift into ‘park’, I hopped down with ease, smirking as I remembered my initial encounters with Nicky’s truck. If only all of my summer endeavors had resulted in such improvement.

  Despite the relentless humidity and my equally relentless thoughts, I broke my record for walking home from the vault. I had so much to do, starting with getting my groceries into the freezer. I was excited to give Amy her share of the food, but when I reached the courtyard, it became obvious no one would be cooking tonight. Something was going on.

  The big trestle tables had been hauled out and people were setting out chairs. I could smell meat sizzling on the community grills and a feeling of excitement resonated in the air. I observed the chaos with confusion. Had I forgotten an occasion?

  Finally Beverly noticed me and put my curiosity to rest. She made her way over, her arms full of colorful tablecloths. “Rory, there you are! We’ve been looking for you.”

  They had? That wasn’t particularly welcome, considering I’d made such an effort to fly under the radar lately. “Um, okay. What can I do for you?”

  “We’re having a community dinner. Well, you can already see that.” She gestured to the chaos surrounding us. “The hunting crew came across an enormous flock of wild turkeys and we don’t have enough salt to cure all the meat. So the Mayor decided we’d have a dinner so nothing goes to waste. And then Barbara offered to contribute some baked goods, and other people began to offer to bring other things. It’s turned into quite the party, and I’m hoping we might borrow Eleanor’s crystal.”

  I relaxed. Unlike the other dilemmas in my life, this was easy. My mother frequently lent her treasures for such occasions. “No problem at all. You want her big centerpiece bowl and the three Waterford vases?” Then I added, “As long as someone else can deal with the flowers. I need to wash up and change.”

  More like I needed to get this food in the freezer, pronto.

  Skipper piped up, bless his heart. “I could bring some of the guys over to carry Miss Eleanor’s glass out. No running or anything.”

  What a fantastic kid. It was almost enough to make me consider childbirth.

  “That sounds like a great plan,” I said gratefully. “Why don’t you pop over in twenty minutes and it’ll be ready. I need to find everything and maybe polish it a bit.”

  I knew exactly where everything was and it was all spotless, but my grocery situation was rapidly worsening. A wet spot was seeping through the cardboard and if I didn’t hurry away someone would ask why my box was leaking.

  Mentally rearranging my schedule to accommodate dinner, I slipped away from the courtyard and hurried home. Twenty minutes would be plenty of time to stock the freezer and retrieve mom’s crystal.

  Worries about spoiled food aside, the party was a welcome surprise. Hopefully the distraction would muffle my brain’s shrieking countdown until sunset. I unlocked my door and raced to the freezer. It took considerable juggling, but on my third try the freezer stayed shut.

  Then I walked to the living room and was lifting a hand to the latch of the china hutch when I paused. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something in the living room felt different. Stupidly, I turned and peered into the kitchen like someone might have been hiding behind the fridge while I’d unloaded the groceries. Since it was handy, I eased the hutch open and pulled out a heavy crystal candlestick shaped like a seahorse.

  I slid out of my slappy flip-flops and noted that the bathroom door was still wide open, just the way I’d left it. Then I tiptoed upstairs, clutching my candlestick and looking in closets. Of course I found no one and I felt foolish as I walked back down, unable to shake my nerves.

  As I returned to the living room, I breathed a sigh of relief when I noticed the white bag draped over a chair. I recognized the garment bag as belonging to Amy—the only other person with a key, I’m such a dork—and quickly set the candlestick down on the table to see what she’d left for me.

  It was the coral lace dress we’d spoken of months ago, the one with the tight bodice and fluffy little skirt. Its back laced like a corset, creating a ballerina-like effect. It was every bit as lovely as Ian’s pricey designer dress, which made me very proud.

  I was so enraptured by the details I almost missed the scrap of paper with the dress. The note was written in typical Amy style—a dozen tiny words crowded on half an inch of letter paper. I laughed and squinted, holding the paper closer. The message was brief.

  Wear me to dinner tonight! With the beige strappy heels in your closet!

  She hadn’t bothered with a signature, not that I needed one.

  I wanted to try the dress on, but a knock on the door stopped me. Skipper. The crystal. Crap. Stuffing the dress back into the bag, I yanked out everything I’d promised and raced to the door.

  “Hey Skip, thanks for coming. I have everything ready.”

  Scuffing the side of his ancient sneaker against the equally worn vinyl in the hallway, he waved my appreciation aside. “It’s no problem. Is this everything on the table?”

  Smiling, I nodded, and then quickly backtracked. “Everything but the candlestick,” I said. Improvising, I threw in, “It was in front of the vases, so I had to take it out first.”

  Unconcerned about the layout of my mother’s crystal, Skip eased the fragile centerpiece bowl off of the table and jerked his chin at his three friends. “Alright guys. Let’s get this stuff to the courtyard. Slowly,” he added. “No running with Miss Eleanor’s flower pots. And Rory, you’d better hurry. You haven’t left yourself much time to get ready.”

  Wishing my mother had been here to hear her antiques referred to as ‘flower pots’, I stifled a giggle as I ushered the boys out. After I sent them off I took the dress out again, holding it up against my body and deciding that I needed a shower before putting it on.

  Not bothering to return the dress to its bag, I gently fluffed it out on the table and headed into the bathroom. Humming a few notes from the theme song of one of Keanu’s cartoons, I skirted past the toilet and pulled back the shower curtain, turning the water on. And then I pulled my arm back slowly as my brain processed what I was seeing.

  The toilet seat was up.

  Taking a step back, I wrinkled my nose as the scent of urine wafted up. Not only was the toilet seat up, but the toilet was unflushed. What the hell? Before I could wonder what Amy had been doing, the movement of the bathroom door caught my eye right before something struck me from behind.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  THE odor emanating from the toilet was even less pleasant from my new position of being draped half over it. Blinking as the fumes stung my eyes, I heaved my upper body away from the porcelain throne and sat back against the tub. My left temple wasn’t feeling its best, but when I pulled my hand back at least there was no blood.

  There was however, a very large pair of boots blocking the bathroom door. As my vision
cleared, I managed to lift my aching head enough to identify the individual wearing them. An individual holding my mother’s largest carving knife.

  “Robert? Why are you here? What did you do to my head?”

  Rolling his eyes as I tried to focus mine, Robert snorted out a laugh. “Bitch, if I’d hit you in the head, you wouldn’t have woken up. All I did was shove you forward. You hit your own head against the wall and then landed on the john.”

  “How clumsy of me,” I muttered, even as my head cleared enough to realize the danger I was in. I was alone with Robert and trapped in my bathroom, and the presence of the knife indicated a more sinister intention than wanting to take a leak.

  Strangely, this prospect didn’t seem as frightening as it once would have. Robert might have been a bully, but unlike the other bullies I’d faced this summer, he was still human. That said, a carving knife could kill as quickly as fangs.

  I just needed to catch my breath and make a plan. So naturally, my mouth blurted out the least helpful response possible. “You could’ve at least flushed before shoving me into the toilet.”

  Robert’s smug expression flickered to one of confusion. “Flushed? The toilet? Just how hard did you hit your fucking head?”

  Though I certainly hadn’t left the toilet seat up, it didn’t seem worth arguing the point. While keeping him talking seemed like a good idea, provoking an argument didn’t. And I might as well start with the obvious.

  “So, are you going to tell me why you broke in?”

  Sneering, Robert pointed a meaty finger at the dining table. “Didn’t need to break in, did I? Stupid blonde bitch had a key—left the door wide open and ran upstairs. I hid behind the bathroom door until she left.”