Blood Leverage (Bloodstone Chronicles Book 1)

by J S Hazzard

  Though my birth had supposedly left my mother infertile, she was only in her early forties and it wasn’t like she’d been putting her fertility to the test for the past decade or so. How crazy would that be? Amy would be sewing a maternity bridal gown.

  Then I realized my mom was laughing herself senseless and reined my imagination in. “Okay, I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Take it as a holy shit, no” she gasped, leaving me in stitches. I almost never heard my mother swear and for a few minutes we did nothing but laugh. It felt fantastic.

  “My goodness, baby, you would not believe how much I needed that.”

  Yes, I would, I quietly thought, choosing not to say it out loud. Instead, I encouraged her. “What sort of news were you wanting to share?” I still had a half hour to fill.

  She looked at me with surprise. “Why, about the conference, of course.”

  How distracted could I get? “Of course. What were the most popular topics? Did you make any headway on the reinstitution of mandatory education for children?”

  “I did,” my mother said. “However, seeing as I’ve managed to catch you alone, there was one specific topic I’ve been waiting to discuss with you.”

  My internal alarm bell began to clang before she could even set her fork down. Her smile stretched nearly flat, something that never boded well.

  “Mother,” I said suspiciously, “are you sure you only went to the academic conference?”

  She looked surprised at the question and her scary smile morphed into a puzzled frown. “I would never go somewhere without telling you.”

  I laughed. “I don’t know, mom. You’ve been unpredictable lately—everything from surprise engagements and chatting with vampires to riding in helicopters.”

  She swiveled her engagement ring around her finger, smiling involuntarily as she did. I would’ve smiled too—the diamond was nearly the size of a walnut. Then she folded her hands together neatly on the table. “That’s what I wanted to discuss.”

  I paused for a moment. “Which one? Your engagement or the helicopter rescue?” Personally, I didn’t see what either had to do with the conference, but my mother often conversed this way, circling around before making her point.

  I knew she’d get there eventually.

  “Well, not the helicopter ride, specifically.” She resumed fidgeting with her ring and didn’t meet my gaze as she spoke. “I wanted to speak with you about vampires.”

  That caught my attention. “Um, really? What about them?”

  “We’ve never discussed them in any context beyond that of my book. And basic safety procedures,” she added as an afterthought.

  “I guess that’s true,” I agreed uncertainly. Where was my mother going with this? “Other than that, what’s to discuss? We know about them and choose to live here. What else is there to say? I think they’re here to stay.”

  My mother took my hand. “But what if they weren’t?”

  I retracted my hand slowly. “What do you mean, what if they weren’t? It’s not something we get to vote on.”

  She reached over and pulled my hand back. “I wasn’t talking about a vote, honey. I was talking about… Well, I guess I’m talking about removing them by force.”

  My mouth fell open. “Wait, what? Removing them by force? As in killing them? Like a war? A war against vampires? What the hell happened at that conference?”

  Damn it, I had read the conference agenda. This had not been on it.

  “A lot of us believe it’s time to take back what was ours, honey. Time to rally humanity and drive out the force that’s plagued us for so long.”

  It was like an alien had taken over my mother’s mouth. An insane alien. Since completing her book nearly twenty years ago, my mother had shown little ambition for anything beyond research and teaching and now she wanted to rally humanity for war?

  Humanity had been at war with vampires before and it had almost destroyed the human race. And having now seen vampires in action, I understood why it had failed better than my mother ever could. War against vampires was a damn suicide mission.

  Ignoring my lack of enthusiasm, her eyes all but glowed, which did nothing to dispel my alien analogy. “Oh, we just traded ideas back and forth, you know how it goes.”

  I did? Since when? Apparently it was a rhetorical statement because my mother didn’t wait for me to agree. Not that I would have agreed.

  “Honestly, you know, I was rather against the whole idea during the initial discussions, but everything I heard at the conference is making me seriously consider offering our support to the movement. Oh, and you mustn’t say anything yet,” she cautioned unnecessarily. “Nothing is set in stone.”

  Thoughts swirled through my mind too quickly for me to express them. The movement? What movement? And what the hell did she mean, our support? Did I even get a choice about joining this circus? My mouth was moving, but nothing was coming out.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for the alien. “Once again, nothing is set in stone.” My mother patted my arm consolingly as if to apologize for making me wait. “There’s a great deal of research to be done and all manner of plans to be made, but think of the possibilities, Rory! Maybe, just maybe, eventually human beings will be able to live in the world as God intended them to.”

  I stared blankly, managing enough focus to close my mouth again. When had God entered this debate? Had this been a conference of religious zealots? Of pod people?

  “Out in the open, not huddled in little groups, hiding.” My mother jumped up and threw her hands into the air like an old time televangelist. I tipped my head back to watch her, waiting for her to shout “Halleluiah!”

  “A world that doesn’t revolve around sunrise and sunset, a world without vampires! Think of that, darling.” Her voice rang out with passionate conviction and she bent to hug me tightly, repeating softly, “Darling, think of that…”

  Then she straightened, resting her hand on my shoulder. “And don’t you worry, Rory. Nothing is going to happen today, but as soon as I hear more I’ll let you know how you can help. I’m glad we’ve had this talk.”

  Blindsided, I squeezed her hand vaguely as she hugged me.

  Managing a sort of smiling grimace as she pulled away, I nodded to indicate I’d think about it. Boy would I ever think about it—as if anything else was even an option.

  As blithely as though we’d been discussing an advance in farm machinery, my mother pranced out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, apparently invigorated by our one-sided conversation. I only wished I could say the same. It felt like I’d aged a decade in ten minutes.

  As I stared dumbly after her, I took the final step toward responsible adulthood, leaving any remaining childish ignorance behind forever. After everything I’d faced this summer and everything I’d learned, I’d somehow been waiting for my mom to come home and make it all better. I mean, I hadn’t expected her to wave a magic wand and reverse time—I wasn’t stupid—but I’d somehow imagined that her presence would restore the quiet calm I’d always associated with her.

  Judging from our conversation, quiet and calm were now things of the past. Apparently I wasn’t the only person who’d found a new version of normal this summer.

  In some dim recess of my mind, I heard the shower turn on and knew I had to hurry. My mom wasn’t one to linger under the warm water.

  Racing upstairs, I seized the duffle and knapsack from beneath my desk, wincing upon realizing that, yes, my melted groceries had begun to make their presence known. Cursing wordlessly, I flew down the steps and shoved both bags into the hall, re-closing the door as silently as I ever had in my life.

  Then it was back up the stairs without even a pretense at normal speed. Holding my breath, I gripped the dripping sack of rubbish in one hand and gathered the towels I’d used to mop up in the other. As I staggered down the stairs, I heard the upstairs door click open and Luigi call out quietly.

  “Eleanor, is that you? I’m getting dressed—I
’ll be down in two minutes.”

  Ugh, talk about a visual I didn’t need! Muttering snarky thoughts under my breath, I dumped the towels on the living room floor and hauled the garbage into the hall to join the duffle and knapsack.

  Not bothering to shut the door, I stormed into the kitchen and ripped the last load of laundry—the one I’d slept through—from the washer and stuffed it into the dryer to make room for the towels. As I crammed the towels in, I heard Luigi’s voice from upstairs.

  “Angel, is something wrong with the plumbing this morning? I can’t put my finger on it, but something smells wrong in here. When you’re out of the shower I want to check the pipes.” Buoyed by the much needed surge of amusement, I eased the lid of the washing machine down and grabbed Nicky’s keys from the coffee table, cursing myself for having left them in plain view.

  I nixed the idea of leaving a note as I heard the thunk of the water being turned off. It didn’t matter that I’d run out of time, seeing as I had no clue what to write anyway. ‘Nursing your son back to health, back in a day or two!’ wouldn’t reassure anyone.

  Though I hated wasting the time, I’d simply have to devise an excuse for my absence and come back here to tell mom and Luigi before I left. Right now it was more important to get everything loaded into Nicky’s truck without being seen.

  In a much appreciated stroke of luck, I made it out to the courtyard without incident. The gatekeeper was far too hung over to do anything more than wave in greeting.

  A few steps into the courtyard, I began to appreciate last night’s party. Either a great many other people were equally hung over, or everyone was still sleeping, because I’d never seen the courtyard this empty. Even Barb must have started late—the bakery hadn’t opened yet. Without an audience, disposing of my garbage was a breeze, though I nearly pitched Nicky’s knapsack into the dumpster by accident.

  Despite the bulk of the knapsack and duffle bag, I all but sprinted out of the courtyard and down the path to the vault. Tossing the two bags against the building, I practically dove through the drooping foliage—at its most dense right before autumn—and scrabbled onto the lower branches of my childhood sanctuary.

  My body responded automatically though years had passed since my last visit. Left foot in the fork between the two lower branches, right hand to the stub of an ancient broken branch, and so on.

  I was out of breath when I reached my favored perch. I hadn’t accounted for growth when I’d said twenty feet and my tree was considerably taller now. Still, the knothole was exactly as I remembered it—a slightly lopsided oval with jagged edges on the left—except for the plastic bag neatly tucked inside.

  Joy exploded through my entire body all the way down to my fingertips, bringing with it a level of adrenaline that made opening the bag more difficult than it should have been. Inside was a heavy ice blue envelope edged in silver filigree—the precise opposite of Nickleby’s crimson and gold, I noted with amusement. Every swirl of my name was lettered in Ian’s exquisite cursive.

  I hugged the letter to my chest, not troubling to muffle my laughter as it reverberated throughout my leafy cage. As a letter writer I could appreciate an elegant envelope, but after twenty-four hours of murder, mayhem and moving, who in their right mind would place a priority on finding their personal stationery? Only Ian.

  Amused and inexplicably relieved by this observation, I braced the envelope in my left hand and slid my right index finger beneath the envelope flap before giving it a quick jerk. As I retracted my finger, the inner edge of the envelope sliced daintily into its side and I swore.

  “Damn it!” A drop of blood welled and dripped onto the blue envelope, spreading as it soaked into the heavy fibers. Then I giggled. Despite vampires running around everywhere, where were they when you needed one? I guessed I was about to find out.

  Sucking idly on my little wound—I still didn’t see the appeal—I used my right hand to fumble the envelope’s contents into my lap. In addition to the matching sheet of stationery, there was also a grubby scrap of newsprint scrawled over in spiky lettering.

  Tucking what I presumed to be Keanu’s account of their death-defying exploits back into the envelope for safe-keeping, I carefully unfolded Ian’s missive. And froze only two lines into it.

  Dear Aurora,

  It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter. I regret to inform you that Keanu and I were too late in our rescue attempt last night.

  My body’s attempt to expel its entire supply of oxygen at once nearly resulted in my falling out of the tree. Adjusting my precarious position, I shifted my weight more securely and started over.

  Dear Aurora,

  It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter. I regret to inform you that Keanu and I were too late in our rescue attempt last night. Despite entering the home in question only minutes after sunset, the property had clearly been vacated shortly before sunrise earlier today.

  Though I can only speculate, I assume the remaining occupant fled when his colleagues failed to return. I say ‘occupant’ in the singular, because I believe we have identified the vampire in question.

  When our home was invaded, we matched every scent found with Dominic’s save one. This last scent is by far the strongest and most recent in the home, and, after eliminating the fingerprints we’ve obtained, we can reasonably conclude Dominic is currently in the company of a Mr. Peter Mironov.

  Though I instructed Keanu to detour and deliver this letter, I am already in pursuit. Fortunately, Miranov’s head start is tempered by his use of a vehicle, and I should catch up easily.

  Finally, in a small attempt to ease your mind, I believe Dominic has been well-treated. We found food in the kitchen and clothing in a closet. Even better, we found recent evidence of Dominic’s scent on movies and books, which gives me hope that his mind remains intact.

  Rest assured that I will not cease my efforts until I succeed, for all our sakes, even if it means letting Keanu take the lead on the legislation with Ms. Parkes. With any luck, Dominic will be safely home before your parents’ return.

  I’ll be in touch as soon as possible. And I miss you.

  Begging your forgiveness,

  Ian

  I read the letter three more times before my heart slowed to its normal pace. The notion of bringing Nicky home before his father was already a lost cause. Nicky’s father was not only home, he was currently in my kitchen, for crying out loud. This was a disaster.

  Disgusted with life in general, I stuffed the letter back into its envelope, not caring whether it wrinkled or tore. Then I spotted the shred of newsprint and pulled it out half-heartedly. My eyes widened as I read.

  Rory, assuming you’ve already read Ian’s letter, you already know last night didn’t go according to plan. And since I’ve already read Ian’s letter—sorry about that—I know he’s keeping his mouth shut in what I feel is a misguided attempt to protect you.

  Rory, we’re in deep shit.

  No matter how blasé Ian acts, I know him well enough to know he’s scared. And he should be. No one has ever come this close to our secrets before, and instead of running away from trouble he’s sprinting dead toward it.

  Though he’d kill me for saying this, Miranov is on his way to Manhattan, and we could use you there. This upcoming vote is more important than you can imagine. I have an idea that could help get the vote passed while still allowing us to continue our search for Nicky, but it will only work with your help.

  I know I have no right to ask this of you, and I can’t even give you much time to decide. If you’re willing, write me back and let me know tonight and I can make the arrangements. The arrangements will take a few days to make, but I need to put them in motion NOW.

  So, if by some insane chance you’re willing to help, once again, please let me know. Whatever you choose, please understand that I’ll always be your friend.

  Keanu

  As I re-read the note, the emptiness inside me was displaced by a grim sort of d
etermination. Then panic obliterated everything else as a faint, tuneless whistling blew through the rustling leaves. My mother was on her way to the vault.

  Well of course she was, I chided myself. Not only had she brought home all those books, but she wanted to plan a revolution. No doubt she’d been compiling a list of research materials in her head for weeks. It was exactly what I’d have done.

  Straining my ears while cramming the envelope back into the knothole, I listened for the whistling. Thankfully, without the wind to carry it, it was barely audible. Mom was still a minute or two away, and my first priority was to move the truck. As things stood, Luigi wasn’t yet worried about Nicky’s absence, but that would change if mother saw the truck.

  Moving much faster than I had on the way up, I slid down from the tree and sprinted to the vault. I unlocked the cargo door and threw it open faster than I ever had—praying the wind would blow the sound away from my mother. With a speed that would’ve made Nicky proud, I hurled both bags onto the passenger seat and leapt into the driver’s seat, inserting the key and starting the engine in one smooth motion.

  In an effort to keep the noise down, I kept my speed to a minimum and tallied the seconds as the truck idled out of the cargo bay. Maybe forty-five seconds to get down from the tree, another ten to load and start the truck, and perhaps another ten to jump out, shut the door and jump back in. I was cutting it close.

  Once back in the vehicle I didn’t stop checking the rearview mirror until I was half a mile away. Though I felt terrible leaving Nicky’s truck unprotected, the best I could do was to park it beneath another weeping willow several yards off the path and hope no one noticed. At least the gravel in front of the vault would show no tracks.

  I stuck to the deep woods on my walk back to the vault, doubling the length of my journey. When I reached the corner of the vault closest to the path, I took my time and listened, but heard no one. It made sense. Once my mom was in the vault, she usually spent a minimum of an hour or two before leaving.