The Blood Bundle, Books 1-2: Blood Singers and Blood Song (New Adult Paranormal Vampire/Shifter Romance)

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

Truman could almost feel his shrug over the phone but it started a dull chime sounding. He didn't know how it mattered but it did.

  This fucking psycho had the Adams girl for starters.

  It was connected, vital. He could sense it.

  And he didn't look old enough to have been a man in '79. Hell Karl had been a couple years from graduating himself. That'd make this Laurent fruitcake fifty-something.

  Truman thought of the huge and virile creature that didn't look a day over twenty-five, even in his wolfen from or whatever the hell it was.

  How long did these shitbags live anyway?

  Too long, he rationalized.

  Harriet was talking and he realized he hadn't been listening. Shit.

  “Yeah?”

  Harriet sighed, irritated by his inattentiveness. “Go to the Starbucks on Benson Street on the East Hill. Do you know where that is? I know you're not from around here.”

  Truman bristled. “I've got a spinning weathervane in my head. Damn man, I'm from Alaska. That's like an essential instinct.”

  Harriet gave his fake chuckle like he got it. He didn't. They were soft Outside. It's just the way it was.

  This guy couldn't scent a turd if it was under his nose. Damn if Truman didn't want a cig.

  Truman played nice. “Thanks for your help. And, my contact will have the addy? And the plan of attack?” Now that was funny, Karl thought.

  Tom Harriet didn't laugh and Truman had become astute at reading pauses in conversation. He didn't like the feel of that one. It deepened his sense of unease.

  “Yes, he will.”

  “Gotcha. Three o'clock, I'll be there.”

  “Thank you for your assistance, Detective Turman.”

  “It's Truman,” Karl corrected. But he was holding an empty line. Tom Harriet had hung up.

  Huh- chump, Truman thought, heading off for a burger at McDonald's. He checked his cell and it was only one o'clock. The hell with it, he'd go to Red Robin and hit up that manager, what's his nuts? Karl wondered, trying to remember.

  He flipped through his notepad until he found it, tapping it with the tip of his finger.

  Alan.

  Yeah, he'd pump him for some info on the girl and he'd have just enough time to get there and meet the highfalutin' fed.

  Great timing.

  *

  Karl's sharp eyes took in the general circus atmosphere of the best burger joint since forever. It wasn't a fine dining experience but it was a tasty one. His basket came and he asked the waitress for a plate. He always felt like eating out of the basket was a little trough-like and rebelled in his small way.

  She fetched the plate, dime-sized gauges weighing down perfectly good earlobes, tiger eye stone or some other shit winking in a distracting way which notched down his substantial appetite. Not an easy thing to do.

  “Doesn't that hurt?” Karl asked, pointing to her earlobe.

  She looked at him like he was old and crazy (probably a little too close for comfort) and smacking her gum she wrenched the gauge out of her earlobe where it then became a dangling and deflated flesh sack, making Karl's stomach heave in a roll. “These?” she asked nonchalantly while Truman gulped a lump the size of his fist down his throat. “No way! They're the boss. Hotness!” she expounded.

  Karl could see two dead bodies and eat a Big Mac afterward but this was just wrong on about a hundred levels.

  She pushed it back through her earlobe, or what was left of it, just as Alan the Manager came walking up. He gave a cursory look at the waitress, whose name was Starr, Truman read on her crooked nameplate and smiled at Truman.

  Sharp guy, Truman thought. Sharp enough to know there was a strange episode before he appeared but not smart enough to be more discerning with his hire.

  Alan sat down across from Truman. Karl took his time salting his bottomless fries with the special seasoning and dipped a couple in his side of ranch. He slammed them in his craw and chewed, all the while studying Alan.

  Alan stared back.

  Not the nervous sort, Truman thought, mildly gratified by that. Finally, he broke the silence. “Cynthia Adams. What can ya tell me about her?”

  Alan frowned thoughtfully. “Five-eight, blonde hair, green eyes, slim, rocking hot bod. Scared, desperate. A no-show...” Alan spread his hands out to the side.

  Truman waited then shifted gears. “Heard you've been through some domestic stuff.”

  Alan's eyes became wary. “Yeah. So?”

  “Heard they never found the perp that beat your sister.”

  Alan stared at Karl. The seconds turned to moments.

  “You know anything about that?”

  Alan shrugged. “Nope. But,” his eyes drilled Truman. Hazel ones. Honest eyes. “Good riddance. I hope his dick falls off.”

  “Nice sentiment, Alan.”

  He shrugged. “You ever have anyone hurt by violence?”

  Karl nodded. “Yeah. Can't escape it with what I do.”

  “Fair enough. Now tell me, no bullshit. Where is Cynthia Adams?”

  Truman opened his mouth to lie. But in the end, he told the truth. He was so tired of lying. He just couldn't bring himself to tell another.

  “Taken.”

  “By who?”

  Not who, what, Truman corrected.

  He kept that part to himself.

  CHAPTER 15

  Julia

  Julia opened her eyelids and two sets of eyes met hers. The plaster ceiling lay beyond their stare and she shut her eyes again.

  She was on her back, her body tingling like she'd laid in a vat of liquid fire.

  “What happened?” she croaked.

  “Give her some room, gents,” Jen said, shoving at Scott and Victor.

  Suddenly Jen was there, her eyes were the palest shade of grey as they looked deeply into Julia's. “A little much for you?” she asked with just a trace of sympathy.

  Julia allowed Jen to pull her into a seated position. And here Julia thought she'd licked the old faint at the drop of a hat thing.

  Apparently not, she grumped internally.

  “Whoa Nelly,” Jen said when Julia thought to get up.

  “I'm not a horse Jen,” Julia said, not amused.

  “I didn't say you were,” she replied, a look of pure confusion on her face.

  Julia looked at Marcus.

  Then all the voices of the group ground into her brain and she covered her ears. “Argh!” Julia grunted. “I can't stand this, it's so loud.”

  Scott reached out and grabbed her arm and blessed silence filled her head where a discordant symphony had been.

  “Deflector, remember?” he soothed and she nodded.

  “That was no fainting spell,” Marcus said, palming his chin. Then he looked at the door where Jacqueline had but moments before passed through.

  He laughed, more to himself than anything. “She knew,” he said, tapping his head.

  “Knew what?” Victor asked, his gaze narrowing like a laser on Marcus.

  “She knew that Julia would Awaken. Remember,” he popped his brows, “she is Precognitive.”

  Victor gave a small lift of the shoulder. “It is the least of her skills.”

  “But enough of one to predict that Julia was gaining more in her Awakening,” Marcus said with certainty.

  All eyes fell on Julia. Scott stuck out his palm and she took it. That was better. Well, kind of. They were all eight feet tall but there was something less good about being on her ass than on her feet.

  Yeah.

  “Do you feel different?” Brendan asked.

  “Yes,” Julia said in resignation. “I don't want to. I want to be me.” She realized how that sounded, her whining. She couldn't take it back but clarified, “I mean, I know that this is my calling or whatever but I don't think I'm right for the job. I'm not prepared,” she ended on a lame note.

  “First things first, Julia,” Marcus said. “We'll have the Negator,” and at his title Paul stepped into Julia's view. Huh, he'd been ther
e the entire time but she'd been so absorbed by the Combatant she'd never even thought about him since he made the torched vamps smell like a bouquet of flowers. Julia gave a small laugh and everyone gave her an odd look.

  Well, shit was strange. Sorry if she was trying to put it in a box that nothing would fit in.

  Paul didn't give her an odd look, maybe being a Negator wasn't so hot. Nothing was as fun as her new job description but there were probably jobs in the Singer hierarchy that were the equivalent of flippin' burgers or collecting trash.

  “I'm Paul,” he said.

  Julia smiled, it was freaky as hell. Let's just introduce ourselves with the burning vamps outside, the crazy Region Two psycho wandering around God knew where and oh yeah, for specialness squared, let's help the queen!

  Julia covered her mouth with her hand, she was so near a hysterical meltdown she bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. She knew once it began it might not stop, ever.

  “I can give you a zap,” he said with finger quotes around the last word, “that'll notch down the ESP fun for a time.” He looked at Julia and when she stared blankly at him he expounded, “You won't hear all those voices.”

  “No psychic friends network,” Michael enthused from his corner.

  Right. Out loud Julia said, “That'd be great. It's a little...”

  “Much?” Jen said and Julia nodded. Then suddenly she thought of something. “Wait... what else can I do?”

  Marcus gave her steady eyes. “Eventually, if legend is accurate: everything.”

  Julia stood there like a statue while Paul came forward and with a palm up he silently asked for permission to touch her, his eyes first going to the Combatant's then moving on to her own.

  “Don't look at them,” Julia said, thinking about gaining powers like changing underwear each day. Marvelous.

  “I have to. If I touched you now that they're assembled,” he shrugged his shoulders helplessly, “I think they'd hand me my ass.”

  Marcus sighed. “I believe the dialect training has been embraced a little too strenuously.”

  Michael snorted in the background and Julia smiled as the voices receded to a dull roar. Now it was just white noise in her head, static.

  She blinked and when she opened them Paul's stark freckles and carrot hair stood out against his pale skin, stranded there. “Better?” he asked, taking both hands from her shoulders.

  “Much,” she let out a shaky breath. “But it's a band-aid. I need to get training. I can't live with all your thoughts in my head.”

  “Not all,” Victor said quietly.

  Julia arched a ginger brow at him in question and he replied, “The Combatant is always silent to the Queen.”

  Julia probed his mind, like the slim tendrils of an octopus she sought, gently touching and retreating until she had gone over every place she could feel, every texture that throbbed with his thoughts.

  “No,” she said, “I can't.” She looked at Scott and he smirked.

  The same.

  “Why?” Julia said, then threw out her palms like a ward, “Not that I'm complaining!”

  “One will be your mate, Julia. You cannot have a truly open relationship if there is absolute telepathy,” Marcus said.

  “But...” Julia thought about it, “sometimes I would hear a thought from Jen?”

  Marcus inclined his head. “Yes, a random thought here and there is not unheard of. But this...” he put his own palm out and indicated herself, “this is a full telepathy. During sleep, while awake. Not easily shut down. However, you will learn control. It will take some training and hard work but you can accomplish it.”

  “Not with the crew here?” Julia clarified and gave a look at all those guys standing there looking expectant.

  For what she didn't know. Though Julia thought that their purpose was simple: guard and defend. She thought they'd be handy at that.

  He smiled and shook his head. “No,” he said simply. “Although, the Book does tell of you being able to communicate with them in some way, especially while under duress.”

  Julia felt fatigue like a hand on her, weighing her down. Even by her own crazy last two years it had been a Big Day.

  She looked around her and said what was in her heart, “I think I need to hit the hay, guys. It's been... overwhelming.”

  That was the best she could do. Julia couldn't enumerate all the things that had happened that were doing a world class universe tilt on her but she'd had it.

  Paul said, “I'll be right next door, Julia.”

  “Proximity?” she guessed.

  “Yeah. I'm gonna pretty much be your shadow until you get a handle on this.”

  “Okay,” she said, trying for not sounding sullen about more freedoms being stripped and missing it by a mile.

  “Hey,” he said and she met his green eyes, “It's not forever.”

  “I know,” Julia said, taking a look around her and a last look at Scott as she left the room.

  It felt a little like an escape.

  *

  William

  William watched the dying embers of the vampires, his mortal enemies burning on the Singer's land and smiled. Technically he ruled them now and thought it most good that they had foolishly tried for Julia amongst her own kind while his torture had alerted them and who knew what else.

  He knew that his pain had transferred to Julia, which, in turn had given them a course to follow. Merlin's blood had fueled William for part of his journey until he ran across some human scum (there were heavy pickings of the criminal element about) and fed deeply. Satiated, William was prepared.

  Even now, as night lay as a black cloak he could feel Julia. Her change. It was as his kiss had predicted. Her Awakening was upon her and she was not yet mated. When the final part of her Awakened, he would need to be there, in her presence.

  Not that he could complain, however, what were they waiting on? Foolish of the Singers, William thought. Of course, how old were they? Did they have any true elders from whom to procure wisdom? Perhaps not.

  William used his form that few Singers had and shifted to his raven. The merciless grinding of tendon and bone realigning without smoothness, breaking and mending together to mold to that of a large bird, only his eyes remained. If he had been fully Singer, it would not have been as painful. However, he was not. Pain was his penance.

  He flew, hoping the Singers did not possess a shifter that was his natural predator. If they did, William would be unable to see his objective through.

  *

  Julia

  Julia was ecstatic about the momentary solitude as she lay on her bed, lost in thoughts of Before. Before she was a Queen. When she was a regular chic from Alaska with a stubborn streak of hippie.

  Tears that she could shed in private rolled down her face. She wanted Cyn so bad she could taste it. What Julia wouldn't do to see her friend again. How was she? Probably still hunting for shoes and handbags, scoping the next hot dude at some college.

  Or maybe not? Dark thoughts pressed their way inside of Julia and she couldn't help but wonder that maybe, Cyn hadn't moved past the whole thing. After all, Kevin was killed in front of her, Julia and Jason were taken from her as well. Julia lost all three, but so did Cyn. Of course, Julia knew where Jason was. Not really... more like, she knew what he was.

  And that he was a threat to her now.

  Julia curled up in the fetal position on her side while Singers roamed, lived, talked and thought all around her.

  Julia lay in her bed, as lonely as she'd ever been, surrounded by people, knowing none of them, their voices like the low drone of a hive of bees inside her head.

  Her friends had been her home.

  Jason had held her heart like a great fireplace in the center of that home.

  Now Julia was someone but she didn't know who.

  Julia fell asleep as a dark shape hovered then landed on the deep windowsill of her bedroom window. Its crimson eyes found her in the gloom easily. It sent though
ts of comfort to her as it sensed the duress that her subconscious could not hide.

  For the blood-binding was very strong this close.

  Julia stirred in her sleep, heaving a heavy sigh that sounded very much like relief.

  *

  Northwestern Were

  “Use the girl,” Lawrence said, spinning the world globe with a strong and tapered finger, his back to Tony. “She will be excellent leverage. Not only will she be a fine instrument of manipulation with the Rare One, she may even provide some incentive to keep our Feral in line.”

  “You don't think of him as Jason Caldwell?” Tony asked, loving the possibility of the tide turning against his rival.

  Lawrence turned. “Ah yes, I do. However,” his eyes were as serious as Tony had ever seen them. “He is a rare red and Singer to boot. No. The reds are renowned for their wildness...”

  Tony laughed.

  Lawrence put up a hand. “I understand, all Were are intrinsically wild. It is our very essence. Yet,” he stared off into space, “this is different. They have a tenacious streak governed by emotion. Whether or not that emotion be valid, it is real to them and thereby something they feel justified acting on.”

  “So,” Tony put up his large hand and began to tick off all the points that Lawrence had made to his Beta on his fingers, “one, take Cynthia Adams. Two, make sure she's used to keep both Jason and Julia in line and what about Adi? She's a pain in my ass.”

  Lawrence stopped the endless spinning of the globe and gave him knowing eyes. He'd seen deeply and knew who Tony was, what he was. Tony fought not to squirm under the knowledge in that gaze.

  “Yet you want her?”

  Tony's heart sped, his adrenaline kicking up a notch and answered, “Hell yeah.” Tony knew how few fullblood Were females there were. Adrianna was Alpha besides. Yeah, she sure as shit would be his.

  Lawrence grimaced a little at the wording but pressed past it.

  “It is a pact of sorts that you want?”

  Tony gave a terse nod. “I get the Rare One, regardless the cost and I get Adrianna. No negotiations.” Tony gave his Alpha a stare that made the more powerful wolf shift in a slide of liquid flesh.