Blood Leverage (Bloodstone Chronicles Book 1) (14 page)

PART
TWO

From the desk of

Lawrence Nickleby, CEO, Immortal Media

October 20, 2359
             

Dear Eleanor,

Happy Holidays in advance from everyone here at Immortal Media!
We’re all in the jolliest of moods here, largely thanks to you.

I am thrilled to inform you that in addition to the currently available English and Spanish versions of your book, its translations into Russian, French, Indian, Mandarin and Cantonese are almost complete. We’re looking at your international debut in a matter of weeks.

Your book continues to sell out around the country and you’re on all the “must have” lists for holiday shopping, which brings me to a new and rather sticky subject…

I am now in receipt of no fewer than seven letters from Ms. Charlene Tompkins, the human President of the Frontier Bank of Niagara, who is nowhere near as jolly as I am this fine holiday season and claims you’ve been avoiding updating your financial arrangements.

At the risk of becoming repetitive, Ms. Tompkins is correct in that, even with your new trust in Aurora’s name, your accounts are all in excess of the five million dollar VDIC insurance limit. And I cannot in good faith continue to make deposits into uninsured accounts.

Eleanor, my most treasured of authors, please don’t give me trouble on this. I’m aware that our monetary arrangements are of little concern to you and are largely unwelcome, but you need to accept the following reality:

Whether you like it or not, your money will not go away simply because you refuse to acknowledge it. I have enclosed a list of possible investments – everything from educational opportunities for rural children to the ongoing development and installation of tidal power plants. If you’re not interested in the money itself, I suggest you find a project that interests you and throw the money at that. You could do great things.

Furthermore, I am aware you possess a large book collection and that you value the knowledge of humanity’s past. Knowing this, I am compelled to point out that you’re in a unique position to help preserve it.

I suggest you utilize some of your funds to house your growing collection indefinitely. Although your location would make construction of an ‘artistic’ building difficult, the inner storage systems could be of museum quality. I took the liberty of having preliminary plans drawn at my expense and have enclosed them for your consideration.

And speaking of things enclosed… you’ve probably noticed the brightly wrapped boxes accompanying this letter
– after all, they’d be rather hard to miss! Please consider the contents as early Christmas gifts from us here at Immortal Media. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of selecting some presents for your little Rory as well. After all, my daughter has been grown for a very long time now, but some things you never forget!

Very Fondly Yours,

Lawrence Nickleby

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

THE next week passed in a crazed blur.
Amy was always busiest with her mother in the mornings, so I spent that time down at the vault dealing with Nicky issues under the guise of getting organized in mother’s absence. Not only did the truck’s solar batteries need to recharge, but after nearly hitting a tree during my first attempt at driving in reverse I was determined to practice driving daily.

On top of my driving practice, I spent a considerable amount of time with Nicky’s delivery manifest and my mother’s map collection. Though Nicky was presumably used to his father’s eccentricities, instructions like ‘
Pick up twelve crates from the southernmost stop
’ were useless to me. If not for the longitude and latitude coordinates listed by each entry, it would’ve been hopeless.

My afternoons were divided between preparing for classes and research/rehearsal for my upcoming hearing. Though Amy professed confidence in my eventual victory, she grew more nervous and pushed me harder with each day that passed. She did ‘allow’ me to keep teaching my evening classes, but only due to her belief that teaching was vital to my image. All remaining time was divided between worrying about Nicky and listening for any word of his absence, but so far I’d heard nothing.

The day before I was scheduled to return to Ian’s, I spent more than three hours looking for a storage facility only forty-five minutes away. Then, after I’d found it, it took ten minutes for me to find the proper key on Nicky’s key ring (though I was at least smart enough to mark it after I’d found it), and an additional painful hour to maneuver the twelve crates onto Nicky’s truck and bind them down with a series of knots that would make a sailor slit his wrists in despair. Altogether, not one of my best days.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, my crappy day was followed by an equally crappy night. My brain was stuck in a distracting and unwelcome countdown:
Only seventeen more hours until I hear about Nicky. Only fourteen more hours until I hear about Nicky.
The only time I stopped obsessing was when the twinges in my back developed into full blown muscle spasms. I finally drifted off to sleep at five in the morning—
only eight more hours until I hear about Nicky
—so naturally I overslept by three hours.

Consequently, the morning of my first delivery began with a frantic leap out of bed followed by an ear-piercing shriek of pain as my back seized up. Since Ian hadn’t specified a time for lunch, I rationalized anything before one o’clock could be considered reasonable. If I drove like a maniac, I’d have just enough time to throw some clothes in a bag and limp to the vault.

That said, I had no idea how to dress for deliveries. Half my clothes matched one or another of Ian’s rooms, which reminded me of the way Eggplant had blended into her surroundings like a homicidal chameleon. Anything that reminded me of Eggplant was unacceptable and most of my other clothes were brown. Eventually I gave up and tossed everything brown into my bag. At least nothing would clash.  

On my way outside, I stopped by Amy’s and told her I’d be helping Nicky until tomorrow. Since I’d anticipated a lecture about neglecting my petition, her response was surprising.

“Hey, are you two starting something? I mean, bringing you into the family business implies a certain level of commitment, don’t you think?” she enthused. “His father adores you, and—Oh wow, if you got married, mother and I would make you an
amazing
dress. The most fabulous dress ever!” She began bouncing in a reverie of bridal gowns, not noticing as her hair toppled and sent a needle clattering to the floor. 

Her theory made me want to throw up, but I bent to retrieve her needle and kept my voice non-committal. “With
Luigi gone, I think my presence is more about a lack of help than a marriage proposal.”

Lack of help was an understatement, but it was as honest as I dared get. 

“Besides, this isn’t meant to be an adventure like last time,” I continued, hoping my excursion would be
nothing
like last time. “I’ll be back tomorrow, once the delivery is complete.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” Amy said.

“It’s not supposed to be fun,” I explained with more honesty than she’d ever know. “I’m doing this strictly to help Gigi complete his contracts.”

“You mean to help Nicky,” she corrected me.

“Oh, yeah.” I mentally smacked myself and evaded further questions by promising to meet Amy for dinner tomorrow. Then she gave me a hug that nearly made my eyes cross, and I left as quickly as my throbbing back would allow.

Despite my loaded duffle bag, the courtyard was too deserted for nosy questions. The heat was merciless today and no one with a choice was straying outside their cool concrete walls. Not having a choice, I trudged on.

Upon reaching the vault, I soon realized that if climbing into Nicky’s truck with bashed knees had been difficult, climbing into the truck with a wrenched back was nearly impossible. After three failed attempts, I cheated and borrowed the step stool my mother kept in the vault’s filing room. Fortunately, despite the morning’s delays, my driving practice had paid off and I made excellent time.

My exit from the truck utilized more gravity than skill, but at least I wasn’t late. Dragging my duffle to the trapdoor, I poked around for a keypad, but it was either located elsewhere or the trapdoor only opened from inside.

With no high tech options available I tentatively knocked on the door, and when that received no response I not-so-tentatively stomped on it a few times, wincing. I heard voices almost immediately and barely had time to move before the door slammed upward. One more second and I might have been launched into a tree.

The two vampires emerged into the shaded cool of the forest and I could barely contain my anxiety. “What’s going on? Is there any word about Nicky?”

“Hey Rory!” Keanu seized my duffle with an eagerness that sent it flying back over his shoulder. “We’re optimistic, but more about that over lunch. Ian, show her the keypad.” He bounded inside before I could press for more information.

Meanwhile, Ian ignored my question entirely. “I’m glad you made it. We were a little worried.” He took one of my hands and proceeded to look me over like a buyer inspecting a potential purchase for damage.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I said politely. “I had a few issues loading the truck yesterday, but otherwise everything went well.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of issues? Are you okay? Is the cargo intact?”

The last question made me want to stick my tongue out, but I resisted temptation because at least he’d asked about my safety first. “I didn’t drop anything, thank you, but loading everything into the truck was difficult.”

He sighed. “What hurts?”

I could feel my face warm against the cool air of the forest. “My back is tender, that’s all. I’m sure I’ll be fine after a hot bath and a good night’s sleep.” I briskly turned to the stairs, knowing the sooner I was inside, the sooner I’d get my answers.

“Don’t be silly,” Ian said brusquely, lightly gripping my wrist. “You’re no use to anyone if you’re injured. Give me a moment.” In an impersonal manner, he moved his other hand to my waist and untucked my shirt.

“Um, Ian.” I attempted to squirm away, but his feather-like grip on my wrist was immobilizing as his free hand slid behind my waist. “I’m not sure this is a good—Agh! What in hell are you
doing
?”

It was a sensation unlike anything I’d ever felt before. It moved in almost liquid-like ripples over my torso, a strange combination of heat and energy. Not only did the warmth coat my skin like a hot shower, but it resonated inside—like I’d drunk a scalding beverage and could feel its warmth from the inside. It also left a tingling between the pins and needles of a foot falling asleep and the prickling of goose bumps.

Jumping back, I briskly rubbed my hands over my arms.

Nonplussed, Ian looked at me with an expression of mild clinical interest. “All better? Good,” he said, not waiting for an answer before moving away from the trapdoor.

“Wait, what
was
that?”

He turned back, the smallest hint of a smile on his mouth. “You already knew vampires had a certain level of control over humans, including the potential to heal. My abilities are slightly more extensive and don’t always require vocalization or eye contact. And you’re welcome.” He brushed the leaves from a nearby tree trunk and pointed to a box nestled amongst its roots. “Stop fussing and come here. Not knowing whether you would be able to lift the trapdoor, we rigged this as more of a doorbell. The door will still unlock for its usual minute, but it also tells us someone is here.”

I refrained from saying it didn’t matter. Even if I could lift the door I’d never find my way around on my own. Of course Ian had no such problem and led me to his living quarters in no time flat. (The route became no more recognizable for having taken it twice.)

The promised lunch was waiting in the dining room I’d yet to see. The china was an opulent creamy yellow trimmed in gold, with raised white patterns that echoed the pale gold walls and ivory moldings. Even the flatware was golden—though I doubted even Ian owned fourteen karat forks.

Despite the table having sixteen chairs, only the three places at the end had been set. Anxious to hear the news, I dove into the nearest seat. “What have you learned since we last spoke? I’m assuming you haven’t found Nicky or he’d be here.”

And wouldn’t that be cozy.

Surprisingly, Ian sat across from me and left the head of the table for Keanu before he mercifully began speaking. “We haven’t found him, but we are now reasonably confident that he was alive as of three nights ago—”

“Did you see him? Where is he?” I could barely sit still in my agitation, causing Keanu to stare worriedly at the water goblet beside my elbow. In contrast, Ian merely folded his hands and waited for silence.

“Sorry,” I muttered, gulping a swig of water and setting the goblet further back on the table—to Keanu’s obvious relief.

“As I was saying,” Ian continued, “Keanu and I have searched every night for the past week. Three nights ago, I caught a fresh trace of human scent that Keanu positively identified as Nicky’s.”

Unable to stay seated, I swallowed the remainder of my water in an audible
glug
and began pacing. “What does that mean?”

Keanu’s eyes followed me as he refilled my water glass. “Well, for one thing it means someone saw fit to spare Nicky’s life, either through skilled vampiric intervention or a combination of lesser vampiric intervention and human medicine. Or perhaps we overestimated his original injuries.”

Ian took my wrist and forced me to stop moving. “This is an excellent development, Aurora, on multiple levels. For one thing, not only do we know that Nicky was still alive a few days ago, but we believe he’s still in the area.”

“And why is that?” My heart was racing from adrenaline, but I was proud to sound normal.

“Well, we can’t know for certain,” Keanu admitted, “but the two nearest cities aren’t easily accessible by vehicle. You can’t drive across the Niagara River toward Toronto without crossing the old border bridge, and we’re monitoring activity there.”

“Not only are we monitoring activity,” Ian put in, releasing my wrist, “but I submitted anonymous ‘evidence’
of a human trafficking ring across the border. It’s all nonsense, but it’ll keep the border officials on their toes for several weeks.”

“And the other possibility?” Again, I kept my voice calm, though I was impressed with their initiative.

“The island of Manhattan.” Keanu lifted his glass in a gesture of triumph. “Another city accessible only by bridge, and currently operating at high alert due to a human terror organization that hopes to bring down one of the last occupied skyscrapers.”

I laughed. “I had no idea you two harbored such vast ambitions.”

Ian tapped his glass to Keanu’s. “We’ve limited Eggplant’s ability to smuggle Nicky into another city so we’re hopeful he’s still close by. Keanu and I have been tugging at several other threads, including blood bank records from Niagara Falls and the couture clothing possibilities we spoke of the other day. We’ll update you when we learn anything new. Now, you need to sample Keanu’s cooking before he faints from excitement.”

Keanu beamed as he held my chair for me, all but bouncing me off as he slid me back in. “In celebration of our news, I prepared a modern version of the traditional Thanksgiving dinner!” He looked so pleased it seemed rude to tell him we still celebrated Thanksgiving—mainly to give thanks for continued safety from vampires.

Once Keanu began transferring dishes from a warming buffet to the table, I realized I’d never celebrated Thanksgiving like this. Lunch began with a chestnut and sherry soup garnished with truffles, followed by a spinach, pear and almond salad. The main course consisted of turkey tenderloins and cranberry chutney, with swirls of sweet potato puree, parsnip puree and cauliflower puree decorating the side of the plate. Finally, dessert was a pumpkin roulade with ginger buttercream.

I wanted to ask what ‘roulade’ meant, but it would have been rude to talk with my mouth full.