Blood Leverage (Bloodstone Chronicles Book 1) (36 page)

“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 determination. 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. 

Despite this common-sense logic, I sprinted as fast as I could until I was once again hidden beneath the foliage of my tree. Wheezing for breath, I scrambled back up and yanked the letters out, tearing Keanu’s in half while simultaneously realizing I had no pen. For a brief moment I considered pounding my head into the tree trunk until I knocked myself unconscious, but then I laughed as an idea came to me.

I had no pen, but I’d make it work. It was time to embrace my new normal.

Wincing, I ruthlessly raked the nails of my right hand over the clotted paper cut on my left, squeezing the wound to encourage the blood flow. Admiring my innovative—and strangely appropriate—solution, I dabbed a finger into the welling blood and kept my message brief.

‘YES.’

The Bloodstone Chronicles continue in

BLOOD LOYALTY

Autumn 2014

Turn the page for my exciting Bloodstone Bling Giveaway!

Did you enjoy BLOOD LEVERAGE? Do you love jewelry? Don’t miss your chance to win one of thirty pieces of genuine garnet and sterling silver jewelry in my BLOODSTONE BLING GIVEAWAY by reviewing BLOOD LEVERAGE on
www.amazon.com
!

Selected in every shade of garnet, trust me when I say these pieces are magnificent. Individual photos posted at:

http://www.jshazzard.com/#!bloodstone-bling/cu76

ENTRY INSTRUCTIONS & RULES

I'm keeping this simple, with only two rules:

First, post your review of Blood Leverage on
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. Afterward, immediately copy and paste
your review and your email address into the contact page of my website at
http://www.jshazzard.com/#!contact/c207d

The first two hundred reviewers who submit their review to both Amazon.com AND TO ME will be entered. (If you don’t submit your review and email address on my site, you won’t be entered, because I won't know who you are and I’ll have no way to contact you if you win!) 

Second, any review that mentions the jewelry or giveaway will be ineligible. The Bloodstone Bling Giveaway will be over soon, but Amazon reviews are forever, and I don’t want to spend the next year getting angry emails from people hoping to win jewelry that’s already been won! (These pages and the photo will be removed from the e-book once the giveaway is over to avoid confusion.)

Winners will be drawn at random—one a day for thirty days—beginning immediately after I receive the 200th review. I will email each winner as they are drawn, who will have fourteen (14) days to provide me with their mailing address in order to receive their prize. If a winner fails to contact me within the two week time frame, I will select a new winner for that prize. 

Independent authors rely on the recommendations of readers via Amazon reviews to sell books. Please help me keep writing by leaving a short, honest review!

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Want to know more about the Bloodstone Chronicles universe? On my website
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, you can check
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Though I am tremendously proud of the world I’ve created for Rory and her friends, I could never have done it alone. Therefore, I’d like to thank my mother, my father, and (most importantly) my husband for their encouragement and support throughout the insanity that was Blood Leverage. More than anything, I hope I’ve made you proud. I love you more than words can say.

I would also like to thank my guinea pigs who read various drafts of Blood Leverage, some of which were truly quite terrible! My most sincere gratitude to Sheri, Kate, Sarah, Amanda, Lorraine, Annette, Rachael, Moriah, my father, my grandmother, my brother, and most especially my long-suffering mother—who has read Blood Leverage ten times and still professes to love it.

And of course I need to thank my writer friends for all of their incredible advice, assistance and support: Kalinda Knight, thank you for your editorial suggestions and your generosity in sharing your wealth of publishing knowledge with me. Your diligence has spared me many hours of work, and no doubt many potential blunders as well. Revo Boulanger, thank you for your endless patience in continually re-converting the BL files so that my readers and I could have updated copies, and for your assistance with the photographs for my book promotions—all thirty days’ worth! Most of all, I would like to thank Annette Tremblay of Midnight Whimsy Designs, not only for creating my indescribably gorgeous cover, but for formatting the interior of my book, for designing my beautiful website, and for each and every graphic that has made such an impact on the presentation of Blood Leverage as a novel and me as an author. Finally, I’d like to thank all three of you for being such wonderful friends, and for the hours upon hours of strategizing, plotting, and good old fashioned mental therapy.

Lastly, I would like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read my work, particularly those willing to spare a couple minutes and leave their honest review of Blood Leverage on Amazon. Thank you!