Blood of the Son (Book #1 in the Skye Morrison Vampire Series) (Skye Morrison Series)

• Blood of the Son
  
• Acknowledgements
  
• CHAPTER ONE
  
• CHAPTER TWO
  
• CHAPTER THREE
  
• CHAPTER FOUR
  
• CHAPTER FIVE
  
• CHAPTER SIX
  
• CHAPTER SEVEN
  
• CHAPTER EIGHT
  
• CHAPTER NINE
  
• CHAPTER TEN
  
• CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
• CHAPTER TWELVE
  
• CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
• CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
• CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  
• CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  
• CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
  
• CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  
• CHAPTER NINETEEN
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  
• About the Author
  

BY J.L. McCoy

Blood of the Son

Kindle Edition

Copyright © 2012 J.L. McCoy

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Format: Ebook

Cover Art: Benjamin Short

Author Photo: Benjamin Short Photography

Interior Layout:
Rising Sign Books

This book could not have been written without the support of my dear family and friends.  I’d like to thank the two very special women in my life named Eva for always encouraging me to write.  Your unwavering faith, kind words, and wisdom mean the world to me. 

Special thanks go out to my hubby Kenny for his love, patience, and Route 44 deliveries, my sister Kellie for the character inspiration and for being the perfect cover model, Kelly V., Angel H., Nicole ‘Nikki’ C., ‘Smelly’ Kellie, and Lee P. for critiquing the book, Ric D. and Erik ‘Ducky’ G. for the awesome music/name/character suggestions, Katie S. over at
www.RisingSignBooks.net
for the formatting, the cool people over at
http://www.irishgaelictranslator.com
forums for the translations (You guys rock!), that “bahhhhhschtard” Benjamin Short for the stellar photographs/book cover and for always making me laugh with his Sean Connery impressions, the city of Austin, Texas for helping me “Keep It Weird”  \m/ , and to my entire Facebook “family” for the support and helpful comments.

I especially want to thank YOU, the reader, for buying this book!  It is my first and I really hope you like it.  If I’ve left anyone out, I sincerely apologize.

“Hey, handsome!” I exclaimed as I walked into Dan’s office and hung up my messenger bag.  “Are we busy tonight?”

Dan turned around and gave me one of his famous smiles.   “Hey, Skye.  Yeah, pretty busy,” he said as he walked up to me and gave me a hearty hug.  “You’re early…what gives?”

“I wanted to catch up with Nikki before my shift started.  Is she still out on the floor?” I asked as I sat down in the office chair to take off my Converse sneakers and put on my 3-inch black caged heels.

“She’s taking inventory behind the bar.  Do me a favor and tell her she can cut out after she’s done.”

“Sure thing, D.,” I said as I finished zipping up my last shoe.  I stood and retrieved the bottle opener from my designated cubby and put it in the back pocket of my short black skirt. 

“Jesse was in here earlier looking for you,” Dan said.  “I figured he would have given up on you by now.”

I turned around and faced my boss.  Dan Kennedy was, by all accounts, handsome as hell.  He stood over six feet tall, had thick, artfully messy brown hair, long eyelashes, and gorgeous hazel eyes.  At 33, his jaw line was strong and he had the cutest dimple on his right cheek that only showed up when he laughed.  If he hadn’t been my boss for the last four years, I would have had a go at him by now.  But, he was my boss, the coolest boss I’d ever had, and he was my good friend.

“Me too,”  I sighed and shook my head.  “Once a cheater, always a cheater, right?  I don’t have time for his drama.  I’ve moved on and he really needs to do the same.  I don’t understand why he hasn’t already.  After all, it sure looked like he was well on his way after I found his tongue knee-deep down that tourist’s throat.” 

Dan came over and put a comforting hand on my back.  “Jesse is an idiot, doll.  You’re gold.  Why he ever cheated on you is a complete mystery.”  He gave my back a pat then crossed his arms over his chest.  “I’ll tell him he’s no longer welcome here next time I see him, okay?” 

“Don’t sweat it, D.  He’s not worth the time and attention it would take.  We’ll worry about it if he ever actually bothers me while I’m working.”  I turned around and started out the door.  “See you on the floor, hon!” I called from over my shoulder.

I walked down the hall and up the few steps to the floor door.  I pushed through and walked onto the bar’s main floor.  Drop Kick Dan’s, located in downtown Austin, Texas, was in the throws of it’s usual Friday fanfare.  The small dance floor was a mass of bobbing heads and moving bodies, the booths were packed, and the pool tables were full of rowdy college kids celebrating yesterday’s graduation.  I walked over to the long, sleek wooden bar that was off to the left side and instantly spotted Nikki.

“Hey, girlfriend!” I smiled as I lifted up the hinged bar entrance.  I walked over to her and gave her a hug.  “How’s everything?”

“Great!” Nikki said as she tucked her long black hair behind one heavily pierced ear.  “Just got done with inventory.  I’ve been at this for over an hour.  How many different bottles of vodka does one bar really need?”  She said, exasperated.

I laughed.  “Too damn many, if you ask me.  That shit is gross.”

Nikki laughed and put her clipboard down.  She grabbed my hand and pulled me off to the side, through the bar stockroom door.  “So what’s up, girl?  You’re here a little early,” she observed as we sat down on two overturned black crates.

“I wanted to catch you before you left,” I said, crossing my legs.  I took a deep breath.  “I need to talk to you about something.”

One pierced eyebrow rose in surprise as she leaned forward.  “It must be serious…you look a little tense.”

I nodded my head.  “As you know, I just graduated and my student loans are coming up.  Last I checked, I owe over $70,000.”  I sighed and leaned my head back against the storeroom wall.  “Nik, Dan’s just isn’t going to cut it.  I’m freaking out here.  I’m 23 and in huge debt.  I’ve got to look for something else…something that pays more.”  I turned and looked at her.

Nikki St. James was my best friend and next door neighbor.  There wasn’t a person on this earth who I trusted more than her.  I met her on the day I moved into the Austin, Texas town home my mother purchased for me when I got accepted into the University of Texas.  She lived in the adjoining town home unit and accidentally ran over my misplaced high school derby skates with her old brown Volvo wagon.  I remember she got out of the car and fished my skates out from under it.  She held them up in front of her as she walked over to me.  “Bitchin’ derby skates, Red.  We’ll have to tear up the track together some time.”   I knew from that moment on we would be fast friends. 

Nikki was not your average 27 year old girl-next-door.  She towered over me at 5 foot 11 inches and she had long, dyed black hair and electric blue bangs.  Her teal green eyes were beautifully unique, and she had tattoo covered fair skin.  I loved the way she dressed.  It was so free, so whatever, so completely…Nikki.  Today she had on an excessively ripped black crop top over a bright yellow tank, Drop Kick Dan’s employee required “anything short goes” black skirt uniform, fishnet tights and plat formed, lace-up knee high boots. 

She shook her head and said “You worry too damn much, Skye.  You just graduated.  You have plenty of time to pay it off.  Besides, you’ll be able to get a good job someday with the degree you just got, right?” 

I shrugged my shoulders and started playing with the numerous black rubber bracelets on my right wrist.  “I majored in Ancient History and Classical Civilization.  What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”  I stood up and paced the small room.  “I took the courses because I like history and they sounded fun.  I wasn’t really thinking long term four years ago.  What am I going to do, Nikki?” I asked, exasperated, dramatically throwing my hands up in the air.

Nikki covered her mouth and laughed.  “You can do plenty of stuff with that,” she said. 

I pursed my lips and looked down at her. “Like what?”

She held up a finger, jumped up from the overturned black crate and walked out. 

I sighed as I pondered my future. 
This is going to work out.  I will make it work.  Surely they must be hiring at the city’s history museum.
  They have to be because I don’t want to move.  My whole life is here.  I have a great house and kick-ass friends, not to mention that I live in the most beautiful city in the entire state.  I loved it here and didn’t want to have to find work outside of Austin.  Forget moving out of state.  I was a Texan, born and raised.  I may have grown up in Houston, but my real home is here. 

“You are Skye Everleigh Morrison, Strong Independent Woman.  You can do anything!”
I recalled my feminist mother saying to me whenever I was having a bad day.  My mother, Grace Morrison, is a single parent and raised me by herself.  She got her Ph.D. in Neuroscience at Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Boston where she met my sperm donor/father during her fourth year there.  They had a brief fling and he disappeared when she told him she was pregnant with me.  Nice, huh?  She never allowed herself to get close to another man after that.  The occasional one night stand, sure, but she never had another relationship.  I once asked her details about how she and my father met, and she shut me down pretty fast.  “You don’t need to know the boring details, Skye,” she sighed.  “He was just a boy who obviously didn’t care as much as I thought he did.  We don’t need a man to be happy, young lady, and I’ll have no more talk of it.”  I never asked about him again because I could tell that talking about him made her sad. 

My mother was a wonderful parent, though.  She was all I ever needed.  I didn’t really give too much thought to the missing father figure in my life.  Grace came to all of my ballet recitals, softball games, high school plays, and she nurtured my love of the arts and sciences by taking me to galleries and museums a couple of times each month.  She is amazingly smart and taught me so much growing up.  She instilled in me from an early age that I could not depend on anyone to do stuff for me; that I had to go out there and grab life by the grapes.