Blood Emerald

by Amber Anthony

  Adam glared at him.

  “Your mother wears army boots!” Rick arched a brow, “That do anything for you?” Adam turned his back, resolutely ignoring him. “I get it. Don’t go away mad, just go away.”

  Adam continued down the aisle. “We need certain destruction of the pharmaceutical plant. It’s far out in the boonies, surrounded by ten-foot razor wire fences and the like, which discourages mortal villagers from getting curious.”

  Kulczyk nodded, “These weapons are efficiently spaced for internal building damage as well as the surrounding perimeter.”

  “Jesus, man, we don’t want to take out the whole countryside!” Rick turned and twisted the tablet to view the area’s geography.

  “No, Sir. These devices hit, flare hot, and burn out fast,” the Lieutenant assured them.

  “Now that we have the barbeque planned, any location on our guest of honor?” Rick nervously watched the civilian activity outside the hangar. The city’s vibe was disturbing, an awareness apparently shared by both vamps and mortals. Small jets were leaving the private airfield in steady succession.

  Adam herded his distracted friend back to the SUV, noting Rick’s unaccustomed nervousness. “C’mon. I’ve got surveillance set up back at the hotel. Veronique stays holed up at Lust for Life.” He knocked twice on the car’s roof to signal the driver to move out. “After she settled Papa’s goldmine of an estate in Haiti, she apparently decided to run what was left of the Dias Cartel from the resort. That includes the pharmaceutical plant. They’re manufacturing high grade Oxycodone as well as Humanité. The National Police are starting to sniff around the Oxy, though, so what she lacks in diplomacy she makes up for with cash.”

  Rick rolled his head to loosen uncommonly tense muscles. “It’s been a week since the massacre. When I got off the plane, the scent of violence and tension smacked me right in the senses. What else has been going on?” Rick scowled at the emotions in the atmosphere.

  Adam handed him a tablet. “Read for yourself.” Adam nodded at the device. “Here are the regional headlines from the past week. We’ve suppressed the truth on over a dozen savage feedings. These are the ones we couldn’t suppress.”

  Rick scrolled through the headlines, Hospital ICU Demolished by Blood Thirsty Fugitives; Blood Bank Emptied in Unprecedented Break In; Morgue Raided by Unknown Vandals.

  “Shite!” Rick exclaimed. “This is the unsuppressed news?” He dropped the tablet in his lap and threw back his head. It took him a few moments to recover.

  Rick’s hand propped his face toward the streetlights. “I need you to make some crucial arrangements for me—arrangements I’d make myself, but I can’t know the particulars. Make them tonight, please, before we leave. I know her family lives in Columbus.” He leaned against the car’s tilt as it turned out of the airport and hit the pot-hole-strewn road. Rick passed a scrap of paper to Adam. “She needs to take the item in lambskin with her. Make funds available, plenty of money. She’s young…if anything happens to me, I want her set for life.” Rick’s words were met with stunned silence. “Understood?”

  Adam nodded and looked down at the name in graceful Spenserian handwriting—Anna Curley. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and thumbed Rick’s directives to a trusted third party.

  * * * *

  Anna juggled Larry’s admonition for a discreet investigation of the dirk in the back of her mind. He declined an early lunch, but threw on a baseball cap and large sunglasses to face the bright and sunny day before he left. Dollars to donuts, Larry is a member of the undead.

  Opening the floor to ceiling draperies covering the wall of tinted windows, Anna approached Rick’s massive mahogany desk. This is bigger than my bed! She bent down to admire the artistry, and ran her fingers along the heavily carved friezes on the ends and serpentine front. Where have I seen these images before?

  Rick kept his desktop immaculate, which she was beginning to understand was his nature. Still, she couldn’t imagine he actually got any work done here. She pulled out the executive chair, sat in its highly upholstered full grain leather, and sighed. I don’t need a bed, I’ll just sleep in his chair. Rubbing her cheek against the soft leather released remnants of Rick’s scent. I am not going to get anything done if I sit here.

  She snapped out of her reverie and refocused on finding a legal pad and a pen. Reaching for the night bird-shaped drawer pull it hit her—the carvings were from Rick’s family crest. What’s the deal with all the night birds? The center drawer glided open to reveal a stack of custom legal pads. The contents of the drawer were as inherently neat as the desktop, but no pens. She glanced about, and there, sitting casually at the corner of the leather blotter, stood a distinctively etched clear glass beer stein. Even without lifting it to see the trademark, Anna knew this piece should have been in a museum, not holding a dozen fountain pens.

  She hesitated to reach into the stein to retrieve one. Those fountain pens were probably worth more than the home where she grew up. Go ahead, she mused, live a little! She figured if they weren’t to be used, they wouldn’t be available. So, gathering her gumption, Anna peered into the beer stein and chose the pen with a snake styled clip. Finally something without night birds! She recognized the stylized snowflake logo because Mont Blanc was a brand familiar to even a member of Generation Z.

  Returning to the coffee table and her sleeping roommate, Anna opened her laptop and employed a virtual private network to begin her research. Finally, her Art History degree was worth something!

  One consuming hour later, Anna discovered Rick had come to manhood in Tudor-era Ireland as Richard Fitzjarrald. By the time he became Duke, his was a house divided. His oldest half-brother, Ian, was a Separatist, fighting against the English Crown. Richard was a Loyalist, fighting alongside Henry the Eighth. It was Ian’s ill fortune to be tried for treason and sentenced to hang. Ian’s resulting hatred of all things Fitzjarrald, and his knowledge of black magic, so unnerved his guards that their recollections were noted in history books. He apparently cast a spell that was heard through the window of his cell. “Rise from your old thrones once more and accept the soul I offer. May my family dirk be chained to this curse, may the weapon’s spell serve for all eternity.”

  In the hours before his sentence was carried out, Ian was allowed to see his wife and daughters, who were escorted by Richard, the current Duke. Despite the disgrace Ian brought to the family, his youngest brother could not bear to see his brother die in agony. He petitioned the King to allow Ian to be beheaded instead of hanged, and privately paid for the kingdom’s best executioner. It would be a far quicker and more merciful death.

  In an emotional parting, Ian repented of his evil curse, and according to witnesses, called for a priest to join him and his brother. During prayers, he was heard to plead, “I retract and declare void the curse and condemnation I knowingly projected onto this object.” Afterward, among tearful embraces, the brothers parted.

  The only Fitzjarrald to escape death in either battle, decree, or plague was Richard. He mysteriously disappeared a few weeks after Ian’s death, just prior to his nuptials. His fate was never known.

  Anna was dumbfounded to see Rick’s beloved face staring back at her over a stiff white ruff. Holbein painted him as the Duke of Erne, Earl of Mayo in 1534. Anna giggled as she noted the prominent cod piece, colorful clothing, and, nestled on his hip, the gold and silver scabbard. It held what was unmistakably the dirk that was now wrapped in lambskin and secreted in Rick’s safe.

  Though for all intents and purposes the curse had been broken, the family’s losses became legendary. The dirk was priceless. Still, believing that as long as the dirk—or any monies received from its sale—remained in the family, every member was subject to the curse, the weapon was secretly buried in 1798, after a child of the reigning duke died in infancy. Anna’s head hurt from the sheer volume of information and its import.

  * * * *

  Helen had her phone on speaker as she googled information about
Barranquilla, Colombia. “You’re sure he wants her in Colombia? That’s kind of a hot spot right now.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Mr. Lachlan texted. He said to get her and this thing, whatever it is, there as soon as possible. He said I should have the jet standing by.”

  “Okay, I guess. It wouldn’t his first strange request. I’ll get on it. What are we looking at in Colombia? Are we going in under the radar?”

  “Totally.”

  “Right. I’ll call you with a flight time.”

  Helen tapped her pen against her desk blotter. She reached for the phone and drew her hand back three different times, finally standing with a sigh. “He’s been prickly enough lately, I’m not gonna question my orders.”

  * * * *

  Anna rang for the elevator, and while she waited, went to the refrigerator to fill a water bottle. Player was still enough of a puppy to want to run. Maybe I’ll take him to the dog park. But I’ll take my car. I don’t want him to dirty up the Tesla…

  The elevator dinged and there stood Helen. “Hi!” Anna exclaimed delightedly. “I haven’t seen you in months, Helen!”

  Helen stood at the kitchen island with a black leather folio. She plopped it down on the marble counter top and, hands on hips, glowered. “I’m not putting this in your hands.”

  Anna looked at her askance. “O…kay…” Anna reached across the island, and picked up the document case. Scanning the papers inside, she read the directions: “Take the item wrapped in lambskin and board the company jet to Colombia at once.”

  “I should probably light a candle for the two of you, you’ll need it.” Helen grumbled worriedly.

  * * * *

  Anna had never flown anything more sophisticated than economy. Rick’s private jet with its butter-colored leather and rosewood was a revelation about how the one percent lived. Ensconced in the luxurious Recaro recliner, Player at her feet, she felt as if she were in an opulent living room rather than a jet. Acoustic modifications made the ride quiet and soothing. She refused the offering of champagne, but did take advantage of a delicious panini sandwich served by the uniformed flight attendant.

  In the midst of her newfound affluence, a shiver overcame her at the thought of Helen’s warning. Why would Rick bring the dirk into such a dangerous arena? She looked over her travel documents. The flight would be about eight hours. A limo would meet her when she arrived to escort her to Rick at the hotel. Anna was excited. She’d never been outside the United States; this was an adventure of unprecedented scope. She opened her laptop. What else could she discover about the mysterious Rick Hiatt?

  * * * *

  A power nap during the flight left her more alert than the hour indicated; it was eleven in the evening Barranquilla time. The air was hot and humid when she stepped off the jet, and the wind blew fiercely, whipping her long, glorious hair across her face. There was no limo on the tarmac. She stood waiting, buffeted in the gusts for fifteen minutes before she headed for the small, exclusive terminal building. I’m a self-sufficient woman, I can find my own transportation.

  The terminal staff assisted her with a town car, and within a half hour, she arrived at the lobby entrance of the hotel. She waited for the driver to bring her carry-on from the trunk while she juggled her backpack, purse, and Player. He danced around her feet anxiously, overstimulated by the myriad sounds and smells. Anna was a little overstimulated herself, trying to see everything at once. The precious backpack containing the carefully wrapped dirk hung precariously from one shoulder as she tried to control the agitated dog.

  * * * *

  Anna never saw Sterling poised in the lobby bar, watching the exotic Colombian upper class stroll by. Their nightlife didn’t get started until midnight. His elbows slipped off the bar in surprise when he saw the girl who was supposed to be watching his house emerge from a luxury sedan with his dog. Holy shit! What the fuck is she doing here? He noticed the backpack she’d sloppily thrown over one shoulder. Even more alarming was an unmistakable swath of lambskin that was supposed to shelter his ceremonial dirk. The time for questions was past; he wanted his dirk back now.

  Pulling his hoodie up over his head, Sterling decided to reclaim his property. He darted between incoming guests, causing grumbles as he pushed, then broke into a run as he got within grasping distance of Anna’s backpack.

  * * * *

  Anna felt his impact like a body check, and her shoulder felt as if it was dislocated. She dropped her purse and the leash. She could only stare after the scoundrel who escaped with Rick’s most precious possession.

  “Miss, are you alright?” the driver asked urgently in broken English.

  Shaking, Anna regathered her purse, Player’s leash, and tried to calm the fiercely barking dog. “Yes, I’m unharmed. I want to go inside.”

  The desk clerk was pleasant but impersonal. “Is Madam checking in? Your identification, please?”

  “No, I’m here as a guest of Rick Hiatt. I need to be shown to his suite immediately, please.” She answered breathlessly.

  “A guest of Richard Hiatt?” She had the clerk’s attention instantly.

  “Can we hurry this along, please? I was just robbed outside your hotel.”

  “Of…Of course, Madam. Is Madam injured? May I call the authorities for you?”

  “I just need to see Mr. Hiatt,” she said emphatically.

  “At once, Madam.” He rang the bell. “Front, please.”

  Chapter 10

  Within moments, Anna was whisked through the opulent lobby and up to Rick’s suite. The bellhop knocked. When there was no answer, he opened the door and let her inside. Anna released Player’s leash and let him trot ahead of her. It sounded like a war film coming from the back room, and then the sound of two men high-fiving.

  Anna reached for her rolling carry-on bag. “I guess they didn’t hear your knock. I’m fine from here, thank you. Can you take American dollars?” She handed him a gratuity, and as she shut the door, heard Rick’s surprised exclamation.

  “God’s bollocks! Player?” Rick stood over her at vamp speed. “Anna? Bloody hell, why are you here?”

  Anna stood dumbfounded. “You sent for me.”

  It was Rick’s turn to be dumbfounded. “No…I didn’t…I sent you away. Far away from here.” He blinked, appalled.

  “Oh, yes you did. Look.” She held out the travel portfolio. “See? Colombia. With the dirk.”

  Rick sighed heavily, reading the note. “No. You were supposed to go home to Columbus with the dirk.” Rick pointed angrily in the general direction of the States. “I wanted you safely away from all this.”

  “Rick, I have to tell you…” Her voice trembled.

  He looked at her closely, then, concern evident in his coppery eyes and his voice gentled, “What is it, Cupcake? What’s wrong?”

  “The dirk was in my backpack, wrapped in the lambskin. It was just stolen.”

  “Saints in Heaven! How long ago?”

  She watched him. “About fifteen minutes ago, maybe. I was getting out of the car out front and suddenly, from nowhere, this guy…”

  “Well, it’s too late now.” He drew a hand down his face. “Are you okay? You’re really pale, let’s get you a drink…”

  All at once, Anna’s legs went weak. “I think I need to sit down.”

  “Here,” he guided her to a chair. “It’s just the adrenaline wearing off, you’ll be okay.” He brought her a drink of something that smelled strong and took her chin in his hand, raising her face up. “You’re okay? He didn’t hurt you?”

  “It felt like he pulled my arm out of the socket.” She drew in a jagged breath. “Rick, the dirk is gone, I’m so sorry.”

  “The most important thing is you’re okay,” he reassured with a pat on her back. “We’ll worry about the dirk later. It’s strange, though, that this guy would target your backpack. I don’t like coincidences, they make me twitchy.”

  Adam appeared in the doorway, followed by Player, who jumped up and down on his
hind legs, trying to lick Adam’s face. “What is this?” he asked irritably.

  “This is a dog,” Rick lectured patiently.

  “I know it’s a dog. What’s it doing here?”

  “Good question. What is she…,” Rick pointed at Anna, “…doing here?”

  Adam looked startled. “I don’t know. Last I knew she was headed for Columbus.”

  “Apparently not. It seems there was a mistake.”

  “Well, crap.” Adam turned to the leaping dog, and in his best Dom voice commanded, “Get down!” Player whined and shrank to Anna’s side.

  “Adam.” Rick reached up his hand to the nearly seven-foot shape-shifter. “Let me see your phone.”

  Adam’s large hand dwarfed the phone and Rick’s as he relinquished it, embarrassment written over his face. “The keyboard is too small for my thumbs.”

  Rick took the phone and scrolled through a day’s worth of messages, finding the offending text. He held it up. “Does this say Columbus?”

  “Er…no…but it doesn’t say Colombia, either.”

  “It would have been definitive if you said Columbus, Ohio,” Rick ground out. He shook his head. “So now that Cupcake is here, protecting her will be your responsibility. She and Player,” he gestured to the dog, “will be your new little buddies.”

  “Hey! I can take care of myself!” Anna protested.

  Rick turned a skeptical look her way. “Aren’t you the woman who was just robbed in front of the hotel?”

  “Well, yeah…”

  “No arguments.”

  Adam glanced down at a flashing alert on his phone. “I’m afraid this is a moot debate. We have a situation.”