Blood Legacy: Adult Urban Fantasy (The V V Inn Book 5)

by C. J. Ellisson

  “Is that the best course of action when you claim to ‘need him’ now?”

  “I’ll allow the connection to strengthen when he journeys here, but I want to keep some mental distance in place for him. He needs it. His uncontrollable obsessive desires were overcoming his waking thoughts, he needed the break to heal and find himself again.”

  “All right, enough about the poor lost puppy. When did you say he’ll arrive?”

  “Tuesday night. We’ll meet him at the airport in the city. How is the house hunting coming along?”

  I hear the happiness in his voice. “I’ve found several suitable accommodations,” he says. “You’ll like them, I’m sure.”

  A rush of images floods my mind. Stately residences in the posh neighborhoods near the heart of the city, rooms with high ceilings and ornate moldings, and hearths with big roaring fires.

  “Good. I miss you, my darling. It’s only been two weeks and I still think it’s too long.”

  “You’re just hungry for my blood, aren’t you?”

  “Among other things…”

  A gentle tingle of sensation indicates my husband’s mind reaching out to mine. And I miss you too, liebling. We’ll be together soon. Not to worry.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rafe

  We hang up and I check the time on my phone. The real estate agent should arrive in a few minutes. I purposefully projected images of grand homes to Dria when there was mention of the house shopping. In reality, I’ve picked three older places, all in different sections of the city—and none of them grand. I smile, anticipating her reaction.

  I like to think of it as a private joke between us.

  My wife happily resided—for years—in a drafty cabin on our island, instead of the existing farmhouse already on the property. It was purely out of personal preference due to past horrors she endured in an old English farmhouse. In the end, I know she’ll be fine in any home we consider safe, no matter the trappings.

  But still, I can’t wait to see her face when she sees the places I picked. The one we close on this afternoon is a row house that’s seen better days, another is a basement apartment under an old, closed bank, and the third is a ramshackle structure with sewer access—perhaps it was an old worker’s dwelling.

  We will never be caught like rats in a hole. We will change locations daily, if needed, ensuring trackers can’t find us while we plot and plan how to ferret out the dissension in the Tribunal’s ranks.

  A car pulls alongside mine, maneuvering to park in front. The door opens and a tall, attractive woman in her forties, dressed in a royal blue business suit, exits from the vehicle, her long dark hair secured in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She smiles as she approaches my car, watching me as I climb out. “Hi, Mr. McAndrews. Ready for the walk through?”

  I return her smile and extend my hand. “Yes. Mrs. Rameriz, thanks for meeting me before closing.”

  She shakes my hand, her smile firmly in place. “You and your wife certainly know how to close a house sale quickly.” The lovely woman is referring to my wife’s favorite “cash is king” mentality.

  Well, when you’ve got the money available, why not? No need to delay matters with bank applications and loans. I return her smile, offering no further explanation. After all, she doesn’t need to know too much of our business. “You still agree it’s a good location for my wife’s preferences?” I explained that we travel extensively for business, and Dria wants a private residence she can enjoy instead of a crowded hotel. The other locations were acquired through different agents and purchased under different company names, so no one from the Tribunal would be the wiser.

  “Oh, yes. Quiet, all residential, mostly families and retired couples. Grocery shopping is close by, only a couple of blocks south.” She indicates the direction with a sweep of her arm. “Restaurants and small businesses are three blocks to the north. Crime rate is low. I think she’ll be happy with your choice.” A wisp of panic crosses her face. “You did send her the listings to review, right? I’d hate for her to be unhappy with the house.”

  “Yes, of course.” I’ve done no such thing, wanting to surprise Dria, but I keep that to myself.

  Once more, I glance at the brightly painted homes—pink, salmon, robin’s egg blue, yellow, green—you name it and it’s here. Wherever your eye lands, you’re sure to be assaulted by color. I inhale deeply, enjoying the smells of cooking food drifting on the air. The inner-city neighborhood is exactly what we want—discreet and unobtrusive. No one would expect a wealthy master vampire, her husband, and a werewolf to reside here.

  “Shall we go in?”

  At my nod, the agent produces a key and leads the way to the entrance, a solid door a few feet from the sidewalk. We enter the small furnished home, my eyes taking in the stucco walls, pristine tile, and compact floor plan: kitchen in the rear, living space and dining room laid out at the front.

  The decorating style is simple and clean. No fussy fabrics or chintz, more of a minimalist decor in an urban setting. “Nice,” I say. “It appears all the furniture we asked them to include is here. Do you have a list?”

  She produces a file from her large bag. “I’ll double check while you look around.”

  We wander through the first and then second floor, with her checking off items as we go.

  And now, onto what really drew me to the listing. “How about one last look at the basement and root cellar? Just to make sure they were cleaned thoroughly.”

  “Oh yes, right this way.” She leads me to a small bathroom on the first floor. “I know it seems odd, but I kind of like that the entrance is through a hidden door in here. Very different.”

  I try and hide my smile. This dark hideaway is exactly why I bought the place. It’s probably a remnant from a paranoid German who moved to Argentina after the Holocaust. Lots of German nationalists who supported Hitler fled to Argentina to avoid persecution after the war ended. They may have easily adapted to creating their own hidey-holes, like the ones used to hide Jews when the Nazis had a stranglehold on Germany.

  The doorway is tight, I literally have to turn sideways to enter, but after that, the stairwell opens up and I’m able to descend normally. The stairs are illuminated by a single bare bulb, indicating the lower floor has electricity. There’s no trace of the damp, musty smell we noticed last week. It’s been replaced by the scent of astringent cleaners. A low hum from a dehumidifier and air purifier sound below us.

  We reach the bottom of the stairs, revealing the room’s about half the size of the main floor. Empty shelves line the walls, devoid of the household detritus stored there previously.

  Exposed beams in the ceiling and the underside of floorboards from the rooms above loom over us, leaving maybe seven feet of headroom. I plan on installing insulation and dry wall this afternoon after the closing. Tomorrow I’ll be painting and building pre-made furniture down here. The floor isn’t dirt, like I’d initially feared, but a serviceable ceramic tile—newer by the looks of it. Nothing a nice area rug won’t warm up. This is where I plan to make us a hidden bedroom. It won’t be glamorous, but it will be safe.

  A small wooden door, slightly bigger than a large kitchen cabinet, sits in the center of the far wall, leading toward the back of the house.

  “Do you mind if I check the root cellar, too?” I ask.

  “Not at all, allow me.” She moves to the door and lifts the latch, then swings it inward and retreats to grant me a better view.

  I step forward and stick my head inside. It’s very dark, only the light from the basement slipping past to illuminate a few rickety, empty shelves made of rough wood. But it smells like they cleaned in here, too.

  “Here,” she says, clicking on a flashlight and handing it to me. “I always have one in my purse just in case an attic or basement is unlit.”

  I scan the interior once more, noting the very low ceiling and an old ladder about eight feet away. “Where does this lead?”

  “Before the basement
was hand-dug to allow more space, the area was used for food storage. Outside access to the garden, via that ladder, was the only way in, until the tiny staircase was built in the bathroom closet. If I’m recalling right, the ladder leads to a ground-level storm door behind the garden.”

  Perfect. “Looks good. I’m ready to finalize the sale.”

  “Great. Let’s go sign the paperwork. You’ll have the keys before you know it.”

  We spend the next hour in a nearby attorney’s office, hashing out the details and then I ask to see another property I’ve singled out as a possibility. It lies on the other end of town, bordering a more isolated section of woods. Just in case Jon needs space to run as a wolf, I thought it prudent to acquire a spot with land.

  “Oh, you’re interested in more than one location?”

  I smile, knowing we’ll probably make her month with two sales in one week. “Yes, we are. The next one doesn’t need to be habitable right away. We’d like it for the property.”

  She returns my smile, “Well, let’s get started.” She packs her portable document scanner into her briefcase, finished with emailing the signed documents to the seller’s agent. “We can swing by their office on the way to get both sets of keys. The house is yours.” She thrusts out her hand to shake mine. “Congratulations.”

  The next hour flies by. We draw up a contract for the place I earmarked for Jon. It’s further out than I thought, but heavily wooded and backs a park. Once again, I’m grateful for my wife’s preplanning that has allowed for bank accounts filled with millions in various countries around the world—with even more in Argentina since we have the island off the southeastern coast.

  With the later part of the afternoon still ahead of me, I hustle and get the supplies needed to insulate and drywall the basement. The simple, but tedious, task of shoving the insulation in and slapping up dry wall and the first layer of mud takes me a few hours. I won’t be able to apply the next coat over the seams until this one is dried, so I climb back into the shiny, new, dark blue Audi I purchased last week, and drive to the Tribunal’s neighborhood. I say neighborhood because they literally own the whole block, plus adjacent homes to ensure their safety and privacy.

  I park a few doors down from the main townhouse, the one we entered last month for the autumn ball, and the one the other houses on the street connect to underground—vampires really do love their secret tunnels and hidden exits.

  The trees lining the darkening street are bare of leaves, casting eerie shadows as the sun slips below the horizon. A harsh wind kicks up the few dead leaves from under a hedge, whirling the mass into the air before moving on.

  The flip of seasons below the equator is a welcome change of pace, especially for a species that thrives in the dark, but occasionally I do miss having a chance to enjoy the warm days of summer. I sip coffee while watching the doorways. Nothing much reveals itself, just the average comings and goings of employees needed to keep a large residence running smoothly.

  What I haven’t seen in a week is hide nor hair of their pet wizardling, Justin. If he stays on schedule, he’s due back today to renew his magical wards. I’m hoping to get another glimpse of him before Dria and Jon arrive.

  How do I feel about Jon coming to help? To be honest, I’m relieved. I may tease the arrogant bastard who watches my wife a little too closely, but I’m used to having him by our side, protecting both of us, even if he swears he’s only watching Dria’s back. This was our first extended trip out of the country in years without Jon, and with all the danger flying around my wife, I hope it’s our last trip without him.

  No matter what I say to Dria, inside I’m racked with guilt. If I had insisted he come, could things have ended differently in late May? Would he have been able to stop Dria from being taken and tortured? Would his presence have kept her safe? Seeing the ravaged body of my wife again in my mind’s eye makes one thing very clear: I will accept anyone in our lives to keep her safe. Jealousy and self-doubt have no room among the fear of an absolute there’s no return from: the final death of an undead.

  I check the messages on my phone and see Dria is already in the air. She’ll be here in a few hours and we’ll be able to have an intimate reunion before Jon arrives tomorrow night. Good. I need it.

  Movement on the townhouse’s grand steps draws my eye. My luck has finally changed. The familiar lanky form dressed all in black descends, taking the stairs carefully, with his attention turned inward. By the subtle movement of his lips, I’m guessing Justin’s either talking through a Bluetooth earpiece I can’t see, or perhaps checking the strength of a safety ward.

  Luckily, a lone human parked on the street during the day when the vampires are asleep, hasn’t triggered an alarm. Maybe the ancients’ arrogance doesn’t normally allow for fear of one lowly human. Local residents carrying pitchforks and torches? Probably, yes.

  Justin reaches the sidewalk and strides toward a small black SUV, the kind that looks like a hybrid of a car and a four-wheel-drive vehicle. Excited by my stroke of good fortune, I start my car moments after his and follow.

  This will be the second time I’ve been able to tail Justin, and hopefully this time I’ll find out exactly where he lives. I’ve also scouted the local residents of a dozen vampires who’ve left the Tribunal grounds, none of who have led me any closer to finding Rolando.

  Could the slick crafty bastard still be residing in the Tribunal or could he have left via a hidden route? I’m only one set of eyes, and staking out various entrances day in and day out can only be so accurate.

  The wizard leads me on a merry chase, stopping at a restaurant before finally pulling into a small residence not far from the dwelling we closed on earlier today. I wait ten minutes to ensure he’s not dropping off something for someone else, then leave my car to approach the house. Like most of the homes in this section, the front door is right off the sidewalk, no front yard or driveway to give it distance.

  I stand outside a window off to the side and quiet my breathing. I take out my phone, glance at the screen, and lean against the wall. With luck, I’ll appear to be stopping to check something and not draw attention from neighbors.

  In a moment, I hear a TV on inside the small house and a scrape of a chair against the floor. Sounds like he lives here. And possibly alone, as I don’t hear or sense anyone else inside.

  Perfect. When the others arrive, we’ll start with questioning him. Time to go wait for my wife’s flight. I can’t wait to see her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jon

  I settle in Dria and Rafe’s apartment, way more comfortable in their home, surrounded by their scents, then I’d care to admit. Meeting Candy has transformed how I think about my relationship with the owners of the inn. She gives me the intimacy and sense of belonging that comes in a new relationship, and being with her has also helped me achieve a personal balance I was lacking earlier.

  Sure, since the rogue vampire Emiko ran loose across the resort, things have been tighter between Dria, Rafe, and me than ever. But now, it feels more like a partnership than a longing to be part of what I can never have. Is that what Dria hoped when she allowed a summer season at the inn to become a haven for werewolf packs? I’d never have expected her to play matchmaker, but I think maybe that’s exactly what she’s done.

  I grab a beer out of the fridge and wait for Diane. I invited her here to ask about topics she’s more capable of answering than anyone I know. In a few minutes there’s a light knock at the couple’s front door and I answer it.

  “Thanks for meeting with me, Diane,” I say to the inn’s resident witch and my former lover. Much to my relief, she came dressed normally. No low-cut blouses meant to draw my eye, or skin tight jeans begging me to grab her ass. I like it. Her appearance bodes well for a successful conversation with no sexual undercurrent.

  “Of course, Jon.” She tosses her long strawberry-blond spiral curls over one shoulder, follows me through the suite, and takes a seat across from me at the round kitchen t
able.

  I thought meeting here, rather than my secluded cabin, might be smarter—and perhaps it wouldn’t send a vibe like I was trying to jump her bones, as I’ve done repeatedly in the past. The seethe’s conference room in the basement would have been the most neutral and professional location, but only a handful of us are aware of its existence, and she isn’t among those in the know.

  Perhaps sensing my discomfort, she smiles, and it almost reaches her eyes. “No worries, Jon. We can still be friends. I know you’ve hooked up with Candy, and I’m happy for you.”

  I clear my throat, hoping for a way past this awkwardness. “Gee, news travels fast. Didn’t you just get back yesterday from visiting friends in the lower forty-eight?”

  “Yeah,” she answers while nodding. “It was a great trip. But hey, you aren’t doing yourself justice. News of your ‘unique’ uh… girlfriend… reached me from friends here even while I was away.”

  Refusing to be drawn into conversation about my girlfriend who can shift to any form, including that of a man, I grab my note pad and read over the bullet points.

  “Did you also hear about what happened in Argentina to the rest of the seethe?” She nods again, encouraging me to keep talking. “Okay then, that saves some time.”

  “I only heard the basics—Vivian was captured, along with Paul and Drew. And it was Rafe who saved them all.” Vivian is the name the employees and guests call Dria. It’s an old play on words from when she first opened the V V Inn years ago. People shortened the name and called her Vivian—it stuck.

  “That’s enough. It’s not my story to tell, so I can’t reveal too much detail.” I lower my eyes again, unwilling to be grilled for gossipy tidbits that will be spread among the employees before the bosses return. “I asked you here for information on a topic you are much more suited to than I.”

  “Ahh… I get it.” Her eyes light up and tension eases from her slim shoulders. “You want to talk about magic, right?”