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

by C. J. Ellisson

  “Seems tedious and slow. Are you sure it will work?”

  A scowl forms on his unlined face, disappearing as fast as it appeared. “Thanks for the doubt and back-handed insult. Yes, I know how to do my job. And I do it well. It will work.”

  This is also the guy who wrought such a magical imbalance in the city we’ve had two mythological killers appear in a week’s time. But I refrain from pointing the obvious out. “Thanks, Justin.”

  “Not so fast, lady. Don’t forget my fee.”

  “The agreement was for after we find Rolando.”

  The young wizard looks like he’s ready to argue, but quiets down soon enough. He nods sharply and starts to put away the unused ingredients.

  I staunch the tiny feeling of dishonesty creeping up my spine. What the witch and Justin don’t know is I plan to remotely nullify my blood in a day’s time. Despite the reassurances I gave earlier, I have no intention of giving anyone unsupervised access to the power in my blood—maybe I’ll send payment in gold when this mess is all over.

  One of the perks of being a master manipulator is divine connection to everything my blood infiltrates. Including the spell contents of the bag, which should make using the pouch to play a supernatural game of “hot and cold” much easier.

  Rafe appears in the kitchen doorway. “Are we ready to roll?”

  I nod and rise from my chair. “Thanks for your assistance with the tracking spell, Justin. We’ll keep you posted on what’s happening.”

  “And will Jon let me know when they catch the gato?” Uncertainty clouds his expression, no doubt wondering how his whole livelihood could, literally, go up in a cloud of dust like it has.

  “Sure thing,” Rafe answers, hustling me toward the back door. “We’ll make sure you’re notified.”

  A thought occurs to me as we’re leaving. “And let us know if this latest spell left any type of imbalance—we don’t want another killer on the loose.”

  Justin grimaces. “I’ll try, but I didn’t know when the imbalances occurred previously. Everything felt fine, just like during my other spells.”

  The door shuts behind us and as we walk away I hear the wizard turn the lock. I wonder if it’s normal for him to not feel an imbalance when he completes a spell, assuming he created one by making the spell to begin with. That doesn’t seem right to me. How could a magic user be expected to correct the problem if they didn’t feel it come into existence?

  “We’ve got a few hours until dawn, hon. Let’s get a move on,” Rafe says, one hand on the small of my back easing me forward faster. “I’d love to track that bastard down before the sun rises.”

  “Is that so you can question him when I’m indisposed?”

  A surprised grunt sounds next to me. “What, do I look stupid? He’s older than you. He may not need to sleep until close to noon, if at all—and if that’s the case, only an idiot would confront a cornered vampire.”

  We journey to the car and slide inside. “Where should we start?” I ask. “The pouch doesn’t have a feel to it yet.”

  “Hmm… maybe you should get out and hold it in your hands while facing different directions.”

  Feeling dumb with the action, I comply, climbing out to stand on the sidewalk. Turning slowly, I pause at each cardinal direction, hoping the little bag will point me the right way. I allow my thoughts to center on Rolando and how much I want to find him. I wait a breath before turning again, hoping the extra time will help.

  After a complete circuit, I’m annoyed. The leather feels the exact same—cold. Should I barge back in and call out Justin for his ineptitude? “Some fucking wizard,” I mumble under my breath.

  Rafe lowers the passenger window. “Have you tried connecting with the blood in the charm yet?”

  “No,” I answer, feeling foolish I hadn’t tried. Bitching is so much more productive.

  Heeding my husband’s suggestion, I close my eyes, preparing to expand my awareness through my blood. Like my connection to the resort, I can trace my life source anywhere, and reach out beyond the sphere of it to whatever it connects.

  I slow my breathing and wait. When I’ve cleared my head of all the negativity and disappointment from the charm not working instantly, I begin to feel something in my hands. My blood does indeed connect all the ingredients together. Combined with my desire to find Rolando, a reaction starts to occur.

  I turn to the right once more, attuned to any change in the leather pouch. This time, I sense the components of the spell working. Heartened with the change, I turn again and wait. Before I have a chance to let my breath out, the leather warms in my hands. Bingo.

  “This way,” I gesture, with the bag still cupped in my grasp.

  “Toward the Tribunal’s neighborhood. I should have guessed.”

  I return to my seat and buckle up. “Could mean anything. That direction covers a lot of the city, not just the Seat of Darkness.”

  “Hmph. We’ll see.”

  At every intersection I hold the bag to the right, left, and center, to see which triggers a reaction. Very soon, we’re turning back onto Independence Avenue, approaching the Tribunal’s townhouse from a different direction, one that will require us to pass all the other homes on the street first. The security ward doesn’t send a tingle over me, making me think it must still be down after George’s death earlier tonight.

  “I knew it,” Rafe says. “I knew that son of a bitch hadn’t left.”

  We pass the second townhouse, still many doors down from the main house, and the pouch goes cold in my hand. “Wait!” I shout. Rafe slams on the brakes. “I think he’s in a house on this street, but not the headquarters. The bag just got cold. I think we’ve passed him.”

  Rafe pulls the car over to park. We unload and walk back the way we’d come. The leather heats up again. I hold the pouch out toward the walkway of the next house and the heat eases. I turn to face the opposite side if the street and the charm turns hot. “Okay, he must be in that house.”

  “Or behind it.”

  I glance at my husband. “Good distinction. Should we approach from behind to make sure?”

  Rafe looks up and down the street. “There’re no alleys between the homes on this end. Access to the rear must be through a secondary street running behind the houses. Let’s go to the front door and see who’s inside.”

  “Just knock on the door?”

  “Yeah, and if no one answers we break in.”

  “Okay, let’s do it.” I hold back a snort of uneasy humor, triggered by my nervousness. Amateur sleuths we are not.

  Rafe’s fist pounds on the door. A tingle of sensation runs over me.

  “Crap,” Rafe says. “Did you feel that, too? What was it?”

  Recognition of tripping another ward cascades through me. “Dammit! Kick in the door. He may be trying to escape after the ward went off.”

  My husband steps back and delivers one solid, powerful kick to the door, sending it crashing inside to bang against a wall. Before we can cross the threshold, a mini explosion goes off, sending smoke out the door to blind us.

  “Wait!” I hold Rafe back by the arm, unwilling to have either of us barrel in when we can’t see where we’re going or what awaits us on the other side.

  “He’s going to get away! We’ve got to get in there.”

  The smoke rises, still blocking our view, but leaving the area near our feet clearer. “Look,” I say, pointing down to the yawning blackness just on the other side of the door. “Isn’t that the same kind of trap door Paul and Drew described when they were captured?”

  Rafe pauses with his foot in mid-air, ready to rush in despite my warnings. “Dammit all to hell—it is! Who in their right mind uses trap doors as a deterrent against break ins?”

  “Paranoid old vampires, that’s who.” I wave my arms to dispel the rest of the smoke. The hole beyond the door is about four feet wide. “We can jump it.” I nudge his shoulder. “Go ahead.”

  Rafe flashes me a look that says why the hell
am I going first? and jumps. Without waiting to see if I follow, he races deeper into the dark house. I gracefully leap over the expanse and follow, slower than him as I check for signs of Rolando.

  “Come on, Dria!” Rafe’s voice drifts to me from the rear of the house. I hear him wrenching open a backdoor. “I see him! He’s running down the back alley toward the other end of the block.”

  Right toward the Tribunal’s main house. Before I have a chance to tell him to wait for me, he’s out the rear entrance like a flash.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Rafe

  My feet miss the stairs completely as I launch myself off the back porch. I sprint down the small yard and leap over the back fence dividing the property from the narrow alley in the back. A dark shadowy form, which I assume is Rolando, has about a hundred yard head start on me.

  The man races past the next few houses, eventually turning into the backyard behind the largest house on the street—the Tribunal’s headquarters. I follow, sure I’ve got the bastard now. I slow down at the turn, running through the painted gate and toward the stone steps of the backdoor.

  “Wait!” Dria yells from behind me. “That’s not him.”

  I stop, chest heaving from the mad dash. The townhouse sits quiet, not like someone has just pounded on the door and demanded to be let in, and yet, no one is lingering in the shadows, either. “What the—”

  My wife waves the locator charm pouch. “The bag is cold. That wasn’t Rolando.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “I think it might have been a decoy spell.”

  “Jesus. Right when I think I know what the hell is going on, we throw magic into the mix. A decoy spell, really?”

  Dria stands by my side, looking back the way we came. “Stop and listen to your senses. Do you smell a fleeing, anxious vampire? Do you smell any recent trace of vampire besides me?”

  “Crap, you’re right.” I run a hand over my head, pushing my hair back off my forehead. “Damn Justin. He could have warned us he’d made the man a decoy spell.”

  “Justin isn’t the only wizard for hire in the city.”

  “You’re right, he’s not. He might not have known. Shit. Where to now?”

  She holds still, turning her attention to the bag still firmly in her grasp. “He was at the house, or else the spell wouldn’t have led us there. I think he got out the moment he sensed us, or the protective ward revealed us, and the decoy spell was set off sometime after we entered.”

  Dria walks back toward the alley. “Come on, he couldn’t have gotten far. Let’s retrace and check for his location again.”

  “Yeah, okay.” My mood sours as I join her. Can’t believe he got away that easily. I feel stupid. Another thought occurs to me as we jog back to the house. “He could have a car and drove away.”

  “Good point. We didn’t hear one, but the explosion could have hidden the sound. You go through to the front and drive our car back here.” She points to the end of the alley two houses down. “I’ll meet you there.” Sensing my bad mood she smiles. “He can’t have gotten far, honey. Buck up. We’ll get him.”

  I nod and take off for the front, running back the way we originally came, leaving all the bastard’s doors wide open when I exit, too. I smile, an evil grin if there ever was one, maybe he’ll get robbed.

  I reach the car and drive to the rendezvous point Dria indicated. She climbs in, a determined look on her face.

  “I already checked, he went that way.” She points in front of us. I pull away from the curb, slowing as we reach the next intersection in case the charm indicates we need to turn to follow Rolando.

  “Are we sure the spell is accurate?” I ask.

  Dria pats my thigh reassuringly. “It led us here, to where he was. I doubt it would start malfunctioning now. Have faith.”

  I open my mouth to respond, and snap it shut when I realize I’m not being helpful. I have faith. Faith in us, not some damn spell. I swear, when I find that man… my fists tighten on the steering wheel. When I think about what he did to my wife…

  “Hey now, you okay, Rafe? I feel you getting really angry and upset.”

  I take a deep breath, loosening my grip on the leather-covered plastic. She’s right. I can’t let this situation get to me. “I don’t like all this running blind shit. I prefer to strategize. This mess feels like disaster unfolding.”

  Dria jerks slightly in her seat. “You’re right. That’s exactly what this is. Contrived chaos. Pull over.”

  “What?” I ask, while scanning the upcoming street for a place to stop the car. It takes fifty yards or so, but I find a clear curb and swing the car in. I shift into park and turn to my wife. “What’re you thinking?”

  “I’m not used to taking into consideration the possible ramifications of working with magic.” Her hand reaches toward her face, one slim finger tapping her lips as she stares through the windshield. “If you were smart enough to set a ward to predict when an enemy approaches, a trap at your door, and a decoy spell to lead pursuers away… then wouldn’t you have thought about the next steps? Like how to hide your escape trail successfully or not to be tracked at all?”

  I lean back in my seat, using the headrest and shutting my eyes. “I have no idea. All I know is I’m tired. Tired of tracking the people who mean you harm, killing the ones who tortured you, and trying to figure out—and then stop—the creatures killing innocents in the city.”

  The warm hand on my thigh starts to move, stroking up and down in a soothing gesture. “I wish I could change what’s happened, but I can’t.” When I hear my wife turn toward me, sliding sideways in her seat, I open my eyes. “I understand your frustration. I’m right there with you. I haven’t been the same since that night.”

  Without a word, I know the night she’s referring to—the night I had to save her from her fellow vampires. A night she’d feared and worked hard to avoid for over five hundred years.

  I reach a hand down to cover hers, offering a little bit of comfort while she continues speaking. “I’m experiencing doubt. And worry. And occasionally I’m feeling fear.” It’s quiet in the car for a moment when she pauses. I keep silent, anticipating she’s not done. “And I don’t like it. Not one damn bit.”

  “What do you intend to do about it?”

  “I need to regroup and meditate. We’re reacting, instead of acting first. We won’t find him chasing our tails like this. Like you said, we need a plan.”

  “Let’s return to the apartment. Get our heads on straight.”

  “Agreed.”

  I turn the car around and drive to our temporary home. Determination fills the air in the confined space, a sign neither of us is giving up any time soon.

  Within thirty minutes, Dria and I are on the couch, dawn less than an hour away. The guilt of abandoning the hunt too soon washes away, replaced by the contentment of a full stomach. We stopped at a late night food vendor closing up for the coming morning, the remains of the feast spread over the coffee table.

  “Let’s look at this from another angle,” I say, eager to get a plan in place before sleep overtakes me. “Think back to when you were an enforcer. If Rolando was a rogue you’d been sent to track, how would you approach the assignment?”

  Dria’s hand slides up my thigh, similar to the touch in the car, but with an entirely different intent. Her hand stops at the top of my thigh, her fingers snug against the swell of my shaft.

  “I’d follow him for a while, discern his habits, decide on a location I could get him alone to take him out with the minimum amount of fuss and lowest chance of discovery.”

  I shift slightly in my seat, scooting closer to her hand, silently encouraging her absent-minded explorations of my anatomy. “Uh-huh. That makes sense. But what if you didn’t have any way to track him? What if the rogue was crafty and elusive?”

  My wife scoots tight to my right side, turning so her body presses to mine and hiking her right thigh over mine near the knee. “I’d get a lay
of the land, uncover the ins and outs of the territory, determine where he’d go to feed and stake out various locations to find him.”

  Her hand roams over my growing erection, fueling more blood to rush to my genitals. “Now you’re on track.” I snort at my own double entendre. “Think like a hunter to take down your prey.”

  The rasp of my zipper lowering has my breath hitching in my throat. Sex is certainly one way to work off stress and frustration. And who am I to complain?

  Her cooler hand snakes through the opening, cupping and stroking my heated flesh. Even though she’s arousing me, she hasn’t forgotten our original topic. “You can also set a trap for your prey—like bait if they’re hungry, or a situation too good to resist.”

  “Like drunken college kids at a packed bar?”

  She removes me from my pants, stroking me to full height in the dingy basement room. “For some, yes. For others, the most irresistible scenario could be as simple as a blood drive with lots of busy volunteers.”

  I smile at the image she paints, settling back into the soft couch to savor her touch. “So what really matters here is how well you know Rolando. Let’s apply those ideas to him. What would he find,” my breath hitches as she strokes faster, “irresistible?”

  Without a word about what we’re doing, she removes her hand and slowly starts to undress me, working on my shirt. “He’s older than me, and like me, probably wouldn’t prefer to feed in a crowd—too vulnerable. And besides, he’s been here for centuries. He’d have plenty of established blood donors to choose from.”

  Eager to help, I slip off the sleeves of my shirt and toss the garment aside. Before an appropriate response to her statement can form in my sex-addled brain, I’m reaching for her sweater, tugging it over her head. Her full breasts press against the bra cups, clearing my mind of any intelligent response I could add to the conversation. “Uh-huh.”

  “I’d also track who he socialized with—if he was a member of a seethe, I’d start there.” My talented, multi-tasking wife stands and shoves off her pants and underwear, then straddles my hips. She reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra, spilling her breasts free as the straps and fabric slide down her body.