by D. N. Leo
Ash of Scorpio - Bloodstone Trilogy - Prequel
D.N. Leo
Contents
Exclusive Invitation
ASH OF SCORPIO
BLOODSTONE TRILOGY
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
BLOODSTONE TRILOGY
Exclusive Invitation
About the Author
Also by D.N. Leo
Afterword
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D.N. LEO
ASH OF SCORPIO
When hope turns into ashes, hero rises
Imagine a time when the Arctic ice sinks. In the snow, Scorpio brings you the battle of the last mage tribe in Greenland and a Silver Blood soldier on his first mission.
Power. Intelligence. Determination. Caedmon has it all. But there is one critical quality he doesn’t have: experience.
Ash of Scorpio is the prequel of Bloodstone – a supernatural thriller trilogy that will take you to the climax of your imagination.
BLOODSTONE TRILOGY
BLOODSTONE TRILOGY
by D.N Leo
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Prequel: ASH OF SCORPIO
Book 1: LIGHT OF DEMON
Book 2: SHADOW OF ANGEL
Book 3: SHADE OF FIRE
1
Winter 2065 in Greenland was as cold and miserable as the last twenty-nine winters she had experienced. But this one was special. This winter, Sedna wouldn’t be just a mage. If things went as planned, she would become the leader of her tribe. She didn’t know how big of an if it was. But she would just have to deal with it as it came to her.
She squinted, looking more carefully at the golden sculpture of a scorpion. She had thought it would be much bigger than this, but it was just slightly larger than her palm. The eyes of the scorpion flashed like fire. She shook her head and blinked. When she looked again, the eyes were back to normal. She sighed. She had averaged three hours of sleep a day in the last two weeks. It obviously had consequences.
Afton had been training her for over a year now to ready her for the leadership. Her combat skills and her ability to control her energy as a mage had improved a lot. He said she was now ready to take what was rightfully hers.
This scorpion sculpture was the first step toward the power.
The shiny golden sculpture of a scorpion with a ring of diamonds wrapped around its neck stared back at her. She was a professional picker, and she’d been making a good living from it. She had a knack for valuable artifacts—she knew their worth, their authenticity, and most importantly, their potential profits.
Something was wrong with this sculpture. If it was a fake, it was a damn good one. But Afton wouldn’t use unreliable sources of information.
She turned around to look at the well-dressed man waiting patiently next to her. “This looks interesting, Mr. Quinn. I need to make a phone call.”
Mr. Quinn nodded and exited the room.
Sedna pulled out her phone. “I’m unsure about this one. But it looks authentic.”
“Looking authentic isn’t enough, Sedna. I need you to know with certainty. We can’t afford to make a mistake.”
“Afton, if you make me choose, I’d say it’s real. I’m a damn good picker, and I’ve been doing this for years. The only reason I’m not sure about this one is that my gut is telling me there’s something wrong.”
“So apart from your gut feelings, your professional judgment about the item is that it’s authentic?”
Sedna sighed. “Yes, I would say so.”
“Well, that’s good enough for me.”
“You shouldn’t trust me so much,” she mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She hung up the phone. Mr. Quinn entered the room and approached Sedna, waiting for an answer. She looked at him and said, “All right, I like what I see. I’ll go talk to my boss, and we’ll arrange a place for the exchange.”
She returned for a last look at the sculpture. She supposed her gut feelings didn’t qualify as suspicion. They needed this merchandise. She snorted softly at the way Afton called it merchandise.
Why should he disguise the fact that they were going for the leadership of the tribe? As far as she was concerned, her mage tribe was fair and righteous. She would be the rightful leader if she lived up to it. And Afton supported her. That was all that counted.
But before she could say anything further to Mr. Quinn, she heard the muffled sound of a gunshot, and a bullet pierced through the glass window, so hard and fast that it punctured the glass without breaking the entire window.
Blood and brains splattered both her and the sculpture of the scorpion. Someone had shot the old man. The bullet had pierced his skull from the left temple to the right.
She ducked to the floor just before a bullet hit the cabinet behind where her head had been. She reached up and grabbed the sculpture then scrambled on all fours across the floor. More bullets whizzed through the room, hitting the furniture.
She pushed the side door open and raced across the slippery, snowy backyard.
Damnit! She had parked her car in the front. She started to turn around, but bullets sprayed in her direction again. Trying to get to the front was a stupid move. She turned back around and darted through the snow of the dark national park. She dialed Afton, putting her phone on hands-free so she could talk while she ran.
She could hear footsteps behind her.
More bullets.
Her own footsteps.
She ran.
And ran.
Afton picked up the phone.
“Someone shot at me!” she shouted.
“Where are you?”
“Outside. I can’t go back to the car.”
“Take cover somewhere. I’ll send Anatole to get you.”
She ducked as bullets sprayed next to her and punched holes in a nearby fence.
“Take cover, goddammit!” Afton shouted.
“I can’t. They’ll catch me.”
“Do you have the merchandise with you?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ, that’s what they’re after. Throw it away.”
“But…”
A bullet hit her shoulder. She fell to the snow. The scorpion sculpture dropped to the ground and spun several feet away.
“I dropped it…”
“Are you hit?”
“Yes. I dropped the merchandise.”
“Goddammit! Leave it. Run. I want you back here alive, Sedna.”
She hung up the phone and ran. Turning back, she could see a shadow dart at the sculpture. She wanted to keep running. Afton had told her to run. But they had worked for months to get here. She couldn’t let some coward with a gun scare her.
She stopped running.
The person wore a robe, a hood covering his head, making his face even darker in the night. Not your typical assassin’s outfit, Sedna thought. He held the sculpture
in his hand and stared at her with inhuman piercing green eyes that tore through the darkness.
He stared at her for a moment and then raised his gun, aiming at her.
2
Caedmon held his breath. One more slot, and he would be free from the transformation chamber. He smiled. Slot. Such a term shouldn’t be used on Earth, he reminded himself. Last time, Uncle Tadgh had helped him with the conversion between Eudaizian time and Earth time. The distance between Eudaiz and Earth was a twisted maze of metaphysical elements and couldn’t be measured in typical time and space dimensions.
Caedmon almost laughed out loud when he recalled the look of disdain on Uncle Tadgh’s face when he mentioned this description. In spite of being a mathematical genius, Uncle Tadgh disliked anything that sounded too complicated or formal.
A slot in Eudaiz was equal to either several minutes or hours on Earth. But numbers weren’t Caedmon’s friends, so he had forgotten again. Not everyone had to be a walking, talking computer like Uncle Tadgh. Even Caedmon’s father had to check his wrist unit whenever he needed a conversion.
His parents, Uncle Tadgh, and everyone else on the council were humans and had come from Earth. But he hadn’t. He’d been born here. So it was a steep learning curve for him even regarding such trivial issues as human behavior on Earth. But he was a quick learner.
The glass door of the opposite chamber opened. Caedmon opened his eyes and saw his father. He straightened himself up quickly. He had passed through three stages of the dimensional transformation chamber, and his father couldn’t get in here.
Caedmon looked at his father. People said Ciaran LeBlanc was the most prominent powerhouse in the cosmos, the most formidable man. They also said Caedmon would be the spitting image of his father when he grew up—and he was grown up now. He hoped he wouldn’t disappoint.
“Caedmon, you don’t have my permission to time travel. It’s dangerous, and the technology is still unstable,” Ciaran said.
“I just want to help, Father.”
“Then go back to your future and stay there.”
“You’re in charge of a universe of more than six hundred billion citizens. I’m only trying to help you. As your son, it’s the least I can do. I’m not a fragile piece of crystal, you know.”
“I have many important matters to see to, but instead I’m standing here negotiating with you. How is that helpful, Caedmon?”
“You’ll fail this mission, Father.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you that. But remember, I’m from the future, Father. I’ve seen the records. You will fail to obtain the Scorpio key.”
“Jesus Christ, Caedmon! What have you done? You can’t change the past. If I fail this mission, then so be it. You can’t change it.”
“Don’t you want to know what happened after Hoyt Flanagan beat you to the key?”
Ciaran braced his hands against the control panel in his compartment and looked down. Then he looked back up at Caedmon. “No, I don’t want to know.”
“You’re being selfish, Father. You’re worrying about me and what might happen if I get tangled up with the time travel.”
“I’m your father. I have the right to be selfish—”
Caedmon cut in, “Hoyt pulled out the temporary shield you put in to replace the missing Scorpio key. And that sank the entire Arctic, caused massive floods, and killed half the population on Earth. Do you still not want to know what happened next, Father?”
His father looked at him. Caedmon swore he could see tears in his eyes. He knew he was pushing the right buttons. So he pressed on.
“I have a solution, Father. I can get the Scorpio key for you.”
Ciaran paused for a long moment, and then he asked, “How?”
Caedmon drew in a breath. “I hacked your system, and I found out that the failure was due to a mage tribe in Greenland. So I traveled to Earth to see what they were all about and why they had caused this mission to fail.”
Ciaran cocked an eyebrow “And did you find the answers you were looking for?”
“No. But I think I know how to fix it.”
Ciaran narrowed his eyes.
Caedmon continued, “I met someone in the mage tribe. I can approach that person for more information.”
“You met someone? Are you insane? When you time travel, you’re not supposed to cause sequential changes…” Ciaran trailed off then took a deep breath to calm himself down. “When did you travel?”
“Yesterday.”
“What was your Earth age?”
“Thirty.”
Ciaran shook his head and sighed.
Caedmon continued, “It was a good contact. I’m sure I can get more information if I go back. And I know all about the issues with time traveling, Father. I’ll try my best not to cause significant changes. But there’s no other way. You tried and failed. You can’t go back and fix it. But I wasn’t involved. I can.”
Ciaran nodded. “Who was the acquaintance?”
“Actually, it was a little more than an acquaintance. I met a girl. A woman, I mean. We emotionally engaged.”
Silence.
“‘Emotionally engaged’…what do you mean by that?”
“We…like…we did a lot of talking. I liked her. A lot. And I think she liked me, too…”
“Did you have sex with her?”
“Father! No, I didn’t… Okay, yes.”
He saw his father’s jawline harden as he braced his hands on the glass wall and closed his eyes.
“Father, I’m sorry.”
“Did you say anything to her before you came back?”
Caedmon shook his head.
“So now you plan to go back to her. From yesterday to today, Eudaizian time, do you know what the time gap is on Earth?”
Caedmon shook his head again.
Ciaran said, “It’s been four years. You had a relationship with a woman, and you disappeared without explanation. You’re going to show up after four years, still without a good reason. Do you know how she is going to react?”
“Based on my analysis, she’ll have a negative reaction that might result in tears and mild violence, given her personality traits. And she might initially object to my approach due to distrust. Am I correct?” Caedmon asked, raising his eyebrow in anticipation of a positive response from his father.
Ciaran shook his head. “In a word, son, on Earth, they’d say she’d be pissed off.”
“Say what?”
“Never mind. You’re smart. You can deal with that. The problem is, in Eudaiz, people only know righteousness. You’re a Eudaizian …”
“You’re human. That makes me human,” he cut in.
“That’s debatable. You don’t know Earth. More importantly, you don’t know human, Caedmon. Your Earth knowledge and experiences are computer generated. You’ll be disadvantage when you fight humans.”
“There won’t be a fight…”
Ciaran stared at him. “All right, you really need combat experiences. I’ll load these experiences to your profile. Digest them and make them truly yours. However, if you have to make quick decision when dealing with humans, remember one thing - trust no one. Now, place your right palm on the control panel.”
“Oh, no. Dad, I haven’t done anything to qualify that—”
“I can’t let you go on a mission unarmed. I’m giving you the eudqi.”
He was receiving the Silver Blood that everyone talked about. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he could get it — the most powerful energy and weapon in Eudaiz. He obeyed his father and placed his palm on the control panel. His father entered a series of commands and codes into the computer from the other side of the glass wall.
A burst of energy came into his body. It flooded his system. His body and mind floated. It felt as if he had disintegrated and then reassembled. He felt an inexplicable flow of blood and energy through his body.
Power.
“Your eudqi critical point is on
your chest, toward the right. That is your weakest point. If you’re attacked there when you have your eudqi on, it will be fatal. If you have your eudqi off when you are injured, your eudqi will heal almost all of your injuries very quickly. So think carefully before you use this energy source.”
Caedmon nodded. “Thank you, Father.”
“When you come back, you will be a commander.”
“Father!”
“When you land, try to hold off the action for as long as you can. I’ll send help your way. But because I haven’t planned this, I’m not sure who to send. Can you promise to think carefully before doing anything drastic?
“Father, I—”
“Can you follow orders? Do you understand the implications of not following protocols?”
“Yes.”
Ciaran nodded. “Go now.”
He looked at his father one last time and then turned on his heel.
3
Sedna could smell the stench of fresh blood from the man as he approached. He still pointed the gun at her. She cursed the fact that she was unarmed. She wasn’t arrogant. She just hadn’t thought she’d need a gun to visit a client.
“You’ve got what you wanted. I don’t have anything else with me,” she said. Blood seeped from the bullet wound on her shoulder. Her vision started to blur.
The man still approached. “Sedna Aardel?” he croaked.
She could heal her wound, but she really needed to rest to do so. At the moment, with only half her brain functioning properly, she knew admitting to the name would be unwise. “Who?” she said.
The man frowned. “You’re Sedna Aardel,” he repeated.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” She inched a bit farther from the man to give herself enough space to strike. Damn, Afton. All of her training had focused on defense. And now, in this situation, she didn’t know how to attack a man. The fact that he had a gun on her didn’t help, either.
