Blood Leverage (Bloodstone Chronicles Book 1)

by J S Hazzard

  “Be careful with that, okay?” Nicky looked concerned.

  “What is it?” His protectiveness had roused my curiosity.

  “It’s my delivery manifest,” he said. “Everything for the summer, it’s all in there.”

  “Anything fun coming up?” I flipped through the book. There were a lot of entries.

  “More like stressful,” he muttered. “Dad gambled half our savings on a handful of big jobs, so I’m surprised he left me to do them alone. I don’t know why he was so keen on attending that conference.”

  Having kept my suspicions of parental romance quiet—a decision I appreciated even more after last night—I bit my tongue.

  “There must be something you’re looking forward to.”

  “Actually, after all the scheduled deliveries are completed, I’ve convinced my dad to let me scope out some new territory further east of here. I’m ready to stake my claim on some projects of my own. Assuming I don’t screw everything up and bankrupt us before then,” he concluded.

  He sounded rather grim and I decided to change the subject, but before I could ask about driving he offered me the bakery bag. “A surprise for our road trip.”

  “Road trip?” I laughed as I accepted the bag. A perfect phrase for a perfect day. I’d left the window down and took a moment to appreciate the breeze. My hair would look disastrous, but I felt too good to care.

  “Um, Rory?”

  “Hmm?” I looked over to see Nicky watching me expectantly.

  “When I gave you the bag I assumed you’d open it.”

  I looked down at the forgotten bag and unfolded its edges. And blinked.

  Chocolate cupcakes.

  There were six cupcakes, each with chocolate icing and morsels of chocolate on top. “Where on earth did you get these?” Cocoa beans grew nowhere on the continent.

  “I special ordered them yesterday.” He allowed himself a tiny smirk. “I knew you’d accept my invitation.”

  “But the chocolate,” I persisted. “Where’d you get the chocolate?”

  Nicky made a face. “Only you would rather discuss its origin than eat it.”

  I stuck my tongue out, unoffended. “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll eat all of it. Wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “Don’t you freaking dare! Give me that bag back, right now!”

  I grinned and held a cupcake out of reach. “You’re not getting one until you answer. An answer for a cupcake is a fair trade.”

  “You should be able to figure this out without me. You first had chocolate to celebrate the publication of your mom’s book. Where’d she get it?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You know it was a gift from—” My voice cut off.

  Nicky nudged me on. “A gift from where, Rory?”

  My whispered reply was almost inaudible. “From Immortal Media.”

  An arched eyebrow from Nicky confirmed my suspicions.

  “Holy crap, you’re in contact with Immortal Media too?” I nearly spluttered in disbelief. I’d mailed several articles to Immortal Media for publication and hadn’t received a word in response. Not even a rejection.

  He looked at me like I was mentally deficient. “No, Rory, I didn’t get chocolate from a vampiric media conglomerate. We got it from a customer.”

  I nearly fumbled a cupcake onto the floor of the truck and returned it to the bag. “Dominic, are you saying you’ve met a vampire? A real, live vampire?”

  Not that they’re technically alive, but still.

  His smug smile wavered. “Not exactly. Dad deals with them, but they know who I am. After all, I’ll run the business when he retires.”

  “Why would they deal with humans at all? When mom published Conversions, Immortal Media used human intermediaries.” Except for Nickleby’s letters, of course.

  Nicky shook his head. “Not all vampires live in cities. You should know that better than anyone.”

  It took me a moment to grasp the implication. “You mean my blood…” I took a moment. “Gigi doesn’t ship it to New York or Toronto. There’s someone who—Holy shit! It’s for someone within driving distance?”

  Nicky dipped his head as though he hadn’t wanted me to put quite so many pieces together, but I was too busy berating myself to care. Vampires outside the cities were possible because people like us made it possible. As I sat back to process this, I re-opened the bag and removed two cupcakes, passing one to Nicky.

  Then I bit in and forgot about vampires. My memory of chocolate hadn’t done it justice. I ate two cupcakes in tiny Amy-sized bites, closing my eyes and leaning back against the seat. The sun shone and it was warm, but pleasantly so, and I drifted off before the taste of chocolate had faded from my lips…

  * * * * *

  “Hey, Rory… Rory? RORY!” Nicky sounded impatient and I wondered why everyone felt the need to wake me by yelling. My face was smashed against the window and it took me a moment to realize I’d fallen asleep in Nicky’s truck.

  Barely coherent, I turned to him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to zone. Everything okay?”

  Nicky laughed. “No worries, gorgeous. Not everyone is blessed with Italian stallion stamina like mine.”

  I refrained from gagging only because it wasn’t worth losing my cupcakes. “Yes, Nicky, your stamina is dwarfed only by your ego.”

  “Lucky for you, I have plenty of both to go around,” he rejoined, “but we’ll discuss my many amazing qualities later. I didn’t want you to sleep through this.” He gestured to the windshield and I left my snide retort unspoken.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “MY god.” The phrase was inadequate, but it was the best I could manage.

  “I know, right?” Nicky’s hands were steady on the wheel whereas mine were trembling.

  “It’s Buffalo, isn’t it?” It couldn’t be anything else. Not unless I’d slept a lot longer than I thought. I stared at the buildings’ crumbling silhouettes in awe.

  “Well,” he said flatly, “it’s what remains of Buffalo. We have to pass through to reach our destination.”

  “How are the roads intact? Shouldn’t the trees have grown straight through them?”

  Nicky sighed. “You’re right, and they do. You’ll see what most roads are like soon enough, but this highway is vampire maintained.”

  “Why?”

  “It leads to the power station at Niagara Falls.”

  “Oh, of course.” Niagara Falls provided electricity for Toronto, Manhattan, and all the squares in between who could afford it, including my own. Of course it needed accessible roads.

  The roads closer to downtown Buffalo received no such treatment and my focus switched from checking the scenery to hanging on for dear life. “Is there much further to go?” The novelty of the drive was jolting away and so were my cupcakes.

  “I’ve planned for two stops on our trip.” The conversation came to a necessary pause as we jounced through a bone-rattling pothole. “Our first stop is a bit further—my favorite place to relax. Tomorrow or the next day I’ll take you to the place I have in mind for scavenging.” I clenched my teeth as we hit an even deeper pothole and resisted the urge to say we could relax at home.

  Unfortunately, the brief remainder of the drive preceded a long walk. It was maybe four miles, though gauging the distance was difficult because we had to walk cautiously. Ankle-spraining chunks of asphalt lurked beneath the tall, wet grass.

  Our ‘relaxation destination’ was a lovely old house in the middle of the wilderness. Its heavy pink bricks and steel door made me curious as to its contents—since no one would find this place unless they already knew about it. Even more unusual, all of its great glass windows were intact.

  While Dominic tried one key after another, I lounged against the building, wishing we’d brought our spare clothes and wondering how soon my jeans would dry. When he found it, he made me close my eyes before leading me inside.

  Unable to see, my other senses sharpened and I noticed the room lacked the musty smell I’d
expected. I also heard two quiet thuds as if Nicky had dropped something, but couldn’t identify the clicking sounds and weird vibration that followed.

  Then Nicky unexpectedly tugged one of my sneakers and I nearly kicked him in the face. He smacked my rear end. “Watch the face, cara. No shoes allowed.”

  “You might’ve warned me.” I hate being startled and Nicky knows it.

  “Stop whining and lift your other foot.” I could hear his grin. He pulled my other sneaker off and I realized the earlier thuds had been Nicky’s shoes hitting the floor.

  My hip brushed against what I assumed was a doorframe as Nicky led me forward. I tightened my eyelids to keep from peeking as he closed the door behind us.

  “Now, open your eyes!” He sounded excited and I eagerly complied, only to see nothing but darkness. Anti-climactic to say the least.

  “Nicky?”

  “Shit, sorry. I thought it was right here… Wait for it… Okay, here!”

  With that dramatic pronouncement the room lit up. Having come from outside, my eyes didn’t need to adjust and I stared in shock. The walls gleamed in a rich plum accented by furnishings and art everywhere.

  I wasn’t sure how I knew, but someone experienced had arranged this room. Maybe it was the spatial relationships between objects, as if each item would be wrong anywhere else. Or maybe it was the way certain pieces had specific lighting—like the tiny bulb set into a table to shine through a crystal sculpture, or the trio of lights aimed at a gilded harp.

  I was halfway to the harp when I realized something of greater significance and whirled around. “Wait. How…?”

  My voice trailed off as I saw Nicky’s smirk. “I wondered when you’d notice.”

  “The décor caught me off guard,” I admitted. As stunning as the room was, the first thing I should have noticed was its functioning electricity. I could draw only one conclusion.

  “Someone lives here?” I stared around the room with new appreciation and more than a little envy.

  His smirk vanished. “This is one of several homes maintained by Lillian Parkes. She is the most powerful interspecies liaison in the northeast territories.”

  “Are we here to see her?” No other response came to mind.

  “Hell no,” he answered, all but shuddering. “I’ve never met Ms. Parkes, but she must be seriously scary. Father only deals with her assistants. We have access for deliveries and permission to spend an occasional night as a courtesy.”

  “What deliveries? Scavenged things?”

  Nicky squirmed. “The only thing Pop will say is that she buys the best and demands her privacy. I’ve been here several times, but never beyond the guest rooms. Check out the doorway across the room. See the little black box?”

  The room was so large I had to move closer.

  It was a flat rectangle, glossy with a blinking red light. If not for the light it would have blended in as the doorframe’s dark wood gleamed only shades lighter than the box.

  “What does it do?” I wanted a closer look, but Nicky’s expression declared the gadget off limits.

  “It’s part of the security system. I swore on mom’s grave to never go near it.”

  That was serious stuff for Gigi. Nicky’s mother had died in childbirth and I could count the times Gigi had mentioned her on one hand with fingers to spare. “I promise I won’t go near it.”

  I had plenty to keep me occupied, but despite my ready agreement Nicky still looked worried I might misbehave. Or maybe he was pondering the mother he’d never known. Either way, he needed a distraction.

  “How did Ms. Parkes become the most powerful—” Crap, what was her title? “The most powerful interspecies liaison in the northeastern territories?”

  Nicky relaxed. “No one knows. She’s loaded, but she didn’t own a business or anything like that. It’s like she came out of nowhere in Manhattan and began working with high level vamps.”

  “Maybe she began as a benefactor?” Not that I could afford anything like this, but it was the only way I knew to earn money on the sly.

  Nicky laughed. “Though I’d love to dream we could own this, she gained power too fast. No, she has vampire backing. A business partner of some sort.” He leered at me. “Rumor has it she even has a vampire lover.”

  “Holy crap, does that happen?” I’d thought vampires preferred human females pregnant and producing more humans as often as possible.

  He shrugged. “Her money came from somewhere, so who knows? If you’d like to explore the room, I have something to take care of. I’ll be a few minutes.”

  Pushing aside my thoughts of Ms. Parkes, I examined her harp while Nicky shuttled back and forth between the rooms on either side of us. Despite losing a twenty minute battle to mimic anything resembling music I decided I wanted to own something similar. Someday.

  The most wonderful smell imaginable cut my pipe dream short. I didn’t recognize it, something rich and sweet, and had turned to the room on my left to investigate when Nicky called me from the room on my right.

  I felt a reluctant pang in my stomach as I turned to answer.

  The right doorway led me to a bedroom—large, but a bit of a letdown after the living room. Though the deep rose walls were silk covered and very pretty, the room was empty aside from the bed and a strange humpbacked table. The far wall held another doorway (no black box) and Nicky had called from the next room.

  The adjoining bathroom compensated for any disappointment I’d felt in the bedroom. Covered in sleek, white marble and filled with wisps of steam, this bathroom could justify a trip by itself. Three drains were embedded in the corner floor with two dozen showerheads set in the open at varying heights along the adjacent walls. I could tell the lack of privacy was intended to be a sexy, luxury thing—but luxury or not I was relieved to see Nicky had something else in mind.

  The steam rose from the bathtub that dominated the room, a marble octagon set into the floor. It was large enough to swim in and had seating for multiple people, which made me only slightly less nervous than the open showers. Was Nicky expecting us to take a bath together?

  Unaware of my concerns, Nicky beamed and gestured toward the tub. “My favorite thing about this place, or at least one of them. You’ll love it, and wait until you try the—” A faint electronic beeping interrupted his words and he raced out without finishing.

  I hovered near the edge of the bath as his voice floated back to me. “This’ll only take a minute. I’ll be right back. There are some bathing suits in the far cupboard.”

  Bathing suits? The knot of uncertainty eased in my stomach. Nicky was clearly operating under friendship protocol for the moment. Spurred to action, I tore my clothes off and flung them onto the marble counter without folding them. Regardless of Nicky’s intentions, if given the choice of squeezing into a swimsuit in front of him or already being in the water when he returned, it was a no-brainer.

  Unsure of the sizes, I grabbed the topmost garments and wriggled into them, furtively watching the door. The scant red two piece had been intended for someone slightly more endowed than I, but the water looked deep enough to reach my chest anyway. (I also had no reason to think the other suits would fit any better.) Tightening the straps and double knotting them, I slipped into the water as I heard Nicky’s footsteps approach.

  Nicky re-entered and I realized he’d left to retrieve the source of the aroma I’d noticed earlier. He had an aluminum pan perched on an oven-mitt clad hand and a bottle and two crystal glasses dangling from the other. He gave me a taunting look before setting everything out of reach on the counter. Bastard.

  He picked up my damp clothes and stripped to his boxers, more at ease than I. “I’ll throw these in the dryer for later. Then we’ll eat.”

  When he returned and lowered the pan to the floor I asked, “How’d you make a pie in less than half an hour?” I’d learned a lot about Nicky in the past twenty-four hours, but my imagination wouldn’t accommodate him baking. “More importantly, what type of pie is t
his?”

  “Bugger, I forgot the forks. Be right back.”

  By now I would’ve eaten the pie with my fingers and I all but whimpered in frustration and greed as he left again. Then he reached back in and twisted a knob on the wall. “I forgot. Try these babies on for size.”

  The ‘babies’ were a series of air jets and I shifted my tender knees away from the pressure as I wondered whether Ms. Parkes ever ate dessert in her bathtub.

  “It’s a pecan pie, but I didn’t make it from scratch,” Nicky said, returning with forks in hand. I considered pointing out our lack of plates and napkins, but didn’t want to wait for them. Besides, considering last night, sharing dessert was the least of our intimacies. It was a tribute to those new intimacies that I forgot the pie in favor of watching Nicky shed his boxers and slip into a pair of black swim briefs he’d obviously worn before. His ego didn’t need it, but I had to admire his confidence.

  He offered the pie for my first bite, explaining, “They sell frozen desserts in the cities and you bake them according to the directions. Banana cream pie, Key lime pie, pecan pie… I chose pecan because we can’t grow pecans up here.”

  The idea of ready-made desserts would normally be of great interest, but I’d stopped listening once my fork reached my mouth. For a woman with a sweet tooth, pecan pie was a revelation of biblical proportions.

  Nicky claimed I ate two thirds of the pie, but I didn’t think—

  Scratch that, he was probably right.

  Sucked to be him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WE made short work of the pie and Nicky graciously allowed me to finish the last few bites—possibly too afraid to try and pry it away from me. As I polished it off, he asked, “Do you want to talk about the petition, or not?”

  I tossed the pie tin onto the floor, convinced I’d removed every trace of sugar possible without licking the pan—though I might’ve tried that if I’d been alone. “No, but thanks for offering to listen. I spoke to Mayor Morrisey last night and she thinks it’s mostly a matter of my staying out of trouble until the hearing. You know, getting home on time and not antagonizing Robert.” I paused to poke at an inexplicable grass stain on my calf.