Blood Legacy: Adult Urban Fantasy (The V V Inn Book 5) (3 page)

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 table.
 

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?”

“Yes. Can I trust you not to say anything to the rest of the employees?”

The phrasing was just what she needed to hear, as Candy suggested it might be. It puts her in a position of power, knowing more than her fellow employees, and might garner her trust in sharing witch knowledge with an outsider.
 

“After everything we’ve been through, you should know I can be discreet, Jon.” Her sexy smile is back, like the old Diane I know so well. “Besides, most of them would prefer to forget that I’m a card-carrying witch.”
 

“Fantastic, thanks. Vivian prompted me to ask you first, and then do more research on my own before I join them. I’m tempted to call Cy, too, but don’t know that he’ll be able to dig up anything you don’t already know firsthand.”
 

I glance down at my notes again, even though there’s not much listed there. The diversion helps to keep me from looking into her pain-filled green eyes. She might deny it, but I can tell she still has feelings for me. Dammit. I never wanted to hurt her.
 

I start with the first item on my list. “Can you tell me the difference between a witch and a wizard?” My pen is poised to begin taking notes as soon as she starts speaking.

“I can tell you what my aunt explained to me when I first came into my powers, although I’m sure there is a more definitive answer in an ancient book somewhere. A witch is born with magic, whereas a wizard is not. A wizard, be it a man or woman, takes magic from the world around them via spells, powders, magical objects, and a wide assortment of ingredients. Often leaving an imbalance in their wake if they aren’t careful in their magic usage.

“Compared to us, wizards are considered abnormal. A witch or warlock, a male witch, is born with an affinity for magic. They are gifted in different traits found in nature, and all inherit a tendency to excel with one type of elemental magic over another. But with proper training and lots of practice, a witch can learn to use all the elements in their magic.”

“What do you mean by elemental magic?”

“An element found in nature—fire, water, air, earth—get it?”

I nod and look back over the notes I’d just written. “How does one become a wizard if they are not born with inherent magical ability like a witch is?”

“They need someone to teach them. Many cultures have a form of elemental magic, and the practitioners aren’t always called witches. Some are shaman, druids, wise women… you get the idea. But others not born with the innate ability still seek out the mysteries of controlling and using magic. I’m sure at one point the two types of practitioners were more closely knit, like say perhaps a sibling or child of a witch who had an interest in magic, who wasn’t born with the trait, but still wanted to learn.
 

“Something must have happened at one point, because even if my theory is right, the division between the two magical practices is permanent now. I don’t know how wizards developed their spells, how they draw magic out of the things around them without a born affinity, or how they expand their knowledge base. I do know that in certain instances, they can conjure spells that are more powerful than a single witch can do on her own—we use a coven for complicated magic.
 

“Mainly, I’d say wizards are more focused on amassing knowledge for self-preservation and material gain than witchcraft users. We’re much more about balancing the whole and doing no permanent harm.”

“Does that mean a wizard’s spells are not balanced?”

“I don’t know.”

“And what happens with an imbalance caused by wizard magic?”

She shrugs. “Beats me. I’m not a wizard. Sorry.”

“You’re aunt never went into detail on it?”

Diane looks toward the bright window over the sink, gnawing on her lower lip. “Hmm… I was really young when we first talked about it. I think she mentioned ‘bad things’ would happen if the balance wasn’t restored while casting, but she never went into what the bad things were.”

“Okay, fair enough. I’ll have to dig up more on my own.” I check my list again. “What can you tell me about the vampire saying, ‘never turn a witch’?”

“Huh, that’s a new one. I’ve never heard it before. Could be because I’m not a vampire.” She winks. “But hey, you’ve got one who’s
real
close to you. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you asking.”

“If you didn’t have an answer that was going to be my next step.” I look up from my notes, apprehension bubbling in my middle before I ask about the next thing on my mind. “You know the amulets you used to make for me?” She nods, a spark lighting in her eyes in remembrance of the sex charms I needed to enjoy the act and block images of Dria from overriding all else. “Is it possible to make something similar, but to help strengthen my mental shields?”

Understanding dawns in her intelligent gaze almost instantly. She’s way more perceptive than I’d like. “You haven’t told Vivian about Candy yet and you need to make sure the vamp can’t easily pry into your thoughts?” She snorts. “Good luck with that. There’s no spell I know of that can dull the bond between a master vampire and her servant if she
really
wants to get into your head.”