Blood Leverage (Bloodstone Chronicles Book 1) (27 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY
-
NINE

BY the time I’d heated my remaining
components and arranged them on the antique dishes, I’d lost my appetite. What a lot of work! I hadn’t realized how much Ms. B. had helped until I had to do everything myself. Even worse, I’d told her I was learning as a surprise for mom and Gigi, so I’d have to repeat everything in a couple weeks.

Ian and Keanu gaped as I carried everything to the table, now tastefully adorned by a bouquet of goldenrod and indigo asters. Of course I acted as though it had been no work at all while silently vowing never to do this again. However, since the interaction among the three of us had reverted to normal, I decided my efforts had been worth it. Besides, if I couldn’t retrieve the phone tonight, I might as well enjoy the meal I’d slaved over.

Fortunately, my appetite revived at the sight of Ian and Keanu dressed in formal suits and ties—black for Ian and gray for Keanu. Though both men looked wonderful, I couldn’t get over how handsome Keanu was in a suit. Not that Ian wasn’t stunning, but I simply
expected
that from him. Keanu in a suit was like a kid asking for a rocking horse and receiving a pony—a spectacular surprise.

Once again, I’d resumed my place on the low end of the beauty totem pole, but I had to give Ian credit. The new dress and shoes fit like a dream, though he’d neglected to mention the dangling pearl earrings I’d found tucked beside the shoes.

I had no intention of keeping the earrings, but I held my own at the table in both appearance and conversation. And I certainly did my best to keep up with the men in food consumption, though perhaps that’s not something to brag about.

For that matter, both vampires ate more than I’d ever seen before—suspiciously large quantities for having been ill
yesterday. It was as if they hadn’t seen the sunshine in years, but I refrained from asking questions. If they’d indulged in a side serving of Eggplant last night, I did
not
want to hear about it. Particularly not while eating.

Despite the massive dinner, Keanu decided tonight’s ‘entertainment’ would consist of homemade ice cream combined with my introduction to old ‘Looney Tunes’ episodes. I participated in the ‘great flavor debate’, but left the ice cream cranking to the vampires. After all, Eggplant’s demise hadn’t revived
my
tired muscles.

Since homemade ice cream had been his idea, Keanu cranked the strawberry banana cheesecake and blueberry butterscotch shortbread while Ian grudgingly dealt with our third choice, chocolate marshmallow with caramel and salted peanuts. When Keanu deemed the ice cream ready, we loaded up metal dishes straight out of an actual 1950’s ice cream parlor, drenched them with high calorie toppings and settled in for cartoons.

Or as Keanu insisted on calling them, first generation animation.

Frankly, I paid more attention to the ice cream as the cartoons were more frustrating than funny. I lost interest the moment I realized the coyote
never
gets to eat the bird and if a moral existed in the stories, I certainly couldn’t find it.

Ian either noticed my fidgeting or else he didn’t like cartoons either. After four or five skits ending with a happily beeping bird and a hideously maimed coyote, he mercifully reset the left side of the wall screens. 

Most of the screens resumed their security views but he also activated a news program—considerately subtitled for Keanu’s benefit. By all appearances, Keanu was mesmerized by the giant anvil prominently featured in the coyote’s latest plot. Could he not see where this new plan was headed? It was enough to make me doubt his intelligence.

Ian’s vampire news program was a big step up. As interesting as it was to see vampires it was even more interesting to see their clothes. My ideas regarding fashion
were literally centuries out of date. Some of the stuff made Eggplant’s vinyl ensemble look downright tame.

From Ian’s expression I could tell it was nothing he hadn’t seen before and I smirked. “If those clothes are a prerequisite for eternity, I think I’ll pass.”

He grinned. “A vampire could do cartwheels in those.”

“Touché.” Inwardly, I admitted I wouldn’t have minded trying the clothes on. In private. Then the footage switched to vampires discussing companies I’d never heard of. I wasn’t interested, but Ian perked right up.

Keanu was now staring at a gray rabbit I identified as Bugs Bunny from an earlier t-shirt. I was about to excuse myself to find yet another book when the fireflies caught my attention.

I’m not a fan of insects but I enjoy fireflies because they’re rare. As they’re nocturnal, I’ve only seen three or four in my life—ones that somehow floundered inside during their dormant daylight period. A captive firefly guarantees a child instant popularity in my square, at least until the poor thing dies. I’d read about how their lights were used as mating signals and apparently Ian’s woods were a social hotspot. At times there were more than twenty silvery flashes on screen at once, blinking flirtatiously.

“Hey Ian, pass me the remote please?” While I’d been watching the fireflies, Ian had begun writing the financial gibberish on a notepad. Without a glance in my direction or a single snag in his flawless cursive, the remote sailed through the air and bounced to a stop in the precise center of the cushion beside me.

I sneered as I picked up the remote—freaking vampire coordination—and studied it. My goal was to zoom in, something I’d seen Keanu do before. Unfortunately, nothing was labelled ‘
ZOOM’
. So I pressed the ‘
FUNCTIONS’
button, hoping for a list of options. Instead, everything went blank.

Ian looked at me with amusement as Keanu hollered, “Hey!” 

“I’m sorry! I meant to zoom in, not turn it off.” My inept fingers fumbled and dropped the remote, earning me a dirty look from Keanu.

Ian picked it up. “Keanu, it’s not like you don’t know how this ends. The rabbit will be fine and the hunter will shoot himself in an illogical defiance of physics.”

Unless I was mistaken, I’d just identified a primary theme of cartoon plots. 

Keanu was not appeased. “That shows what
you
know. That was the
opera
episode! The hunter shoots the rabbit and is overcome with remorse. It’s—”

“Classic?” inquired Ian politely, at the precise moment I said, “Vintage?” Then we snickered while Keanu gave us both death glares.

“Be that as it may,” Ian said, “you
still
knew the ending.” He turned back to me. “Which screen were you trying to see?”

“It was, um…” I shut my eyes. “Second row down, third screen from the left?”

“Number thirteen,” Keanu contributed sulkily. “One of the grounds cameras.” He clammed up and ostentatiously ignored us as Ian pressed a series of buttons.

“What was on screen thirteen?” His fingers danced across the remote and I gave up any plan of mastering it—too much work for too little gain. I was ready to tell him to forget it when the screens popped back on.

“Oh, there.” I pointed at the newly restored image. “The fireflies, can you zoom in? I’ve never seen one at night.” Keanu looked at the screen with more interest as Ian battled the controls.

Unfortunately, most of the fireflies had since moved on but there were still a few left if Ian could get the camera to work. After intense muttering on his part, the camera finally panned closer in a fit of jerky stops and starts.

I carefully suppressed a grin. It made me feel better to realize Ian didn’t entirely understand his remote either. As the flashes of light grew larger, Keanu’s feet hit the floor with a thump.

“Ian, those aren’t fireflies. We have company.”

Ian’s feet came down so fast I never saw him stand. I also didn’t see him lunge over to snatch me to my feet, which he did with a lack of gentleness I’d only experienced in our first meeting.

“Vampire eyes,” he said flatly, his own eyes focused on the screen without blinking. “Reflecting the moonlight.”

“But that can’t be right,” I objected, watching the pinpoints of light. “There were lots more a minute ago, a whole group…” I stopped speaking as it sank in.

“How many, Aurora? How many did you see?” Ian’s voice was harsher than I’d ever heard it—and that
included
our first unfortunate meeting.

“No fewer than twenty, no more than twenty-five,” I said, and we all did the math. Approximately a dozen vampires, assuming my count was accurate.

“Keanu, where is camera thir—?”

“Facing the front entrance from forty yards out.” Keanu snatched the remote, his fingers
flying
over the keys in a blur. The screens reconfigured, one side enlarging the view from camera thirteen, the other switching to a view of the trapdoor. I saw Nicky’s truck, but none of the silver blips.

Ian’s facial muscles relaxed infinitesimally. “They don’t know about the rear exit. They must have received their information from Eggplant. Dominic wouldn’t have known anything to tell her about it.”

“Game plan?” Keanu’s body was tense, his expression more serious than I’d ever seen. More serious than I’d thought him capable of, truth be told.

Ian gave an irritated shrug. “There are only a dozen.” Sheesh, only. “We might get banged up, but we can almost certainly take them. We can definitely give Aurora time to reach the truck and get away. They won’t be looking for a human if they’re looking for me—they’ll be too busy wishing they hadn’t found me.” The last words were a snarl.

Keanu looked shocked. “There’s no possible way, Ian. We’ve been careful. It might be a rescue party for Eggplant, or—or they might be from the power facility and searching for an escaped—”

An explosion rocked the front of the house, cutting Keanu off.

Ian reached to steady me. “They’re inside,” he snapped, taking me by the shoulders and looking me in the eyes. “They’re inside,” he repeated unnecessarily. “Aurora, get to the truck. Drive to the vault and lock yourself in until morning.”

I jolted in surprise. “You want me to go
outside
? Wouldn’t I be safer here?”

Ian barely flinched as a loud crash came from the guest rooms. “Lack of an invitation won’t protect you in our quarters. You need to get to the truck.”

“Believe it, Rory,” Keanu put in grimly. “We’ll keep these guys too busy to notice.”

“But what about you two?” I was surprisingly coherent under the circumstances.

“We’ll be fine,” Ian said, his voice gentle.

“But how will I
know
?” I blurted the words as he maneuvered me toward the door.

“We’ll come to the vault as soon as we can.” He dipped his head down and kissed me lightly on the lips. “Remember your promise, Aurora. I’m telling you to run.”

So I did.

CHAPTER THIRTY

A
tremendous din came from the guest rooms as I sprinted for the rear exit, punctuated by several screams. Though the noise was impossible to ignore, I didn’t let it slow me down. I had to get to the truck.

The truck.

The keys.

Shit.  

I came to an abrupt stop in the kitchen, stupidly patting my new dress as if I expected to find pockets. Keys, keys… Keys! I’d emptied the contents of yesterday’s pockets in the laundry room.

I made a beeline there and muffled a yelp as I jammed my finger against the doorframe, not that even a vampire could have heard me—the noise from the guest quarters was a prelude to Armageddon. My sweaty finger slid off the keypad and I had to wipe it on the underskirt of my dress before my print would clear. 

Inside, I all but incurred whiplash as I snapped my head back and forth, scanning the room for a glint of metal. There! On the laundry folding table. I darted forward and snatched the keys, wrapping my fingers around them to keep them from jingling as I ran back through the kitchen.

Finally, finally,
finally
, I reached the first of the white rooms.

Wiping my fingers again I activated the first key pad and stepped through the doorway, silently reciting the order I’d spent so long memorizing:
Righteous Rebecca
—to the right, to the right—
smugly abandons Leroy
— straight ahead, to the left—
swimming at lake—
straight ahead, to the left.

One line down, three more to go.

I maneuvered the necessary doors for each word of my rhyme in turn. Despite my anxiety, I moved smoothly through lines two and three. I felt a grim satisfaction as
Rebecca stormed away
—right, and straight ahead—and was murmuring the final words when—

BOOM.

A second explosion detonated, one that made its predecessor insignificant. It shook the building’s foundation and I staggered, flinging my arms above my head as the florescent light tubes shattered and went dark.

After the glass stopped falling, I kept moving. All I had to do was
strand angry Leroy
—straight ahead and to the left—and I’d reach the stairway. 

Keeping my head down in case more glass fell, I placed each step precisely in front of the other in the straightest line I’d ever walked. I raised my arms to avoid smacking into the door, only to freeze when my fingertips brushed the wall.

My straight line had led to a corner.

Had I twisted to the right when I’d looked at the lights? Had I ducked to the left when the glass fell? I had no frame of reference in the dark.

I put my hands to the wall again. I was slightly to the right of the corner, which was as logical a basis for my decision as any. With my hand against the wall I walked to the right. Then I wiped my clammy hand a final time and groped at the doorframe until I found the keypad.

I pressed my finger to it once, then twice. A third time. Then I noticed the absence of the keypad’s red light and realized it wasn’t simply a matter of broken light fixtures. The electrical system had shorted out or lost power.

Before I had time to process my predicament, a mechanical rumbling came from beneath the floor, almost as if the house laughed at me. When red backup lights flickered to life from slits above the doorways, I decided Ian must own a generator and I held my breath, praying for the keypad to power up.

When the red dot appeared, my knees went weak with relief for the first time in my life—until I tried the keypad and the light flashed yellow at my denied entry attempt. I
raced to the other doors and received the same results. The system had re-booted, either erasing the programming entirely or deleting my fingerprint.

I sank down as my knees gave out and only my hand stuffed in my mouth kept me from screaming. I’d been so
close. One more door—was that too much to ask? I had to run. I needed to reach the truck.

Trapped in the dim red light, I began clawing at the walls on my hands and knees, well aware of how futile it was. Logically, I couldn’t make a dent but somehow I couldn’t stop. I had to run; I had to get out. I had to do as I’d been told and I had to do it
right now
!

That last thought was sufficiently aberrant to stop me for a moment.

I had to do as I’d been told?
Hardly my usual style. I took a deep breath as I fought another surge of panic. I’d never been claustrophobic and I half groaned, half laughed as it hit me. I wasn’t merely running because I’d promised to. I was running because a powerful vampire had insistently
told
me to. With eye contact. Shit.

Ian had accidentally influenced me, leaving me captivated. No, not captivated, I uselessly self-corrected. After all, Ian wasn’t in my head and physically hurling me against the walls. I was—what’s the word—entranced. He’d put the idea in my brain and now my brain was insisting I run even with nowhere to go.

The realization helped. The urge to run was still there, but knowing it wasn’t
my
urge made it easier. I needed a distraction and took a rapid inventory of my limited assets. I had Nicky’s keys, which could damage a human, but a vampire? Not so much. I had my shoes, which wouldn’t hurt anyone but could possibly distract someone for long enough for… For what? For Ian and Keanu to ride to my rescue?

They wouldn’t abandon me, but what if they were too late? What if my injuries were beyond their combined healing powers? Would they end my suffering? Would one of them change me before letting me die?

Each thought was worse than the one preceding it. Clamping down on the urge to run, I focused on the sounds of the fight. The noises were less frequent now, but louder. Closer. It was only a matter of time.

I rose to my feet and braced for what would likely be a pathetic last stand, prepared to meet my own death. Or possibly eternal life. I didn’t know which would be worse—not that I’d have a choice—and maybe that was okay. My judgment had been nothing to brag about lately.

After another minute of similarly encouraging thoughts, the crashing and thumping resumed. The noises were now only a couple rooms away.

Despite knowing this, I all but jumped out of my skin when the smashing began on the wall across from me. When it came down to the moment, all logic went out the window and I ended up hurling both my shoes with surprising force and aim. Ian deflected the first with his arm and ducked in time for the second, which clocked an unsuspecting Keanu in the face.

My words were surprisingly blasé.

“Oh. It’s you.” I sagged to the floor and put my head between my knees. Then I felt an urge to bolt through the open door and lifted my head only enough to speak.

“Ian, I need you to come over and tell me to stop running, please.”

Even in the odd lighting, I saw Keanu’s appalled look. “You influenced her?”

“Not deliberately,” Ian murmured, barely sparing Keanu a glance. He knelt at my side and lifted my chin to achieve the necessary eye contact. “From whatsoever hold I may have, I release you. Please accept my apology, Aurora.”

The moment the words washed over me, two things happened. As expected, my crazed urge to run was gone. However, in an unexpected twist, I was suddenly flooded with worry for Nicky. A few things clicked and I laughed—in the not-good way.

“You told me not to worry about Nicky!”

My friends wore identical looks of concern and Keanu took a step back, presumably in case I threw up.

“Oh stop that, my stomach is fine.” I allowed Ian to help me up and I brushed myself off, checking to make sure I hadn’t dislodged an earring. (I hadn’t.) After a quick blur, Ian handed me my shoes and I put them back on.

“Aurora, what do you mean I told you not to worry?”

I shrugged. “Exactly what I said. Back in your office before dinner, you told me not to worry about Nicky, and for the entire evening I didn’t. The instant you ‘released’ me, all of those thoughts came back. In fact, you’ve influenced my mind
three
times, but no apology is necessary. The first time you did it saved my life.”

Ian looked worried and I sighed. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. I’m talking about Eggplant. She tried entrancement last night and I was able to scream because it didn’t work. Because of you.”

Ian and Keanu exchanged glances and Keanu decided it was safe to return to Ian’s side. “Rory, honey, that’s highly unlikely. It
is
possible for a more powerful vampire to supersede the influence of another, but Ian would know if he’d done it. It’s more likely you didn’t make proper eye contact with Eggplant.”

I shook my head. “Ian, think back to the night I learned to drive. You led me outside and we had a conversation about what to do in the event of more trouble. Do you remember?”

It took him a moment, but I saw his eyebrows jump as it hit him. “I do. I made you promise that if we ever had another intruder you would do as I say.”

I pointed at him for emphasis. “Precisely. In the event of an intruder I would listen to
you
, not Eggplant or anyone else. I’m only alive because you’re so damn bossy.” Then my legs gave out and I sat back down and laughed until I cried.

*     *     *     *     *

I didn’t remember exiting the house, but it was safe to assume someone had carried me. It took me a while to notice, but for the first time since my original visit I found myself outside in front of Ms. Parkes’ house.

Or rather, what remained of it. The stately brick residence had been reduced to rubble and I felt a brief sting of loss, though it wasn’t my house to mourn. Slightly dazed, I spoke the first words that popped into my head, breaking my vow to never mention Lillian Parkes aloud. “Holy shit, your girlfriend is gonna be mad.”

Ian was still in defensive mode, sniffing into the wind and circling the charred foundation, so it was Keanu who answered. “What are you talking about, Rory?”

I’d never heard him sound so exhausted.

I hadn’t helped slaughter a dozen vampires, but I was equally weary—partly from physical exhaustion and partly from my choice of conversation, which I already regretted.

“Ms. Parkes, human ambassador extraordinaire,” I said, fighting to keep the sarcasm at bay. (Okay, it was still a tad sarcastic, but I was trying.) Whoever she was to Ian, she hadn’t deserved to have her house blown to pieces. “I’m sure she owns other property, but she won’t be happy about this.”

Ian was finally convinced we were alone, returning on cue to respond to my observation. “That won’t be a problem, Aurora. There
is
no Lillian Parkes and never has been. I created her persona several years ago for convenience. She doesn’t exist.”

He looked over to Keanu. “It’s safe to go back inside now.”