Blood Leverage (Bloodstone Chronicles Book 1) (19 page)

I winced at that. I still hadn’t told Amy what I’d learned about my mom, but she was on a roll. Amy’s alcohol tolerance is lower than mine, if that’s even possible.

“I mean, look at you,” she barreled on. “You’re more educated than anyone else here. You teach adults three times your age. You’re beautiful and you’re funny, but more than that, you’re unique.” She paused only long enough to take a gulp of air and a slightly larger gulp of wine before continuing.

“You’ll never need to work in the fields or birth ten children to keep yourself fed. There’s no one here who could keep up with you like Nicky and everyone has to know they’d be wasting their time to try. Whatever went wrong with you two, sooner or later you’ll fix it. That’s all there is to it.”

A punch in the face would have hurt less, though she hadn’t meant to be cruel. Amy might have been pushing drunk, but that didn’t negate her conviction in what she’d said. In her mind, Nicky was my one chance at love.

I shook my head to ward off a panic attack and took a desperately needed sip of wine, congratulating myself for having liberated it from Luigi. At this point it was practically medicinal. As I swallowed, I fought to put my feelings into words.

“You’re right that Nicky and I are similar to a point. Both our parents are relatively successful compared to others here and we both have a greater understanding of the world around us, Nicky through scavenging and I through my books. But everything we’ve learned amounts to radically different viewpoints.”

“Different viewpoints about what?”

“About our life here, Amy, and the world the way it is now.” Amy looked slightly baffled and I felt much the same. I’d never voiced these ideas aloud and they didn’t come easily. I set my wine down, as it clearly wasn’t helping.

“Okay, wait, I think I’ve got it. As far as I know, Nicky is thrilled with everything in his life. He has a job that not only gives him financial stability and respect, it fulfills his need
for adventure and causes him to be even more popular than he otherwise would be.” I was willing to acknowledge that Nicky would be popular regardless of his job, but working as a scavenger sure didn’t hurt.

“This is about Nicky being more popular than you?” Amy sounded skeptical and I groaned in frustration.

“Ugh, no, that’s not where I’m going at all. It’s not about popularity, it’s about being satisfied with what one has. Nicky lives a life where all of his basic needs are met and it makes him wildly happy. He has a great job and all the food he can eat and lots of pretty young women who admire him, and
he doesn’t look past that
.” Now that I’d found the words, I couldn’t have stopped if I’d wanted to. Which I didn’t.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Nicky is shallow, because I don’t think he is. I’m simply saying he’s content with his life and I’m not.”

“You’re not?” Amy looked slightly hurt and I hastened to reassure her.

“I’m enormously happy with several things about my life, and you’re at the top of the list, Amy. I couldn’t ask for a better best friend, or a better mother, or hell, even things like a better home or a better wardrobe. My life has some great things, but unlike Nicky, I feel at constant odds with the world around me.”

I shrugged. “Bottom line? Nicky has never been anything but happy, so he never questions the way we live. And I doubt he wants to.” It pleased me to see the words sinking into Amy’s wine-fogged consciousness and I saw the moment it all clicked.

She bit her lip absently as she put it together. “I think I understand. Though I know she never meant it to happen, your mother sort of wrecked your chance at normal happiness. Like mine,” she added thoughtfully. “But while I had to focus on building a new home and supporting us, you didn’t have to worry about that, so you targeted
other
things, like politics and economics and health care. You devote your energy to the things everyone else is either too busy or too content to notice.”

Her eyes popped open. “Shit. I never thought this was possible, but your shot at a decent love life might be more screwed than even mine.”

“Well, like you, that’s not something I enjoy pondering. It’s not like either of us can change the circumstances we were given, or what they’ve made us. Putting the romance thing aside and returning to my offer, the blood sales have been happening for years. If you’re willing, we’ll give it a shot.”

She frowned thoughtfully and I was relieved to see her focus on the matter at hand instead of our mutual destiny to die alone. “Is there, you know, a contract or anything for this?”
             

“No,” I promised. “If you hate it, that’s the end of it. Should the two of you make a long term arrangement, you’ll commit to a draw maybe every two weeks.”

I was used to having my blood drawn approximately every three weeks, but I didn’t know how much blood Keanu required. Also, if Nicky returned—
when
Nicky returned—I didn’t know whether Amy’s blood would still be required, though it was hard to imagine it going to waste.

“The two of us?” Amy asked.

I nodded. “The buyer has a say, of course. Vampires who choose this lifestyle are picky. It’s like they can taste your personality and—I’m serious.”

I laughed at Amy’s expression, remembering my own skepticism when Gigi and I had first had this conversation. “Vampires can tell a lot about a person by their taste. Ideally, a patron will like what they taste in you.”

Amy laughed. “That says it all, doesn’t it?” She rubbed her hands together briskly. “Okay, count me in. Worst case scenario, I have to live with vampiric rejection. Does it hurt?”

For one stupid second I thought she was asking whether vampiric rejection hurt. Then I realized she was asking about the blood draws.

“It doesn’t feel great,” I admitted. “I mean, it’s being stabbed with a needle, but it doesn’t take long. We can stop at any time if you’re uncomfortable.” 

She looked at me in disbelief and waved a hand dismissively. “I stab myself with needles on a daily basis and if you want awkward, try living with my mom. Bring it on.”

I laughed because it was true. If anyone’s life could serve as preparation for being a benefactor it was Amy’s. “If you’re up for it, we’ll try right now.”

I stood to retrieve the kit I’d found in Nicky’s bag. It always contained a few extra disposable needles and bags, but if this worked out I’d have to ask Ian for more.

Amy had drained her second glass and was pouring number three as I returned. I was grateful I’d eaten a large dinner because my wine had yet to have a noticeable effect, and I was even more grateful Amy wouldn’t be taking
my
blood tonight.

By the time I assembled everything and washed my hands, Amy’s glass was empty. She was half trashed and I cut her off, hoping Keanu wouldn’t taste the alcohol in her blood.

Not having lost blood beforehand, my medical skills were considerably improved and Amy took it like a champ. She took the towels and tourniquet in stride and didn’t hesitate when I asked her to lift her skirt. She didn’t even flinch at the needle sliding into her leg, which she watched with an almost professional interest.

Okay, she was better at this than I was.

I placed a piece of cotton over the puncture mark as I removed the needle, telling her to keep pressure on it while I cleaned up.

The blood itself went into the refrigerator, where it looked very peculiar sitting beside the juice and cheese. I planned on delivering it tomorrow, even if it was rude to drop in unexpectedly. I didn’t know the shelf life of refrigerated blood and besides, it was for a good cause.

Amy’s slightly slurred, “What’re we gonna do now?” greeted me as I returned to the living room. Having bandaged her leg—using four plastic bandages where one would have sufficed—she cheerfully lurched to the sofa and flopped down with a bounce.

I’d planned on letting Amy sober up to the
Simpsons
DVDs I’d borrowed earlier. Amy loved the
Simpsons
, but burst into tears upon seeing them—not the reaction I’d hoped for.

“You brought those for me? You’re such a good friend.” She clutched a disc to her chest and sobbed.

“Uhhh… thank you?” Amy was normally the world’s most cheerful drunk, so this was unexpected. “Is something wrong?”

It was an obvious question, but I had to start somewhere. Unfortunately, all I accomplished was to make her cry harder.

“You’re
such
a good friend,” she wailed, looking down at the DVD. “I don’t deserve you. I’m a terrible person!”

All I could imagine was that she’d changed her mind about being a benefactor, which was disappointing but hardly worth all this. “Amy, if this is about the blood thing, it’s no big deal. I only wanted you to have the chance at the money.”

Okay, that wasn’t true. I’d hoped to help both Amy
and
Keanu but the spirit of the statement remained the same.

“It’s not that,” she sobbed. “You don’t understand. You trusted me with this huge secret and I’ve been lying to you for days!”

Maybe this was egotistical, but it was hard to imagine anything that could trump the secrets I’d kept—and the ones I was still keeping, for that matter. Whatever it was, I’d forgive her. It was that simple.

Then again, I didn’t expect her to say, “Rory, I gave Robert the idea for the banishment petition.” Which goes to show that people can always surprise you.

CHAPTER
TWENTY

“WAIT, what?” Maybe I’d misheard.

“I gave Robert the idea for the banishment petition. I’m the reason it happened.”

I stared in bewilderment. “But Amy, why?”

She stared at her hands in her lap. “I never meant for anything to happen, honestly. It was months ago and I thought nothing of it at the time, I swear.”

Lacking a handkerchief, I passed her a napkin. “Thought nothing of what?”

Dabbing at her eyes, Amy sighed. “I never told you because I didn’t want to make anything harder for you, but before the petition Robert sometimes tried to talk to me.”

“Talk to you?” It made no sense. “What on earth for?”

“He wanted me to stop speaking to you,” she said miserably. “He’d hint about how much easier my life would be without you, and how much more helpful our neighbors would be if you went away.”

“So you told him that petitioning for my banishment could make all his dreams come true?”

I’d only been teasing, but Amy’s tears spilled over. “I did, but not on purpose.” She sniffled and reached for the napkin again. “After he’d approached me maybe five times, he suggested it might be better if he spoke with my mother. I didn’t want him upsetting her!”

“Of course not,” I said, unconsciously mimicking Ian’s ‘soothing’ voice. “What’d you say?”

Despite my best effort, Amy’s voice verged on hysterical. “I said you were my best friend and they’d have to banish us all to get rid of us! He never would’ve thought of a banishment petition if not for me!” She took my hand in hers and looked at me. “Will you forgive me?”

“Amy, there’s nothing to forgive. I’m only sorry you’ve had to deal with all this.”

She dropped my hand to hug me. “You don’t know what a relief it is to tell you. I’ve been crazy since I figured it out.” After a final squeeze, she pulled back, beaming. “Now we’ve both shared our secrets and I promise to never keep anything from you again.”

Given the circumstances I couldn’t say the same. However, I
did
have a story to share and now was as good a time as any. “You know, since we have some time alone, I never told you about my mother.” As Amy’s mouth quirked, I snuggled beside my friend and prepared to lighten my own load of secrecy a bit more.

*     *     *     *     *

There’s nothing like the combination of good news and unburdening one’s conscience to induce a great night’s sleep. I woke feeling downright buoyant. Though I hadn’t told Amy everything, it was great to have my blood patronage out in the open.

I all but vaulted down the stairs to wake Amy, only to find the sofa vacant. (I’d tried to give her mom’s room, but she’d crashed before I could change the sheets.) Then I looked at the clock and realized it was already eleven in the morning. No wonder Amy had left. And no wonder I felt better. 

I was still flying high on the news that Nicky hadn’t died on the last night I’d seen him. On top of that I’d had a great evening, I was as prepared for my hearing as it was possible to be, I had a class tonight that I’d looked forward to for months, and I was about to broker a temporary deal to benefit two of my friends.

The past week and a half had been so stressful I barely recognized my feelings as happiness. For the first time since
my mom and Gigi had left, I felt almost relaxed—like a semi-normal
girl
, as opposed to a stress-ridden lunatic.

In honor of the occasion, I took a long shower and touched up my crimson nail polish before putting on a wildly inappropriate pink dress. The halter top left my back and shoulders bare and I wore my hair loose, held off my face by only a tiny golden barrette.

In a small concession to practicality, I tucked a pair of red high-heeled shoes (a never used gift from Gigi) into a bag and stepped into a pair of canvas slides for my trek to the vault. From the ankles up I looked like I was attending a tea party. The only thing missing was a wide brimmed hat, and if I’d owned one I would’ve worn that too.

Inspired by my dress, I lined a wicker picnic basket with containers of frozen peaches from last summer, sliding the blood bag between them to keep it cold. Then I wedged last night’s medical debris along the side and covered everything with a brown dishtowel.

After the unexpected success of yesterday’s incognito mission to Nicky’s place, it was inevitable that everyone would stare today—beginning with a wolf whistle courtesy of Skipper. He came hurtling across the lawn, shouting the entire way.

“Holy cats, Rory! Where are you off to? Is it your birthday? Is it time for your hearing? Do you want me to go with you?” Breathless, he skidded to a stop while everyone within earshot waited for an answer I didn’t have.

“My birthday isn’t until September, Skip,” I answered, tackling the only question I was prepared for. “I’m… off to mom’s vault to share a lunch with friends.” Close enough. I never said I’d be
staying
at the vault or that it was
my
lunch in the basket.

Skipper screwed up his face in concentration as he considered this. “Why bother going to the vault, Rory? Couldn’t you have a picnic right here?”

An excellent question. It felt like a prelude to my hearing questioning and I began to sweat. “My friends don’t live here, Skip. The vault is closer to them.” Hah, still the truth.

“That sounds awesome. I’m gonna go ask mom if she’ll put together a picnic for
my
friends.” Then he ran off to pester poor Barb.

I laughed as I walked away, careful to stay on the grass. Yesterday’s rain had blessedly sucked the humidity out of the air, but the dirt paths were solid mud. Carrying my fancy shoes had been an excellent decision.

I felt like an old pro as I wrestled the vault’s door open. Despite the wet grass I drove on autopilot and everything was fine.

It was minutes past noon when I parked the truck and I exchanged my canvas shoes for the strappy red heels I could barely walk in. Still, I had no great distance to cover and their frivolity suited my mood.

With my peach-and-blood picnic dangling from my arm, I picked my way to the trapdoor. Not wanting to enter uninvited I scanned my finger, stepped back, and waited. Though I heard the trapdoor lock disengage, no one came to let me in. After a minute, a second click told me the lock had re-engaged. So much for Ian’s doorbell.

Fortunately, I still had the low-tech options at my disposal.

Feeling like a moron in my fancy dress, I stepped onto the door and hopped three times.
CLANG
!
CLANG
!
CLANG
! The crash of my wooden stilettos against the metal sounded incredibly loud to me—and the scores of birds I unwittingly sent flying for their lives agreed.

Remembering Ian’s affinity for bursting through doors, I leapt aside. Still, nothing.

I stood there uncertainly, considering the possibilities. The vampires couldn’t possibly have missed the noise, but I couldn’t recall whether the cameras showed this area or not. Maybe they didn’t know who was here. Feeling like the queen of all imbeciles, I bent down and yelled at the door, “If you can hear me, it’s Rory!”

Nothing. Clearly no one was home. 

This left me with two choices. I could leave or let myself in. Leaving would be more polite, but Amy’s blood had been out of the refrigerator for an hour already and my peaches had to be thawing. No way was I wasting it. I’d leave the blood in the fridge with a note.

My decision made, I pressed my finger to the keypad again. The door unlatched with a hiss and I used a tree branch to lever it up, grunting at the exertion. Brushing moss from my skirt, I dragged the basket in behind me before pulling the door shut.

I stopped short when I reached the bottom of the steps, confronted with the first of Keanu’s empty ‘security’ rooms. Crap.

Fifteen minutes later, I was hopelessly lost and ready to murder Keanu. After the first dozen doorways I’d tucked my shoes into my basket, their pointy heels carefully aimed away from the blood bag. The basket grew heavier as my arm tired, and only the idea I might find my way in before I found my way back out kept me from ditching it altogether.

Disgusted, I set the basket down and leaned against a doorway to catch my breath. There weren’t
that
many rooms, but some dead-ended and I had no way to tell when I was repeating rooms I’d already tried. Ariadne had used string to navigate the Grecian labyrinth and Hansel and Gretel had tried bread crumbs. Unfortunately, I was fresh out of both.

Then I looked at the basket by my feet.

Re-energized, I opened the first container in my basket and extracted a partly thawed, sticky slice of peach. Careful not to drip on my dress, I dropped the first slice in front of the door I’d been leaning against and smiled.

I was off and running, leaving slices of peach in front of every door I passed, until I either dead-ended or came to a doorway I’d already tried. Within minutes, I opened the
doorway into the Promised Land—aka the rear hallway to the kitchen.

The moment I stepped inside, Keanu swept me into an enormous hug, grinning from ear to ear and all but howling with laughter.

“You jackass!” I grabbed a shoe from the basket and smacked his arm with it. “You’ve been watching the entire time, haven’t you?” I smacked him with the shoe again and then slipped both shoes on before I tried to break them over his head. “Are you
that
lazy you couldn’t come let me in?”

I stomped to the kitchen sink, jabbing a sticky finger at him. “You can clean those peaches up yourself.” I couldn’t believe I’d wheedled my best friend’s blood for this barbarian. If Amy hadn’t been excited about the possible financial boost I would cheerfully have emptied the blood bag down the sink.  

Keanu slunk in as I was rinsing the first sticky container and grabbed a dishcloth to pitch in. Still aggrieved, I snatched the rag back.

“C’mon Rory, I didn’t do it to be mean. Or out of laziness,” he tacked on. “It’s only that Ian told me to stay away today. He didn’t say he wanted
you
to stay away, but—”

He shrugged and grinned again. “I figured if you found the way in, it eliminated me from the equation. If it helps, I had faith in you. That peach thing was great, even if you
did
hit almost every doorway before getting it right.”

I continued to glare.

“And not only will I clean up every piece of peach, I’ll run your containers through the dishwasher.” When I remained unmoved, he stuck his lip out in an exaggerated pout until I finally gave in and laughed.

“I didn’t think Ian would want company today,” I pointed out. “I came for you, you obnoxious baboon.” I rinsed my hands, happy to leave the sticky dishes in the sink.

He preened as if I’d paid him a compliment. “To what do I owe this unexpected honor?”

I snorted in disdain, but was smiling as I replied. “Don’t flatter yourself. It wasn’t like I wanted the pleasure of your company. I had a time-sensitive delivery.”

“Oh?” My words intrigued him enough to straighten out of his habitual slouch. “I hope it wasn’t the peaches,” he said, snickering.

“It would serve you right, but no, no fruit. Our conversation last night gave me an idea. I hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries with this.” I removed the blood bag from its spot beside the one remaining full container of peaches.

Fortunately it still felt cold.

“It won’t be anything like Nicky,” I warned him, “but I was wondering how you’d feel about a loyal blonde with a quirky sense of humor and abundant free-spiritedness.” I extended the bag on the palm of my hand, watching him closely.

“Also,” I added as I waited for him to respond, “in this one circumstance there might also be a hint of Bordeaux, but that was a first time ice breaker. It wouldn’t be the norm,” I concluded rapidly.

Nothing. Not a twitch or a murmur. I tilted my hand back and forth a few degrees like a fisherman trying to lure a trout. Nothing.

“Okay then.” I reached over to return the blood to the basket, embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I was inappropriate.”

“You weren’t.”

He said it so quietly I barely heard him. Before I’d registered the movement, I found myself on Keanu’s lap, his face was pressed into my neck so closely I initially thought he was kissing me.

When I made a futile attempt to move, two things became apparent. First, we were sitting
on
the kitchen table instead of at it, leaving my shoes well above the floor. I literally had no ground to stand on. More importantly, like most actions involving vampires, if a vampire decides he wants to hold you, you’ll be held until he wants to stop. I relaxed and after a few minutes Keanu turned me to see his face again.

“Feeling better?” I gave his hair a friendly tug where it hit his collar and he bounced me on his knee and made me giggle before lowering me to a proper chair.

“I am, thank you, and I’m sorry about that. It’s been a long time since I’ve received such a gift.”