Blood Leverage (Bloodstone Chronicles Book 1) (29 page)

He laughed again. “Conversion rarely occurs by drinking vampire blood. It requires a direct mixing of blood. Material absorbed into the human digestive track simply exits a day or two later.”

I looked down at the table. “They’re rocks.”

Ian reached for my hand, pulling a silver pocket knife from the desk drawer. He saw my startled expression and explained, “I need a drop of blood and then I’ll heal your finger. It won’t change you in any way.”

“She’ll have a bit less blood,” Keanu said practically as I unclenched my hand. I winced as Ian pricked the tip of my finger and squeezed a few drops onto one of the glass plates on his scales. Then he picked up a dark bloodstone I recognized as his own and set it atop my blood.

The reaction was immediate. The bloodstone silently sizzled and popped in the tiny puddle like a mute egg in a frying pan. Then it began to smoke faintly. And finally— even though it took only seconds—the stone dissolved, leaving nothing but a fractionally enlarged puddle.

Keanu stared wistfully. “Such a waste.”

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “Grow up, you big baby.” Then I turned to Ian. “Is that vampire blood now?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. At the moment, your blood has simply caused the bloodstone to resume its liquid state. It will take time for my blood to convert yours.” 

“Such a shame,” Keanu intoned.

I wanted to smack Keanu for being such a whiner. Then something meaner than a smack occurred to me and I lifted my fingertip to Ian. “Clean it first?”

Keanu’s reaction was everything I’d hoped for.

“Oh, that is cold,” he complained bitterly. “That is
so
cold.” He made a show of turning his back on us and I bit back a giggle.

Meanwhile, Ian’s expression had changed from weary to amused. “
You are AWFUL
,” he mouthed silently, but he was grinning. And yes, maybe it
was
a bit awful, but that didn’t stop Ian from taking a quick lick at my finger. Then he sealed it shut without a glance. 

“Okay.” I tried to pick up the threads of conversation. “First use for a bloodstone—conversion. Check. And the other two?”

“What? Oh.” Ian was distracted. “I should add that once a vampire converts someone—though the historically correct term is to ‘sire’—the older vampire will sometimes continue to share blood to strengthen his progeny.”

It sounded reasonable—which goes to show how my definition of ‘reasonable’ had expanded in recent months.

“The second accepted use of a bloodstone is in a relationship like I have with Keanu. When someone pledges you their loyalty it’s only natural to share your strength with them so they may be of better use to you.  However,” he went on, “in Keanu’s case, given the illegal nature of his conversion, I gave him his first bloodstone before he pledged, in case he ended up on the run.”

He turned toward Keanu and ruffled his hair in an almost paternal way, which, I’ll admit, I found disturbing.

“The third reason?” I prompted Ian, not wanting to dwell on the father/son vibe my friends were giving off.

To my astonishment, Ian’s ivory cheeks flushed. When he spoke, his voice was low. “A vampire might gift a bloodstone to a lover, particularly one who desired a committed relationship. The stones were sometimes even set into betrothal rings.”

I hastened to change the subject. “None of that explains why someone would look for them
here
.” I felt like we’d been dancing around the topic for an hour and when I checked the time I wasn’t far off. 

“That’s where Lillian Parkes came in,” he explained and I stared at him blankly before remembering she wasn’t real.
The fact that I’d forgotten said a lot about the sort of evening it had been.

Despite not existing, her name still triggered a negative response. “Oh. Her.”

“Her creation served two purposes. First, since bloodstones are considered taboo to your average
nouveau vampires,
” he spoke with a French accent, “I didn’t want word to spread that I was engaging in a socially unacceptable custom.”

“Like blood patronage?” I asked wryly, not bothering to hide my smirk. Maybe I had more in common with Ian than I thought.

“Quite similar, yes. But more importantly, dark bloodstones indicate the presence of a pre-conversion vampire. Some factions would do practically anything to control a pre-conversion blood source.”

“And how old was that again?” I asked, only to be shot down by a look from Ian.

“Nice try,” Keanu said. I snapped my fingers in mock-disappointment.

“So you have an imaginary woman dispense your bloodstones for you?” I asked somewhat skeptically. “How does that work?”

Keanu took over. “It’s humiliating as hell,” he said. “The non-existent Lillian Parkes was appointed an ambassador of interspecies relations by the previous mayor of New York, Christian Crosby, but no one has ever met her.”

“And Mr. Crosby failed to realize his appointee didn’t exist? He couldn’t have been the best mayor,” I decided.

“To the contrary, he’d done as good a job as anyone,” Ian countered, “but I chose him because his final term was ending. After three consecutive terms in a city, vampires are barred from political participation in that city for fifty years. They usually relocate afterward to pursue new opportunities.

“An exiting mayor will frequently declare last minute appointments and pardons and it’s not unorthodox to have a new name pop up. And with Crosby’s subsequent relocation
to Asia, he wasn’t around to be questioned.” Ian looked smug about this.

I turned to Keanu. “What’s humiliating about that?”

Keanu grimaced while Ian smirked. Keanu’s image shimmered and became that of a classically beautiful blonde wearing a tailored beige dress.

I had to laugh.

The woman frowned and I laughed even harder. “It’s humiliating because Ms. Parkes operates through a team of employees and lobbyists. Sometimes they’re vampires and sometimes they’re human, but they’re
always
female. It’s her thing.”

Keanu sounded disgusted and after another moment he returned to his normal form while I kept laughing.

“Oh please, let’s see another!” I begged, but he set his face in stubborn lines. “Fine, be that way.” I gave up for the moment, but filed the image for future entertainment. “These female employees distribute the bloodstones?”

Ian nodded. “They’re friendly gifts to politicians and VIPs who support legislation favored by Ms. Parkes.”

“He means bribes,” Keanu inserted helpfully.

“Okay then.” I pressed my fingertips to my drooping eyelids and tried to put it together. “The vampires here tonight were looking for you, the stones or for Lillian—either to eliminate a dissenting voice or strengthen their own agenda. Is that correct?”

Ian shrugged. “Sounds about right.”

Keanu shot Ian a confused glance. “Sounds about right? More like spot on. Rory, the past few years have been a very important time for human rights. Ian created Lillian Parkes to help push through some unprecedented breakthroughs in human rights legislation.”

“They’re hardly unprecedented breakthroughs,” Ian said. “In fact, there was plenty of precedent for human rights back before the conversions. The whole point of the upcoming vote is whether to bring
back
some of the rights humans have since lost.”

“So Ms. Parkes is lobbying for this legislation and not everyone wants it to pass?”

Ian sighed. “So it would seem. During our trips to Manhattan this summer, Keanu and I visited several politicians. I think we’re getting close to having the necessary votes, but the opposition has been putting up quite a fight. The legislature is due to resume session from summer break in another week or so. Keanu and I need to pick up the pace.”

I had a bad feeling about what this meant for our search for Nicky. However, there were still a few days left, and we’d have Eggplant’s phone first thing in the morning.

Besides, one small thing nagged at me. Okay, maybe not such a small thing. “You two have been very patient and I know you have a lot to deal with tonight, but may I ask one more question?”

Ian waved a hand like he was too weary to argue, which I took as a yes.

“Why?”

“Why what?” He looked momentarily nonplussed, though I hadn’t intended it to be a confusing question.

“I understand you’re helping humans, which is amazing, but what I don’t understand is
why
. Not to be rude, but it sounds like a great deal of work. And dangerous.”

Ian looked more uncomfortable than I’d ever seen him—I’d struck a major nerve. Still, it was a reasonable question. I’d always backed down when Ian refused to answer, but he hadn’t precisely refused and I was determined. I kept my shoulders straight and my eyes locked on his, and I wasn’t the only one.

Keanu remained slouched, but he was riveted.

Three minutes later, we were still staring. It wasn’t a contest—I blinked whenever I needed to—but I didn’t look away either.

Finally, in the most reluctant voice imaginable, Ian said, “I consider it payment toward a debt.”

Then he scooped up the bloodstones and left the room.

CHAPTER THIRTY
-
TWO

KEANU shot out of the room behind Ian,
leaving me wondering what to do next. Was I supposed to sleep with the building falling around us? I was tired enough, but still. And what had he meant by
payment toward a debt
?

The only possibility I could think of was payment for having killed humans in the past. Ian needed little blood now, but vampire appetites diminished with age. It was almost inevitable he’d killed humans when he was younger—not a pleasant thought.

Then a door slammed so loudly my mind jumped back to the present in fear for the structural integrity of the remaining rooms.

Keanu appeared in the doorway, his post-bloodstone contentment at odds with the situation. “Rory, if you have a moment, Ian would like to speak to you in his bedroom.” Knowing it wasn’t a genuine choice, I stood and made my way there.

Reminiscent of our first evening together, Ian sat before the fire. He’d changed out of his ruined evening clothes and held a pink tinged glass of liquor. Since he didn’t acknowledge me, I slid into the empty chair and waited. After several minutes I almost fell asleep, but Ian’s first words solved that problem.

“Aurora, I am over seventeen hundred years old.”

My eyes jolted open.

“I have seen empires come and go. I’ve seen wars fought and men die for many reasons—and no reasons.” He stared into his glass, lost in thought.

“Where were you born?” I tried to keep the question casual. Ian spoke so rarely about himself that I didn’t want to spook him.

“It was called Neustria, on the outskirts of what is now Paris. My mother died giving birth to me and I never knew my father. But I was raised with loving care by a friend of my mother’s, Quintus Didius Lucianus, for whom I am named.”

“Was it, um, Mr. Lucianus who converted you?”

“Most assuredly not.” Ian held his glass to the light, admiring the fire’s reflection on the crystal. “Are you familiar with Druids?”

I nodded.

“My sire, Marcus, was a soldier in the Gallic Wars in the time of Julius Caesar. During one of his reconnaissance missions he discovered a Druid altar containing various offerings. One of them was a ring set with a bloodstone, not that Marcus recognized it as such. However, knowing anything of value would be confiscated by his superiors, he attempted to keep the ring for himself by hiding it under a bandage on his arm. At some unknown point after that, the cut on Marcus’ arm bled enough to dissolve the bloodstone.”

Touching my own arm, I considered Ian’s statement and shook my head. “A bleeding cut flows out, not in. I can’t imagine much vampire blood entered his system.”

Ian took a sip from his glass and raised it in acknowledgement. “That was indeed the case, and because of that, Marcus endured the longest and most painful transformation I’ve ever heard of. Not only do bloodstones burn on contact, but the human body reacts to vampire blood like an infection. The smaller the dose, the longer the human body tries to fight.”
             

I strove to keep my voice light, trying not to imagine the pain of Ian’s own transformation. “If the human body fights vampire blood like an infection, does anyone successfully fight it off?”

His face warmed in appreciation as he lowered his glass. “You ask the most interesting questions. There have been rumors, but nothing I can substantiate. More likely, such accounts stem from the blood or bloodstone having been fake to begin with.”

“Fake vampire blood? What would be the point?”

“Money. People have spent obscene amounts of money attempting to achieve immortality—some successfully.”

“Okay, I can see that… But, how does any of this indebt you to humanity?” Whatever the connection was, I couldn’t see it.

Ian unexpectedly smirked. “Leave it to a human to want a thousand years of history compressed into a five minute explanation.”

Undeterred, I countered, “Leave it to a vampire to use twenty sentences when one would do the trick.”

Ian’s laugh was a welcome relief to the seriousness of the topic, and I smiled as some of the tension left his shoulders. Not that he went so far as to slouch, but his posture wasn’t quite so painful to look at.

“If you’re determined to have an answer, I may as well give you enough information to understand it. Anyhow,” he looked at me pointedly, “after Marcus was infected, he became ill and eventually collapsed. He awoke in the company of a woman named Genovefa, a Druid who’d been hiding from the Romans, hoping to outwait them until they’d moved on. Unwilling to let Marcus die, but unable to risk him revealing her hiding place, she kept him restrained and did what little she could to ease his pain.”

In the interest of brevity, I only nodded for him to continue.

“On their seventh night together, a small squad of soldiers found their cave and attacked Genovefa. When Marcus heard her scream, he snapped his bindings and went to her aid. Within moments, he discovered his new strength and his new appetites—and the soldiers became his first meal.”

The image made me crinkle my nose in distaste, but Ian, lost in his own memories, didn’t notice.

“Having no knowledge of vampires, Genovefa thought Marcus some kind of god and swore herself to his care.
Marcus loved Genovefa until the day she died, not realizing the connection between his conversion and the gemstone he’d found—and believed lost—until it was too late to keep her for eternity.”

I stared into the fire and frowned. I hadn’t been expecting a happy ending, but this was downright depressing. “Obviously Marcus eventually figured the whole conversion thing out, seeing as he managed to convert you. But
why
did he convert you?”

“Well, despite Christianity having displaced Druidism, Marcus continued to live with a hidden tribe of Druids long after Genovefa’s death. His last priestess predicted I would, and I quote, ‘do great damage if allowed to claim my destined place in the world.’”

My skepticism kicked in. “Did she also say you’d meet a tall, dark stranger?”

Ian smiled. “When Marcus told me all of this, my reaction was similar. However, over seventeen hundred years, I’ve learned to respect the unexplainable. For whatever reason, from everything I ever saw or heard, Ysabel was the real thing. She described me in great detail—right down to my specific location at a seminary, where I was studying for the priesthood.”

My face must have shown my astonishment.

“Really, Aurora, it was a common path for men without titles or land. Catholicism was on the rise, so it wasn’t the worst option. Besides, my studies ended long before I was ordained.”

I tried to imagine Ian as a priest and failed, my face flaming at the memory of the three of us in the bathtub. “So, ah, your ‘
destined place’
in the world was the priesthood?”

For the first time in the conversation, Ian looked uncomfortable. “That was one possibility.” Then he turned toward the door and called out, “
If you’re going to eavesdrop, you may as well come in.
”

He turned back to me. “Nothing Keanu hasn’t heard before.”

Keanu entered with unabashed cheer, still giddy from his bloodstone and not at all ashamed at having been caught out. “Just in time for my favorite part,” he enthused, taking a seat near me.

Ignoring him, I asked, “If the priesthood was one possibility, what was the other?”

“It comes down to my father,” Ian said slowly. “My birth father was supposedly…”

“Ian’s
royalty
!” Keanu blurted out gleefully.

I rolled my eyes at Keanu, but Ian didn’t contradict him.

“Keanu is exaggerating. Sort of.” Ian pulled the bloodstones out again and I watched with interest as he somehow managed to juggle four of them using the fingertips of a single hand. Then I realized what he’d said.

“Royalty?” Just when I’d thought things couldn’t get more surreal.

Keanu edged closer, beaming. “The genuine article.”

Stunned, I tried to find an appropriate response. “So, um, that means…I mean, that makes, um…”

“Aurora, please.” Ian set the stones on the lacquered table and took my hand, exasperated. “There’s nothing impressive here. Keanu is being…Keanu.”

Keanu opened his mouth but Ian was quicker. “And unless Keanu wishes to
cease
being Keanu, he’ll remain silent.”

I blinked again and Keanu shut his mouth.

“According to Marcus, my biological father was
supposedly
Sigebert the Third, one of the last Merovingian kings. However, by the time of his birth, the Merovingians wielded no real power. Furthermore, he never knew of my conception. I was illegitimate and never acknowledged, let alone included in the line of succession. No doubt the world was littered with bastard born royalty back then. If I hadn’t met Marcus, I’d have gone to my grave oblivious and content to be so.”

Dodging the illegitimacy issue, I skipped ahead. “And how did you meet Marcus?”

“I was studying scripture in my room when a man appeared at my window—my third story window—and I rushed over. He caught my eye, told me to invite him in and we walked out of the building together ten minutes later.”

“But he converted you instead of killing you.”

Ian shrugged. “The world had moved forward and left Marcus and his tiny band of Pagans behind. My education and familiarity with Christianity made me an ideal companion to help him adapt. Besides, in his eyes, my death wasn’t necessary. By changing me into a vampire, no future was possible with either the priesthood or the Merovingians.”

Keanu looked at Ian and said pointedly, “That’s not quite the entire story. For crying out loud, just tell her your name.”

Pleased to finally have a clue, I smiled. “I already know Ian’s birth name. It’s Quintus. Quintus Something Lucianus.” I tilted my head as I spoke the name aloud. “Hey, that’s where Ian comes from, isn’t it? From Lucianus. You shortened it.”

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t caught it sooner.

“That wasn’t its
first
abbreviation though, was it?” Keanu challenged Ian.

“I said I’d tell her.” Ian picked up the bloodstones and rolled the larger ones between his fingers. “My birth name was Quintus Didius Lucianus. After the Roman Empire faded, I began using the name Lucianus Quintus. Then Lucianus Quint and then Lucian Quint.”

I looked at them both in confusion. “And this is important…why?”

“It’s important because after I relocated here, I shortened my name to Luc Quint. Or, as you lot pronounce it here in the States, Luke.

“And so you see,” he finished somewhat bleakly, “Ysabel was right and Marcus should have killed me. Whatever damage I might have done as a royal bastard or as a priest, it’s doubtful I could have managed the same level of destruction as that which occurred after I met Dr. Warren Neilson.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

I took longer than I care to admit to make
the connection, especially considering I’d taught a class on mother’s book so recently. (In my defense, my brain was crammed with Romans, French royals and Druids.) It took ten seconds—longer than you’d think under the circumstances—to remember Luke from mother’s
Mass Conversions
.

“No.” I looked back and forth between the two vampires. Keanu’s face dripped sympathy and Ian’s was frozen in a blank, unrecognizable mask.

I didn’t know which was worse.

“Not you. That can’t have been you.” I kept shaking my head but I already knew they had no reason to lie. Ian, under an earlier version of his birth name, was the immortal whose misplaced trust in humanity had led to the mass conversions.

I stood and wobbled across the room, shaking my head as if to dislodge what I’d learned. Everything had been flipped upside down one time too many for me to process. I felt sad and bewildered. I felt betrayed. I felt…

I felt freaking angry.

With a speed that took everyone by surprise, particularly me, I turned and leapt at Ian, easily vaulting over Keanu. Before I even realized what I’d done, I’d grabbed an embroidered green pillow and
walloped
Ian—straight across the side of his head.

Under more rational circumstances, I’d like to think I would have seen the futility of attacking a vampire with a pillow. However, caught up in the moment, it took a half dozen swings to realize Ian was simply letting me smack the shit out of him—which took most of the satisfaction out of it. So I stopped.

Panting lightly, I stepped back over Keanu and sat while both men stared like I was a bomb about to explode. Hilarious, coming from men who’d blown up their own house.

I popped back up and they visibly tensed, but all I did was walk to the bathroom. I needed a glass of water in the worst way, and I downed half of it before I spoke.

“Okay, this is a lot to take in, but it’ll have to wait until morning.” I was proud to sound normal when I felt anything but. “Unless anyone has an objection, and it would have to be a
damn
good one,” I added sternly, “you two are leaving and I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”