Blood Inheritance (The Lazarus Hunter Series Book 1) Read online

  'Enough of me. Tell me about your evening.'

  'Things didn't go according to plan, as such.' She resisted a smile.

  'No?'

  'No, for once they actually went better than the plan.' Elizabeth pointed at the box as proof of her success.

  'I find that hard to believe. What happened? Did you walk up to them, say 'I'd like my father's journals back now please' and they just gave them to you?'

  'Well, part of that's true. I did just walk up and take them back, and nobody tried to stop me. They were all dead by the time I got there.' She stood up and placed her hand on the box.

  'What?' Monica sat upright and simultaneously grabbed her head and spilled hot coffee in her lap. 'Shit.'

  'You okay?'

  'Just more confused by the minute.'

  'I'm right there with you.' Elizabeth took off the lid and stared at the contents.

  'This can't be good, surely?' Monica was suspicious. 'Tell me the full story. In detail.'

  'Okay, but it doesn't start well on my part.'

  'Dennis and I killed someone tonight. I don't think you need to worry about looking bad.'

  'Well, we were slightly late, mainly because Garth was driving and I was directing, and I…got a little confused.'

  'What she's trying to say is that she got us lost,' Garth interrupted from the other side of the room.

  'The whole city seems completely different when you're in a car. Anyway, it turns out that it was the right thing to do, so I don't know why Garth is still complaining about things.'

  'I'm not complaining, I'm just saying.'

  'Okay, okay, just let me tell the rest of the story. It's the first interesting-in-a-good-way story that we've had for a while. Anyway, so for one reason or another,' she shot him a look, 'we're running really late by the time that we get there. Everything was so quiet and I was kicking myself because I thought we'd missed our one chance to get the journals back. Then Garth points out there are two cars at the far end of the lot. So I'm ready to go in there with all guns blazing, but nothing happens. No movement anywhere.'

  'Well,' interrupted Garth, 'not quite.'

  'He's right. There was a man there, a passerby. Garth started to drive towards him and that was enough and he ran. And boy did he run fast.'

  'Did you go after him?' asked Dennis.

  'There was no point,' Elizabeth sighed. 'He disappeared into the park before we even had chance to get a proper look at him. The way he just disappeared makes me think that he knew the area pretty well. The whole thing didn't make sense. But I've been thinking about it ever since, and the more I do, the more I think he may have killed them.'

  'Why?

  'Because he was there, in the middle of them, and he was looking at the journals. And also because of this.' She walked back over to the table and reached in to pull out the book on the top. She walked over to Monica and handed it to her, trying hard not to look too closely at all the bruising on her face. 'Turn to the back page.'

  'It's pulled away from the binding. It's been ripped open.'

  'Exactly.'

  'You think that something was hidden inside?'

  'I do. I could be wrong but that's my gut feeling. Whoever this mystery man is, I think he knew it was there all along.'

  'Are you sure he wasn't a vampire?'

  'I can't be certain. But I don't think he was.'

  'Then what could he possibly want from inside the journals? What could have been hidden in here in the first place? It can't have been very big. Or very thick.'

  'That's what I thought. Whatever it was, that's all he needed.'

  'You're right, this is getting strange,' sighed Monica, turning the journal over in her hands. 'I would imagine we've got a lot of reading to do tonight. And I've only got one good eye.'

  61

  Monica poured herself another cup of coffee and returned to the notebooks. Garth had gone home, so it was just the three of them left to pour over the books. She couldn't even begin to imagine how difficult it must be for Elizabeth to sit here doing this. A couple of times, she had looked out of the corner of her good eye and seen a tear rolling down the other woman's face.

  She could see why it would be so upsetting too, because these were not the vampire chronicles they were expecting. Instead they were the daily catalogue of a man's life. Monica had already found several references to Elizabeth, and it was easy to see how afraid he was for her. It was clear too, the burden he felt about lying to her, how he was doing what he thought was the best to protect his family, but the nagging doubt remained.

  Lives had been lost over these books. Even though they were interesting, there was nothing that could hold the key to a civil war. These were simply not the kind of details that people fought for. 'Any luck?' she asked to the room in general.

  'Not from me,' admitted Dennis reluctantly. 'I just don't know what I'm looking for.'

  'Neither do I,' agreed Elizabeth. 'All I know is that I feel like I should. I'm reading it, and in my head the words are in his voice, like he is telling the story to me. And some of the things he wrote about, I was actually there. I remember them. It feels so personal. I feel like I should be able to tell what it was that he was trying to conceal.'

  'Are we certain that he was trying to conceal anything?' Monica put the book down, finally giving voice to her fears.

  'If these journals didn't contain some great secret then why would people be so concerned about them in the first place?'

  'It does seem strange.'

  'They just seem…mundane.' Dennis flicked through the journal until he found the right page. 'But then he has moments when he describes things beautifully. Almost poetic. They came from the one place, a single point, and yet divided, each following their own path, taking flight, not knowing what will rejoin them or when. He was describing a walk with you in the countryside and you spotted a flock of birds.'

  'Let me look at that,' demanded Elizabeth excitedly. She took the book from his hand, and skimmed the passage he was referring to. When she got to the bottom she stopped and read it again more closely. Monica held her breath. Something had changed. 'I think you've discovered the code. Or at least part of it.'

  'Birds?'

  'No, not birds. Well, kind of about birds. I don't remember this happening. Or rather, I couldn't remember this happening. Look at the date. I was at university. I remember that particular point in my life very well. It was the autumn term and I broke my ankle training for a big running competition. I was pretty much confined to campus. Whatever my father is referring to in this passage has nothing to do with me, and I suspect it's nothing to do with birds.'

  'Perhaps that's why it caught my eye. It seemed a bit romantic. Like I'd heard it somewhere before.'

  'That sounds like the kind of clever-without-being-obvious kind of thing that we would be looking for,' agreed Monica. 'Although I'm not sure I understand it any more than I did before.'

  'So what did it make you think of Dennis?'

  'A story that my father told me when I was a boy. It was little more than a bedtime story, at least that's what I've always thought. Just another vampire legend.'

  'My father always told me that when you think that something is just a myth or a legend then generally speaking there is a grain of truth in there somewhere. You just have to find it.' Elizabeth smiled at the memory.

  'I think,' said Monica, a memory drifting back, 'I know the one you are going to tell. It would be interesting to see if your version is different to mine. I'm going to make us all a drink while you do.'

  'Sounds good to me.' Dennis was so excited by the potential breakthrough that he didn't even tell Monica off for her drinking. She wasn't used to seeing him this way. It was nice. It reminded her of a time before all the crappy responsibility and near death experiences. 'The story my father told was loosely based on the origin of our people. I remember it so well because it went against almost everything else he was telling me the rest of the time.'

  'In what
way?' Elizabeth looked at him with shining eyes. Monica saw it again then, that lost innocence. Another reminder of what she had done.

  'Most humans only know the sensationalist nonsense that has made it into books and onto the TV for years. Things like us being able to turn into bats and stuff like that. The reality is, most of the stuff that seems supernatural is just bull. But we were all brought up knowing about the ring that Monica is now wearing. It was the magic that was real. And it belonged to our family, no one else.'

  'Is this what it's about? If another family could get hold of it then it would make them stronger?'

  'I don't think so. Someone tried that, many centuries ago. It nearly destroyed two families, they became so intent on stealing the item from the other. In the end, one of them won, decimating the other family. Finally, they had two objects.'

  'What happened?'

  'Nothing. It didn't work for them. Some versions of the story say it actually weakened them. They returned the object to the survivors, and the two families had the chance to rebuild themselves. That's one version at least.'

  'So that seems to rule out the theory of accumulating them.'

  'Well, it does, but it also doesn't. If we're going to believe in one bit of the tale then we have to believe in all of it. Which goes back to the bit about the birds.'

  'I hope,' said Monica, taking a huge slug of her drink, 'you're going to get to the end of this story soon Dennis. I swear you really have given me concussion. I don't understand a word you're saying.'

  'Maybe if you drank a little less then you wouldn't have such a hard time,' he replied, looking at the glass pointedly. She resisted the urge to extend her middle finger at him. 'My father told me there was a time, before the families separated, that the items all belonged to just one person. The first ever leader. Maybe one extra object isn't enough. Perhaps you need all of them?'

  'That kind of power sounds like something Ivan would want,' Monica drained her glass. She thought of him lying dead in the desert. It had been one hell of a night.

  'He wanted to be the head of our family, but what's to say that he would ever have been happy staying there?'

  'He did seem a little crazy,' agreed Elizabeth. 'It sounds like my father knew of this story, this single place of origin, the dividing of the families. If he believed it, then it's quite possible that Ivan did too. If he could form strong alliances with all of the families then he would be able to wait until the moment he had everything that he needed and then claim power for himself.'

  'It makes horrible sense,' Monica conceded.

  'So,' sighed Elizabeth, 'what did Ivan know about these family heirlooms? That's the thing that really bothers me. For all we know there could be another surprise waiting for us now that we least expect it.'

  'What do you suggest we do?' asked Monica.

  'I'm going to carry on reading the journals in the hope that I can find out more. Dennis is more than welcome to keep me company if he wants, but I totally understand if he, uh, wants to go out and get something to eat. And you? You're going to go to bed now to try and sleep off that black eye.'

  'There's only one person in this room who can call themselves the boss of something, and that's me.' Since Ivan had pulled the knife on her, she'd been at the mercy of everyone else. For all her grumbling about responsibility, she realised she didn't enjoy being told what to do. 'I'll go to bed when I'm good and ready. Besides, I want to help.'

  'I appreciate the sentiment Monica, I really do. But you've probably got concussion and your face looks like you've gone a few rounds in the ring with a prize fighter. And lost, I might add. Not to mention you've drunk enough to sink a small ship attempting to numb the pain. So while I know that you have our best interests at heart, the best thing you can do for us all is go to sleep and try to get better. That way you can be fit and alert for tomorrow. God knows, we'll probably need you to be.'

  Elizabeth was firm and not for the first time, Monica found herself capitulating to the younger woman's will. She had a feeling it wouldn't be the last.

  62

  Monica opened her eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the window. She still didn't tire of waking up that way, forever grateful of the tinting on the glass. She touched her face gingerly and was relieved it did not feel as sore as she expected. It was a little bit tender, sure, but it was nothing like the throbbing agony she had felt last night. Instead of lying in her usual position, she had been forced to lie on her back, unable to cope with the pain of her face touching the pillow.

  She was still unsettled by Dennis's beating. It was quite clear that he was on her side. Either that or he was a master player, but instinct told her that was not the case. But her instincts also told her that she should not be so trusting of a man who could easily smash her face to pieces.

  It was true that she had done nothing to fight back. She had battled every instinct in her body to stop herself reaching up and killing him.

  She sat up in bed, wondering if she was home alone. Elizabeth had been right last night, she had needed to go bed and sleep. But it was kind of the done thing for the hostess not to be the first person to retire. She got out of bed and walked over to her chair where her robe lay. She put it on and pulled the belt around her tight, hoping to carry off some semblance of dignity if she still had visitors.

  Monica took a deep breath before making her way over to the mirror. She braced herself for what she might find there, concerned that this beating had been one too many. To her surprise, her face didn't look as bad as it felt. Dennis had broken her nose, and even though she had done her best to straighten it immediately after the beating, she wasn't sure she'd been that successful. But as she looked at herself now, no matter what angle she chose, she knew it could have been much, much worse.

  Her thoughts once again went back to feeding from Elizabeth, trying to remember exactly what Elverez had said. Was there something still in her system making her heal faster than normal? It was freaky, and she wasn't sure she liked it.

  She double-checked to make sure that her robe was still safely closed around her waist and decided to brave the rest of the apartment. Elizabeth was lying on the sofa, sound asleep, one of her father's journals open on her chest. The crumple of used tissues on the coffee table indicated she had found something that had made her cry. Repeatedly. Monica wasn't surprised to see Dennis was gone. He had his own life to lead, and she respected that. His own bed to be in before dawn.

  She walked past the sofa as quietly as she could and into the kitchen, trying to put on a pot of coffee without waking Elizabeth. But as soon as it started to brew Elizabeth began to stir, only briefly confused about where she was.

  'Oh, um, hi. I mean, morning,' she yawned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up.

  'Good morning. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I was just making us some coffee.'

  'I didn't mean to still be here when you got up. I was just determined to finish this before I left. I must have nodded off.'

  'Don't worry about it. Really.' Monica realised she meant it. After all these years, after all this time alone, she finally felt comfortable having someone in her space.

  'Dennis said he had some stuff to do. Which I assumed was his way of saying that he wanted to go and feed, but I don't think he's entirely comfortable with having that kind of conversation with me yet.'

  'If reading was upsetting you then you could have woken me up. There was no need for you to go through something so emotional alone.'

  'I appreciate the offer, but I think I needed to do it on my own. There were bits about him I hadn't allowed myself to think about because I still found it too upsetting. Little mannerisms, things he did every day. They were the things that always upset me the most, rather than the big events and the memorable occasions. Those little pieces of him. Which is probably why I found it so upsetting.'

  'Well, I hope it was cathartic in some way.'

  'I think it has been. When I go back to England I'm going to reassess what I want to
do with my life and where I want to be. I'm young, and hopefully I'll have a lot more time left in front of me. Which may not be the case if I carry on living my life in the same way I have been over the past year. I need to weigh up whether I want to carry on with this, or whether normality is more important to me.'

  'I wish I could do the same.' Monica felt a twinge of envy. And something else, too. Something that felt like loss. 'I have so many relationships I need to rebuild and so much to do to cement my place in the family. That's the kind of thing that takes time and effort, and I don't feel like I have a minute to waste. I have to get on that right away, while I still have an advantage.'

  'Hopefully life will settle down again now.'

  'I can dream. Coffee?'

  'Yes please. Make it a strong one.'

  'I guessed that was what you were going to say. This is about as strong as you can get without blowing your head off.'

  'Perfect.' Elizabeth took the coffee from her with a grateful smile. Monica turned away before her eyes began to drift back to the bruise that still lingered faintly on the other woman's skin.

  63

  Even though her experience with Monica told her it was not strictly true, Elizabeth felt safe walking the streets during daylight. Much as she loved being in New York, part of her knew that she could never really live here. She had a life at home in England. Friends to rediscover, as well as the memory of her father. Even if he was with her every day, no matter where she went, most of the memories she had of him were in their house. In his office. She knew she wasn't ready yet to give all that up.

  A buzzing in her pocket distracted her from her thoughts and she reached in to pull out her phone. She could not eliminate the feeling of dread that came with every call. Her stomach dropped further when she realised no number was being displayed. Her mind frantically raced through all of the options as she pressed the call answer button and put the phone up to her ear.