Heart's Blood Read online

  Heart’s Blood

  Book 2 in the Bloodstone Trilogy

  Calinda B

  Sumner McKenzie, Inc.

  Copyright

  Published by Sumner McKenzie, Inc.

  Ebook Edition

  Copyright ©2018 Calinda B

  All Rights Reserved.

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people, but it can be lent according to the retailer’s coding. If you would like to give this book to another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  As always, to John; to Rainy, my fab editor; to Charity, and, of course, to Ron.

  Chapter 1

  Day 1, Tuesday evening - Lassi

  Each time Lassi Finn stood before the Laughing Rat pub, her heart readied itself to eject from her chest and flee for its life. When she opened the creaky, blue door, however, and peered inside, the horrible death-laden memories from two years ago blew away along with the gold and red leaves fluttering down the sidewalk.

  The large room once strained from the weight and gloom of its previous owners, Liam and Penny O’Donnell, God rest their souls. Now, the walls no longer yearned to fall into entropy, putting the pub out of its misery. Instead, the centuries of soot and smell had been scrubbed from every nook and cranny. Pictures of the lush Irish countryside had been hung to break up the dark wood paneling. The grimy tables and booths had been cleaned to the point of near-exorcism. Even the Merlot-colored tile floor had been scoured within an inch of its life.

  It had taken weeks to transform. Siobhan Riordan, the current co-owner, had employed a small army to scrub, wipe down, throw out and do what needed to be done. She’d even asked Lassi’s love, Cillian Ward, to perform a proper exorcism.

  Former gloomy pub crawlers and their secrets, hanging their heads over a pint, had given way to business people and a family or two. But with its still darkly-dismal walls and low ceilings, Lassi considered the pub’s appearance more of a stretched-face surgical enhancement. Something lingered in the bones of the pub that brought unease to Lassi’s gut. Or, maybe it’s just me. Still, without kerosene, a match, and a good insurance policy for rebuilding, co-owners Siobhan Riordan, and Lady Freddie could only accomplish so much in the way of transformation.

  “Evening, Miss Finn.” Lady Freddie looked up from a booth, a cleaning rag in her hand. “Come in out of the cold and shut the door.” She smiled, the creases in her face deepening.

  How someone could grow old so gracefully and look so good at the age of sixty-three amazed Lassi. Everything about Lady Freddie—from her long silver-white hair to the elegance with which she performed every task—spoke to her upbringing as Lady Frederique Laughlin of Donegal, the wife of Lord Laughlin. She virtually floated through the pub, a serene picture of calm sensibility. Inside her calm demeanor, however, lurked the heartache and determined rage of a woman wronged. A year ago, she’d caught her husband with his mistress. They’d been having “tea,” or so they told her. What tea had to do with a Royal Palace Luxe mattress and silk sheets littered with a condom or three, was anyone’s guess. After throwing the silver tea service, complete with hot tea and every teacup, plate, sweetmeat, and biscuit in sight at the pair, Lady Freddie had taken her leave to the seaside town of Ballynagaul, or Ballyna-nowhere, as Lassi often called the place.

  “Evening, Lady Freddie.” Lassi dragged herself through the doorway, her gold-colored sneakers squeaking on the tile. She trudged toward Lady Freddie.

  “Hey, Freddie, love, another round for my boys,” a jovial, inebriated man called from the bar. He tipped his head back to toss the remnants of his Guinness down his gullet, nearly toppling over in the process.

  His friends hooted and hollered at his near collapse.

  “Shite, Hank, if you have any more, we’ll be carrying you home,” a man in his thirties said, chuckling.

  “Shut the feck up, he’s buying,” said the bearded older man next to Hank. “Let him drink all he wants.”

  Lady Freddie looked up from her cleaning duties. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

  “Whew, we’re short-handed,” she said to Lassi. “Coming right up,” she called to the man. She scurried toward the bar.

  Lassi plopped into the seat of the booth Lady Freddie had just cleaned, letting gravity have its way with her.

  “Hey ya’s, Lassi,” called Billy O’Clery, one of three local fishermen sitting at the next table. A young man in his early thirties, Billy always wore a smile like liquid sunshine, lifting the spirits of all in his presence.

  “Hup ye girl ye,” said the oldest of the three, Sixpack Costello.

  When Lassi had first met him, one glance at his belly told her the nickname came more from a cardboard container holding beer than any prowess with the abdominal machines at the gym. She nodded to him.

  Tiny craters of dimples appeared when he smiled at her. His sun-worn, wrinkled skin bore a perma-tan from being in the open air so much.

  Seamus Kelly, the beautiful, blond brooder of the trio, lifted his pint to her. His somber disposition spoke of long, lonely nights at sea in search of mermaids.

  “Lassi,” he said, before taking a long draw.

  “Hey, boys,” she said. She grabbed a bright orange paper napkin from the holder at the back of the booth and picked at a dried speck of catsup on the table.

  “Want to join us in a bet?” Billy said.

  “Leave the girl alone,” Seamus said, placing his hand on Billy’s forearm. “She looks knackered to the point of malfunction.”

  “I’m all right,” she said, flashing a grateful smile at Seamus. “Nothing food won’t fix.” She wadded the napkin, dropped it on the table, and proceeded to prop her chin on her hand. Her long hair draped over her face. A few strands dangled over the orange napkin, almost matching it in color. “What about? The bet, I mean.”

  “A good bet can lift the spirits,” Billy said, his head bobbing up and down. “It’s about Siobhan. She’s supposed to work tonight. No one knows where she is.” Clanging alarm bells went off in Lassi’s head. Siobhan? Gone? Her back stiffened as if zapped by a volt of current.

  Billy fished in his pocket, produced a few bills, and slapped them on the table. His eyes glinted while he stroked his short beard. “My money says she’s finally fishing off stinkers’ bridge with Doc Breslin. The fool’s besotted with her.”

  The three men laughed.

  Lassi plucked up her catsup speckled napkin and threw it at his head. “You guys suck. Stinkers’ bridge.” She scoffed. “I seriously doubt she’s placing tongue to anus or balls or the skin in between on anyone tonight. Wee Paul’s probably caught a cold or something.”

  “Oh, a good courtin’ can do a lass fine,” Billy said. He made a loose fist with one hand and sho
ved the forefinger of his other hand in and out of the hole. “Oh, Dr. Breslin,” he squealed in a high-pitched voice. “Your examination is getting deep. Go deeper. Deeper. Deeper.” He rolled his eyes skyward and threw back his head. “Oh, yes, like that.” He slapped his palms against the wood table.

  The glassware shook and tinkled.

  Seamus chuckled.

  Sixpack snorted. “Easy, lad, don’t be getting all chubbed up beneath the table,” he said. “I’ve seen the way you look at Siobhan.” He reached over to ruffle Billy’s wild brown curls. Then, he hesitated, and his gaze slid toward Lassi. “Pardon me, Lassi, for getting all coarse in your presence.”

  She waved off his concern. “Don’t worry about it. Labor and delivery nurse, remember?” She pointed to herself. “I deal with women’s vajimjams all the time. I see the results of you men and your chubbed pricks.”

  Billy hooted. “See? She’s one of us.”

  “What’s your best guess?” Seamus asked, directing his light-blue moonbeam gaze at Lassi. “About why Siobhan isn’t here?”

  “Not Siobhan and Bres,” she said, using the nickname she had given Dr. Stephen Breslin. “My bet is little Paul is unwell. Children his age are always coming down with something.”

  “The girl’s too over-protective of young Paul,” Sixpack said, lifting his pint to his lips.

  “Well, wouldn’t you be, what with Dylan’s horrific death and all?” Seamus said. He made the sign of the cross over his chest. Then, he lifted the shark tooth hanging from a gold chain around his neck and gave it a kiss.

  Lassi shuddered. The past came crawling toward her like a mad viper, coiling its way into her mind. Her late Great Aunt Roberta—or Great Grandmother or whatever she was—had wooed Lassi to this town from her coffin. Lassi had wanted nothing more than to deal with her aunt’s estate and get back to Dublin, delivering babies and partying with her friends. But then she met Cillian Ward, along with more murders than anyone should have to stomach, including the death of Siobhan’s husband, Dylan. But the hook of Cillian had landed in Lassi’s heart. Falling in love with her beastly, priestly boyfriend and proving her innocence had kept her pinned to Ballynagaul. And now her new responsibilities, as Ballynagaul’s sole soon-to-be-midwife, as well as her relationship to Cillian, kept her pinned to this small, seaside village.

  “Guys, can’t we leave the past alone? No one needs a reminder of that time. All those deaths. You didn’t see his murderer—I did. I lured her out of hiding. She’s the stuff of nightmares.”

  “But you got her put away, right?” Seamus said.

  “Oh, that we did. Locked tight. That murderer won’t be coming around any time soon,” Lassi said. “She’ll be, uh, incarcerated for a long, long time.”

  If Cillian and I keep doing our job of diving to the bottom of the sea, finding the right stones, and heaping them on her grave.

  No one needed to know about the vampire in their midst, the mythological horror known as the Dearg-Due. Or, that pesky little fact of she and Cillian transforming into Leviathans to accomplish the job of keeping the Dearg-Due trapped in her grave. Truthfully, Lassi felt sorry for the Dearg-Due.

  When alive, Maggie Strongbow, the woman who became the Dearg-Due after she died, had been coerced by her father in the 1700s to wed an asshole, instead of the man she loved. So, she came back to haunt people with questionable morals for the rest of her existence.

  As Lassi grew to understand the Dearg-Due’s motivations—the vampire tended to show her victims where they’d failed in life, by plucking out their eyeballs or their tongue—she vowed to find peace for the Dearg-Due. She hoped the vampire would tire of her incessant need for revenge. She figured science would succeed where the supernatural had failed. Science was her cornerstone. And, no one should suffer such an existence. Only, so far, she hadn’t found any way to send the vampire to her rest. She hoped she had time to pursue her quest. If nothing else happened in Ballynagaul to distract her, she’d keep on digging.

  “Lord help and protect us,” Sixpack said, jostling Lassi from her thoughts. “May all those who died rest in peace.” He reached for Seamus’ shark tooth and kissed it.

  “Hey!” Seamus said, shoving Sixpack’s hands away. “Get your own damn icon of faith. I’m the one who fought with the shark, not you.”

  “And, I’m the one who fished you out of the drink, away from the jaws of death,” Sixpack said. “I own rights to that tooth.”

  “Behave yourselves, boys,” Lady Freddie said, striding toward them. “Else I’ll take a broom to the lot of you and sweep you out with the trash.”

  All three men sobered as if reprimanded by their school teacher.

  “Sorry, Lady Freddie,” Sixpack said. “The boys are just having a bit of the craic. We’ve been at sea for two weeks, and they need to let out steam.”

  “No, the real reason is Billy here needs to get laid,” Seamus said. He slugged Billy’s arm.

  “You need to get laid,” Billy said. He slugged him back.

  Lady Freddie stepped between them and grasped the backs of both their necks. “There will be no laying my customers, lads. Now behave or get yourself to gone.”

  They jerked away from her grip, wincing.

  Lady Freddie turned her attention to Lassi. “Sorry, love, I know you called on the way over, but your order’s still cooking. We’re short-staffed and backed up. Can I bring you a cuppa while you wait?”

  “Heck, yes,” Lassi said.

  “Oh, have a pint with us, girl,” Billy said. He trained his big, brown puppy-dog eyes on her.

  She waved his words away. “No, no pint for me. I’m so tired I’d be asleep after two sips.”

  “Well, then, I’ll be right back.” Lady Freddie swirled away, cutting a classy line through the tables as she headed toward the bar.

  Billy’s gaze darted toward her retreating back. “Okay, lads, let’s get back to the bet. Do you think Siobhan eloped with Breslin? Her heart finally thawed, and she realized the man’s a cauldron of pleasure, with eyes for her and her alone?”

  Seamus turned his head toward Lady Freddie, who strode their way with a teapot and mug.

  “Zip it,” he said. “We don’t want to be annoying Lady Freddie and her customers.”

  Billy’s mouth clamped shut. He picked up his Guinness and took a long pull.

  Lady Freddie eyed him as she sauntered past his table. “Don’t think I’m not watching your every move, Billy O’Cleary.”

  “I know you are, ma’am. It’s hard to take your eyes away from all this gorgeous man meat.” He swished his hand up and down his torso. “Just say the word, and I’ll be loving you like you’ve never experienced.”

  Seamus chuckled.

  Sixpack laughed. “Sorry, Lady Freddie, the lad’s full of himself tonight.”

  Lady Freddie smiled. “You’re a charmer, Billy, that’s for sure. All of you boys. Now mind your manners while I tend to Nurse Lassi.” She set the tray down in front of Lassi and said, “I’ll be right back with your food.”

  With a crisp nod, she turned to leave.

  The boys kept up their chatter while Lassi poured her tea. She lifted it to her lips, blew on it, and took a sip. Her mouth puckered, and her stomach lurched like Captain Sixpack’s fishing trawler.

  Way too bitter. It’s been steeped to tannic hell. Oh, well, bad tea is better than no tea.

  She leaned back against the booth seat and sighed. Two years ago, she’d never dreamed she’d be living in this small, strange village. Her prestigious job in Dublin had been everything to her. Head labor and delivery nurse at Royal House Hospital, one of the best hospitals around, had been a job many coveted, and she had earned it. When she’d come to Ballyna-nowhere, she’d hoped her Great Whatever Roberta would have left her some money so she could buy a dream cottage in Barbados. Then, her life would be complete.

  But, no, I fell in love with Cillian Ward, and now I work for Dr. Breslin, making nowhere near the money I made in Dublin, and listening to
village gossip at night.

  She sighed and took another sip of her bitter tea. Her heart grew heavy at the thought of Cillian. Lately, he’d been moodier than usual. He gave her the silent treatment often. No indication had been given about them moving in together. When she asked, he neatly side-stepped the question, giving her compliments, or saying something to make her laugh. He usually stayed over at her house, but got up early to head to the rectory, “lest anyone wonder where the priest had gone off to.”

  He took his responsibilities to the village, as their acting priest, seriously. Not being an officially ordained priest didn’t matter to him. As far as he was concerned, he’d been charged with doing the good Lord’s work here in Ballynagaul.

  And, apparently, loving me isn’t what the good Lord intended. Clearly, the honeymoon had worn off. She hoped it was only a phase if only to ease her mind. Her reasonable mind had to offer up plausible explanations like he had to sort out some stuff before they moved in together, or, a parishioner had troubles. Her fear mind cast more horrible explanations. What if he found someone else? And that thought, once it entered her mind, had grown roots.

  “Where do you think Doc Breslin would have carted Siobhan off to? Dublin?” Billy’s face crinkled with mirth. “So he could plow that field in privacy?”

  Seamus snorted.

  “Billy, lad, I think you’ve gone off the deep end,” Sixpack said. He took another pull from his Guinness.

  Dublin. Occasionally, Lassi missed it. Her partying girlfriends back there thought she’d gone around the bend, dumping everything, and moving to Ballyna-nowhere. They teased her that there must be a guy—a “strapping lad” who caught her fancy.