Blood Legacy: Adult Urban Fantasy (The V V Inn Book 5) by C.J. Ellisson Page B
Authors: C.J. Ellisson
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mental shields. I relax into the chair, reclining the seat to a sleeping position. The mental walls I’ve pictured—tall, thick, made of stone and reinforced with steel—rise around the “inner” me. Shielding my closest dreams, fears, and desires, shutting away my intimate moments with Candy… everything I value that I can’t share with the woman who is my master.
The only way I can be certain my waking thoughts don’t betray me is to control the barrier between them and the outside world. Slowly, I draw the recent memories inside the wall with me. My hope is with practice I will be able to block a casual reading of my random thoughts.
Fear of messing it up and unleashing a whole world of hurt on myself and Candy doesn’t act as the incentive you might think it would, so much as it acts as a painful reminder of what I have to lose if I don’t perfect this skill quickly.
After an hour I take a break, pulling out the folder with all the research I’ve done on witches and warlocks, wizards, and the “never turn a witch” vampire saying I discovered earlier. I didn’t find out anything new on the phrase, but I did learn more about South American magic. What the locals practice is called Brujería , the Spanish name for witchcraft or witch healers, but from what I read, it seems similar to what Diane practices.
None of what I found could explain how Justin became such an accomplished wizard so far from where the majority of them live, which is in North America and Europe.
Who could have taught him? Wizards normally learn from someone else, especially as the knowledge is written and passed down. It’s not a practice one could easily pick up on their own.
Okay, maybe I’m missing something. What do I know about him so far? We’ve got a youngish guy who knows enough magic and packs enough mojo to get hired by the Tribunal. How did such a man make the initial connection? Who did he know who helped land him the job? Did he do similar work for someone else, possibly a human, and the word spread to the supernatural community?
I shake my head at the unlikelihood of such a scenario. It would make more sense that he was referred by another supernatural. What mystical creatures are native to the area? Werewolves wouldn’t have evolved there, but a pack resides there nonetheless.
Which reminds me, I have to stop by and pay my respects to the local pack to keep the peace. If they discover I’m there first, things could get nasty. I met the alpha, Hector, years ago on one of my visits with Vivian and Rafe to the city. He’s an amiable sort and didn’t give me too much trouble once he realized I was passing through.
I grab my tablet and open the browser, wanting to pull up a map of the city and try to recall the exact location I previously met the Buenos Aires alpha. I think it was a bar on the edge of Centro. As I scroll through the windows I opened earlier, searching for the map image, a news alert from the Argentine city pops up. Once again, I’m grateful for the convenience of traveling in a luxury jet—unlimited Internet connectivity on the long journey.
A murder was discovered late last night in a small barrio, or neighborhood, in the city. The young woman was beaten to death behind an herbal shop, no leads yet on her killer.
I read over the minimal details and then skim the rest of what’s happening in the city. It’s winter now in the southern hemisphere, but thankfully the weather never gets too cold in the subtropical climate. I never would have expected such a moderate fluctuation of temperatures in South America. The average for the entire year is low fifties to the mid-eighties.
Vivian and Rafe sure can pick locations for second homes. Supposedly, the couple owns residences in over a dozen countries around the world, but this is the only one I’ve visited with them since joining their two-person seethe almost eight years ago.
Closing the news site, I get back on track, examining the
The only way I can be certain my waking thoughts don’t betray me is to control the barrier between them and the outside world. Slowly, I draw the recent memories inside the wall with me. My hope is with practice I will be able to block a casual reading of my random thoughts.
Fear of messing it up and unleashing a whole world of hurt on myself and Candy doesn’t act as the incentive you might think it would, so much as it acts as a painful reminder of what I have to lose if I don’t perfect this skill quickly.
After an hour I take a break, pulling out the folder with all the research I’ve done on witches and warlocks, wizards, and the “never turn a witch” vampire saying I discovered earlier. I didn’t find out anything new on the phrase, but I did learn more about South American magic. What the locals practice is called Brujería , the Spanish name for witchcraft or witch healers, but from what I read, it seems similar to what Diane practices.
None of what I found could explain how Justin became such an accomplished wizard so far from where the majority of them live, which is in North America and Europe.
Who could have taught him? Wizards normally learn from someone else, especially as the knowledge is written and passed down. It’s not a practice one could easily pick up on their own.
Okay, maybe I’m missing something. What do I know about him so far? We’ve got a youngish guy who knows enough magic and packs enough mojo to get hired by the Tribunal. How did such a man make the initial connection? Who did he know who helped land him the job? Did he do similar work for someone else, possibly a human, and the word spread to the supernatural community?
I shake my head at the unlikelihood of such a scenario. It would make more sense that he was referred by another supernatural. What mystical creatures are native to the area? Werewolves wouldn’t have evolved there, but a pack resides there nonetheless.
Which reminds me, I have to stop by and pay my respects to the local pack to keep the peace. If they discover I’m there first, things could get nasty. I met the alpha, Hector, years ago on one of my visits with Vivian and Rafe to the city. He’s an amiable sort and didn’t give me too much trouble once he realized I was passing through.
I grab my tablet and open the browser, wanting to pull up a map of the city and try to recall the exact location I previously met the Buenos Aires alpha. I think it was a bar on the edge of Centro. As I scroll through the windows I opened earlier, searching for the map image, a news alert from the Argentine city pops up. Once again, I’m grateful for the convenience of traveling in a luxury jet—unlimited Internet connectivity on the long journey.
A murder was discovered late last night in a small barrio, or neighborhood, in the city. The young woman was beaten to death behind an herbal shop, no leads yet on her killer.
I read over the minimal details and then skim the rest of what’s happening in the city. It’s winter now in the southern hemisphere, but thankfully the weather never gets too cold in the subtropical climate. I never would have expected such a moderate fluctuation of temperatures in South America. The average for the entire year is low fifties to the mid-eighties.
Vivian and Rafe sure can pick locations for second homes. Supposedly, the couple owns residences in over a dozen countries around the world, but this is the only one I’ve visited with them since joining their two-person seethe almost eight years ago.
Closing the news site, I get back on track, examining the
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