Blood Stain: Book Three of the Blood Type Series (complete)

Bottom's Up

Angling the rear-view mirror, I studied my reflection. Would they be able to see the truth in my eyes—the truth that I was, in fact, deceiving them? My life, and the lives of my friends and family—and quite possibly everyone in the entire town—depended on my ability to maintain a convincing lie. Rolling my shoulders, I muttered a quick pep-talk to my reflection: "You can do this, Blake."

Spending the afternoon with Margaret Abernathy learning the art of compulsion wasn't exactly my idea of fun, but it was something I had to do to convince her and her father of my allegiance. If Conrad Abernathy didn't believe I was committed to his family or personally invested in his plan of me becoming some great and powerful Compeller, those on the side of preserving the human-vampire relationship would eventually lose the fight. And then what?

I made my way to the front door, a two-inch layer of ice-encrusted snow breaking underfoot. A press of the bell, and soon the massive door swung inward.

"You're back," I said, surprised at the appearance of Mr. Abernathy's secretary June. It had been weeks since I'd last seen her.

Shivering against a blast of cold air, June beckoned me inside. "Just last night," she said.

Once provoked to cooperate out of the very real fear that crazy Margaret Abernathy would harm her beloved Thomas, June had drugged me with a direct IV of incompatible blood. I didn't realize her predicament at the time and wrongly accused her of turning against us, betraying us to Conrad Abernathy.

In truth, I'd been abducted and drugged not on Mr. Abernathy's orders, but on one of Margaret's many whims and her desire to punish me by making me watch as she attacked someone I loved. The memory of Margaret's vampire-sharp teeth sinking into the pale flesh of Olivia's neck, and of Olivia falling lifeless to the ground, was still fresh in my mind. I would never forget the moment, certain that I'd witnessed my best friend being killed.

Still, it had taken me a long time to forgive June for the part she'd played that night, even if she'd had little choice in the matter. Now she was walking a thin line, pretending to be nothing more than Mr. Abernathy's faithful human servant while at the same time reporting anything worth noting to us.

I shed my coat and handed it to her. "I heard about your sister. I'm so sorry."

June looked paler than usual, and there was a dark hue under her eyes, as though she hadn't slept well. No surprise. She was only human, after all, with a human's limited capacity for suffering.

She nodded somberly. "I'll let Mr. Abernathy know you're here to see him."

"Actually," I said, stopping the older woman with a hand on her arm. "I'm here to see Margaret."

"Margaret?" June gave me a questioning look. I could hardly blame her, given Margaret's and my history. She opened her mouth to say something more but was interrupted.

"The first rule of compulsion," came Margaret's voice from the top of the staircase, startling both June and me, "is believing you have the power to bend others to your will." She turned her eyes on June and said in a firm tone: "Bring us two pints of blood."

June turned immediately and walked away in the direction of the kitchen, my coat still clutched in her hand.

"See how easy that was?" Margaret commented as she descended the stairs, her pace so maddeningly deliberate that I was on edge by the time she had reached the bottom. "I suppose we will need sustenance if we are forced to spend the afternoon together," she said.

"I've been looking forward to it all day," I replied, infusing as much sarcasm in my voice as I could muster. Or dare.

Margaret came to stand mere inches in front of me, invading my personal space. She reached out, causing me to involuntarily flinch, and casually picked a piece of lint from my sweater sleeve. Her smile was angelic, though her eyes were full of unmistakable malice.