The Blood Key (The Wander Series Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Copyright-eBook

  Title Page-eBook

  Dedication

  PART ONE

  Chapter 1 - See Ya!

  Chapter 2 - 'Free' Air

  Chapter 3 - Not So Fast

  Chapter 4 - Ghosts

  Chapter 5 - Memory or Dream

  Chapter 6 - Circus, Circus

  Chapter 7 - Electric Ribs

  Chapter 8 - Elephants and Bacon

  Chapter 9 - Accidental Twits

  Chapter 10 - Johnny Law

  Chapter 11 - The Whole Nine Yards

  Chapter 12 - It Burns

  Chapter 13 - Misfire

  PART TWO

  Chapter 14 - Reunion

  Chapter 15 - Revelations

  Chapter 16 - Found

  Chapter 17 - Mind Your Head

  Chapter 18 - Bombshell

  Chapter 19 - It Wakes

  Chapter 20 - Garden Party

  Chapter 21 - Trickory Dickory Dock

  Chapter 22 - Curve Ball

  Chapter 23 - For the Love of Chaos

  Chapter 24 - Senseless Sensibility

  Chapter 25 - Damsels Doing It For Themselves

  Chapter 26 - Door Number What?

  Chapter 27 - Smooches!

  Chapter 28 - The Strange Life

  Chapter 29 - Declared

  Chapter 30 - Bedfellows?

  Chapter 31 - Air Strike

  Chapter 32 - Hard to Handle

  Chapter 33 - Against the Wall

  Chapter 34 - Turn and Face the Strain

  Chapter 35 - No Quarter

  Chapter 36 - Rip It, Roll It and Punch It

  PART THREE

  Chapter 37 - We're Coming Out

  Chapter 38 - Catch Me If You Can!

  Chapter 39 - On Your Head

  Chapter 40 - Topsy Turvy

  Chapter 41 - Peekaboo -- I See You!

  Chapter 42 - Calling Bullshit

  Chapter 43 - And Now For My Next Trick!

  Chapter 44 - As Fast As Fast Can Be

  Chapter 45 - Shell Game

  Chapter 46 - Snail Mail Comes Through

  Chapter 47 - Homebodies

  Epilogue - Guard Down, Trouble Up

  About the Author

  This is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents are either the product of my imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Vaun M Murphrey

  Cover illustration and jacket design by Nathalia Suellen.

  Editing by Esther Doucet.

  Author headshot by S. Norman Photography.

  Chapter headers by Vaun Murphrey.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author rights.

  Print ISBN: 0692714685

  Print ISBN-13: 978-0692714683

  THE BLOOD KEY

  Vaun Murphrey

  DEDICATION

  For my parents, who love me through thick and thin.

  PART ONE

  1 SEE YA!

  I made the good doctor nervous.

  Five, count ’em, five times now he’d crossed and uncrossed his legs, switching the knee his legal pad rested on. Wine colored loafers with artfully distressed fading around the seams wiggled up and down with the flex of his toes.

  Dr. Miller was old school. Somewhere along the way in his life he saw a fifties-inspired layout of menswear and decided that was for him. Grease plastered down his dark-dyed hair. The smell of it was nauseating.

  Miller’s pen tapped. Once, twice, three times was the ticket. Gray eyes caught mine so I smiled. It was a good firm mask of obliviousness I’d perfected. We had our parts to play after all.

  My shoulders relaxed into the leather loveseat a fraction at a time. With prim crossed calves and overlapped palms, I waited.

  “Zena, I think you know I fought against your release…” His expensive monogrammed pen reflected the dim orange lamp light.

  I kept my thoughts steadied with the knowledge of his failure. The Skala name and money was still enough to retain an exclusive lawyer. Gerard Fletcher was well compensated to hire his own experts on my mental capacity. A shame it had only taken until my eighteenth birthday to gain access to his help. My stepmother’s doing, no doubt.

  “I’m aware. It has no bearing on how I feel toward you.”

  That’s right, dick-bag, I already hated you.

  He blinked then supplied a false lift of lips. “Good…”

  I tilted my body forward to stare at my reflection in his gaudy gilt-framed wall mirror. My eyes looked lifeless—turned fall leaf dead with the beginnings of darkening rot. Un-plucked black eyebrows rose at mirror-me and the first real happiness I’d felt in a long time lifted my cheeks. Frizzed out mostly straight hair caressed my jawline where it had escaped my low ponytail. The first thing I was going to do in institution-free air was cut it all off.

  “Fletcher says I’m to be escorted to him directly after this final session.” I turned toward my tormentor and drilled him in place with all the intense emotions being unjustly confined will nurture. “Do you have anything to say to me before I go?”

  Dr. Miller was a coward. I knew this and he knew this. His tablet flipped and fluttered to the carpet and he dropped his pen in his attempt to retrieve it.

  I stood. My mind was clear. All those dulling drugs dosed on a defenseless girl…gone. Detoxing without giving it away had been a right bitch.

  “I thought not, Dr. Miller. I’ll be leaving now. You can escort me. That would be at least one decent thing you’ve done…in your whole damn life.”

  He reached for the red emergency button mounted on the side table. I tsked with my tongue in cheek. His bony wrist ground together under my palm. Coarse arm hair tickled the underside of my fingers, stirring revulsion in the pit of my stomach. His manicured nail was less than a centimeter from the button.

  “I wouldn’t. Would you want anyone to find out about what you do to your unconscious patients?”

  The whites of his eyes went crimson from his heightened blood-rush of panic.

  “You can’t prove it.”

  I spat in his face, right on his forehead, and rubbed it in with the base of my palm. “I own you. Karma—it’s a fourteen-karat bitch for some people. I happen to be a fan.”

  Arms raised in a stretch of satisfaction, I added, “Those orderlies don’t get paid near enough for all the shit they put up with.” I lowered my hands and placed them on my waist. “By the way, Izzy Williams has asked me to turn in her resignation effective immediately.”

  Miller sputtered as he rubbed at his brow with a tissue, “You can’t get away with this! No one is going to believe the crazed accusations of a girl who was committed for killing her brother.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not going to do anything. You’ve already hung yourself with your actions. You know I can’t leave you here to hurt anyone else—that would be truly insane of me. Enjoy your fall from grace. I know I will.”

  The sparkle of his forgotten pen caught my attention. I retrieved it and tucked it into his sweat-damp fingers. “On second thought, I’ll show myself out. You don’t look well enough.”

  No alarm rang when I closed his office door behind me. My body was singing its elation through the tiny dots of my pores. So when Izzy spoke up I jumped about a foot sideways in the deserted gray hallway.

  “How’d it go with the pedophile rapist?�
�� She caught my arm.

  “Sorry chica, didn’t mean to scare you. Let’s get outta this dump.”

  I inhaled a shaky breath and squinted at her neon pink hair. She’d really put some effort into giving a final eff-off on the last day of her employment. The color looked especially bright against her dark tan complexion.

  “You were supposed to wait at the front desk. Why are you here?”

  She pulled me forward at her side. “Yeah, well I wanted to make sure Dr. Miller didn’t pull any shit.” Izzy’s light brown eyes sparkled with mischief. “Plus, I might’ve gotten fired before I could quit.”

  A guard appeared ahead with an alert, predatory look on his face. When he spotted Iz his steps quickened.

  Damn. It. “What did you do?”

  “I may have overreacted a smidge when Enrique ‘accidentally’ bumped into my tits at the coffee maker. I may have poured hot caffeinated lava on the front of his scrubs…accidentally.” She batted her long synthetic glitter lashes.

  I sighed and my shoulders drooped for a second. “Well, hell.”

  The guard was almost on us. I put myself in front of my friend with my hands palm out. “We’re leaving. Just walk us to the door and we’re out of your hair. No pesky paperwork or complications. She’s not coming back. I’m not coming back. You never have to see us again.”

  He slowed, fingers twitching too close to his pepper spray, probably out of habit more than anything. “No trouble?”

  Izzy piped in around my shoulder, “Bygones, Franco. You know Enrique’s a creep anyway. I’m out with no complaints.”

  Franco’s green uniform sleeves shrugged backward as his chest puffed out. The line of his lips flattened and then he bit the inside of his cheek. His unnaturally bald brown head needed a shave. I relaxed when he tucked his thumbs inside his utility belt. He motioned us to follow him with a jut of his chin. Izzy slid her fingers into mine and squeezed.

  The front desk buzzed us through three doors until we reached the lobby. At every stop I fully expected them to deny us our exit. My heart was beating so fast I could feel the tempo of the blood as it pumped through my veins. The roots of my teeth felt hot and sensitized. A metallic taste coated the back of my tongue.

  We were freed with the final click and clink of mechanical locks. Fletcher rose from a chair with briefcase in hand as we came around the curved reception desk.

  One gray eyebrow rose in inquiry. “Trouble already, Ms. Skala?”

  Franco crossed his arms over his shirt pockets and finger-hugged his massive biceps. “Not if they leave right now. I’ll convince Enrique not to press charges, Izzy. You’re a nice girl. I’ve got sisters. Just don’t come back.”

  Iz let go of my hand to give him a mocking salute. “Thanks.”

  Fletcher stared at my friend’s hot pink hair with distracted disapproval. “My attempt to delay the news of your release to the press was unsuccessful. A crowd of reporters is outside. I can either address them now with a statement I’ve prepared or we can offer no comment. Your choice.”

  The relief at being on the right side of reinforced doors with remote controlled locks evaporated at the thought of the chaos awaiting me. “Make your statement, Fletcher.”

  He looked at my clothes and sniffed. “I wish you were dressed more appropriately. You look a mess. Turn around.” His index finger danced over my head at the command.

  I turned, not knowing what to anticipate but attempting to trust the man who’d helped me not only escape confinement but get revenge on my captors. The elastic band that held my black hair away from my face slid down and off. I heard it snap and I pictured Fletcher popping it over his wrist for safe keeping. I almost giggled at the mental image. Cold fingers glided through my hair and then he began to braid in earnest. It took less than a minute and he was done.

  Izzy had her fist under her chin and an elbow braced against her forearm. “A lawyer that braids their client’s hair? Let me guess, you have sisters?”

  Franco grunted his amusement. I’d nearly forgotten he was still standing there.

  Fletcher picked up his briefcase from the floor and straightened the front of his suit jacket. A faint blush crept up his neck. “Shall we go?”

  I smoothed the baggy teal cardigan over my plain white cotton T-shirt. The yoga pants I was wearing were faded and well worn. They didn’t allow ‘clients’ footwear with laces, so the shoes on my feet were simple canvas flats with rubber soles. In short, I looked like a patient being released from a mental institution, which I was.

  Fletcher frowned at Izzy’s hair again. No amount of braiding would fix that hot mess. “I suppose I’ll have to make this work. Come along then.” He waggled a finger at both of us. “Do not speak, do not smile, and do not wave at the camera.” He aimed that last ‘do not’ at Izzy. “Look straight through them as if they aren’t there. Do not react to anything they shout at you.”

  I slid an arm over my only friend’s shoulders, tucking her into my side. “Are you ready to be infamous?”

  She snorted and squeezed my waist.

  “What makes you think I’m not already?

  2 ‘FREE’ AIR

  The roar of the reporters wasn’t as much of an assault as I thought it would be. A few hounded for the location of my brother’s body but that was to be expected. Some asked how or why I’d killed him. That was to be expected too. I tried not to cringe at the thought of the truth that no one would believe anyway. The flash of their cameras was blinding. I ended up staring at the back of Fletcher’s pinstripe suit coat and blinking in pain. More than a few microphones got shoved at my face but I kept my lips locked. Izzy clung to me like a second skin. It was a struggle not to tangle our feet in the crush.

  I could see the sanctuary of a sleek shining sedan with tinted windows. Fletcher ushered us toward it with precise sweeps of his briefcase. Once we were tucked inside on the smooth leather seats he stood in the open car door and spoke to the press.

  “Bozena Skala has maintained her innocence in the matter of her brother’s disappearance from the beginning. Her case was tried with circumstantial evidence as there has never been a body recovered. Christophe Skala’s killer, if there is one, remains at large. That is all we have to say at this time.”

  He ducked inside, almost clobbering me in his haste to shut the door. The divider behind his head lowered with a quiet electric efficiency. “Take us to the estate, Tim.”

  We moved at a slow pace until we were clear of the crowd. An overpass for a highway arched in a colorless concrete rainbow at the end of the road. I didn’t recognize Tim, the driver. Why would I?

  Izzy looked through the rear window and fiddled with her seatbelt strap, “So you can’t drop me home first?”

  Fletcher rolled his eyes. His exasperation was evident. “Didn’t think this through did you, sweetheart? It’s only a matter of time before they find out who you are and by proxy, where you reside. If you live with relatives, I would warn them to find somewhere else to stay for a few days.”

  My cheeks flamed with shame. “I’m sorry, Izzy. You can sleep over at my place until all this blows over.”

  She patted me on the knee. “Don’t worry about it, pobrecita. Some celebrity will cheat on their husband or go into rehab and they’ll forget all about you.”

  I so wished that were true. As long as the mystery of Christophe’s death remained they would never forget. And I wouldn’t either.

  Izzy squirmed in her seat and crossed her legs. “Can we stop at a gas station? I need to pee so bad my eyes are turning yellow.”

  Fletcher snorted in disgust and paused in flipping through the papers in his lap to rap with one knuckle on the closed divider. “Please find the next convenient restroom, Timothy. The sooner the better.”

  I didn’t like his condescending attitude much. “Gerard, is there a reason you’re being such a snob to my friend?”

  He straightened the seam on one leg and looked over the rims of his wire frame glasses. “I am disappointed
that you put an innocent person at risk, Ms. Skala. Your friend is in over her head without any of the resources available to a person of your means. You were irresponsible to involve her in your life, such as it is. If I’m unpleasant, I do apologize. I’m sure my temper will be the least of both your worries for some time to come.”

  Izzy hissed out something in Spanish that wasn’t fit for polite company. That was fine by me since Fletch wasn’t being polite, no, not at all.

  I scooted forward as the car slowed to a stop and undid my seatbelt. “Do I pay your retainer, Fletcher?”

  He cocked his head and twitched his lips in an insulting semi-smile. “Your inheritance does, Ms. Skala.”

  “Would you like to continue being paid?”

  Izzy pushed on my back. “Get outta the car, Z! I’m about to make a puddle if you don’t move outta the way!”

  I broke eye contact with Fletcher to open the door. It was muggy outside and the light wind hitting my face smelled of spilled gasoline. Timothy the driver had stopped at a less than reputable looking convenience store with two old fashioned pumps. No card readers. Customers must have to pay inside. Trash and other detritus littered the pitted asphalt in between oil stains.

  Izzy raced past on a mission. Her Converse slapped hard on the ground and loose rocks skittered and bounced in her passage. She must have really been serious about the bathroom. I watched her say something to the vague shape of the attendant and throw her arms high.

  She darted her upper body out the door, “Toilet’s for paying customers only! Get in here and buy something, chica. Hurry up!”

  Fletcher grumbled from the interior and a five-dollar bill magically appeared. I snatched it and trotted to the door.

  Izzy cut a glance to the side and whispered, “The dude at the counter is kinda hot.” Her pencil thin eyebrows wiggled up and down.

  I pointed at the handwritten restroom sign taped high on the wall at the back of the cluttered store, “Go pee, Iz.”