Free Blue-Blooded Vamp by Jaye Wells

After all, if he’s alive, he’d be high on Cain’s To-Kill list, right?” Adam said. “Any idea where he’d go if he did escape?”
    “I was hoping you might know,” Dicky said, looking directly at me.
    I scrubbed a hand over my face. “None of this makes any sense.”
    “You mentioned a message?” Erron prompted.
    The Brit went over to a set of shelves that held supplies. He moved a few bottles around in what seemed to be a pattern or code and then suddenly the shelves popped away from the wall. He pushed the whole thing aside, revealing a secret room. “Follow me.”
    Adam and I exchanged tense looks. Erron, however, didn’t seem fazed by Dicky’s behavior and followed him into the room. I was tired of the mysterious bullshit, but I knew if I wanted answers, I’d have to follow him, too. And, holy shit, did I want answers.
    The room had a recessed floor that required a couple of steps down. “What is this place?” I asked, ducking under the low stone arch to descend the stairs. The air here had the musty heaviness of age and the temperature seemed to drop about ten degrees.
    “Originally it was a tomb, left by the Etruscans. But since then, the various proprietors have used it for different purposes. The cheese maker who owned this building before I opened the bar used it as an aging cellar for his pecorino.”
    “Really?” Giguhl exclaimed. “I don’t suppose you got any more of that cheese lying around?”
    I shot the demon a glare.
    “What?” he said defensively. “It smells fucking delicious in here.”
    Actually, it smelled like feet and wet stone. I rolled my eyes at the demon and shot Dicky an apologetic look. “What do you use it for?”
    He snapped his fingers and the room was suddenly bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of candles set into niches in the walls. Niches that used to house cheesewheels and bodies. Now, the shelves without candles stored antique bottles filled with herbs and mysterious liquids. “This is my spell room,” he said. “The bar is a front for my magic solutions business.”
    “Magic solutions?”
    He nodded. “Sure. Italians love homemade remedies. Took a while for word to spread that a Brit had some skill in potions but now I supply all sorts of elixirs to little old ladies and lovesick boys.”
    As he spoke, he bent down and pulled an old leather-bound book from one of the shelves. I had assumed it was his magical grimoire, a book mages used to record their spells, so I was surprised when he opened it to reveal the book was hollow. The interior was lined in wood—cedar, judging from the scent that tickled my nose. Lying inside was a black velvet bag.
    Dicky held the box out to me. “Take it.”
    I frowned, wondering why he didn’t just hand the bag to me. It made my sense of self-preservation prickle. What did we know about this guy, anyway? For all I knew, he could work for Cain and this could be a trap.
    I guess Dicky noticed the indecision on my face because he quickly explained. “Your father warded the bag. Didn’t want anyone to see it but you, I guess.”
    Adam grabbed my arm. “Wait a second.” Turning to Dicky, he said, “There’s no ward on earth that is undone just by a certain person touching it. There’s usually some sort of magical key.”
    The Brit smiled. “Righto. Only someone from Tristan’s lineage can open it. She’s going to have to prick her finger first and let the blood drop on the bag.”
    I sighed deeply. Blood was serious. I was already up to my ass in debt to a god over blood sacrifices. “No way, dude.”
    Even Erron, who until this point had remained quiet and unruffled, looked concerned. “What kind of trick are you trying to pull?”
    “No trick.” Dicky shrugged. “Tristan wanted to be sure no one could see this except his own flesh and blood.” He nodded in my direction. “This was the best way to ensure that.”
    “I think we’re going to need to see some proof this is really from Tristan,” Adam