Blood Descendants (St. Clair Vampires Book 1)
Read Blood Descendants (St. Clair Vampires Book 1) Online
Authors: Beverly Toney
Blood
Descendants
St. Clair Vampires Book 1
by
Beverly
Toney
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events
and incidents are either the products of the author’s
imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright
©
2014 Beverly Toney
All
rights reserved.
Cover
art by Beverly Toney
Published
by New Reign Publishing
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/BeverlyToneyAuthor
Twitter:
@StClairVamps
This book is protected
under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any
reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork
herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the
author.
Table
of Contents
Dedications
and Acknowledgments
Dedications
and Acknowledgments
Dedications
I
humbly dedicate this book to my family. To my mother, Jean, and my
step-father,
Tony, for their support and encouragement. To my siblings,
Tonya,
Melanie, Kimberly and her husband Mike, Mike and Felicia, for
believing
in me. To my nieces and nephews for whom I truly wrote the
book:
Shayla and J, Charlie, Anthony, Zoë, Ja'Patrick, Savannah and
Mya. To
those
who inspired me along the way, whether they knew it or not:
Emonie,
Jean Joachim, Lynsay Sands, Chloe Neill, Rachel Caine, to name a few.
And
lastly, I dedicate this book to my father, Edmond Toney, who passed
from
this world before this book was published.
All
of my love and respect!
Acknowledgments
This
book would have sat on my desktop, incomplete and lonely, had it not
been for
Kimberly
Toney Smith and Ellen Day. They donated their talent and time so that
I
could
realize my dream. Thank you.
Prologue
Summer vacation had
been in full swing, which also meant that the heat was at its
highest. There were some benefits to living in New Mexico, but all of
them were for people 65 and over. When you are 17, have no car and
need to get to work at 8 AM, being in a city where the temperature
settles in at 104° is not cool, no pun intended. In need of a
smoothie, I opened the fridge and found that there were two already
made. That must have been my foster mom. She was always thinking
about me. I guess that was her job, but somehow, I thought she was
better than most.
Mom had offered to
shuttle me to and from work, but I hadn’t wanted to add to her
burdens. Right then she was still asleep after working the night
shift at the hospital. She was a nurse in the neo-natal unit, which I
thought was the most amazing thing you could be. I, for one, couldn’t
deal with hospitals or blood or sick people. Well, if I really had to
think about it, I couldn’t deal with anything gross. But Mom
was a trooper and I idealized her. Raising a foster child by yourself
wasn’t easy, especially a teenage girl. I knew she worried
about me, so I tried to be as responsible as I could to alleviate her
concerns.
My smoothie was
refreshing on the way to the bus stop. I felt lucky that I lived at
the end of a short cul-de-sac because knowing all of my neighbors
gave me a sense of security. I waved at Mr. Jones who was out
watering his roses and letting his dog out to relieve itself. I liked
Mr. Jones but I hated his dog. It honestly looked like a rat and was
just as annoying as one. The second the dog saw me, it ran and
started nipping at my heels. It was all I could do not to kick the
dog back across the street. Instead, I continued to walk toward the
intersection, smiling and waving as I went. Stupid dog!
The bus was right on
time, which was unusual, and the occupants all had the same high
standard of personal hygiene as I did, also unusual. I had arrived at
work 20 minutes early and the temperature hadn’t risen above
79° yet. The day had started out great.
The little clothing
store where I worked was in a large shopping center with a Target, a
Starbucks and a Taco Bell…life couldn’t get much better
than that. I noticed a customer already waiting for us to open, but
hadn’t seen my manager’s car, so I knew would have to
wait awhile.
She glanced in my
direction and smiled. Her looks took me by surprise. She was 5’5”
and all curves with long straight blond hair that was currently in a
ponytail. Her skin wasn’t so much pale as it was blond…like
porcelain or something. Her eyes were so bright and so blue that I
would have bet they were contacts if not for the fact that she had on
a pair of smart-looking glasses. She wore a red tank top with tiny
rhinestones on the bottom, a neat pair of fitted blue jeans and the
highest pair of platforms I have ever seen. Okay, not true, but I
still wondered how she could be comfortable in those 4 inch heels.
She reminded me of a pale Betty Boop.
Smiling back at her I
felt a bit strange to be standing next to someone who was my exact
opposite. If not for her shoes, my 5’9” frame would have
towered over her. And her figure had mine beat by a mile. I was
envious until I tried to imagine running cross country with all of
those curves…I would have put an eye out. No, I liked my
athletic build. Not an ounce of fat, at least not right now. My mom
was always telling me that I ate like a fat person so I would always
need to stay active.
Height was not our only
difference, however. Where she was pale, I was dark. My skin was as
smooth and brown as mahogany hardwood and my eyes the color of mild
chocolate. I looked so different from everyone else in town and I
loved that.
“
Good
morning. I’m sure my manager will be here soon”, I said,
trying to make small talk since I had just been staring her down.
“
Oh,
thank you. Good morning to you, as well.” Her voice was
amazing. Something about it made my already relaxed body relax just a
bit more. Like a lullaby lulls a baby.
“
Is
your manager usually late?” she had asked.
I looked at my watch.
8:58 AM. The store didn’t open for business until 9:30 but we
were supposed to be inside getting ready. I wondered why a customer
would ask that question before business hours. The clothes she was
wearing weren’t from this store. In fact, I didn’t
believe we had a store in town that sold anything that nice. And, as
pale as she was, she couldn’t be from this small desert town.
Strangers in a town this small often meant trouble. Aw, man, there
went my good day.
“
Actually,
no. She is normally here by now”, I lied through my teeth. The
last thing that I needed was my moody college-student of a manager to
think I ratted her out. She was always late, always eating on the
job, always on the phone and I was pretty sure she stole the
merchandise on a daily basis.
“
My
name is Tabitha St. Clair”, she smiled, knowing I was lying to
her, and held out her hand.
“
Hi.
I’m Cheyenne Redding. Nice to meet you.” I extended my
hand, thoroughly expecting her handshake to be one of those limp,
entitled handshakes that the girls from those god-awful reality shows
do.
The surprised look on
my face when she executed a real handshake must have amused her,
because I saw a grin flash on her face before she released my hand
and turned toward the parking lot. I followed her line of sight and
saw my manager pulling into the lot, cell phone held right up to her
ear. She got noisily out of the car, slammed the door with her foot
and started walking toward us. She was still talking loudly as she
stepped onto the sidewalk, pausing to give the both of us dirty
looks, she opened the duffel bag sized purse and started looking for
the store keys.
“
I
know, right, Amber”, she was saying and she held the phone
between her shoulder and her cheek so that both of her hands were
free. After what seemed like an eternity, she found the keys, opened
the door and walked in, letting the door slam closed as we watched
on.
Tabitha turned to me
and smiled. Something about that smile made me giggle, as if we were
sharing a secret with one another. She didn’t like my manager
and that earned her some cool points in my book; that and those
fabulous shoes.
As I held the door for
Tabitha, I looked at my watch to confirm that it was indeed time to
open the store. I turned the “Closed” sign over, turned
on the lights and started heading towards the back to lock up my
purse.
“
I’ll
be right back to help you”, I said over my shoulder and then
steeled myself for the onslaught of verbal abuse that I suffered
through every time I came to work.
I walked to the back of
the store and locked my purse in one of the small lockers. Cindy was
still on the phone and busily putting items of clothing into her
large purse. She had been stealing from the store for quite some time
but all of the part time clerks were too afraid to say anything. I
wished that I didn’t need this job so badly or I would’ve
risked losing it and told on her myself.
I went out to the front
of the store and started to arrange the clothes into something that
resembled a cohesive outfit when I noticed Tabitha watching me. She
didn’t look away when I caught her, rather she just smiled and
turned slowly back to looking through the clothes racks. In no time
the store was packed with bratty little girls who wanted their
mommies to buy them clothes that were way too mature for them. The
amazing thing is that all of the mothers did it. Now these pre-teens
would look like the girls that were a little too popular in high
school. I shook my head thinking about what the world was coming to.