Blood Child by Lucinda Rose

mirror. I knew I had lost weight, but the lack of sleep and sunlight had caused me to take on an unhealthy gray pallor. Sleep only brought me pain. Avoiding it and focusing on the project just felt right. Well, it did until Bee shoved in my face her notes on the last fifty pages I had composed, declaring them utter garbage.
    She was right. I conceded and wisely volunteered to take a trip to the country. The idea of finishing the book at the estate was mine. Bee wasn’t happy about it, but Anthony had convinced her that the trip would accomplish it, as well as give her some angles for marketing the finished product. I had been a huge pain in her ass for the last couple of months, taking her time away from her day job and Skyping time with Anthony. She finally relented, saying it would be excellent for publicity and would add to the authenticity of the project. Then she told me to pack.
    I was biting my nails with terror and excitement. The gates had been closed on my prior visits to Wanaka. Rumors of guard dogs and armed security kept me from even trying to sneak a serious peek. Em confirmed that she had both wandering the estate grounds to keep out the morbidly curious. There had been a break-in at the family mausoleum eight months back, before the dogs had been added. Nothing except the door was damaged. Em believed it had just been some curious kids who wanted to scare themselves by drinking among the dead. The guards stayed at the house so they could be ready at a moment’s notice.
    A newly built guardhouse stood at attention outside massive iron gates; a small brick doghouse was right next to it. The sentinel, a young redhead named Simon, greeted me, along with a very eager German shepherd, Loki. Simon didn’t look much older than eighteen. Loki looked like he had more experience protecting things.
    I asked Simon if living and working at the estate ever creeped him out.
    “No, not at all. The only creepy things around are the homicide groupies. Those chicks are flat-out freaky. But you better be moving on. We can talk more at dinner.”
    “Dinner?”
    “Miss Em insists we all dine together whenever possible.” Seeing the confusion on my face, he just waved me through with a grin. The tall iron gates creaked as they opened. Adam stirred in the back seat.
    “Wake up, sleeping beauty,” I called.
    His middle finger shot up in response. His head and the rest followed a moment later. Adam wasn’t the best in the business, but he was still pretty damn good. He actually volunteered. By volunteering I mean he was working for photo credits only, something most photographers were happy to leave behind as quickly as possible. Adam loved life behind the lens. He took the assignments that interested him whenever possible; as a result he lived in his mother’s basement.
    I felt for a moment like I was driving back in time. Huge black oaks lined both sides of the driveway, which curved to the right, revealing the baroque mansion with its three wings and ornate stone decoration. Driving a Toyota Corolla seemed anachronistic. Adam shrieked at me to stop and immediately began taking pictures as soon as his feet hit the ground. He had no romantic notions about time or propriety.
    A young man in a uniform similar to Simon’s immediately came up to the car door, opening it as soon as my seat belt slid off.
    “Sir,” the man in the uniform chimed, “Miss Bath is waiting for you. Michael and I will get your bags. Where is your companion?” Another uniform appeared beside him, standing just a step back. Stepford valets, anyone?
    “Ben, I believe that Mr. Clark needs some air.”
    “Please except my apologies,” Ben said with a slight nod, moving back to stand with Michael. Like Simon, they both looked too young for their jobs.
    Adam came up the driveway, shooting as he walked. The man was in heaven. “Get a load of this house, man. It’s wicked. I think I have a few ideas for the cover.” He immediately shook the hands of