Matters of the Blood Read Online Free PDF Page A

something—most of them are still sleeping it off. Hell, even the owner isn't available to talk to me."
    "Who is the owner? All I heard was that it was someone who was not from around here."
    He shrugged. “Don't know much. I talked to Kevin Hilton a couple of hours ago. His brother-in-law, Alan Richards, brokered the sale. Alan's out of town, but Kevin remembers the guy who bought it was from England, looking for an investment. Bought the place a couple of years ago, then sank a ton of money into it for renovations. Hired a bunch of outsiders to do the work. Hell, they're not even hiring locals now that they're open."
    "So what's their deal, some sort of dude ranch or something?"
    "Looks like. A bunch of spoiled European snobs, I'm thinking. The place looks expensive. But there wasn't a soul around. The only person I saw was the day manager. Nice enough, but no damned help to me. I haven't met the main guy yet, but the manager said he just moved on site."
    The strains of a digital rendition of Toccata and Fugue interrupted. Crap. That setting wasn't any better than “vibrate” mode.
    I pulled my mobile out of my backpack, glanced at the ID on the screen, then put the still-chiming phone back into the bag.
    "You going to answer that?” Carlton asked.
    "Nope,” I answered. “It's Marty. I'm already going over there, so he can just wait."
    "I take it he's still as much of a pain in the ass as he always was."
    "That's putting it mildly. It's always something with him—usually money."
    "He asks you for money?” Carlton sounded surprised. “I thought the funeral industry was pretty recession proof."
    I shrugged. “I imagine so, but you know Marty with the spending."
    "You still bailing him out?"
    "I still do,” I admitted. “Someone's got to watch out for him."
    That someone being me. Clan by birth, but not by genetics, Marty was a biological anomaly. I may be half-blood, but neither of my halves were human—couldn't be. Biologies weren't compatible.
    Somehow, something in Marty's chromosomes was defective, at least to our way of thinking. Some mutation caused by who-knew-what made him powerless and fully human, a reverse X-Man. In less enlightened times, he would have been dumped at birth and left to die. Instead, he'd been allowed to live, but as an outsider. His own parents abandoned him. He was raised by an uncle and taught the funeral business. Uncle Damon was a necromancer who'd translated his natural talent into an acceptable mundane career. Marty took over the business when the family left. The clan decided that Marty could run the place, even without talent or powers. I'd always figured they'd thrown the human dog a bone.
    I was the dog sitter left holding that particular leash.
    My one and only job now was to make sure Marty didn't get into any trouble—interpret that to mean “embarrass the family.” Not that any of them were actually concerned with his welfare, just with the possibility that he might do something stupid and drag them into it. Unfortunately for me, Marty's lack of power seemed to translate into a distinct lack of sense, common or otherwise. My dear cousin appeared to enjoy getting into messes. I hoped that wasn't the case now. I did not want to get on the wrong side of my double-great-grandmother.
    "Well, enjoy,” Carlton said, still chuckling. “Thanks for the company. I'm heading back over to the ranch. Maybe I can convince that manager to roust the owner so I can get some questions answered."
    He paused as he slid out of the booth, his gaze catching mine. “It was good to see you again, Keira. It's always nice to see old friends. Check you later?"
    Old friends. I suppose you could call us that. Had a nice ring, false as it might be. Former lovers never really translated into friends. Too much muddied water under that particular bridge.
    I smiled back anyway, willing to keep playing this role for now. Made things a lot easier.
    "Sure, later,” I said and watched him leave the