Blood Debt (Touched Series Book 1) Read online

  “I’m serious, Cami.”

  After I hung up with Daniel, I had a tough time finding sleep. If he could just meet them, he could tell me that everything would be fine. We’d been friends for as long as I knew what a friend was. Daniel thought like me, acted like me, most of the time we finished each other’s sentences. I wanted to believe my family was every bit as awesome as they appeared on the surface, but I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something just wasn’t right. Daniel was thousands of miles away, and he was feeling the same thing.

  The next morning I showered and dressed, tiptoeing down the hallway. I’m not sure why; I was still on west coast time, so it was after nine a.m. on the east coast. The house was quiet. It reminded me of a library rather than a home filled with eight people.

  As I peered into the kitchen, I found Brent sitting at the table looking at some papers. When he saw me enter, I saw his face light up, “Hey, I was just getting ready to write you a note. Glad you’re up!”

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “We’re supposed to go pick up your ‘Welcome to the family present’ from Mom and Dad, but I was going to go for a swim before it got too hot.”

  “I don’t need a present. Don’t let me hold you up.”

  “Get used to it. Dad likes to make money; Mom likes to spend it. You wanna join me for a swim?”

  “That’s a consistent theme. Will was giving Gretchen crap last night about her spending habits.” I thought about his offer. I loved swimming but had packed a little too quickly, “I didn’t bring a swim suit.”

  “Hmm, well, let’s shelf swimming for now and go pick up your gift.”

  “Brent, that’s okay. I’d really rather just hang out.”

  “You don’t even know what it is.”

  “Seriously, I’d rather not.”

  “Uh . . . sure, I’ll text Dad real quick and let him know there’s been a change of plans.”

  Brent put his phone down and looked back my way hopefully. My question was out before I even realized how rude it was, “So, when money’s no object, how do you keep yourself entertained?”

  “Entertained? You mean, what do I find fulfilling?”

  I didn’t want him to think that I thought he was shallow and hoped my question hadn’t offended him. “Yeah, are you a workaholic, a big time philanthropist, or what?”

  “I work, but it’s not that hard. Dad could do it all himself if he wanted to. I think he just keeps the five of us in the office for comic relief. I’ve never met a charity I didn’t like, but I don’t think that qualifies me as a philanthropist. I’m pretty simple.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “Uh . . . no. No girlfriends.”

  “Now or ever?”

  Brent looked like I had struck a nerve, “Ever.”

  “Oh, sorry.” From his reaction I figured he must bat for the other team, “Boyfriend?”

  This question made him laugh, “No, Camille, I’m not gay. I’m definitely heterosexual.”

  That didn’t make any sense. Brent was handsome - seriously handsome. He could give up his day job and be a model if he wanted to. He was really tall, deeply tanned, dark, with shaggy but perfectly trimmed hair, a smile that even Colgate would be envious of, and a cool personality. “You’re a rich, good-looking guy. Girls probably throw themselves at you.”

  “Not exactly. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve run across a few that I thought were pretty incredible, but dating isn’t necessarily something . . . I mean, it’s not . . . you know.”

  “It’s not what?” I could see Brent had touched on something he desperately didn’t want to talk about.

  “I’ve just not found Miss Right.”

  “How are you going to find Miss Right, if you aren’t checking out Miss Right-Now?”

  “It’s just not a good idea.”

  “Uh, okay. If you want me to set you up or something, I have tons of single friends in California.”

  Brent’s face looked like he was actually contemplating my suggestion. “That would be beyond awesome, but I wouldn’t feel right about it. Enough about my love life, what about you?”

  “I told you yesterday, I had a boyfriend I broke up with a couple months ago. End of story.”

  “Your mother didn’t mind?”

  “Didn’t mind what?”

  “Did she introduce you two?”

  “Well, no. That would be weird.”

  “But, your mother was . . . I mean . . . you’re the same. She wouldn’t let you just date anyone.”

  “Brent, what are you talking about? My mom didn’t have a say in any of my boyfriends.”

  “Boyfriends? You’ve dated more than one?” I could tell from Brent’s expression that he was surprised, but I wasn’t sure what he was so offended by. Maybe dating meant something different here?

  Gretchen stepped through the door at that moment, her voice full of volume, “Brent, I thought you were taking Camille to pick up her gift?” She leaned down and kissed his cheek and gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze.

  “Camille and I were just getting to know each other a little better. I texted Dad. He’s going to have it delivered.”

  “Your brothers are outside clearing the grove for this weekend. Why don’t you go give them a hand before it gets too hot?”

  I could see the relief on Brent’s face. He wasn’t at all comfortable with our conversation. “Sure, Mom. See you later, Camille.” Brent exited without another word. It was a strange conversation. I’d always been relatively attractive, not a supermodel, but why would he be surprised that I’d had boyfriends? He seemed surprised that anyone was interested in dating me. Talk about a bruise to the ego.

  “I can help, too, Gretchen.” As much fun as I’d had with them yesterday, I couldn’t wait to listen in on more of their stories.

  I stood up and was two steps away when Gretchen said, “You and I need to spend some time together. I think there are some things your mother would want you to know.”

  I felt a twinge of nervousness. It hadn’t been that long since my mother’s death, and I didn’t want to talk about her, not with anyone, but especially with Gretchen.

  Gretchen sensed my apprehension, “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I can see your mother’s memories are still tender. There are some things she didn’t share with you that I think are important you know.”

  “You knew my mother?” I could feel my eyelids flex as my eyes widened.

  “No, Camille. I never met your mother, but I’m certain that she was wonderful.”

  “Gretchen, I . . . I appreciate it, but . . . I’m not ready to talk about her.”

  “How would you like to talk to her?”

  I froze. I felt a rush of heat shoot through my body. My heart skipped. “She died, Gretchen. I was there when it happened.”

  “Her body died, yes. But her spirit lives on. She’s with you now. She’s talking to you right this second, but you aren’t listening.” I froze. I didn’t know what kind of game Gretchen was playing, but I didn’t like it. They were a cult! I was right from the beginning. Gretchen thought she could talk to ghosts. How was I going to get out of here? No way was I getting sucked in.

  Chapter 7

  Gretchen broke eye contact with me and looked over my shoulder. She sounded like she was angry when she said, “You should have told her before you passed. Do you know how hard it must be for her to hear this from me?” Gretchen paused for a second carrying on her imaginary conversation. “I will do my best, but shame on you for not telling her yourself!” Gretchen’s eyes focused back on mine. “Camille, I need for you to hear me out. What I’m about to tell you will be difficult to hear, but it’s important that you know.”

  Last night I hadn’t been sure how to feel about Will, but I’d liked Gretchen right away. First impressions aren’t always infal
lible. She was nuts, certifiable and likely the ring-leader of this cult – it was always the leaders that were crazy. I needed to decide if I wanted to humor her until Will got home or if I wanted to go outside and call a cab now. I wanted to like Gretchen, but so much had happened in the last month, I couldn’t afford to get attached to someone who believed she could talk to spirits – not just any spirit, but my mother’s. It would hurt too much. The only people I’d ever met who’d made those claims were charlatans, thieves and the mentally ill.

  “I’m not a charlatan, or mentally ill, and seriously, Camille, what do you have that I’d like to steal?”

  For the second time in as many minutes, I could feel my eyes bulging. Did I say that out loud? Oh, my gosh, I’m losing it! “How? . . . What’d you just say?”

  The warm smile reappeared, “Yes, Camille. Sometimes I have to tune in to retrieve information. I’ll not make a habit of it. I’ll ask that you give me the same courtesy.”

  “The same courtesy? What are you talking about? I can’t read minds.”

  “I’m afraid you can. No one has ever taught you how. Your mother is an interesting spirit. She wanted you to have a normal human experience. She thought that if she taught you how to use your gifts you would use them as a crutch.”

  “Use what as a crutch?”

  “In school, knowing what others were selecting for answers on tests would have precluded you from learning the material for yourself. At least, that’s what she believed.” Gretchen’s voice dropped the humor, “For the record, I disagree. You should have understood who you were . . . are.”

  “You’re telling me she’s right here and you’re communicating with her right now? You’re a medium?”

  “I’ve been called many things. I am the Matriarch of this family, and I have pure Centaur blood flowing through my veins. As do you.”

  Centaur? The half-people, half-horse things? No freakin’ way! Mentally ill and delusional. I wonder if Will knew she was a loon. He’d have to know, right?

  “Camille, I am not a loon. Before being disrespectful, I suggest you remember I can read your thoughts as easily as I can hear your words. Centaurs are a noble race. We were not half-equestrian as many legends have adopted. Humans were unable to explain the speed of our men and could only describe us in terms of a warrior being carried by a horse. Early paintings showed our kind as a cross between a person and a horse. I can assure you, none of us have hooves.”

  I started feeling a little woozy. She really could read minds. Centaurs were a different race? I looked just like everyone else. How could I be a Centaur?

  “Your mother and father were both full-blooded Centaurs, Camille. No human blood is mixed in your lineage. The same is true for your brothers.”

  “So, what’s a Centaur if it isn’t a half-person, half-horse?”

  “As I said, the speed with which our men have always run was difficult for humans to understand. They began drawing pictograms millennia ago of men with horse bodies to show our speed. The men of our kind have always been fierce warriors. The women are physically strong, but our real strength lies in our minds. Each blood line carries different skills: some are psychic, some clairvoyant, others can move objects, and some are able to predict the future with uncanny accuracy. There are other talents, too – it depends which blood line is predominate.”

  “But I can’t do any of those things.”

  “Yes, you can. You just don’t know how. We are not common humans. We have an obligation to keep our race going, to ensure our traits are not lost. You, too, have the same obligation I do. You, too, have the same skills I do. In fact, as a Chiron, you probably have all the skills. Your mother chose not to share with you her talents or develop yours.”

  “What? My mother couldn’t do any of those things.”

  “I don’t know why your mother chose to hide who she was from you or why she kept her secrets from you. This is a critical time in your life, and without your mother to guide you, you could easily make poor decisions. For this reason, I would like for you to extend your trip. There is much for me to teach you, and I cannot do it in just a few days.”

  I felt like she was waiting for me to say something, but I was still in process mode, so she continued her explanation.

  “It is only women of our kind who possess these skills. Men help promulgate the race, but it is the women who are revered. When Will told me he had met your mother, I was floored. We all thought she was dead. She was the last Chiron female heir; her brother never married. Everyone believed the Chiron blood line would be extinct after this generation.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your mother permitted a union with your father, out of wedlock. She must have done it out of an obligation to all Centaurs, to keep her blood line alive. But she taught you nothing. You know nothing of our ways or how you fit.”

  “She allowed a union? That sounds a little antiquated. It takes two to tango.”

  “I am not belittling your mother. I am merely trying to share with you our beliefs. We are a warrior race, so rather than the 50/50 ratio of male to female that humans have, it is 80/20.”

  “Why are so many more men born than women?”

  “No one knows for sure, but my theory is that from an evolutionary perspective, a significant number of the Centaur male population should have been lost in battle - maybe something like 4 of 5. Because we have known peace for so long, the males significantly outnumber the females.”

  I couldn’t believe I was buying in to her delusion, “Maybe Mom didn’t know she was a . . . Centaur?”

  “Your mother was the daughter of Zandra. I can assure you Zandra brought your mother up to know our ways. Your mother chose to leave her family and abandon our race.”

  “My grandparents are dead. My mom told me she’d been on her own since she was seventeen.”

  Gretchen nodded, “She was indeed on her own from a young age, but I can assure you, your grandmother is very much alive.”

  I felt my blood pumping again with enough force that I could actually hear my pulse. “Where?”

  “Zandra lives in Florida. Your grandfather, Isaac, passed away a few years ago. Neither had seen their daughter in more than a quarter century. They did not know where she was. Zandra only knew of her passing when she sensed your mother’s spirit moving on to the spirit world.” Gretchen’s face took on a strange look when she added, “She was unaware of you.”

  “Was unaware? Does that mean you’ve talked to her?”

  Gretchen patted my hand, “Yes, I spoke with Zandra late last night. Given the circumstances, she agrees that you should stay with my family. However, she is very anxious to meet you.”

  She looked over my shoulder again. She spoke in a harsh tone, but not to me. “She is more than capable of handling the truth. Zandra is of no threat to her while she is under my roof. My family will protect her. No blood debt will be paid.”

  I heard the words echo in my mind, “Blood debt? What’s going on?”

  Gretchen let out a heavy sigh, “It seems your mother had been betrothed to a very powerful Centaur. When she refused to marry him, her family was required to pay a debt of blood, her blood. Your mother ran away and broke contact with her family. Your mother is worried that you may be sought to pay her debt.”

  “Are you kidding me? There’s a price on my head for just being her daughter?”

  “It is an old tradition. You are Will’s daughter, too. He will try to make amends to the family, monetarily. But, now that people are aware of you, I insist that you extend your stay, at least until you better understand our society. We’ll make arrangements to have your things shipped here.”

  “You’re serious. You just spoke with my mom?” I wanted to believe it. I wanted my mother to be right here with me. I couldn’t believe the words when I heard them come from me, “Can she hear me?”

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nbsp; Gretchen looked over my shoulder again, then back to me and nodded. “She can hear anything you say to her.”

  I didn’t need any more encouragement, and for some strange reason, I believed Gretchen. “I miss you, Mom. I don’t know what to believe.” I felt strange talking to her in front of Gretchen. I wondered if this was some sort of trick. In my gut I knew Gretchen had really read my mind; she knew exactly what I was thinking. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

  Gretchen looked over my shoulder for the answer, then back to me. “She had to make a choice before she died. She didn’t want you to know this life, but she feared for your safety if she was no longer able to protect you. Most of all, she says she felt utter loneliness before you came into the world and did not want you to be alone the way she had been.”

  That sounded like something my mom would say. I caught myself looking in the same direction Gretchen had looked. I asked her, “Will I be able to hear you? Someday?”

  Gretchen’s voice was barely more than a whisper, “She doesn’t belong here, Camille. She will begin to grow weaker soon. I will work with you so that you may realize your gifts, but know that she won’t be able to stay with us for very long. You will need to work hard to learn how to use your skills.”

  I had kept William’s name and phone number for weeks before I finally built up the courage to call him. It was the loneliness that finally made me dial his number. My whole life had revolved around my mother, and it was hard to comprehend that Gretchen was going to give her back to me in some small way. I wasn’t sure about the things she said about Centaurs, or the idea that it was a different race that I belonged to, but I hoped that I really would be able to hear my mother’s voice again.

  I looked her square in the eye, nodded and asked, “How do we start?”

  Chapter 8

  Gretchen spent the next several hours trying to help me hear my mother. At 5 o’clock I was frustrated; nothing she had tried worked. I convinced Brent to take me to the store for a soda. While I was standing at the display case, a friendly voice greeted me from behind. “Miss Strayer, good to see you again.”