Traded Blood

By C.A. Miller

White lies. Every parent tells them. Without a second thought, every child forgives them. Yet what if those same white lies became something bigger? Something dangerous? Life changing?

Nyla Stevenss modest life, humble dreams, and fabricated world are shattered as she comes to find her parents have sold her and her brother as new blood. Their immortality now rests upon Nylas betrothal and subsequent fall to darkness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543442199

C.A. Miller

C.A Miller resides in a rural town in California with her young daughter. While writing has always been her passion, work has taken her from everyday jobs, to the medical field, to her current position as a high school teacher. Traded blood is C.A. Miller’s Debut Novel.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

H er father always told her fear was tangible. She never understood his morbid fascination with the occult or anything to do with horror. Yet here she was. Running. They were coming. All that she had never understood was all too clear. Scorching fear burrowed into her back. They’re catching up. She stumbled. Her dress catching upon each tree and shrub she blurred past. If she could only get to the road. She stumbled again this time due to her heels. With a frustrated cry she yanked them off. Mom would be so pissed . After all, she had special ordered her satin gown and slippers from somewhere abroad. Now they lie scattered and in pieces on the forest floor. Dazed she scrambled to her feet and fought to keep herself going. The coppery tinged of blood flooded her senses. Reaching up, she confirmed the wound on her neck was still oozing. Blood is life. She thought knowing hers ran down the side of her dress and stained the forest floor in a scattered stream. Leaves rustle to the left. Another wave of terror. She continues. Just because she cannot see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t there. She stumbles and rolls down an embankment ending up in a small stream. Her wrist splits on the way down as she topples over it. Coming to a rolling stop, she cries out at the site of her now deformed wrist. The kind of terrorized desperate cry that is devoid of sound.

This way. A voice calls out. She gasped and scrambles out of the brook. Staggering over her now wet and heavy gown, weakness encompasses her. The uneven terrain and her loss of blood slowing her more and more. Through blurred vision she can tell the road lie just ahead. Fighting to keep her pace the majority of her speed is gone. The dress catches yet another branch and pulls her to the ground. Salty tears bite into the scraps on her face. The smell of algae that is smeared on her dress from the brook is rich. Clumps of mud fall as she staggers to her feet. Her dress is no longer the vision of white it started out as. She yanks it ripping yet another piece from the skirt. Yep, mom would be pissed. She thought and again began running. Yet again, she stumbles head over heels down an embankment cradling her broken wrist as she rolls. This time however, as she sits up she is face to face with the road. The low-level hum of an approaching car signals motivation and strength within her. She stands, ignoring all of her injuries. She could hear the car, yet she cannot see it because of a curve in the road. She staggers further onto the asphalt. Looking back into the forest, it seems she could have just enough time. Finally, she could see the car. A dark older model is all she could make out through her streaming tears and lurching vision. Music blares from within the car, as it gets closer and closer. They cannot see her. She lifts her good arm and tries to yell, but the music is too loud, and her best scream is merely a whimper. Could she get out of the way in time? Is it worth it? She Considers. Finally, the driver’s eyes meet hers. He slams on the brakes. Without enough time or road between them, her body collides with the car. The full impact would have surly killed her, yet this impact was only enough to send her to the ground. She comes to within moments of the crash. Now face to face with the bumper. The pungent smell of burning rubber and metallic brakes fills the air. She can hear voices coming from all directions. From inside the car as well as from the forest. She wonders if this will be it for her. Will these people help her? Can they? Will her life really end this way? Her father always told her fear was tangible.

CHAPTER 1

Normal

I can’t really say if my life is normal or not. What I can say is I remember the first time I began to wonder if I was normal at all. I was 7 years old and playing in my front yard. Summer had just ended and fall was approaching. Our neighborhood was not as developed back then as it is now. As I played alone in the sun a boy from another neighborhood rolled up to our house on a bike. He was a bit winded but he smiled at me before he spoke.

Hi.

Hi. I replied catching a quick glimpse of him then looking back down to my toys.

Have you seen a yellow dog? His name is Boomer and I thought he might have ran this way.

The truth of the matter was I wished I had seen a dog. I had always wanted a dog. But my parents always said no. I was instantly jealous of this boy.

No. I quickly muttered careful not to look at him for too long.

Well, if you see him, my name is John and I live on Vista. Just over there. He pointed and I looked to be polite, but I was shy and I was always told not to talk to any strangers even children my own age.

We live in a big blue house with a white fence and a green mailbox. Boomer is friendly so if you find him can you bring him home please?

I shook my head and I left it at that.

Thank you. John shouted as he rode off into the distance. I could hear him calling for Boomer. I continued to play. Day light was still long even though it was clearly evening, to play for hours before dinner. However, it would not be long before play time was cut short by the onset of nightfall, that and my father’s calls.

I spoke to myself and to my toys as I played out life scenes. Then I was jolted as something soft jumped on me from behind.

I let out a small scream. This only excited the animal and it bounced even more. Boomer licked my face and jumped all around me.

Nyla, what’s going on out there? My mother called from the kitchen window.

Nothing I retorted quickly as I took a firm grasp of Boomer’s collar and jolted out of sight.

Boomer was a beautiful yellow lab. He was tall and thick. His tongue was bright pink and warm. His nose was brown, wet and cold. I hugged him repeatedly. I was not allowed to have a dog, a cat, or anything as a pet. My parents say I’m not responsible.

As I pet Boomer I suddenly realize two things. John must love having this dog as a pet and I need to do the responsible thing and bring it back to him.

I can prove to mom and dad that I am responsible enough for a pet by returning someone else’s.

They will be so proud, they will get me whatever kind of pet I want.

I reasoned with myself as I prepared to leave.

I headed in the direction of Vista Street. Boomer pulled and panted like crazy. My back burned as I walked hunched over without a leash. Vista was three streets over and I could see the sign from where I stood. The closer we got, more the dog pulled. As I approached the blue house with the green mail box and the white fence I could barely keep ahold of Boomer. He tore at the ground to get away and I nearly fell over. When I felt my very last finger slip from under his collar the front door opened and Boomer ran straight through it. A tall older man let the dog in.

Hey Boomer. Where you been boy? He bent and greeted the dog. I watched for a second but then realized this was the perfect time for me to leave. After all I was the furthest I had ever been away from home without my parents, they didn’t know I was gone, and this was a stranger. I didn’t get far before.

Thank you for bringing our dog back. What’s your name? Do you live around here?

It’s hard to describe sudden terror. But that is what I felt when I realized this was a stranger and he was doing what strangers do… asking me my name. (According to my parents)

He must have been able to read both my silence and closed demeanor because he followed with.

Honey, it’s okay. I know I’m a stranger. But I just want to know your name so I can tell my family who brought our dog back. Do you live on our street?

Hey! You found him! John burst from the house with Boomer this time Boomer was on a leash.

John, is this one of your friends?

I still was not talking. I had an urgency to get home. I really wished they would just let me go.

I met her a few streets over dad. I told her to bring Boomer back if she seen him. And she did.

Well isn’t that wonderful. Thank you…. The man held out his hand and waited not only for my hand but for my name. While it was against all my better judgment I thought they might just leave me alone if I told them my name. Then maybe I could go home. I was wrong.

I’m Nyla. I shook John’s dad’s hand and from there my memory gets a little hazy. I know we went inside for lemonade, John and I played in his tree fort in the back yard, then looked at his toys, and before I knew it was dark. Panic set in instantly. I have to go home.

That’s fine Nyla. We will take you home. Patrick, John’s dad calmed my fear of walking in the dark.

Arriving home the house was lit up like any other normal night. Patrick thanked me again for bringing Boomer home and John asked me to come over and play again. I was on top of the world. A new friend. I didn’t have any friends. But now I did. As soon as I walked in the door my five-year-old brother took a hold of my arm and began screaming.

I found her! I have her! I found her!

Blake let go of me. What are you doing? My brother dragged me into my father’s office and shut the door.

Blake said nothing to me despite my questioning. When my father entered the room to my amazement he handed my brother a 20 dollar bill and patted him on the back.

What is going on? I asked as my father showed Blake out of the office and closed the door.

My father lifted his head high and folded his arms behind his back. He peered down at me with an all too familiar look. I knew I was in trouble. But even at the tender age of seven I spoke my mind.

I’m in trouble? I blurted out despite knowing the answer.

I could see the furrows in my father’s brow growing deeper and deeper. Just as he began to speak the door flew open and my mother burst into the room.

Blake just told me. Nyla where have you been? Are you hurt? My father stopped her from reaching me the way most fathers do. He stepped in front of her placed one hand on her shoulder and spoke too softly for me to hear. Those few words were enough to change my mother’s demeanor in an instant. She went from concerned parent to…

Of course you are in trouble Nyla Leanne Stevens. How dare you do this to us? To your family? She briefly awaited an answer with a furious and astonished look. However, I had nothing to respond in turn as I was just as astonished as she was. As my father closed the door behind my mother I awaited my father’s onslaught of questioning and final sentencing. However he paced near his desk with his hands clasped tightly over his mouth.

Just when I could take it no longer and mustered the courage to argue my innocence, the phone rang. Both my father and I looked to his desk to verify his phone was in fact ringing. He answers. Says a few words, thanks the person on the other end and hangs up. Jim Stevens, my father, was a Lawyer for the firm Mercatura Cruor and associates. But I’m seven. I cannot pronounce it, or remember it, so my father calls it M.C. and associates and so do I. As a lawyer he approaches everything in life as if he is in a court room.

Nyla. Leanne. Stevens? He questions me as if I am sitting on the witness stand and my name is as foreign to him as it is to our neighbors.

Daddy I… Witnesses are not allowed to speak unless addressed or questioned so I was abruptly cut off.

Do you understand the gravity of the situation you placed your mother and I in today? He slammed his hands down onto the arm of the chair I was sitting in and reiterated.

Do you? Young lady?

I jumped away from him.

Daddy, I have a friend… John. And He has a dog… I took his dog home to him… It was lost… and

YOU ARE NOT TO TALK TO STRANGERS! My father roared. Instantly I began to cry. My father’s screams had that effect on me.

At the same time a fire began to rise in me that burned and bit at my very core as my father spouted the very same dribble he always had about safety and security and the world not being the same as it was when he was a child. In an instance of rage and impudence I stood and screamed

You can’t keep me locked up forever! Whether it was fear, adrenaline, or pure insanity I ran from my father’s office and straight to my room.

This was to date the craziest thing I had ever done. My father did lock me up. Literally for three weeks. I ate, slept, and did my school work in my room. I still have no idea what they told my teachers. I managed to overhear my father threaten both my mother and my brother that should I leave my room and he find out who assisted me, they too would suffer a similar fate. And so life went on pretty much like this. I was grounded repeatedly for trying to do things I seen other children do in our neighborhood, challenging my father’s authority, and arguing against the soundness of family rules. Finally, I learned my way around my parents and life began to become normal. I guess. In comparison to what? I’m not sure.

Adam

You’re a stalker.

No, I’m a perfectionist. Drystan argued as he positioned his car outside what Adam had just learned was the Dawson home.

Is that why we’ve come then? Adam chuckled.

Drystan Scoffed.

I’m not going to waste my time on some dog.

Adam laughed a little harder. Drystan ignored him and watched the house. Within a few moments, a young woman exited onto one of the homes many balconies. As she stepped out into the sunlight, her shoulder length blonde hair glistened in its rays. Reaching a large chaise lounge, she shed her robe. She was petite. Her body was flawless and perfectly tan. Her bright pink bikini seemed too small and tied in all the places that mattered. A few pulls of those strings could leave her as bare as the day she was born. She lay across the lounge as if she had not a care in the world. Slipping on a pair of jewel studded sunglasses; she reached for her cell phone and placed a call.

Adam turned to Drystan.

Have you seen enough? Is she to your liking?

Drystan paused for a few moments looking up at the balcony. Adam was beginning to speak when Drystan cut him off.

I have only seen two sides of her.`

What? Adam asked truly having no other response.

I need to see the other side of her. I have only seen the left side of her as she was walking out, and her backside as she was sitting down. Now she is facing away from us. I need to see the other side of her.

Are you serious?

I’m going to drive up to the other side of the house to get another view of the balcony.

Why? She’s hot. Tell me she’s not. Just arrange a meeting and you can see all of her without having to move your car.

The hell with that. Drystan snapped.

And have my dad expect that she’s it? What if she has some huge scar on her face, a mole, or some shit? You never know.

Adam just shook his head.

You are unbelievable.

Adam stopped the argument there. He had never understood Drystan. To call him a snob is an understatement. So really, this was normal behavior for him.

What the…? Drystan slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

What now?

Some heifer is in the way now!

Adam looked back at the balcony and found another girl. She was indeed sitting directly in their line of sight, but she was no heifer. At least not according to most normal people. She was tall, her head resting just above the pillow at the top of the lounge. She was thick, but not what one would call fat. Her hair was dark, and pulled back. She was lying on her side, talking to the other girl. She was modest, having worn a tank top and shorts to tan rather than a bathing suit. She smiled wide and her cheeks dimpled. Adam found himself intrigued by the little he seen of her.

What’s her name?

I told you. Her name is Leela Dawson. She’s the daughter of…

No, the other girl. The Friend.

The cow? I don’t know. Here! Drystan reached over the backseat and tossed Adam a file then started the car.

Where are we going? Adam asked never taking his attentions away from the balcony.

I’m leaving. I can’t see the girl I came to see, that huge bitch is in the way.

Adam ignored his friend and began to read through the file.

CHAPTER 2

Nyla

N yla! Leela Screeched yanking her sunglasses from her face and sitting straight up out of her lounge.

I can’t go alone!

Nyla shook her head and replied

Leela, I can’t keep asking my parents and having them freak out on me. I won’t do it. You don’t understand cause don’t have the limits I do.

Leela slumped back into her chair with a disappointed grunt.

I’m sorry. Nyla did her best to apologize. However, Leela was wealthy and simply not used to the word no. From early on she had her own chauffeur (Dalton), her very own cell phone, and an endless supply of her father’s cash. Nyla on the other hand was a different story. Her family wasn’t poor, her parents simply walked a different path. Anything Nyla had was one hundred percent controlled by her parents. From her allowance, her car, even down to her free time. Leela wouldn’t have to ask her father to fly to Paris if she wanted. (As long as Dalton went along for the ride.) Yes, Nyla and Leela were living two different lives. Yet it never stood in the way of their friendship. It also never stopped Leela from trying to get her way. Leela popped up from her lounge.

I’ll just have Daddy give your dad a call. That way you can go. Leela finished her sentence with a perky upward inflection. She never missed an opportunity to take advantage of the fact that her father was a benefactor for the company that Nyla’s father worked for. Practically every company in New Haven was in business thanks in part to Leela’s father.

Leela, every time you do that, it works. I get to go where you want me to go. But my father gets mad at me. Please just sit this one out, or go alone. Leela sat up in her chair again.

Nyla! We always go to the point parties together! She whined.

Exactly Leela. We have been to like 20 of these parties. Nothing cool ever happens. The same people go every time. Why go? Nyla tried to reason.

So you would rather just sit at home with your parents and your bratty brother all night?

Leela scoffed.

No, but I’d rather not spend my nights getting lectured. My dad will have me in his office talking about the importance of obedience, and then he’ll send me into the kitchen to cook for him. So, Yea I’d rather not end up doing that, and if you ask your dad to make that call, that’s what will happen.

There was a brief silence between the girls. Leela sat forward on the edge of her chair, as she seemed to be considering all the possibilities.

What if I told daddy to tell him not to lecture you? Leela blurted out.

No Leela, That won’t work and it will only make my dad angrier. I’m sorry. I am just not interested. Go with Annie or Lily.

Leela stayed at the edge of her seat for a few moments. Whether she was waiting for Nyla to reconsider or waiting for a valid argument neither came. She finally slumped back into her chair and let out another disappointed grunt as she slipped her sunglasses on and turned away from Nyla. This was one of the few times that Nyla had to tell Leela no. For the sake of her own sanity, she prayed that Leela would listen.

The Stevens

The Stevens home was unusually quiet for a Friday afternoon. Blake was gone for the night. This was most likely the primary cause for all the silence. Nyla’s mother Grace piddled around the kitchen preparing that night’s dinner. Nyla’s Father Jim had just arrived home from work. He sat comfortably reclined, shoes off, reading files out of his open briefcase. Many lawyers bring their work home with them, and Jim was no exception. For as long as Nyla could remember, her father had worked for the same firm. After years of long hours, weekends and even longer nights, her father was still working his way towards some big promotion.

Nyla had managed to avoid her father’s arrival. The trick now was to continue avoiding him. Despite his obvious preoccupation, Jim was never too busy to bother Nyla for a complete run through of her day. If that was not bad enough he always followed up with a lecture from the You know what you should do with your life? category of boring parent lectures. Those had become her parents’ favorite lectures lately. Most likely having to do with her up and coming eighteenth birthday. He didn’t hear the door. Nyla breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped past the foyer and toward the staircase. Third, one creaks. She told herself preparing to jump it.

It is nice to see you too Nyla. Her father called out.

A hot streak of fear rose within her and Nyla nearly fell over. Composing herself, she put on her best fake smile and rounded the partition.

Hi Daddy. I didn’t see you there. How was your day today?

Maybe if she laid it on thick and asked him first he wouldn’t ask her. A tactic that occasionally worked.

I had some trouble with some new clients. A few contracts had to be looked over and brought into order. But my day was fine. Her father replied never taking the file away from his face.

Trouble with Clients huh? That sucks dad. Nyla reiterated trying to seem as interested as possible as she quietly backed away toward the foyer.

Nyla… Jim began yet was promptly cut off by his cell phone ringing. Knowing that this was her chance, she dashed up the staircase and into her room.

Sprawled across her bed with one of her favorite books, it was time for Nyla to relax. With Blake gone, she could enjoy it without annoying interruptions. Books were a welcomed retreat from her mundane life. In a book, Nyla could be the heroine, the evil temptress, or even a blundering idiot. The point was she could escape. Become someone new, if only for a moment. This particular book was just getting good. Only a few lines into the first paragraph and Nyla could hear footsteps approaching, one of the advantages of having the room at the top of the stairs. On the other hand, maybe it was a disadvantage. Nyla could never decide. Nevertheless, she continued reading her book. Within moments, her father opened her door.

Dad! Nyla jumped from her bed.

I could have been naked you know! Nyla scolded him.

I’m Sorry. I figured you just came up here so… Jim fumbled.

Listen, I’m taking you to that beach party. So get ready, dress nice, and remember to take a sweater. I’ll meet you in the car in 20 minutes.

Dad wait, Was that Leela’s dad on the phone? Nyla demanded.

I told her I wasn’t going to go to this…

Remember your sweater. I’ll meet you downstairs in 20. Jim said again having to raise his voice slightly to make Nyla hear him. Having spoken his peace, Jim closed the door.

Damn it Leela. Nyla swore tossing her book at her bed and pulling her clothes from a nearby drawer.

CHAPTER 3

Ditched

U sually Nyla would have argued her point with her father. Usually. However, this time was different. Using a tone Nyla was all too familiar with as he ordered her to get ready; Nyla let this one go. Hearing an engine rev, she peaked out her window to find her father downstairs waiting just as he had said.

I’m coming! She told him giving herself one final spray of perfume as she left her room. A sweater wasn’t necessary. She thought as she past the coat rack without grabbing hers.

Curfew is at nine. She thought remembering what had been ingrained in her.

Is that what you are wearing? her mother asked meeting her at the front door. Startled, Nyla jumped having not seen her mother near the front door before she announced herself.

Mom! Geeze, you scared me. Why? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?

Grace immediately began pulling, fluffing, straitening and even wiping Nyla’s face with her spit. Forcing her mother off her Nyla demanded.

What’s wrong with my clothes mother? I always wear jeans and a shirt to these parties.

Nothing. Nothing. I was just wondering. Have fun. Remember to be polite. Nyla furrowed her brow, rolled her eyes, and slipped out of the house.

Is that what you are wearing?

Jim asked Nyla as she got into the car. She was pissed. However, she knew better than to speak to her father with the same tone she spoke to her mother with.

Um, I guess so, why not? What’s wrong with it?

Jim let out a frustrated sigh.

Nothing.

Nyla could tell just by looking at her father that he was tense. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his brow was low, and his mind focused on other things.

Nyla decided to speak to her father just to break the tension in the car.

Dad? This is just a point party. I’ve been to like fifty of these…

This one maybe different! Jim snapped.

Nyla was jolted by his statement and all together confused by the way he was acting.

Dad, are you okay? I don’t have to go to the party. We can go home.

Jim let out another long and harsh sigh this time he shook his head and hung it for a second.

I’m stressed. Jim admitted.

Tonight is mine and your mother’s… Anniversary…

I thought your anniversary was in May. Nyla interrupted.

This is a different kind of anniversary. Jim snapped and continued.

Your mother and I need some time alone tonight Nyla. Jim let out another deep sigh.

Huh? Nyla responded out of pure shock.

How long do these parties usually last? Jim asked knowing Nyla heard his first statement.

I… Think. I don’t know. You and mom always make me come home at 9. Nyla stammered still trying to wrap her mind around what her father was saying. For as long as she could remember she had never even seen her parents kiss. Shock and disgust overwhelmed her.

I… um… Nyla stammered some more.

Well, tonight its 10. And I want you to call before you come home. Nyla was so disgusted and uncomfortable she prayed her father would stop talking.

He didn’t.

And I want you to call if you need anything.

I won’t. She groaned.

What? Jim snapped

Need anything! I won’t need anything! I’ll call if I do! she quickly responded.

What are you going to do dad? Stop having sex to run on down here to bring me whatever I need? The mental imagery caused a shiver to run down her spine. Again she prayed that her father was done speaking. He was. The car fell silent.

However with that silence, an uncomfortable tension brought on from the ‘parent sex’ talk had developed. It burned and bit into both Jim and Nyla. Each of them began to speak at the same time. Then both stopped to let the other speak. Then again they would each start. Fortunately, for the two of them they had reached the pier and what they were going to say to each other didn’t matter anymore.

The point, (No doubt named for its shape) is a finger like aisle of sand and rock reaching into the ocean. Kids had been gathering here probably since the 60’s. But not Nyla’s parents. She asked them once and they told her no. They were too busy building a family to be bothered with such frivolities. Or so they said. Nyla figured they just lied to her about having fun to keep her from ever trying it. Jim Pulled onto the pier above the point and rolled to a stop. Pulling money from his wallet, he extended it to Nyla.

Here, just in case.

K. Thank you. Nyla didn’t need the money. Not at a bon fire party. Nevertheless, she was not going to turn it down.

You’re going to get a ride home with Dalton and Leela right?

Like always. Nyla replied.

Be good Nyla. Be nice. I mean, don’t be rude to anyone. Just be… Jim stopped. Sighed long and hard. Then said simply.