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    For Richer: Vampire Assassin League, #24
    For Richer: Vampire Assassin League, #24
    For Richer: Vampire Assassin League, #24
    Ebook103 pages1 hour

    For Richer: Vampire Assassin League, #24

    By Jackie Ivie

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    About this ebook

    WARRIOR OF THE CLOUDS


    Mikhal doesn’t have much fun as an immortal.  He fashioned his abode, gathered riches, and stashed them away.  He’s tinkered with all the advances in technology.  He may have to take another foray into a village for entertainment.  Anything to relieve the sameness of his existence.  Until one day.  The villagers bring him a sacrificial victim.     

     
    OBSESSED AND READY

    Becky’s obsessed with South American culture.  She doesn’t have a life.  Friends.  A significant other.  She doesn’t miss them, either.  She’s on a personal mission to solve the khipui – the knotted string messages used in the Andes for centuries.  They must be an ancient language.  And she wants to be the one who deciphers them.        
     

    THE FIND                                                                                                                

    Becky has spent years preparing for this field expedition.  Saving up.  Planning.  She’s trained.  She’s equipped.  She’s ready.  She’s determined.  She’ll go anywhere.  And face anyone.  Even if there is a sun-god incarnate who guards and protects it...        

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJackie Ivie
    Release dateMar 25, 2015
    ISBN9781939820556
    For Richer: Vampire Assassin League, #24

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      Book preview

      For Richer - Jackie Ivie

      CHAPTER ONE

      Six different marketplaces this week, and nobody had heard of a khipu.

      That was disheartening. Rebecca fished the rolled up bundle of string that was called a khipu from her backpack. Fingered the knots. Wondered if it was worth her while to ask again. She was beginning to look, and act like, a spoiled North American tourist. But she didn’t want a hand-loomed alpaca wool sweater. Or tablecloth. Or floor covering. Or gloves. Or shawl. Or hat. Or an assembly-line pan pipe. She didn’t even want a hand-hewn one.

      It was so disappointing.

      Becky lived, ate, and breathed South American cultures. This was her third trip to this part of the world. Several professors had tagged her obsession a life-calling. That was probably apt. The teacher at Harvard had been especially vivid. He was an expert on the knotted strings called khipu. His class had been unbelievably informative. It had whetted her desire for this mission. And she wasn’t just looking for a khipu. What she’d really love to find was an expert at creating and reading them, the people known as khipucamayuq.

      So. Here she was; in an area off the beaten path - the heart of the Andean world. And she couldn’t even locate anyone who knew what she spoke of? She knew the Spanish colonial regime had done its utmost to obliterate Andean culture...especially after the Council of Lima in the sixteenth century. But she’d hoped to find one person. Just one. Who might know what she was talking about.

      "Excuse me. Senorita?"

      Rebecca turned around at the tug on her backpack. And then she had to look down. And then she struggled against showing any expression. Becky was five foot, six. She didn’t consider herself tall. Or short. Maybe average. But in this part of the country - in any setting outside of a tourist venue - she might as well be from a circus.

      The gent who’d spoken was really diminutive, though, even for this locale. He was dark-tanned. Lean. It was impossible to determine his age. He wasn’t young. If she had to, she’d guess him at a really well-preserved fifty. Or a badly-aging forty. He was an obvious native, from the frayed straw hat atop his head to the well-worn sandals on his feet. He wore loosely woven burlap-looking trousers and a large poncho atop his shoulders. The cape wasn’t in the vivid colors she’d come to associate with the Andes. His was in muted shades of olive green and brown, but as she looked closely, she noted there was a thin light blue stripe woven into the fibers.

      If he hadn’t tugged on her backpack, she’d have never noticed him.

      "Si. Si. You." He nodded.

      I’m sorry. I didn’t bring any money with me, she told him. She added in a shake of her head, and an open palm, exactly as she’d done to every shopkeeper in the open air market. It was a fib. She had money. She even carried small coins called soles. They were for her fare back, in the event she missed the tour bus. Or to pay for a toilet. Or, in the event, she actually found a khipu, even a fake one, and the shopkeeper only accepted local coin.

      He pointed to her other hand. "Khipu?" he asked.

      He said it in a strange manner - ‘Key-paw-u’ - but she recognized the word. Finally! Becky smiled. You know what this is?

      He nodded and grinned. "Si. Si. Khipu. Pre-Incan writing."

      Oh, man. Oh, man. He’d said writing.

      You do know. Becky tried to keep the excitement out of her voice. She wasn’t quite successful. His grin got even wider.

      "Si. I have many of them."

      You...have more?

      As many as I want.

      Was he dealing in grave goods? Maybe he knew of some mummy bundles heretofore undiscovered? It wasn’t far-fetched. She was in the area of the Chachapoya nation, where the mummies wrapped with khipus had been discovered.

      How...is that possible? she asked.

      "I know of a khipucamayuq."

      Seriously?

      "Si."

      You are one?

      He shook his head. Sadly, no.

      Becky considered him for a moment. He knew what a khipu was. He said he could get them...and he knew one of the natives who tied the knots? The ones with the almost unpronounceable name: key-pu-kah-my-uk? What were the odds? Becky would dearly love to find proof that the knotted strings weren’t just a numerical system. She believed they were a real writing system. The oldest one on the planet.

      But...he makes them?

      And he reads them.

      Oh. Wow.

      He...reads them?

      He nodded vigorously and then waved for her to follow him. They were starting to create notice. He didn’t seem to want that. She considered that for a moment. It could be a shady proposition. She might be in danger. That’s why she’d taken the self-defense courses last year, and honed her body into the best shape of her life. She wasn’t an easy target.

      Then again...if he did know a real khipucamayuq, the last thing he’d do was publicize it. The stigma might still be ingrained. Thanks to the Spaniards and their cultural cleansing. The Council of Lima had made certain that all khipus they could get their hands on were burned as pagan items. Khipucamayuqs were put to death, probably in the same manner.

      Come. Come.

      He was gesturing from a shadowed area alongside one of their buildings. Becky followed, but stayed in the sunlight. This was really stupid.

      I can take you to him.

      Is it far?

      Pretty far. Long hike. Three hours.

      Three hours was a leisurely jaunt. It wasn’t even noon yet. If they started right now, she could get there, see what there was to see, and still be back before sundown. It was very tempting.

      Into the mountains?

      He nodded.

      "How much? I don’t have many soles," she told him.

      No need. He handles that.

      "A khipucamayuq with a bank account? I...don’t know."

      "No. No. If you buy any of his khipus, he will pay me. You see?"

      Her brows rose. How badly did she want this?

      Pretty bad.

      She’d love to be the one who cracked the Andean khipu code. It meant instant fame, probable fortune, and lots of prestige. If she were a man, she wouldn’t be hesitating a second. And hadn’t she’d saved money for two years, worked out for months, and planned this entire trip just for this kind of opportunity?

      Three hours? she asked.

      She did a mental evaluation. She wore khakis. Hiking boots with thick, water-absorbent socks. Button-up cotton shirt. Expensive sport bra and briefs. Her watch kept not only time in twenty-four time zones, but it was water-tight to 50 feet, and equipped with a compass, weather and distance barometers, and elevation gauge. A wind-resistant jacket was wrapped about her waist at the moment. So far. Pretty good.

      The backpack contained two full bottles of water. Two meal-replacement snack bars. Three regular ones. A six-inch switchblade. A can of pepper spray with a 3% CRC rating of pain and protection, the highest she could buy legally. Toothbrush. A pack of dental tape...that stuff had a lot more uses than people thought. One of them was tying all kinds of

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