Disclaimer: The Blood Books and the characters in them are property of the author, Tanya Huff. I am in no way trying to profit from them. The series Blood Ties is owned by Lifetime Television – I am in no way trying to profit from them either. However – if they decided to start filming again – I would be thrilled!

Chapter 1

Near Port Royal, Tennessee, August 10, 1858

The sunset glittered across the Red River as Thomas held the reins of the perfectly matched brown Morgan horses from his seat high above them. His wife, Celeste, had fallen asleep in the carriage beneath him and her soft purrs combined with the rising cicada songs along the river. The day had been hot, but the road from Clarksville to Prince's Station was well-travelled, maintained and water was plentiful. The century old trees that lined the road provided good shade but they also provided good cover for anyone who wanted to ambush the carriage and the precious cargo hidden inside. Thomas checked his brand new Burnside carbine, enjoying the smooth feel of the fine oak. Between the carbine and his trusted Colt revolvers, he was certain that he could protect his cargo from any raiders.

"Celeste," Thomas whispered in the gathering twilight, "Wake up back there. The sun is going down."

Celeste stretched and tested her sore muscles. It seemed that they had been traveling forever, although it had only been a week. There was nothing more satisfying to her than knowing that they were traveling north, leaving the land of her birth near Tupelo, Mississippi, with plans to cross the border into Canada. Master Henry could protect them at night, but during the day they were the ones at risk. She stripped off her gloves and removed the heavy black veil from her face and breathed in the evening air. She played her role as southern gentry well; the heavy veil prevented anyone from looking close enough to see that her veil was not the only part of her that was black.

Thomas pulled the carriage off the side of the road and back behind a stand of thick trees. He knew that they were near Prince's Station crossing and he found that name fitting as he prepared for his master's waking. Opening the carriage door he lifted the secret latch that he himself had designed, this latch opened into what appeared to be a shallow container for lap robes, but pushing aside those robes and reaching under the cabinet released the second latch. This allowed the lid to be slipped out of place and revealed the secret contents secured in a box of the softest velvet and covered lovingly with a black velvet cloth.

Celeste rested in the shade of a large oak enjoying the cooling breeze. "Where are we?"

"We passed the turn to Port Royal just a short ways back. We should be close to Prince's Station, I expect we will cross there tonight and then rest on the other side." Thomas looked toward the carriage, his master was awake. "I would guess that Master Henry will be out anytime."

Celeste retrieved her working dress from her carpet bag and Thomas leaned over to begin unlacing her from the fine traveling dress that was her disguise.

"Good evening, Thomas. Good evening Celeste, you are looking lovely as usual." Henry's eyes darkened slightly at the small women whose back was exposed before his hunger. He could hear the blood rushing through her veins and it reminded him that he was overdue to dinner.

"Mr. Henry, you have promised not to look." Celeste chastised him gently and slipped into the cover of darkness to finish changing. She knew what her master was and she knew that he was a man of compassion and kindness, she and Thomas owed him their lives. However, she preferred not to play the temptress to a hungry man.

Henry laughed slightly at the blush he could feel rush through her skin. Even hidden in the shadows he could see her clear as daylight so he turned his attention back to Thomas. "Where are we Thomas?" Although he would most definitely take Celeste as his own, feed from her, love her; she belonged to Thomas and he preferred to keep it that way. It was his show of loyalty to the man who protected him by day.

"Prince's Station lay just up ahead. I thought we could cross there at Sulphur Fork and then stop for the night. It would be too risky to cross in the daylight; someone might look too close at my passenger and discover us." Thomas continued as Henry nodded his agreement. "There is a small settlement just beyond where you can find yourself a meal. Celeste and I will meet you just beyond the settlement and we will continue on in the morning."

"Sounds like a wise plan." Even though Thomas and Celeste were legally Henry's property, two Negroes driving north would cause too much suspicion and Henry had no intention of risking their lives if Celeste were to be discovered. "I will find a safe place for you to spend tomorrow just before we cross the border into Kentucky. I don't want you and Celeste attempting to cross into Kentucky by yourselves. For now let's load up and get across the Ferry."

Henry watched as Thomas swung himself back into the seat of the carriage. Celeste stood next to Henry as Thomas reached down for her and Henry gently lifted her into the high seat of the carriage next to him. Many times Celeste would ride in the carriage with him, but tonight he wanted to be fed and he had vowed long ago that neither Thomas nor Celeste would be part of his diet. They had lived through enough and although they carried slave papers, once they were safely out of America, he would replace those with their free papers that were kept hidden in the carriage. Henry would have done that long ago, except that the Fugitive Slave Law left even those with free papers at risk of capture and return to slavery.

He spent the ferry crossing deep in thought; it was the only way to silence the hunger. Henry had been enjoying himself on the European Continent, living primarily in France and spending time in King Louis Philippe I court surrounded by courtiers willing to satisfy his wants and his needs. The upheaval of 1848 and the seizure of the throne by Louis Napoleon the III in 1851 led to the crown jewel of Europe becoming tarnished for Henry. Courtiers who had traveled to New Orleans spoke of the opulence and rhythm of the city so he decided to stake new territory there himself. On his arrival he found a city teaming with those like him battling for feeding grounds. Rather than fight for a square of the French Quarter, he choose to travel north to the town of Natchez, Mississippi, sleeping in the safety of mausoleums during the day and riding his prized Arabian at night across the open countryside.

He had never been to a place so wide open. He could travel for hours without encountering more than a few small farms and the occasional plantation. Natchez was supposed to be open territory and he had been told that it was unclaimed although it sat on the Mississippi River, a natural highway for the transportation of humans. There was even a well to do lawyer that had space for rent and kept his eyes closed, if the price was right. It wasn't long after his arrival in Natchez that he discovered why it had been abandoned by his predecessor.

Henry wasn't sure how he felt about slavery; he had spent all of his life surrounded by servants. His short marriage to young Mary had been spent under the constant watch of his father's guards. His father paid tutors and servants willing to wait on them in a moment's notice. He smiled to himself, he had not thought of her in a very long time. They were children; it was an arranged marriage at the hand of his step-mother Anne Boleyn and Henry's father had forbidden him from having Mary for that reason. The marriage was an attempt by his father to legitimize his baseborn son so that, in time, Henry, Duke of Richmond and Somerset, could be crowned. Regardless, Henry's appetite was not for the young ill-favored Mary anyway, but for the raven-haired courtier named Christina, which was how he found himself 300 years later traveling through Mississippi.

Yes, he was ready to set up home in the town of Natchez as he came in the pre-dawn hours past the Forks of the Road slave market. His contact had arranged for him to rent a fine suite above the summer kitchen at Monmouth not far from the center of the city, his new hunting grounds. He had not intended to stop here, but the sight made even his stomach turn.

"Hey, boy, you boy…" shouted a grizzled, small filthy man with tobacco stains dripping down his beard. "Get on up now boy, move along." He wasn't speaking to one man, but a dozen men in chains and just for emphasis he was striking the back of the last man in line with a buggy whip.

That last man was being called to by one of the most beautiful women Henry had ever seen. Her hair had been pulled down for the upcoming sale and it fell long and curly to the back of her knees. It was not the same hair as the other chained women; it was highlighted with streaks of red-blond though it. Her skin was not as dark as those around her and as he got closer he could see that her eyes were like rich amber. She was small but in no way frail, the sleekness of her body belied the toned muscles, and she struggled against her captors. "Thomas!" she cried out at the bleeding back of the man being whipped in front of her.

"Quiet you, yellow bitch!" A tall, pasty man stepped in front of her as two other men held her arms. He ran his finger down the side of her face, across her throat and down into the open button at her neck. "I be setting to fetch a high price for you and the man what owns you won't want no nigger stud around you." The man took his thin-fingered claw like hand and wrapped it roughly around the woman's breast, as he did he pressed his pelvis against her and leaned in closely to her mouth. "Especially once they have had a taste of you."

In an unusual display of defiance the woman reared back and spit in his face, "That's all of me you or any other white man will taste!"

"You will taste all of me before morning and I will taste all of you, girly!" The spindly man pushed her hard to her knees and one hand began to fumble at his pants as his other hand came hard across her face.

Before Henry had even realized what he was doing; he had stopped the man's hand as it prepared for another blow. Henry's eyes had gone black and he growled, "I'm willing to pay a high price, if I can purchase her unbruised."

"Sale doesn't start until the morning." The half-hearted answer came. He was acutely aware of the possibilities, having sold his charges off early for a hefty profit, that this might be the sale that makes his night. However, the thought of punishing this mulatto wench for her high ways had already caused tightness in his groin. He took in the fine horse and the fine clothes of the man and weighed it against his desire to teach the woman the lesson he had taught many a slave. He stilled owed a debt of nearly a thousand dollars to his boss over the last nigger he had taught a lesson to and this man might be the answer to that debt.

Henry stared him straight in the eyes, "I don't care what time the sale starts. I want her; I want to purchase her now. I also want the male, Thomas."

"The boy you want will cost you two thousand, this yellow bitch will cost you twenty-five hundred, just because she will make you a fine girly to tame. I expect she will need to be ridden hard and often before she is broken."

Henry handed over the forty-five hundred dollars easily, knowing that he would need a legal bill of sale for his new property. Still, before the sun began to rise Henry was protected in a specially designed closet, the forty-five hundred dollars in his pocket and his purchases safe in the Monmouth cellar receiving room. The spindly, pasty slave trader had tasted like shit, but when you are new in town you have to take what you can get.