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Blood Pact (Blood Books Series #4)

( 14 )


It began with the call no daughter ever wants to get, the call that told private investigator Vicki Nelson her mother had died. Mrs. Nelson's coworker at the Queen's University Life Science Department told Vicki that the cause of death was a heart attack, and that they'd be waiting for her to arrive in Kingston to make the funeral arrangements. But what started as an all too normal personal tragedy soon became the most terrifying case of Vicki's career. For when Marjory Nelson's body mysteriously disappeared from...
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Blood Pact (Blood Books Series #4)

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It began with the call no daughter ever wants to get, the call that told private investigator Vicki Nelson her mother had died. Mrs. Nelson's coworker at the Queen's University Life Science Department told Vicki that the cause of death was a heart attack, and that they'd be waiting for her to arrive in Kingston to make the funeral arrangements. But what started as an all too normal personal tragedy soon became the most terrifying case of Vicki's career. For when Marjory Nelson's body mysteriously disappeared from the funeral home, Vicki, her sometime lover and fellow investigator, vampire Henry Fitzroy, and her former homicide squad partner, Detective-Sergeant Mike Celluci, realized that there was something unnatural about her mother's demise. Vicki swore she'd find the culprit, and see that her mother was properly laid to rest. But what she hadn't counted on was that someone at Queen's University seemed determined to keep Mrs. Nelson on the job -- alive or dead!
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Editorial Reviews

Library Journal
The unexpected death of her mother and the even more distressing disappearance of the body drive private investigator Vicki Nelson to the end of her resources as she attempts to uncover a dark conspiracy while battling with her private grief. Huff's fourth fantasy/mystery featuring Nelson and her vampire partner, Henry Fitzroy, explores the borders of death and beyond with an intensity that is only partially lightened by touches of ironic humor. Written with the author's usual flair for realistic fantasy, this title is recommended for most fantasy and horror collections.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780756405045
  • Publisher: Penguin Group (USA) Incorporated
  • Publication date: 9/25/2007
  • Series: Blood Books Series , #4
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: TV Tie-In Edition
  • Pages: 336
  • Sales rank: 686,278
  • Product dimensions: 6.74 (w) x 11.08 (h) x 0.91 (d)

Meet the Author

Tanya Huff may have left Nova Scotia at three, and has lived most of her life since in Ontario, but she still considers herself a Maritimer. On the way to the idyllic rural existence she shares with her partner Fiona Patton, six cats, and a chihuahua, she acquired a degree in Radio and Television Arts from Ryerson Polytechnic—an education she was happy to finally use while writing her recent Smoke novels. Of her previous twenty-three books, the five—Blood Price, Blood Trail, Blood Lines, Blood Pact, Blood Debt—featuring Henry Fitzroy, bastard son of Henry VIII, romance writer, and vampire are among the most popular. Tanya can be contacted via her website

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Read an Excerpt


“Mrs. Simmons? It’s Vicki Nelson calling; the private investigator from Toronto?” She paused and considered how best to present the information. Oh, what the hell… “We’ve found your husband.”

“Is he… alive?”

“Yes, ma’am, very much so. He’s working as an insurance adjuster under the name Tom O’Conner.”

“Don always works in insurance.”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s how we found him. I’ve just sent you a package, by courier, containing a copy of everything we’ve discovered including a number of recent photographs—you should receive it before noon tomorrow. The moment you call me with a positive ID, I’ll take the information to the police and they can pick him up.”

“The police thought they found him once before—in Vancouver—but when they went tp pick him up he was gone.”

“Well, he’ll be there this time.” Vicki leaned back in her chair, shoved her free hand up under the bottom edge of her glasses and scrubbed at her eyes. In eight years with the Metropolitan Toronto Police and nearly two years out on her own, she’d seen some real SOB’s; Simmons/O’Connor ranked right up there with the best of them. Anyone who faked his own death in order to ditch a wife and five kids deserved exactly what he got. “My partner’s going to talk to him tonight. I think your husband will decide to stay right where he is.”


The bar was noisy and smoky, with tables too small to be useful and chairs too stylized to be comfortable. The beer was overpriced, the liquor over-iced, and the menu a tarted-up mix of at least three kinds of quasi-ethnic cooking plus the usual grease and carbohydrates. The staff were all young, attractive, and interchangeable. The clientele were a little older, not quite as attractive although they tried desperately hard to camouflage it, and just as faceless. It was, for the moment, the premier poser bar in the city and all the wannabes in Toronto shoehorned themselves through its doors on Friday night.

Henry Fitzroy paused just past the threshold and scanned the crowd through narrowed eyes. The smell of so many bodies crammed together, the sound of so many heartbeats pounding in time to the music blasting out of half a dozen suspended speakers, the feel of so many lives in so little space pulled the Hunger up and threatened to turn it loose. Fastidiousness more than willpower held it in check. In over four and a half centuries, Henry had never seen so many people working so hard and so futilely at having a good time.

It was the kind of place he wouldn’t be caught dead in under normal circumstances, but tonight he was hunting and this was where his quarry had gone to ground. The crowd parted as he moved away from the door, and eddies of whispered speculation followed in his wake.

“Who does he think he is…”

“… I’m telling you, he’s somebody…”

Henry Fitzroy, bastard son of Henry VIII, one time Duke of Richmond and Somerset, Lord President of the Council of the North, noted, with an inward sigh, that some things never changed. He sat down at the bar—the young man who had been on the stool having vacated it as Henry approached—and waved the bartender away.

To his right, an attractive young woman raised one ebony eyebrow in obvious invitation. Although his gaze dropped to the pulse that beat in the ivory column of her throat and almost involuntarily traced the vein until it disappeared beneath the soft drape of magenta silk clinging to her shoulders and breasts, he regretfully, silently, declined. She acknowledged both his glance and his refusal, then turned to more receptive game. Henry hid a smile. He wasn’t the only hunter abroad tonight.

To his left, a wide back in a charcoal gray suit made up most of the view. The hair above the suit had been artfully styled to hide the thinning patches just as the suit itself had been cut to cover the areas that a fortieth birthday had thickened. Henry reached out and tapped lightly on one wool-clad shoulder.

The wearer of the suit turned, saw no one he knew, and began to scowl. Then he fell into the depths of a pair of hazel eyes, much darker than hazel eyes should have been, much deeper than mortal eyes could be.

“We need to have a talk, Mr. O’Conner.”

It would have taken a stronger man to look away.

“In fact, I think you’d better come with me.” A thin sheen of sweat greased the other man’s forehead.

“This is just a little too public for what I plan to… “ Slightly elongated canines became visible for an instant between parted lips. “… discuss.”



Henry stood at the window, one hand flat against the cool glass. Although he seemed to be looking down at the lights of the city, he was actually watching the reflection of the woman seated on the couch behind him. “And what?”

“Henry, stop being an undead pain in the ass. Did you convince Mr. O’Connor/Simmons to stay put until the police arrive?”

He loved to watch her; loved to watch emotions play across her face, loved to watch her move, loved to watch her in repose. Loved her. But as that was a topic not to be discussed, all he said was, “Yes.”

“Good. I hope you scared the living shit out of him while you were at it.: “Vicki.” He turned, arms crossed on his chest, and frowned in what was only partially mock disapproval. “I am not your personal bogeyman, to be pulled out of the closet every time you think someone needs to have the fear of God…”

Vicki snorted. “Think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“… put into them,” he continued, ignoring the interruption.

“Have I ever treated you like my ‘personal bogeyman?” She raised a hand to cut off his immediate reply. “Be honest. You have certain skills, just like I have certain skill, and when I think it’s necessary, I use them. Besides,” she pushed her glasses back into place on the bridge of her nose, “you said you wanted to be more involved in my business. Help out with more cases now that you’ve handed in Purple Passion’s Pinnacle and aren’t due to start another romantic masterpiece until next month.”

Love Labors On.” Henry saw no reason to be ashamed of writing historical romances; it paid well and he was good at it. He doubted, however, that Vicki had ever read one. She wasn’t the type to enjoy, or even desire, escape through fiction. “Tonight—it wasn’t what I had in mind when I said I wanted to be more involved.”

“Henry, it’s been over a year.” She sounded amused. “You should know by now that most private detective investigating consists of days and days of boring, tedious research. Thrilling and exciting life-threatening situations are few and far between.”

Henry raised one red-gold brow.

Vicki looked a little sheepish. “Look, it’s not my fault people keep trying to kill me. And you. And anyway, you know those were the exceptions that prove the rule.” She straightened, tucking one sneakered foot up under her butt. “Tonight, I needed to convince a sleazebag—who deserved to be terrified after what he put his wife and kids through—to stay put until the police arrive. Tonight, I needed you. Henry Fitzroy, vampire. No one else could have done it.”

Upon reflection, he was willing to grant her that no one else could have done the job as well although a couple of burly mortals and fifty feet of rope would have had them same general effect. “You really didn’t like him, did you?”

“No. I didn’t.” Her lip curled. “It’s one think to walk out of your responsibilities, but it takes a special kind of asshole to do it in such a way that everyone thinks he’s dead. They mourned him, Henry. Cried for him. And the son of a bitch was off building a new life, fancy-free, while they were bringing flowers, every Saturday, to an empty grave. If he hadn’t gotten into the background of that national news report, they’d still be crying for him. He owes them. In my book, he owes them big.”

“Well, then, you’ll be happy to know that I did, as you so inelegantly put it, scare the living shit out of him.”

“Good.” She loosened her grip on the throw pillow. “Did you… uh… feed?”

“Would it matter if I had?” Would she admit it if it mattered. “Blood’s blood, Vicki. And his fear was enough to raise the Hunger.”

“I know. And I know you feed from others. It’s just…” She dragged one hand through her hair, standing it up in dark blonde spikes. “It’s just that…”

“No, I didn’t feed from him.” Her involuntary smile was all he could have asked for, so he crossed the room to see it better.

“You’re probably hungry, then.”

“Yes.” He took her hand and gently caressed the inner skin of her wrist with his thumb. Her pulse leapt under his touch.

She tried to stand, but he pushed her back, bent his head, and run his tongue down the faint blue line of a vein.

“Henry, if we don’t go soon, I won’t be able to…” Her voice faded out as her brain became preoccupied with other feelings. With a mighty effort, she forced her throat to open and her mouth to work. “We’ll end up staying on the… couch.”

He lifted his mouth long enough to murmur, “So?” and that was the last coherent word either of them spoke for some time.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 14 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 14 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 14, 2001

    Better Than The Others

    Ok, this is the fourth (out of 5) in her series. Blood Pact was better than the 3 before it. They keep getting better, although they aren't the best. Great ending though! When Vicki's mom dies, she goes to take care of funeral etc., but when they look in the coffin, she's not there. Mike and Henry come to her aid (and apparently get along pretty good). Together, they must find out who stole Marjory Nelson's body and why they would do such a thing.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted November 22, 2012

    Vicki Nelson, Private Investigator, is having a difficult time d

    Vicki Nelson, Private Investigator, is having a difficult time dealing with the men in her life. During the day there is Mike Celluci, a Detective-Sergeant with the Metropolitan Toronto Police Department. During the night there is Henry Fitzroy, the vampire who had once been a prince, a duke, an earl, and a Knight of the Garter. Normally Vicki answers her mother’s phones calls; even when she dreads to. Then comes the night that Vicki has had more than enough drama for one day. When Marjory calls at the worst time possible, Vicki simply cannot deal with listening to her mother too. So for once, Vicki does not answer the phone. This means the guilt hits Vicki hard the next morning, when she is informed that Marjory has died.

    Vicki travels to Kingston without telling Mike or Henry anything. Of course, when the two figure out where Vicki went and why, they follow. To offer comfort, if nothing else. Vicki’s guilty conscious keeps her dry-eyed as she moves through the necessary process of dealing with her mother’s funeral and estate. When Vicki opens the casket to find Marjory’s body missing, Vicki is livid! Vicki shuts everything out of her life except the need to find the person or persons who had taken her mother’s body. The next time Vicki sees her mother body, it is standing at a window looking in at Vicki. The body is dead. But part of Marjory is trapped within. Before Vicki can get outside, the body snatchers had already grabbed Marjory and left. Someone is responsible for turning her mother into Frankenstein’s monster. More than likely, the culprits are from the university. And Vicki will not stop until she finds out who is responsible and can finally put her mother to rest.

    **** FOUR STARS! This episode Vicki has to deal with mad scientists trying to reverse death. The story has the equivalent, or flavor, of the book/movie titled Frankenstein. For all those who have been waiting for Vicki to – finally – be Changed, this is the episode where it happens. (It has been obvious from the first story that it would happen eventually.) I will say nothing else about it. ****

    Reviewed by Detra Fitch of Huntress Reviews.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 20, 2010


    Excellent series, especially if you are a fan of the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter Series, and the Sookie Stackhouse Series.

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  • Posted December 31, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    Blood Pact, Book 4

    Coming soon.

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  • Posted March 7, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Blood Pact


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