Chain of Blood bonus scene: time to suit up
Author’s note:
I hated removing this scene. I thought it was such a fun peek into the world of the Nightstalkers, and especially that of full Cells, that you don’t get in any of my other books (at least not right now, in 2024).
But it exists almost purely for the worldbuilding aspect and almost doesn’t advance the plot at all, so it had to be removed from the main book.
Good thing all my deleted scenes can be resurrected in special bonuses like this, though!
Happy reading,
Betsy
P.S. As usual, please ignore any grammatical or spelling mistakes or any other perceived decrease in quality, including potential plot holes or discrepancies. My deleted scenes get removed at various places in the editing process, anywhere from the rough draft to days before publication. Similarly, ignore any repetition with scenes from the main book. I often take the most crucial parts of deleted scenes and add them elsewhere in the book, sometimes a straight “copy and paste” and sometimes more like paraphrased or even just getting the feeling that’s in the deleted scene somewhere else in the book.
time to suit up
a bonus scene from Chain of Blood: a new adult clean paranormal romance
by Betsy Flak
Takes place between Chapters 25 and 26 of Chain of Blood
Welcome to the waiting game. It echoed in Sam’s mind over and over and over.
Wasn’t that what she’d been doing these past few weeks, every time Bobby went out patrolling with the L.A. Cell?
This was different, worse.
A fight was guaranteed this time.
But what choice did she have? She couldn’t go and help them. She was a liability.
All she could do was wait.
But she didn’t have to do so weak and frightened and powerless.
No, she could feel powerful. Cat had given her just the thing to do it. Or rather, Cat had provided instructions as to where that thing was.
Sam launched herself forward. With quick, agile, hurried steps, she joined that river of people streaming out of the amusement park, the one in which Bobby, Cat, Emil, and Ink had disappeared minutes ago.
Someone yanked on her shoulder.
Sam jerked backward, stumbled, and almost crashed into an exhausted man pushing a stroller containing two sleeping kids. Annoyance prickled over her skin like goose bumps. Sam looked over her shoulder.
Jackie’s impatient face met her. “Where are we going?”
Oops. Sam grimaced. She’d forgotten about Jackie in her rush to go get those weapons and ease this itchy restless feeling. Was she supposed to keep Cat’s request a secret?
I mean, Cat didn’t tell me not to tell Jackie, so…
“To get some weapons, just in case,” Sam whispered below the hum of the throng heading toward the main entrance and exit of the amusement park.
Jackie’s gray eyes widened. “Here? We have weapons here?”
“That’s what Cat said earlier.”
Despite their rapid pace—and despite their weaving and cutting through the tangles of strollers, staggering kids, tired parents, and careless teens—Jackie studied Sam. “She told you to protect me, didn’t she?”
Sam nodded, focused on navigating the mob as quickly as possible while replaying Cat’s instructions in her head.
Jackie sighed. “That’s just like her. Assign some brand-new maybe-Diviner to protect me, as if I can’t protect myself. And she knows that I’ve been working on offensive spells for weeks. But does she ask to see these spells? Does she trust that I can fight too? No, of course not.”
“Mm-hmm.” The metal gates of the amusement park loomed before Sam. She veered to the right, toward the workers in striped polo shirts. From behind the open windows of the concession stand, they handed out hog dogs and nachos, ice cream cones and ice-cold sodas. But the delectable scent of all that delicious junk food couldn’t tempt Sam, not with her stomach tied up in knots.
Jackie on her heels, Sam rounded the corner of the stand and led the way to its open back door. Inside, rumpled boxes lined the walls, stacked on top of each other and tumbling into the middle of the room. Cheap stuffed animals, striped plastic cups, and other souvenirs and prizes leaked out of the few open boxes. On the opposite wall, light shone through an open doorway. A messy tower of cardboard boxes bordered it on either side.
“Hello?” Sam called out, toward that bright yellow light. Her throat itched, thanks to the dust motes swirling through the air.
A man with disheveled silver hair stepped through the doorway opposite Sam and Jackie. A tag pinned to his chest labeled him as Andre, Manager. He swept his hands toward them like he herded annoying animals. “You can’t be in here. Go. Be gone.”
Sam stood her ground. Her hazel eyes met his brown ones. “Cat sent me.”
His gaze widened. It flicked here, there, everywhere, sweeping the room. “Is she here?”
“No.”
Andre’s tight look loosened. “You need supplies then?”
“Yes.”
Andre turned on a heel and waved a wizened hand over his shoulder. “With me.”
Sam and Jackie stepped around the tumbled boxes to follow Andre into a squat hallway. The clatter of metal hitting metal, the shouts of busy workers, and the hum of industrial machinery swelled. Noise filled the hall, as did the mingled salty and sweet scents of carnival food. Sam’s upset stomach writhed.
Andre stopped outside a closed door and dragged a giant ring of keys out of his pocket. He fumbled with them, searching for the right one.
Unable to stand still, Sam followed the noise down the hall, to a double-wide open doorway. Beyond it, polo-shirt-clad workers flitted around the food preparation area of the concession stand, visiting the stainless steel counters or the bank of refrigerators and freezers or the pair of ovens in the middle of the room. Several of them traveled back and forth, delivering food to the servers behind the open windows of the stand.
“Here it is.” Andre inserted a nondescript key into the lock on the knob and opened the door.
Sam hurried back and entered the chamber behind Jackie. Stale air greeted her, along with piles of crates and boxes that almost kissed the ceiling. Light from a hanging bulb flickered around them. A cluttered desk peeked out from between the stacks.
Andre headed straight for that desk. He rounded its corner, then gestured to several cardboard boxes on top of a massive wooden trunk, all of which had seen better days. “Mind givin’ me a hand here?”
“Sure.”
Together, Sam, Jackie, and Andre removed the boxes, placing them on top of other boxes and forming more leaning towers that begged to fall on unsuspecting heads.
Andre tugged on a golden chain around his neck and drew it out from beneath his shirt. A small key hung from the necklace. Andre placed the key into a rusty metal lock and twisted.
The trunk popped open. As if he feared seeing what was inside, Andre tilted the lid up a couple inches and slid a book beneath it. Then he collected his key and backed away. The weak light didn’t penetrate the black crack beneath the lid.
“What you want’s in there. When you have what you need, close the chest and replace the boxes. It’ll lock automatically. And wait till I’m out.” After dropping the necklace and key back beneath his striped polo, Andre scurried out of the room.
The moment the door shut behind him, Sam lifted the lid with a crrrr-reak.
Her jaw dropped. Cat hadn’t been kidding. If anything, Cat had undersold it. Within the trunk shone an array of weapons. Swords, daggers, and knives, all in their sheaths, lay on top. Beneath them were bundles of wooden stakes in different thicknesses, each one polished within an inch of its life, each one sharpened to a deadly point. Next to the stakes were stacks of folded pants, shirts, and jackets. A few belts were tucked in along the sides of the trunk.
Sam started with the easiest item first, the stack of clothes. Clutching it to her chest, she moved to a rare open space in the clutter. There, she sifted through the clothes until she found a pair of loose track pants that she could slip on over her shorts. She also took a leather jacket. It was too hot to wear over her tank top now, but she could carry it around. It might provide extra protection on the off chance Cat’s warning hadn’t been for nothing.
How she would explain her wardrobe change to the others, she didn’t know. But I’m sure I’ll come up with something. Sam turned back toward the chest.
Jackie knelt in front of it. She shoved a pair of wooden stakes into the waistband of her shorts. When Sam joined her with a cocked eyebrow, Jackie shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared. Also, I checked and the spells are all fresh enough. You should be good no matter which weapons you pick.”
“Oh, um, thanks.” Cat probably wouldn’t appreciate Jackie diving in for weapons, but that was between them. Besides, Jackie had every right to protect herself.
So did Sam. She armed herself to the teeth, counting on the weapons’ spells to hide them from civilian eyes. A sword, a dagger, and two wooden stakes hung from the leather belt around her hips. Beneath her pants, she’d attached a second dagger in its scabbard to one calf and a wooden stake to the other. A sheath containing three throwing knives wrapped around her forearm.
Remember, Sam. You use the blades to cut into the Indestructible and weaken them with the spells Jackie said were fresh enough. If you can, behead them. If not, switch to a wooden stake when you’re getting close to being able to stab the monster in the heart. That’s the strategy.
Sam arranged the leather coat over the throwing knives. I’m not sure when or if I’ll use these. According to Cat, Warriors didn’t use weapons that worked at a distance. Because they typically hunted in packs and tried to trap the Indestructible, there was too much risk of friendly fire. Clearly that wasn’t a hard and fast rule since these throwing knives existed. Maybe they’ll come in handy. I will be on my own, after all.
Weighed down by weapons, Sam shut the trunk. She and Jackie replaced the boxes, then left the concession stand. Sam’s blood ran hot and fast.
If a fight was coming for her, she’d be ready.
Or as ready as she could be.