Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone Vampires Book 1) (17 page)

“Do they ever just make a decision without an argument?” Marcus asked, from a few feet away.

“Holy shit Marcus! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Morgan gasped, sitting up, laughing to shake off the spike of fear that pierced her heart.

“Sorry, but really Morgan, you shouldn’t be so lax about your security, and neither should the Assassin,” Marcus chuckled, though his expression was serious.

“You’re right. However, Nicholas and the others are in the kitchen. Have you been able to find anything?”

“I’ve come up with a few leads,” Marcus answered, though he was distracted, he had noticed the sketches on the table. “But what I’ve found makes very little sense.”
 

Knowing better, Morgan didn’t push him, as he picked up the stack of drawings and leafed through them, pausing every now and then to set one on the table beside him. As Marcus continued to examine the sketches, Nicholas walked out of the kitchen with a goblet in his hand. He passed it to Morgan and sat at the end of the sofa.

“We’re still trying to figure out how to keep me alive,” Morgan explained, in response to Marcus’s curious gaze, and lifted the glass to her lips.

“Testing a theory,” Nicholas offered.

“Testing? Isn’t that dangerous?” Marcus asked, his hazel eyes narrowing, making him look cunning, dangerous.

“We have no other choice,” Nicholas sighed.
 

“Besides, I think we may have hit on it,” Morgan added, inhaling the rich, full–bodied aroma. The herbs and floral scents mixed with the sharp rusty tang from the blood, cutting it. Her fangs extended, as Morgan closed her eyes, and she took a long pull of the concoction. The instant the liquid touched her tongue, her vampiric nature, roared to the fore wanting to devour, to gulp it as fast as her throat would allow.
No!
She forced herself to slow down.

“Morgan?” Christophe asked, as she tipped the glass vertically to catch the last drop.

“Yes?” She set the glass on the coffee table and licked her lips.

“Better?” Christophe asked.

“Much,” she answered, on a contented sigh.

“Now I suppose we wait. So, Marcus what have you learned?” Nicholas asked, as Morgan took his hand in hers, enjoying the feel of his skin, still cooler than hers, soft as silk with an underlying strength.

“Actually, I have a couple of questions for Morgan, if you feel up to it?” Marcus settled himself on the coffee table facing her, looking at ease.

“I’ll do my best, but can’t promise anything.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, then leaned to his right and picked up the sketches he’d set aside. “What do you remember about this?” he asked, handing her the drawing of the ring Nicholas had found earlier. She felt Nicholas’s hand squeeze hers as she took the sketch.
 

The fear hit without warning, one moment she was looking at the drawing, trying to remember more, and the next her hand was shaking. Nicholas slid his arm around her shoulders, offering his strength. Marcus reached out and tried to take the sketch, but Morgan pulled it away, flashing her fangs with a low growl.

“He’s a human. Someone who knows more about our kind than he should,” she muttered, after a few minutes silence. “He knew more than most of the donors I know. A doctor of some kind, has access to a lot of drugs, and what he couldn’t lay his hands on someone provided him with,” Morgan whispered a dreamlike quality to her voice, as her eyes lost their focus. “He’s the one who came up with the drug cocktail. He was older, for a human. I’d guess around fifty, maybe sixty, salt and pepper hair, cut short with a bald patch. His forehead was very shiny.” Her words had picked up pace, until they were coming fast, as though speed would keep the worst of her memories at bay. Across the room Christophe started to speak, but Marcus silenced him with a gesture, and Morgan continued without noticing. “He was short, only about the same height as Lucian, which would put him somewhere around five foot six. And his eyes, they were brown, but there was no warmth in them. He took pleasure in what he did.”

“Did he have an accent?” Nicholas asked, keeping his voice neutral.

“Southern, it sounded like somewhere in Texas.”

“Anything about what they were doing?” Marcus asked, reminding Nicholas that they made a good team.

“They were some kind of blood experiments. For the most part, I think they used Rogues and Nomads. He wasn’t pleased by the results, he wanted someone with a better bloodline and Lucian was obliging, for his own reasons. My Grandsire held his cards close; I never heard him say anything useful.”

“They were experimenting on Nomads and Rogues?” Marcus seemed surprised.

“Have you had a chance to speak with the Lady of the City?” Nicholas asked.

“No. I’ll make a point to go see her tonight before I return home.”

“Let me know what she has to say. If she questions your authority, tell her that you are there at my request and remind her that the enforcers also police her Nomads.”

“I do recall the protocol. Is there anything else you can tell us Morgan?”

“I think the doctor lived where I was held,” she said, with a soft sigh. “I never heard him talk about leaving. Somehow I knew he never did. He saw me as a challenge. The drugs never quite worked as he expected. That was something both he and Lucian found strange and fascinating, because they’d worked on…” she stopped as if silence could change what she’d just remembered. Nicholas’s hand left hers, and Morgan let him draw her into his arms, taking solace in his embrace.
 

“Who?”
 

“Julian,” she answered, an image of his silver eyes wide with fear and disbelief flashed in her mind.
 

“Julian, your Sire? Lucian’s own blood?” Marcus asked unable to mask his shock.

“Yes.”

“Madness,” Charles shook his head.

“Assassin, now that she’s confirmed our suspicions, we have to get Morgan out of the city. There’s no way the four of us can keep her safe,” Marcus insisted and rose from his seat. He stepped away from the table, and started pacing. The room was silent, waiting for someone to break it.
 

“No,” Morgan answered, bursting the bubble. “I will not run.”

“Morgan!” Nicholas and Marcus spoke as one, both turning to face her.

“No. I don’t know what’s happening, but I know that if I hide, it will continue. I have to know why, and put a stop to it, if I can.”

“Morgan, we all know that Lucian isn’t just going to give up. In fact, I’m somewhat surprised that he’s stayed away as long as he has. Marcus is right; you’re not safe here. Now that we seem to have solved the problem of how you can feed, traveling is no longer a concern,” Nicholas countered.
 

He’s going to fight me on this, no matter what I say he’s not going to like it, and he’s going to make my life difficult. Why is that so annoying?
Morgan thought, as she shifted position on the couch so that she could see Nicholas. Fear and concern were etched on her husband’s handsome features, making him even more so to her eyes. Morgan swallowed hard and reached out, touching his cheek with a tender caress. “Nicholas, I can’t leave, not without knowing what happened to Julian.”

“I’ll stay and search,” Marcus offered. Julian’s been my friend for centuries, and I will tear this city apart to find him, if it comes to that.

“And I’ll send enforcers to assist. Obviously there’s more happening that what we just don’t understand,” Nicholas interjected, his mind already turning over the mystery and formulating theories.

“That’s why I refuse to run. I need to understand what’s happening or else I’ll lose my mind.”

“Morgan, please. Be reasonable…” Nicholas began, but Charles cut him off, speaking in a firm tone that was out of character for him.

“We can’t leave the city yet.”

“And why can’t we leave whenever we damned well choose?” Nicholas snapped, rounding on Charles as though he was the prey to be stalked.
 

“Because Joshua won’t know how to find us, he indicated, that the concoction isn’t the only thing that the sorcerers need to survive.”

“What do you mean he won’t find us?” Nicholas asked. “Last time I saw him, he was in one of the guest rooms.”

“He left, said something about a possible source to see in Baton Rouge,” Charles answered, shrugging. “He said he should return sometime late tonight or early tomorrow.”

“Then we can tell him where we end up,” Nicholas countered, not backing down.

“No,” Morgan interrupted, from the sofa. “Joshua is already taking time away from his life to help us to help me. I will not repay his kindness by asking that he chase us to Goddess knows where. We will remain here until he arrives. Then we can see where we stand, and plan from there.”

“I can’t talk you out of this can I? In spite of my concern there’s nothing I can do to make you see it my way, is there?” Nicholas asked, his shoulders slumping as though a great weight had landed on them.

“I’ve made my decision.”

“Then I will stand beside, and protect you to the best of my ability,” he vowed.

“Thank you love,” Morgan whispered. “I know how difficult this is for you.”

“It’s my job, not just as the Council’s Lead Enforcer, but also as your husband, to protect you. Despite the fact that this goes against every instinct I possess, I will defer to your wishes,” he answered his voice flat. “Now what else can you tell us about these drawings?”
 

A tense silence hung in the air, as Marcus flipped through the sketches and selected one before handing it to her. Morgan frowned, not remembering drawing it. The abstract representation taunted her, teasing the edge of her memory, like forgotten words to a well–loved song. Morgan closed her eyes, hoping that the loss of distraction would help, but ghostlike forms danced before her eyes, never forming into more than vague shadows.
 

“All I remember,” Morgan paused, as she searched her memory for the right image, “is that it was like being laced into a corset. But that’s wrong. It wasn’t a corset; it was something that held my arms behind me, something that even though I should have been able to break, it didn’t allow me enough leverage to make use of my strength.”

“Is that why the sketch is more abstract? This isn’t something you saw, but felt?” Marcus asked, studying the drawing as though the answer would manifest on the page.

“I think so,” she frowned.

“Nicholas?” Christophe called to him from the chair where he sat. Nicholas glanced up, and the younger vampire beckoned him over, wanting to show him something on his laptop. He crossed to where Christophe was and looked at the screen. They spoke in hushed murmurs. After a few moments, Nicholas nodded and began pacing the room, with a deep scowl etched on his features.

“What is it?” Morgan asked.

“Christophe just found something that would explain the sketch. It’s a dead end I’m afraid. Too many places to purchase such an item,” he answered with a dismissive gesture.

“I hate it when you talk in circles, but I’m not going to push it. I don’t have the energy.”

“Do you want to rest?”

“No. I’m okay. I’m just not looking for another fight,” she answered with a sigh.
 

“As you wish.”

“Hand me another one Marcus,” she sighed, not really wanting to do it, but knowing that it had to be done.

“What’s this?” he handed her a sketch of a metal table.
 

“We weren’t given humans to drink from, but they were determined to keep us alive,” she answered, fighting to keep the shiver that ran the length of her body from showing.
 

“It looks like an embalming table.” Christophe said, looking over Morgan’s shoulder. “They would bring humans there and drain their blood?”

“Yes,” Morgan whispered, as ghosts of their tortured screams rang through her ears. With a shudder, she handed Nicholas the sketch, as though hiding it would erase the memories.
 

“What about this one?” Marcus asked, handing her the sketch of what appeared to be a woman’s throat with a strand of pearls around it.
 

“This was one of the humans they brought to use for feeding. For some reason Azreal wanted the corpse cleaned up, and he added the pearls. Then he took the body and disappeared.”

“Can you describe the body?” Marcus asked, leaning toward her, his eyes bright with curiosity.

“She was young, dark brown hair and blue eyes, about five foot five. Curvier than most women want to be these days. I would have called her beautiful if she wasn’t as terrified as she was.” Morgan spoke fast, just wanting to get it over with as soon as possible. “She seemed to trust the vampire she was with, before she understood what was happening.”
 

“She wasn’t with Azreal?”

“No. He just wanted her corpse. Never said anything about why, and no one questioned him.”

“Did you happen to catch the human’s name?” Marcus asked while studying the sketch.

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Why do you ask, Marcus?” Nicholas asked.

“The woman she described matches one of the victims that Elizabeth had attributed to the Renegade.”