Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone Vampires Book 1) (24 page)

“Lara the bartender at The Dracul?” Morgan turned her head, so she was looking up into his lavender eyes.

“Yes.”
 

“I thought you weren’t interested.”

“I’m not.” He shrugged. “But one morning, shortly after you disappeared, she was helping me get the closing done and we got to chatting.”

“Did one thing lead to another?”

“Actually no,” Christophe chuckled. “We have drinks a couple times a week and talk, but that’s it.”

“And yet, she bought you cologne.” Her reply made it clear she didn’t believe a word he was saying.
 

“That’s where things get complicated,” he chuckled, “and I don’t think we have the time to go into it tonight. When we get back to Hollyweird, I promise we’ll have a good long chat.”

“Are you trying to get me into bed?” Morgan teased.

“Only if you’re going to go to sleep.”

“I promise,” she answered on a yawn.

“Good. Now call Nicholas, make sure he’s fine and then sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you Christophe,” Morgan chuckled, just before he stepped out of the room.

E
RIC
WOKE
WITH
a gasp, feeling as though his lungs hadn’t been put to use in days. Sounds around him were muffled as if hearing them through something solid. He opened his eyes and felt his stomach sink to do a flip. He was surrounded by perfect darkness, and reached out his hand, connecting with soft cloth only a few inches away.
 
The scream that welled up in his throat caught on something before he could give it voice, vocal chords aching, with the vain effort to push it out. Eric wanted to pound against the cloth but the space was too small for him to get any momentum with his swings. Then he heard the erratic thundering of his heart, loud in his ears. Skipping around in wild rhythms, first speeding like a bullet train, then slowing to a crawl.
 

Something is very wrong here,
Eric thought, trying to force himself to be calm.
I just need to breathe and it will clear things right up.
He paused, and his brows knit in concentration
. How long has it been since I took a breath? Shit, it’s been long enough that I noticed it. That’s not normal, is it? That’s not, human
. His heart kicked back into high gear, and as if to make up for its recent hiatus, Eric’s breath followed suit. Without a clock, or any way to measure time, he didn’t know how long it took to calm down.
 
The instant he did, Eric realized he wasn’t alone. There was another heartbeat nearby, muffled by whatever surrounded him.
 

Metal scraped against metal and fell silent. The process repeated, though in a different place, up near his torso, the first had been near his calf. The process repeated a final time. Uncertain of what was happening, Eric reached into his pocket and found the rosary his grandmother had given him a few days before her death. He clutched it. Amber light lanced through the darkness, hinges hissed like vipers and Eric had to close his eyes as the light sent stabbing pain into his brain.

“Easy now. Just relax as best you can.” The woman’s soft Irish brogue battered his ears.
 

“What happened?” Eric asked, in a whisper, hoping it would keep his ears from screaming.

“Alexander attacked you. Marcus found you and gave you his blood. You are one of us now,” she answered, in a soft whisper.

 
It sounds as though she tells someone they’ve just become a vampire every day, make that every night of her life. Who knows, maybe she does.
Eric thought, feeling a strange sense of disconnection as his mind wandered.
This is not me. I’m able to focus no matter what. What’s happening to me, and how long will it last?

“Do you think you might be able to answer a question?” The woman’s voice, interrupted his thoughts.

“Sounds just as patronizing as I always thought,” Eric growled, as he cracked one eye open, letting in a tiny sliver of light

“That’s not an answer,” she replied, with a hint of laughter in her lilting tone.

“Fine what’s the question?” Eric asked, with more frustration in his tone than he’d intended.
There has to be something wrong, I know it, I’m holding my grandmother’s rosary, and nothing is happening. Shouldn’t my skin be burning? Shouldn’t the cross be glowing? Something, anything. Maybe it’s glowing but I just can’t see it.
He pulled his hand, with the rosary, out of his pocket and looked at it, both his hand and the holy symbol looked normal.
 

“This is actually something that Marcus insisted I ask as soon as you woke.” The woman seemed to stifle a laugh as she revealed the information. “He wants to know if you invited Alexander into the house.”

“No.” Eric shook his head and turned his eyes from his hand to the woman. He smiled, taking a real look at the female vampire. She was standing a couple feet from him. Long raven hair fell over one shoulder, and green eyes watched him with cautious curiosity. “I was alone, falling down drunk. Who are you?”

“I’m Morgan, a friend of Marcus’s. Is it possible that you answered a phone call from Alexander?” she asked. There was a pause, while Eric shook his head. After a moment, Morgan continued, though she seemed to be talking to herself more than him. “I haven’t heard of it, but I don’t see why a phone invitation wouldn’t work. Is it possible that you were drunk enough to not remember a phone call?” She bit her lower lip, the delicate tip of one fang pressing into the red–stained flesh.
 

“There would be a record either in my cell’s call log or the caller ID at the house.” As he spoke, Eric’s gaze was fixed on her lips, his mouth started watering and blood pounded in his skull.
What the hell is going on?
he thought, as Morgan watched him with a smile, that carried the weight of years. It made Eric feel as though she knew what he was going through.

“You’re famished. Normally, I would take you out on your first hunt. However, this situation is far from normal.” She offered him a hand, which Eric accepted and pulled himself out of the opulent coffin where he’d been resting.

“How long was I in there?”
 

“Eighteen hours. That’s how long it takes for your body to begin the change.”

“And you just happened to have a spare coffin in your…” Eric’s voice trailed off as he looked around, “basement?”

“Actually, that’s a casket and no, I had to rush order it. This was something of an emergency. Marcus said you had agreed to be transformed, if you were at death’s door.”

“It was part of the–” Eric paused, searching his mind for the right word, “–Covenant?”

“Yeah, that’s what it’s called,” Morgan answered, watching him as though he was something she hadn’t seen before.

“What?”

“By all rights, you shouldn’t be this rational. You should be fighting me. You should be trying to get out and find someone to feed from, willing or not.”

“I want a donor.” Eric growled, feeling as though a beast was trying to rip its way out of his chest. He gasped, and clenched his jaw, as if that could contain the feelings
. I will not take a life. Elizabeth said that it was possible. I do not want to become a killer.

“That’s more like it.” Morgan chuckled. “Not tonight. You’ve only just been reborn. We can’t risk your control with any of the donors. It’s not safe for you or them.” Her voice was filled with the patience Eric equated with his mother.
 

“I will not kill,” Eric replied, with more venom and anger in his voice than necessary.
 

“You will not be able to control it.” There was steel in her voice now, the velvet was gone. She wasn’t going to take his crap.
 

Before his world turned topsy–turvy, he would have backed down from the fire flickering in the center of her pupils. Now, he wanted to lock horns with her. “I am stronger than you think,” he growled, feeling the edges of his grandmother’s cross digging into his palm.
 

“You’re not convincing anyone, boy,” she shot back, with an air of menace that was difficult to ignore.
 

“What is happ…” he began, but stopped when he realized that the lisp that he’d gotten over as a child was rearing its ugly head. He licked his lips, and nicked the top of his tongue on one sharp fang. The blood filled his mouth for a moment, cool and metallic.
 

“You’ll get used to them,” Morgan said, taking a step back, giving the new vampire some room to breathe. She knew all too well what those first few hours were like.
Confusing, frightening, and overwhelming
. She thought, and took another step back, giving him more space, while using her other senses to assess him.
His heartbeat is strong, and though I’m no expert, I’d say his personality seems intact. He’s fighting the urge to feed longer than most, and winning. If he can get past tonight he’ll have a good chance to survive in our world. I just have to get him past the “not wanting to feed because he might kill someone,” part. Damn it, where’s Annabelle? How long does it take to find someone with a suitably dark heart in this city?

“How do you stand the taste?” he complained, making a face and sticking his tongue out, as if that would help rid it of the flavor.

“If you’d gotten human blood on your tongue, it would be a different story.” There was a hint of laughter in her voice. “You are strong, but you’ll still feel the pull of human blood like nothing else.”

“I don’t want to kill anyone,” he spat, feeling blood trickle down his arm from the hand clutching the cross, the metallic scent spearing his consciousness like a lance. Eric closed his eyes and curled his arm around his torso.

“You can’t get around it,” Morgan said, her voice calm and soothing. “I have Annabelle finding a suitable unwilling donor.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He was being petulant, but didn’t care.

“That little vampire is one of the most gifted telepaths I’ve ever heard of. She can read a human’s mind like it was a dime store novel. She’ll bring back someone whose death won’t matter, someone whose death will make the world a safer place.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll still be a killer.”
 

“And what about the man who put criminals behind bars?” she asked. “If memory serves detectives still hunt murderers, and Louisiana is a death penalty state.”

“That’s different.”
 

“Why?” The question was meant to make Eric think, and perhaps bring him around to her way of thinking.

“Because all I ever did was find the evidence and make a proper arrest.”

“Did any of those lead to a death sentence?” Morgan pressed, she knew that she was onto something. If there was any chance Eric was going to give in, she had to be somewhat ruthless.
 

“Yes.” He admitted.

“So it’s different for you to drain,” Morgan paused and opened a heavy door. After a moment a small woman walked in carrying a large man over her shoulder. “ …this man dry, because you had no investigation in order to establish his guilt? Because I can assure you, he has done more than enough to warrant death.”
 

As she spoke, Morgan moved a few feet to where Annabelle dropped the bound man. Eric watched her, feeling something pulling at him.
I can’t do this. I have to ask her to end it. I was wrong. I can’t risk taking a life, and damning my soul. Wait, there’s something wrong. How come my hand isn’t burning?
He opened his mouth to ask, maybe beg, Morgan to just end his life, but his vocal chords seized.
 
It felt as if he couldn’t get air to make a sound amounting to more than a short high–pitched squeak.
I don’t want to die
.

“Look, I know this is difficult. You’re not a killer, it’s not in your nature. Well, it’s not in mine either.” Morgan sighed, sounding as though she was a long–suffering parent. There was a sense of urgency in her words that turned Eric’s eyes to her. “We don’t have a lot of time. If you want to live to see the next sunset, you need to feed.”
 

“What?”

“Did you discuss anything about what happens after your rebirth with Elizabeth?” Morgan’s dark brows knit together. Her voice was full of surprise, but laced with frustration.
 

“She wasn’t very forthcoming. She always assumed that either she or Marcus would be here.” Eric frowned, swallowed hard, and shook his head. “Where is Marcus?”

“He’s nearby but there are some,” Morgan paused as if taking a moment to find the right word, “complications. I’m sure the Old Man will be back as soon as he manages to get his head on straight, or sober up, whichever comes first.”

“He’s getting drunk?” Eric tried not to sound surprised, but failed in spectacular fashion.

“Yup.”

“Why?” he asked, unable to keep the look of confusion from his expression.

“It’s complicated, and not my place to share,” Morgan answered, on an exhale of breath. “If you want to know more, you need to talk to him.”

“And for that,” he nodded and met her green eyes with his blue ones, “I need to survive to see the next sunset.”

“I’m sorry.” Her apology seemed to be filled with genuine sorrow. “I wish you had all the time in the world to make this decision, but you’re getting dangerously close to pumpkin time.”