Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone Vampires Book 1) (40 page)

“Everyone’s expendable, even his own people.”

“That’s a weakness we can exploit,” Marcus muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“If Lucian gives us the opportunity,” Nicholas said, pausing, his gaze turning back to the grim display. “But he might not give us the chance.”

“What do you want to do about all this?” Marcus asked, indicating the trailer.

“Do you think you can drive this rig back to New Orleans?”

“I can. If I can’t, I can hire someone who won’t ask too many questions, and lock it up tighter than a bank vault.”

“Good. I want you and Eric to go over this with a fine tooth comb.”

“You really think the cop is going to help?” Marcus asked.
 

“Since Elizabeth has disappeared, and what Alexander did to him, I have a feeling that newborn’s going to want the chance to help in any way he can.”

“What are we looking for?” Marcus asked.
Gods, I hope you have some idea, Assassin, because I sure as shit don’t. This was never my strong suit, and you know it.

“We need information. Right now we have two sources, Morgan, and this place,” Nicholas answered.
 

“You really think Lucian was stupid enough to leave evidence behind?”

“Lucian, no.” Nicholas shrugged and continued his inventory. “Then again, I doubt he did this personally. He sent someone else to do the wet work, which means that all bets are off.” He turned back to the body on the table.

“You think he sent a minion?” Marcus asked. He could almost see the wheels in Nicholas’s mind turning.
 

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” the Lead Enforcer answered. “I can’t catch Lucian’s scent, which means that it’s been some time since he was here. Most likely since before Morgan escaped if I don’t miss my guess.”

“So you’re banking on the theory that whoever Lucian sent to do the wet work, will have forgotten something?” Marcus asked, turning in a slow circle to survey the trailer. There were numerous cabinets where information could be hidden.
Damn, whoever did this took the best asset we would have had, to find what we’re looking for, the doctor. Damn, Nicholas is right, this was meant to send a message. But is it the one we think, or just a cheerful ‘fuck you’?

“It’s all we’ve got, Old Man. There’s not enough left for me to even consider delving into his mind,” Nicholas answered, turning his gaze back to the mess on the table.
There is nothing I like about this
, Nicholas thought, fighting not to sigh in frustration. “All I hear when I even get near his consciousness is screaming. Not a single coherent thought.”

“Do you want him sealed in the New Orleans tomb?” Marcus asked, waving his hand over the corpse.
I want to seal him in. He won’t heal from this, not without the blood of several humans. Even if he got that, it wouldn’t matter. His mind will never return. Who cares? Let him suffer for a few decades in a box, for what he’s done.

“No. He has not been among our kind long enough to be held to our laws as a vampire. Treat him as we would any human collateral damage,” Nicholas answered.
As much as I want to go along with the Old Man, I can’t. Damn it, I’ve got to be fair. If I don’t keep to the Edicts, then I am no better than Lucian, and whoever he got to do this. I have to be content with this as my pound of flesh, in return for what he did to Morgan
.

“Admit it. You want him entombed,” Marcus answered, his eyes narrowing as he studied Nicholas.

“What I want and what’s right are two entirely different things right now, Old Man,” Nicholas answered, fighting to ignore the increased pitch of the screams buffeting against his mind.
Gods help me, but the Doctor knows. On some primitive level, he knows that someone else is here.
 

“That’s why you have the big job,” Marcus muttered.
 

“And you don’t, old friend,” Nicholas answered, and walked to the doctor’s side.
Gods know I wanted to do just as much, if not more, to you, but I would have checked myself. No one deserves this kind of torture;
he thought, while sliding a dagger from the sheath on his wrist.
My sense of honor screams for justice, but this is not it.
Nicholas forced himself to study the body. Taking in everything from the still beating heart to the skin, laid out like leather. Whispering a prayer, Nicholas severed the man’s spine, before plunging his dagger into the heart, stilling it.

“What’s next?” Marcus asked, switching gears.
 

“I need you to take care of the corpse, and get this rig to New Orleans. We need to know if there’s anything useful left in here.”

“What about Elizabeth?”

“I’m sorry Old Man, but we don’t have any leads. Not a damned clue where she’s gone,” Nicholas answered, with a heavy, pained sigh.

“She’s still out there! If he did the same thing to her as Morgan, there’s no one to help her,” Marcus growled, feeling his temper begin to slip free of his tight control.

“What do you want me to do, Old Man?” Nicholas snapped, rounding on his friend.
 

“If it were Morgan, you’d be searching,” Marcus countered.

“And I
will
be informing
every one
of my enforcers that Elizabeth has gone missing. I
will
have them looking for her,
every night,
and asking people they trust to do the same. Logically you know there’s no way we can efficiently cover every inch of ground between here and New Orleans.” As he spoke, Nicholas started pacing, and the speed of his words increased before he stopped and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we just don’t have anywhere to begin.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either, but focus your anger where it needs to be. I swear I
will
get my Enforcers on the case. Unfortunately, unless you have some idea where to begin, that’s
all
I can do.” Nicholas shook his head with slow deliberation; he knew Marcus wasn’t going to like it, but he had to get him on board with the plan.

“I know she’s out there, she’s still alive,” Marcus countered, slamming his fist onto a counter near him.
 

“Where?” Nicholas pressed, closing the distance between them.
Damn it, I have to get him to see reason. There’s no way we can find her right now. We don’t know where to begin.

“Not a bloody clue,” Marcus sighed, feeling defeat settle on his shoulders, weighing him down.

“Then this is the best we can do. Maybe there’s something in here that can help.”

“I know,” Marcus started, but stopped when he saw Nicholas tense up, “what’s wrong?”

Nicholas heard Marcus speak, but the tugging sensation at the back of his mind that he associated with Morgan’s mood, sprang to life. He felt every muscle in his body twitch in response. “I can’t say for certain, but Morgan’s mood just shifted. Something’s not right,” he muttered, as his gaze lost focus.
 

“Go. Get your ass back to The Dracul now. I’ve got a handle on everything here. Send the boyos in on your way out,” Marcus ordered, every inch the Roman military officer he’d once been.

“Thanks,” Nicholas answered, shaking himself out of his reverie. Moving faster than a human could, he crossed the trailer and disappeared into the night.

A
LITTLE
OVER
half an hour after James left, Morgan was sitting in her office, feeling the first twinges of a headache coming on. She hit the command, to print the letter she’d just drafted to her legal team, and rubbed her temples. The well–appointed room, which was, under normal circumstances a haven, seemed more a prison. She frowned, knowing that most of her disquiet was caused by the nagging feeling of disgust and rage, through the bond she shared with Nicholas.

If only my patrons knew. If only they realized what centuries of life
really
meant, would they still want this existence? The stories don’t mention that for the first decade or so blood tastes disgusting. They leave out how hard it is to see people you knew as a human wither and die, or if you do change them, they often come to hate you for it.
 

“Morgan?” James called, wary. Distracted from her thoughts, Morgan looked up where James stood on the balcony in front of her open office door. He gestured with a tilt of his head, beckoning her to where he stood. Curious, Morgan rose and crossed to the wrought iron railing, in the blink of an eye.

“What is it?” she asked, looking into the darkness down below.

“I saw him on the video feed.” James pointed toward the edge of the dance floor, underneath the raised window.
Yeah, I should have called in the cavalry, but he’s Morgan’s Sire, and if there’s a chance to get through to him I gotta let her try
. James knew he was trying to convince himself that he’d done the right thing, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Julian,” she breathed. As though he’d heard, his silver eyes found hers.

“What do you want me to do?” James muttered, at her side.

“Wait, and watch my back.”

“Christophe explained about the madness. I’m not sure Nicholas will be happy,” James countered, hoping she’d see reason, and call Nicholas.
 

“He’s my blood; I have to try,” Morgan insisted, feeling the strain in their shared blood. There was something very wrong.
   

“As you wish,” James answered, with a slight nod. “I’ll be right here. Be careful.”

“Always.” She glided down the stairs, moving with a speed and grace that James envied.

“Morgan,” Julian whispered, when she stopped in the center of the room.

“Julian,” she answered, keeping her tone level, calming.

“Why can’t I sense you?” Julian hissed and closed the distance between them.

“Julian, you need to stay calm.”

“That is not an answer to my question, Morrigan,” he spat, using the ancient pronunciation of her name.

“The doctor gave me blood from a sorceress, and it’s changed the chemistry of mine,” she explained, hoping that he wouldn’t see through the lie.

“I could sense you up until a few days ago;
you’re lying
,” he hissed, through clenched teeth.

“Julian,” Morgan began again, but he shook his head, a violent movement that silenced her.

“I can smell him on you.” Julian leaned in close and breathed in deep.
 

“Who?”

“The Assassin,” he snapped back, putting several feet between them.

“It’s because of what the doctor did to me. I need to ingest another vampire’s blood for a time. Nicholas…” She didn’t get any further, because Julian roared in frustration, and started pacing. He dragged his fingers through his dark hair and spun on her.

“Why didn’t you go to Lucian? Why the Assassin! He’s not even our bloodline!” he spat, and grabbed her shoulders. When he let go, Morgan staggered back a few steps.
 

J
ulian has never cared about bloodlines before.
“Because I trust him, and he was there when I was found. Julian, please; you have to relax.”

“What would you know?” he hissed, fangs extended.

“I know,” she said, doing her best to sound comforting, calming. Morgan glanced back at James, who had come down from the second floor to stand about twenty feet away from her. He had a gun ready in his right hand. Julian paced in circles. Morgan stayed silent, waiting. He turned to her again, his eyes filled with pain and sadness.
 

“What happened?”

“We’re working on that,” she answered, deciding that short answers might be best.
Fewer mine fields to wade through.
 

“The Assassin?” he hissed, sneering with undisguised disgust.

“Yes, Nicholas is helping,” Morgan replied, while her mind raced
. Julian has never been one of Nicholas’s fans, but has always treated him with the respect he’s earned, as Lead Enforcer.
 

“And why didn’t you go to Lucian?” he asked, looking like the intelligent man she’d known for all her years.

“I have my reasons.”

“Why?” His gaze met hers, clear direct. Morgan remained silent, keeping her expression smooth while she worked out a plausible lie.

“I can’t do this,” Julian interrupted her thoughts, shaking his head, his brows pulled low.

“Do what?”

“I know I am succumbing to madness. I can feel it creeping up on me, slithering through my mind, ripping, clawing at my sanity,” he replied, in a choked sob, grief etching his handsome features into a mask of pain.

“What are you saying?”

“Don’t let it happen to me, Morgan.”

“Julian, I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head, backing away from him.

“Morgan, you’re the only one I trust to do this for me.”

“Julian…” she started, but her mind went blank. Morgan stood there, shaking her head, as though that movement would make what he was saying change. “You don’t mean it. You can’t… I can’t Julian, no.” She backed away from him, until she hit the bar, but he kept coming.

“You reek of the Assassin,” he laughed, high and mad. Morgan knew then, any chance she’d had to get through to him was gone. “You lied. His blood flows in your veins, not mine.”