Morvicti Blood (A Morvicti Novel Book 1) (25 page)

Bathry’s father, a young man himself then, had fallen madly in love with Roxanna. Simon hung on her every word. She expressed her melancholy over not being able to see her favorite flower, and the next day Simon brought her a large bouquet of them. She mentioned her boredom with the plain meals, and Simon snuck in some richer food for her. Even though the differences in their stations were vast, the war was the great equalizer.

And the attraction was not one-sided. Every favor or kindness his father paid her, Roxanna accepted with open arms and tender kisses. Once the revolt had been utterly crushed and not a single Stalcuc walked above ground, Roxanna left The Sanctuary of the Forgotten. But their romance continued in secret.

Promises were made to each other, but only his father kept his. Roxanna, the bitch liar, had broken every one of hers.

Following the plan they had agreed upon years earlier, when she became queen, Simon requested an audience with the Imperial Morvicti Council. There, in front of the heads of the most powerful bloodlines, Simon opened his heart and professed his love for Roxanna. Simon also asked for the Stalcuc seat, which had been vacated by that bloodline prior to their rebellion.

Roxanna acted shocked, and rebuked his father in front of the entire gathering.

Her poisonous words that day filled Simon’s heart with hate for the Drakes. “You love me? How ridiculous. I am a Drake. You are a Bathry, Simon, confined to The Sanctuary of the Forgotten. There is no bloodline as low as yours. I could never love you, and I promise that you will never have a seat at this table.”

The sting of that disgrace never vanished. With the passage of time, it festered and grew until his father was consumed by it.

Bathry’s own hatred for Roxanna and the entire Drake Bloodline permeated every part of him.
I wasn’t even born when it first started, and yet here I am, head of the bloodline, dealing with the fallout.

Skirmishes between bloodlines continued, though these days they were never full-fledged attacks held in open view; instead, the hatred amounted to kidnappings of young nobles, blackmail, or slander. In 2003, members of one bloodline held a nephew of the head of one of the noblest family’s hostage. Release for such hostages normally was a payout of territory, which was usually granted.

His bloodline fought their enemies more covertly. Jack’s first mission to cut off the captured nephew’s head had failed, but because of the precautions they’d set up, no one had ever learned of his bloodline’s involvement.

His father’s plan had been clear. Wait for the queen to go below ground. Resurrect The Ripper. Gain the killer’s trust and prepare him, then send the halfblood to slice the throats of one child in each of the royal bloodlines for grievances stemming from even further in the past than Roxanna’s. Locate the Drake Bloodline Sanctuary. Send the monster to remove the head of the queen from her body. Finally, return The Ripper to his cell. The Imperial Morvicti Council would never know, but at long last justice would be served for the reprehensible act against his bloodline.

Bathry had followed his father’s every step to the letter, waiting patiently to set things in motion.

The queen remained above ground until 2002, when her body finally surrendered to the long slumber.

Slipping Jack’s body out of The Sanctuary of the Forgotten to the underground cage came easily.

Discovering the Drake Bloodline Sanctuary had been much more difficult. But he had succeeded, after he found video feeds of Poole and Octavian Drake’s brother going in and out of a building on Murphy Street.

Then, the plan had begun to unravel this very day. Jack had beheaded Romulus Drake, but had left without killing the queen. Why? What had distracted him from his mission? McCord?

But the cracks in the scheme continued to appear. Octavian Drake, the current king, knew the imposter in The Ripper’s cell was not Jack.

I had no choice but to act when Octavian came down the ladder.

Bathry could not let the truth escape the sanctuary, and that meant Octavian and Poole had to die the eternal death.

Albert had gotten the jump on Poole, but the fool had arrived with only a stake and no back up. Octavian had pulled out a pistol and shot Albert.

I ran, but what other choice did I have?

Octavian’s driver had turned David’s direction when he exited the building. But before the bastard had gotten out of the limo, he had shot him.

His options now were limited.

The Brotherhood had been unsuccessful at Coach and Horses Yard. McCord and his sister had gotten away. The forged Ripper suicide letter would have no impact without Austin McCord’s corpse to support it. Five of the Brotherhood had been shot.

Without the Brotherhood, that left David only two of his own servants to send to kill Octavian. Not the best of odds. If Octavian found a way past his two trusted men and escaped The Sanctuary of the Forgotten, all hell would break loose.

How do I keep Octavian from sounding the alarm to the Imperial Morvicti Council and the other bloodlines?

Once again, Bathry turned his attention to the image of Austin McCord.

“What are you to Octavian Drake? And why didn’t The Ripper kill you when he had the chance?” He pounded his fists on the desk. Three computers over, a teenager with multiple facial piercings briefly looked up, and then returned to his online game.

The woman in the image standing next to Austin was Dr. Angelique McCord. After identifying the doctor, it had been easy enough to discover who her brother was. Austin McCord had been reported killed in action in 2003. He was certainly not dead, so he must be Morvicti.

“A Drake?” Except for Octavian, none above ground had known the bloodline lineage of Jack the Ripper.
Until today.
“Jack is a Drake.”

Are Jack and McCord working together?

A sudden flash of inspiration shot through Bathry. “That’s it.” He ran his fingers over McCord’s face on screen, which was quite handsome by any measure. “You’re my answer.”

CHAPTER 43

6:38 PM

Angelique’s nerves were shot.
Where is Michael?
“Thank you for the use of your phone, Dr. Wilson.” Michael had promised Austin he would send Officer Harris and a couple of other men to retrieve her and Austin if he got detained, but there was no sign of him or any of his men.
There is definitely something wrong.
“Do you mind if I keep your mobile so that I can try my husband again later?”

“I don’t mind at all. And please call me Thomas.” He was just as kind as she remembered him.

“Thank you, Thomas. This is definitely no time for formalities.”

“I agree.” He turned to Gita. “Another pot of tea would be nice. This night may be a long one.”

Gita nodded and stood.

“And something to eat, too, please.” Dr. Wilson smiled. “She’s a marvelous cook. Have either of you had dinner? Of course you haven’t. Gita, how about—”

“How about you leave the choice of meal to me?” Gita turned her attention to Angelique and Austin. “Have you ever had
żurek starowiejski
?”

“No,” they answered in unison.

“Shame, since you’re most certainly Polish. It’s a wonderful soup made of soured rye flour, with potatoes, chopped sausages, boiled eggs and mushrooms. You will love it.”

As Gita left the room, Angelique’s anxiety continued to grow.
Where are you, Michael?
She tried him again on the doctor’s mobile phone. No answer. “Austin, this is starting to scare me.”

“Sis, you saw how important Michael’s job was today. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation to this delay.”

Something in Austin’s tone told her he was more worried than he was letting on. But her brother was right. Michael was a very busy man. Learning her husband was a lead with the CIA had been surprising, though it should not have been. There had been so many signs pointing to that fact during their marriage.
Deep breath, Angelique. This isn’t the first time you haven’t been able to reach Michael and it won’t be the last.

Dr. Wilson refilled his pipe.

Angelique knew she needed to occupy her mind until Michael arrived or she was going to go crazy. “Let’s break down what we know. The last thing Austin remembers before today happened in 2003. He has no memory of anything between being shot in Iraq and waking up this morning on the other side of the Thames.”

Dr. Wilson sat back in his chair. “Four possibilities come to mind.”

“And they are?” Austin asked.

“You’re lying about the lapse of time.”

“I’m not.”

Dr. Wilson took a drag on his pipe. “Being a fairly adept judge of character, I believe you.”

“And the other three?”

“You’re insane, which, of course, you are not.”

Austin laughed. “That’s good to know. What else?”

“You’ve had a loss in memory due to injury, illness, or someone administering drugs to your person. But that doesn’t seem likely since your recounting of the day was so detailed.”

“Austin and I have eidetic memories.”

“Interesting. Are you twins?”

She nodded. “Born on Halloween three minutes apart. Austin is the oldest.”

Wilson rubbed his chin and grabbed a pen and paper. He scribbled some notes before continuing. “The final possibility is that my hypothesis is completely valid. My unknown hominid species exists in today’s world.” He turned to Austin, gazing at him intensely. “Would you mind showing me your chest, Austin? I’m fascinated that you don’t have a hint of a scar.”

“Sure.” Austin loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a chest without a single flaw.

“Amazing. And you’re certain the bullet entered your body through your chest?”

“Absolutely. To me, I got shot yesterday.”

“Brilliant.” Dr. Wilson smiled broadly. “I’m certain you both carry the genes I’ve been seeking my entire career. You two must have significant amounts of my unknown hominid group’s DNA. Where are your parents?”

“Our adoptive parents are dead,” she answered. “We don’t know our biological parents.”

“Too bad, but I’d like to get saliva and blood samples from you both. If I’m right, that should give us the evidence that will lead us to the truth.”

“I’m still unclear how that gets us any closer to figuring out the person or group responsible,” Austin said.

She agreed fully with her brother. It didn’t make any sense. “I still don’t understand how these things connect together.”

“Nor do I, Angelique,” Dr. Wilson said. “But perhaps we can figure it out if we work together.”

“What about the new Ripper?” Austin asked. “How does he play into things? Did he kill Walt Turner? If so, why did he let me live; why did he leave?”

“Excellent questions that must go unanswered for the moment. But I can tell you that The Ripper has information we need. I believe, despite his insanity, he’s trying to point me in the right direction.” Dr. Wilson told them about the fingers he’d received that morning from the killer. “Nancy Black and Gail Simmons could have very well belonged to the secret species.”

“The second note you got from him. What did it say?” Austin asked.

“I have it here.” He pulled it out of his jacket and handed it over.

Austin held it so that they both could read it.

A gift for you, Boss. I know you will like it. Want to help you with your work.

Jack

“Very creepy,” she said, feeling a shiver go up and down her spine. “The monster does seem to have an agenda when it comes to you.”

“I believe so.” With his pipe in his hand, Wilson closed his eyes. “Austin, did you get a chance to read that letter that was found in the overcoat?”

“I did.”

“How well do you remember it?” Wilson asked.

“I remember it verbatim.” Austin recited every chilling word.

Dear Dr. Wilson,

I hope the ladyfingers I sent let you know that I am sincere in wanting to help you with your work. You’ve been ridiculed for your hypothesis, but you and I both know that you are correct. There is a secret society that needs to be exposed. I will be leaving more gifts and messages for you and my beloved along the path of blood that will help with this endeavor.

Together, we can bring light to the darkness.

Until we meet face to face,

Jack the Ripper

“He plans on meeting me face to face. Not a very exciting prospect, is it?”

“No,” Austin said flatly.

“Blunt but honest. I said it once and I’ll say it again: You’re a man after my own heart.” Dr. Wilson smiled.