Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone Vampires Book 1) (12 page)

“Change?” Nicholas shook his head.

“Again Joshua’s theorizing. But he did say that it was possible that she might end up with the abilities of a sorcerer.”

“What the hell were they thinking?” Morgan whispered, her mind flashing to the image of a shining needle sliding into her flesh.
This has got to be what human doctors call ‘shock,’ she
thought, feeling as though she was standing outside herself, watching the situation unfold.

“They?” Marcus asked, his voice cutting through her blood soaked visions.

Morgan didn’t answer for several minutes. The room would have been silent if not for the rhythmic tapping of Christophe’s knife on the cutting board.
 

When she showed no sign of speaking, Nicholas decided to be direct. “Are you ready to give us some answers?”

“I’ll do my best.” She ran her hands through her hair, and to the back of her neck, as if trying to curl in on herself.

“What happened at the club?” He fought his natural tendency to be forceful.
This is my wife, not a Renegade I have to break for information.

“I don’t remember much about that night.”

“We need to know whatever you do remember,” Nicholas coaxed, rubbing her back in small comforting circles. “Please love, I wouldn’t ask, if it weren’t important.”

“All I can remember is Lucian, standing over me with a syringe, telling me everything is going to be fine,” Morgan’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Oh Gods, Nicholas, the pain was unbearable.” She looked up at him. He watched her with a confused frown, and she knew what he’d done but asked the question anyway, “You invited him here?”
 

Charles slammed the ladle he’d been stirring with on the spoon rest, and swore with concise eloquence in French. The knife in Christophe’s hand started moving faster, turning the plants he was chopping into a green pulp. Marcus started pacing the room, muttering under his breath in frustration. Nicholas shook his head, and wrapped his arms around Morgan, offering her a measure of his strength.

“He is the head of your line, and your Grandsire.”
This confirms what we’ve theorized about Lucian. Unfortunately, this makes things much more complicated.
Nicholas was yanked out of his thoughts when Morgan pushed against his chest. Acting on instinct, he held on to her, and whispered endearments to her in his native Russian.

“I have to get out of here.” She shook her head, brow furrowed in concentration.
I can’t risk Lucian forcing a confrontation,
Morgan thought, her mind running over her options.

“Morgan please, I need you to be rational. You can’t leave in this state,” he soothed, as she fought against his embrace.

“Why did you call him?” she demanded, fighting both him and the panic rising in her throat.

“I couldn’t reach Julian, and Lucian knows more about our kind than any other. It seemed like a logical decision, at the time.” He answered a note of fear creeping into his voice.

Not good, not good at all,
Morgan thought, feeling his arms around her like a vise. “I have to get out of here. Let me go Nicholai,” Morgan begged, trying without success to break free of his hold.
 

A memory slithered to the forefront of her mind: Lucian, whom she’d always trusted, his soothing voice assuring her that it was better if she didn’t fight, as if that were even possible after the initial dose of sedatives hit. As the drugs slithered through her system, Morgan’s limbs grew heavy, leaving an awful awareness of her other senses. Every touch, scent, and sound was etched in her memory with perfect clarity.

“You don’t trust Lucian?” Nicholas asked, keeping his tone careful, measured.
Damn it! I feel like an ass for pushing, but I have to be clear here. If I’m going to put myself between Morgan and the head of her bloodline, I have to know that her story isn’t going to change. If I don’t tread with the utmost care, it will mean that Lucian will be exonerated, and will cost us both our heads.
 

“Mon Dieu!” Christophe spat, “how much proof do you need?” He slammed the knife onto the counter, the handle snapping with the force. “She just said that he gave her an injection. You know that her condition improved once we started keeping him away from her.”
 

“I know what has been happening, Christophe,” Nicholas hissed, his voice low, as he turned storm grey eyes on the younger vampire. “Without information, my hands are tied. I need to hear it from Morgan, unless I want to call seven kinds of hell down upon me, upon us all.”

“I have to get out of here, Nicholas!” Morgan snapped, and wrenched herself free of his arms. Vertigo slammed into her; and it was only through sheer force of stubborn will that she remained on her feet.

“No,” Nicholas replied, his voice flat, as he watched Morgan through narrowed eyes that made his handsome face look hateful.

“Nicholas. You’re not being rational,” Morgan countered, fighting to remain on her feet.
I really need to rest, but I can’t, not while I’m a target in the middle of those I care about most. I have to leave in order to make sure that Lucian and the Doctor don’t get any ideas about new research subjects.
 

“Rational? You’re swaying on your feet. How far do you think you’re going to get before whoever did this catches up to you?” Marcus interjected, from the door leading into the sitting room. Morgan turned to the sound of his voice, surprised. While she’d been distracted, the man who she considered her older brother had moved to block her only route out of the house.

“I can’t stay. It’s too dangerous. I can’t put all of you at risk,” Morgan insisted, even as she gave in to the weakness, by leaning against the island.
 

“And I can’t let you wander into the night, when you can barely stay on your feet, love,” Nicholas countered. “It’s just not going to happen.”
 

“It’s about to be a moot point. Lucian’s rental just pulled into the courtyard,” Marcus growled, low in his throat.

“Christophe, take Morgan down to the safe room,” Nicholas ordered.

“Nich…” She started to argue, but he stopped her, holding up a hand for silence.

“Right here, right now, no argument. We can argue about the rest later, but now you need to get out of here before Lucian gets to the door. If he knows you’re up and around, there’s not a lot we can do to keep him away, unless we want to risk being brought before the full Council to answer for our actions.” As he spoke, Nicholas met Morgan’s gaze, daring her to contradict him.
I hate doing this, but there’s no other way. Not right now.
 

She closed her emerald eyes, and turned to the stairs, without saying anything. As Christophe helped her toward the safe room, Nicholas sighed, letting some of the tension ease from his body, before he turned to the foyer.

“We should try to keep Lucian out of the house. I doubt there’s a plausible way we can explain Chemistry 101 going on in there,” Marcus offered, tilting his head toward the kitchen, as he fell into step beside Nicholas. The Lead Enforcer nodded, and they made their way to the front door where Lucian waited.
 

“Why hasn’t he gone to Magnus yet? In all honesty, we have no right to bar him from seeing a member of his bloodline,” Nicholas muttered.

“We didn’t, until tonight. Morgan’s wishes are what we have to consider, even above blood ties; you know that. But how about we don’t buy any more trouble for now?”

“We got enough at the door,” Nicholas whispered, as the foyer rang with loud bangs that made the heavy door rattle in its frame.

“Good thing this place is built to withstand hurricanes,” Marcus muttered, so low that Nicholas had trouble hearing him.
 

Nicholas chuckled, and took a deep breath, steeling himself. He waited until the pounding came again, with more force than before. Fragrant air filled the foyer when he opened the door, followed by searing waves of white–hot rage, boiling from the elder vampire, who stood in front of them.

“I will see my blood granddaughter, and I will not leave until I have done so,” Lucian insisted, his demand and mood making him appear less a bookish professor, and more the dark creature that lurked inside all of them.

“As I have explained, Morgan refuses to see anyone but Christophe or me. Give her time Lucian. We are not human, but she is having a very human reaction to a traumatic event,” Nicholas answered.
What are you playing at?
He thought, studying Lucian with a practiced eye.
 

“I do not believe you. I will hear it from Morgan’s lips.” The elder vampire met Nicholas’s eyes, and waited, looking as though he had nowhere else to be, and plenty of time to wait.

“I will have her call your hotel.”
Let’s see how you react to that. Surely you trust me to have her call you? Damn it, if you were any other vampire, I’d be able to drag you before the Council for questioning based on her word alone.
 

“Unacceptable,” Lucian snapped.
 

“It is the best I can offer under the circumstances,” Nicholas replied with a shrug.
 

“I don’t suppose I can expect
you
to see reason,” Lucian said, turning his attention to Marcus.
 

Marcus seemed to consider Lucian’s words for a few moments, his lips pursed. In truth, he was watching Lucian and giving Nicholas a chance to do the same. “Nicholas is being reasonable. I understand that you are concerned for Morgan; however, her well–being is at stake, and we have to respect her wishes.” He kept his tone even, not wanting to add more fuel to the fire.

“Then you leave me no choice. I will take this to the Council. You have no right to deny me.”

“I am not denying you, Morgan is. I only convey her desires,” Nicholas countered, his calm exterior hiding a frantic desire to know why Lucian was pressing the issue.

“I wonder,” Marcus muttered.
 

“What Marcus?” Lucian scoffed, turning his gaze to him, filled with contempt. “What do you wonder?”
 

“I wonder why you are so interested in seeing Morgan,” Marcus mused, making it sound as though he was kicking the idea around. “With each passing night, you grow more insistent.”

“I am concerned for her safety.”

“So you say,” Marcus countered, “but who should she fear within these walls: her Blood Sons, Nicholas perhaps, or is it me? Because it’s not like anyone in this house is related by blood, a close friend or thinks of Morgan as a little sister, so, of course she is in grave danger here.” As he spoke, sarcasm dripped from his words like poisoned honey.

“She should be with her own bloodline. We can help her heal in ways you cannot.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Marcus scoffed.
 

“She will recover much faster in her homeland,” Lucian replied, his cool exterior building back up, as the other two watched, “and that is not, as you so eloquently put it, bullshit.”
 

“Do you think Morgan was born yesterday?”

“Of course not, but it doesn’t change the fact that we heal faster in our homelands.”

“And you think she doesn’t have Irish soil under the foundation?” Marcus countered, enjoying the rush of adrenaline that filled him.
 

“I do not doubt Morgan’s preparation. However, I have some doubts about her support system.”

“I am in my own home with my Blood Children, and close friends. Is that the support system you question?” Morgan said, from the other side of the foyer, where she stood with Christophe’s arm looped through hers. She fought to keep from leaning on him too much, knowing she couldn’t afford to show any weakness in front of Lucian. “If it is, have no fear, Grandsire. I am as well as can be expected.”

Why did I ever marry a woman who can’t follow even the simplest orders?
Nicholas thought, turning so he could still block Lucian, but also see Morgan.
She’s going to be the death of me one day but what a ride. Yeah, I wouldn’t change a thing about her.

“Morgan. Order these two to stand aside,” Lucian replied, a smile curling his lips, making him look like a trusted confidante. “I have made arrangements for you to return to Ireland with me. Your recovery will progress much faster in your homeland.”
 

Morgan knew better than to trust that smile. She’d seen his face contorted with a predatory delight as the doctor’s cocktail of drugs ripped and burned its way through her veins. “No. I am not going anywhere.” She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “I want you to leave. Go back to the Council’s compound. We will keep you informed of any changes that you need to know.”

“I can demand that you return with me.”

“And I will refuse, without the rest of the Council batting an eyelash.” She seemed to stand straighter, and lost some of the aura of exhaustion that clung to her. Nicholas had to fight to keep his expression neutral, seeing some of his wife’s backbone return.

“You’ve been listening to Nicholai,” Lucian murmured.

“No, not Nicholas. Magnus,” she countered. “I explained the situation, and he assures me that the Council has no interest in this matter. You know pesky free will, and all that.”
Thank Goddess that Nicholas’s Sire has no love of technology, and kept the phone call short
, she thought.