Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone Vampires Book 1) (9 page)

“
Oui
.” Charles replied in his native French.
 

“Nicholas requested my presence, something having to do with Morgan?” Lucian seemed curious as he stepped past Charles into the house.

“He did. She is second in line to sit on the Council from our bloodline Great Grandsire.”

“Ahh, you invoke blood ties.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice as he pulled the line of his suit jacket straight. He took a few steps into the house, past Charles.

“Forgive me if I breech protocol. The situation is rather distressing. Please follow me,” Charles replied, and led the way to the third floor. He paused at the top of the grand staircase, listening. Charles felt frustration and anger pulsing through the area, as though the emotions had their own heartbeats. Shifting part of his focus, Charles searched for the source.
Lucian? Why am I not surprised? He’s always been content at the Council’s compound.
Lucian looked the same as he remembered, the suit that was a few years out of fashion, hair somewhat mussed as though he’d been running his hand through it, he looked more the absent–minded scholar than powerful vampire.
 
Why should he feel comfortable here, in the world among humans?
 

But how does that explain the anger?
A voice that sounded very much like Christophe’s countered in his mind, playing Devil’s advocate. The door to the master bedroom was open, and Charles stepped through, just in front of Lucian. Nicholas, Christophe and Marcus all stood near the bed where Morgan lay. In the time that they'd been waiting, his Blood Brother had laid her out under the blankets. Her arms were over the covers at her sides, and she looked as though she was asleep, but her color was pale and stood out in stark contrast to the dark bedclothes.
 

“Nicholai, what has happened?” Lucian took off his jacket and shoved it in Marcus’s direction as he crossed to the bed.

“I don’t know. We were talking. Discussing what she remembered and she collapsed,” Nicholas answered, stepping aside so that Lucian could sit beside her. His blue–grey eyes narrowed, as the second oldest living vampire sat on the mattress by Morgan’s side and took her hand in his.

“You didn’t say anything about a fever, Nicholai.” Lucian muttered; his brows pulled together in concentration, fingers rubbing the back of Morgan’s hand in small circles.

“It’s a new development.”

“Leave us!” Lucian ordered, turning away from everyone in the room.

“Lucian,” Nicholas began, fighting to keep his temper in check but the elder cut him off.

“Close the door on your way out.”

“Don’t push it Assassin,” Marcus warned, in an almost inaudible whisper, as he gripped Nicholas’s arm. A chill ran through him when Nicholas turned cold grey eyes on him.
Holy shit, this is not good,
Marcus thought, as he released Nicholas’s arm.
 
"Come on, we have a big bad vampire to find," Marcus taunted, hoping it would be enough to get Nicholas to leave. The Lead Enforcer stared at him for a moment, as though Marcus had sprouted sparkly pink fairy wings.
 

“Your mystery Renegade.” He paused and took a deep breath, “Right.” Nicholas gathered his emotions, putting the mask he hid behind, back in place before addressing Morgan’s Grandsire.
 
“Lucian, please let us know if we can be of any assistance.”

“Yes,” Lucian muttered, distracted as he lifted Morgan’s hand, and seemed to feel her wrist for a pulse. “Of course.”
 

Nicholas took a step toward the elder vampire, lips pulling back from his teeth in a silent snarl. Lucian didn’t seem to notice the Lead Enforcer’s reaction.
 

“Not the time,” Marcus hissed under his breath, as he latched on to Nicholas’s arm, and steered him out of the room. Charles and Christophe followed a few steps behind.

C
HARLES
WALKED
THROUGH
the house, up to the second floor, his feet following the path he’d gotten to know well over the past ten nights of reading to Morgan.
I have no idea whether or not it’s helping her, but I can’t handle sitting around doing nothing. Marcus and Nicholas are searching for the Renegade
.
Christophe has taken over just about everything involved with running The Dracul from here. Most nights he doesn’t have anything for me to do.
He wasn’t focused on the walk; his attention was on the papers in his hands. It was one of the many contracts that, under normal circumstances, Morgan took care of.
This guy’s an awesome vintner, and Morgan likes to support other vampire entrepreneurs, but he is a royal pain in my ass already. I’ve got to remember to ask Morgan how she manages him, when she wakes
. Pausing in front of Morgan’s sick room, Charles shook his head, hoping to clear it, before he tucked the portfolio with the contract under his arm, and pushed the door open.

Lucian was sitting beside her, the lights in the room were on low and Lucian was leaning over Morgan. Charles thought he saw the flash of something silver in his Great Grandsire’s hand, but the elder moved so fast, Charles couldn’t be certain. Lucian turned to face the younger vampire his eyes wild.
 

 
“Has no one taught you manners?” Lucian roared. A dark shadow passed over his face, and his eyes glowed an unearthly blue.
 

Charles jumped a little, his eyes darted around the room seeking an enemy on instinct. The contract slipped from his hand, and the pages fluttered to the floor. “Forgive me great Grandsire. I was distracted.” Charles shook his head as he felt warmth crawl up his neck.
Great, I’m blushing like I did when I was human.
 

“And that gives you leave to be rude?” Lucian’s scowl froze Charles in place.

“N–n–no, of course not.” Charles stammered, tripping over his own tongue.
Oh, great time to lose control over my mouth. What’s going on here? Why is he so pissed that I started to walk into the room?

“Be certain that it does not happen again. I will not be so forgiving a second time,” Lucian ordered before he stormed out. Charles stood for several moments, in shock, before he shook it off and stepped through the door, closing it behind him. Needing a moment to get his thoughts back in order, Charles picked up the fallen pages of the contract.

“That. Was. Very. Strange,” he muttered under his breath, pronouncing every word with exaggerated care. He crossed to the chair he’d sat in for the past ten nights, and tossed the folder onto the seat. Charles frowned and put his hands on his hips, taking a careful survey of the room.
What was that flash of silver? Was I just seeing things?
Nothing looks out of place. But I haven’t lived almost five centuries without learning that looks, more often than not, are deceiving.
He closed his eyes, and inhaled a long, slow, breath. His heightened sensory receptors took over, and sifted through the information. The mixture of scents floating through his lungs was what he’d expected, except for a sharp metallic note, faint but there, and recent.
Okay, so that silver thing wasn’t a figment of my imagination.

“What the?” Charles whispered, to the silent room before he pulled out his cell phone, and sent a text to Christophe to summon him. “Please, let him not be with a woman,” he sighed, and crossed the few feet back to the bed.
This is insanity. What am I expecting to find?
Charles thought, his brow knitting together as he concentrated.
That she’s being drugged? If so, by whom? Why? With what?

 
“Not many drugs are powerful enough to incapacitate us. Some of the more potent opiates can have an effect on our kind, but it’s nowhere near what it does to a human. The drugs move through our systems too fast.” He recited the lecture that Morgan had given him one night, about a century before. Christophe had been foolish enough to drink from an opium addict. While his best friend had been sleeping it off, Charles had asked Morgan about drugs and how they affected vampires.

“Now, if a vampire drinks from a human who has taken the drugs, that’s a different story,” Morgan’s wry chuckle echoed through Charles’s memory. “The drugs seem to be more potent and their effects last longer,” she’d explained, while wiping Christophe’s brow with a wet cloth.

“So it would stand to reason, that if Morgan had been injected with something, it would have worn off by now, unless the injections are continuing,” Charles mused and knelt beside the bed. “Even if the drugs were in human blood they would have worn off by now.” As an unpleasant thought crossed his mind, Charles ran a hand over his face. “Oh shit, this isn’t good.”

Twenty minutes later, he was kneeling beside the heavy mahogany four–poster, when Christophe stepped into the room. The blankets, which had covered Morgan to the chin, had been shifted so they lay high up on her chest. Christophe frowned and paused, wondering what had possessed Charles to shift them from their usual position, closer to Morgan’s neck.
 

“Nicholas might take offense if he finds you like this old friend. He gives you a pass, and probably even likes you, in a weird way, because you are Morgan’s Blood Child however…” Christophe shrugged, letting Charles finish the statement in his mind.

“Shut it Christophe.” Charles shook his head. “I know you’re trying to make light, but I think we have a serious problem on our hands.”

“What?” Christophe asked and walked to his friend’s side.

“Her neck.”
 

Taking the high road for once, Christophe said nothing and looked where Charles had indicated. “What’s that?” he whispered, without thinking, when he saw a small bruise on the skin above her carotid artery.

“I can’t be sure, but I think it’s an injection site.” Charles replied and began pacing at the end of the bed. “If you take a deep breath there’s something strange in the air. In her bloodstream, I believe.”
 

Christophe closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He frowned, and furrowed his brow, after a few seconds he rocked back on his heels. “We have to call Nicholas and Marcus,” Christophe insisted with more determination in his voice than Charles was used to hearing from his best friend.

“So they can do what?” Charles rolled his eyes. “Tip Lucian off?”

“You can’t believe he’s involved.” Christophe scoffed and shook his head.
 

“Who else was up here?” Charles asked, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You know Nicholas looks in on her before leaving for the night, and doesn’t come back until Lucian is gone, and Marcus was here hours ago. The scent is less than an hour old.” He explained, as though he could will Christophe to believe him.

“What do you suggest we do?” Christophe asked, with a melodramatic shrug.
Why would Lucian hurt Morgan? She is his Blood Granddaughter. What could drive him to hurt her?

“For now, nothing.” Christophe opened his mouth to object, but Charles held his hand up for silence. “We watch. That might not be an injection site. We keep an eye on it. If it does not fade in two nights we don’t leave Lucian alone with her, then we see what happens.” Charles paused in his pacing and bit his lower lip in thought before continuing. “In the meantime, I think we should see if there’s anything in Morgan’s library about our kind being affected by fevers for so long.”

Christophe nodded. “We could call Joshua,” he suggested, remembering the folklore professor whom Morgan had invited to the club a few times before the opening.
 

“Why don’t we wait on that until we see if we can find anything on our own?” Charles offered, as they set off for the library, feeling a sense of purpose that had been missing for too many days.

Two nights later, Nicholas and Marcus returned from a fruitless night searching for the Renegade, and found Lucian walking to his car. The elder vampire was agitated, talking to himself, punctuating the words with wild gestures as he moved. It took him several seconds to notice that he was being watched.

“You should teach those two whelps something about respect,” Lucian hissed, before getting into the rental sedan and speeding away.

“What was that about?” Marcus asked, sounding confused as he watched the car fade into the night.

“Somehow, I think it has to do with Charles and Christophe. Can you go look in on Morgan while I have a word or five with her Blood Sons?” Nicholas asked.
 

Marcus nodded, knowing that to antagonize Nicholas would make the situation worse than it already was. The other vampire was exhausted, and closer to his breaking point than Marcus had ever seen. Without another word he strolled into the house with a calm Nicholas envied.
 

Of course he can be calm. He can sense Elizabeth, through their blood ties. I have no such tie with Morgan. Even though I know where to find her, my wife is missing,
Nicholas thought, walking through the opulent mansion without noticing any of its beauty. A few minutes later, he found Charles and Christophe in the study, their heads bowed over antique books. “Which would you two care to explain first, the sudden desire to spend time with your great Grandsire, or the state of my wife’s library?” he asked, taking a moment to survey the relative chaos. He grimaced, thinking how Morgan was going to react.
She’s so strict about keeping this room in perfect order that it borders on militant. It’s actually kind of cute when she gets mad about it.
As soon as the thought formed, Nicholas felt his heart constrict.