Forged in Flame (23 page)

“Marcus, what can I do for you?” Her sweet, honeyed voice came over the line.

“Jessie, I need to meet with you tonight. Like before the sun comes up.”

“That’s usually what tonight means. What’s up?” she asked, something in her tone of voice had changed because she wanted to hear what he had to say. He’d bet money she’d gone from lounging to sitting up straight.
 

“I just saw some weird shit go down, and I’ve got no idea what’s up. I think it’s something you’re going to want to include in your nightly report to the Assassin.”

She chuckled. “You know he hates being called that. So, do you want to do this over the phone or meet in person?”

“In person. Can you make it to my joint in the Quarter?”

“I’ve got a couple of things I can’t get out of right now, but I can be there by three. Does that work for you?” Uncertainty tainted in her voice.

Because she was still new to the posting in New Orleans, Marcus was certain her hesitation had something to do with the fact that he’d asked to meet with her. “Perfect, closing is at two o’clock and the crew should be done with their work by then. We’ll have the joint to ourselves. Thanks,” he said, keeping his tone calm and reassuring.

“Anytime, Old Man,” she said in a teasing voice before hanging up.

“Young whelp. Maybe she’s not as uncertain as I thought.” He grumbled to himself and put the phone to sleep before slipping it back in his pocket. A quick glance at his watch told him he still had two hours to kill before she’d make it to the bar.
I’d love to take the chance to get shit faced and forget whatever I just fucking witnessed, but I can’t.
He almost hoped a fight would break out and he’d have the chance to knock some heads together before closing time.

The Order’s Knight 225 was still in a daze, flashes of confusing memories assaulting her mind when she arrived at the front doors of The Enclave. Her eyes took in everything around her, but her mind wasn’t really processing what she saw. While her mind began to clear, her feet carried her into and down to the corridor where the High Lord’s audience chamber waited.
 

Stepping into the room, she closed the door without making a sound before she took three long strides to the center of the room and dropped to the floor in full obeisance before him. Her knees ached and a she had a tickle at the back of her throat from breathing the dust that drifted through the air.

“You have failed.” His frosty voice and its echoes sent spears of ice down her spine.

She didn’t react; to do so would make her situation worse. Fighting the urge to sneeze, she tried every trick she knew to swallow the tickle, nothing worked. It remained, waiting for the worst possible moment.

“Did you not hear? I said you have failed.”

“Yes, High Lord.” Keeping her tone neutral and hoping that by showing respect, she might win a small measure of leniency.
There have been too many failures in the past few weeks to hope for complete forgiveness.

The High Lord’s chair slide back, and he exhaled in a long-suffering sigh. His footsteps echoed through the room. Though 225 kept her head bowed, she knew he stood over her when his footsteps stopped.
 

“Perhaps you’d care to explain why you do not have the item you were sent to acquire?” His smooth voice sent tendrils of something slithering into 225’s mind before sinking its hooks deep into her psyche.

“He surprised me,” she answered, unable to lie though she wanted to, knowing it would make things easier for her. The strange haze she’d experienced since first encountering the vampire began slipping away. Deep down, 225 was disgusted by her actions; she was a Knight of the Order of the Black Rose. Weak willed hunters showed mercy to the blood suckers, but normally they were beneath her. She deserved the High Lord’s contempt and worse. Remaining in place, forehead pressed to the floor, arms outstretched above her head, palms flat against the hardwood as it pressed into her knees and shins, she said nothing.
 

The High Lord
tsked
several times before he knelt and slid his fingers under her chin, tipping her head up so he could meet her gaze.
 

“You failed because the bloodsucker did what?”
 

Knight 225 wanted to curl in on herself to stay warm as the temperature plummeted several degrees, but she couldn’t. She met the High Lord’s stony gaze and swallowed hard. “He surprised me, High Lord.”

“How?” The contempt in his voice was like a slimy concoction sliding down the back of 225’s already sore throat. “Why do you not have the blood I require… the blood I
ordered
you to obtain? Tell me 225, why do I have an errant Knight and no vampire blood?” His tone drifted to something singsong with an edge of taunting to it.
 

“I…” she began, but her vocal chords seized. She couldn’t continue. When she swallowed hard, the High Lord’s grip tightened on her chin. “I don’t have any explanation. The situation caught me off guard. I panicked. I fled before I could obtain the blood.”

“Is the vampire dead?”

“Yes.” The claws retracted, slipping from her mind. She couldn’t stop the tremors that ran through her, and 225 gasped as her eyes rolled back in her head.
 

“Panic is not acceptable in a Knight. This second failure goes beyond the failures of 157.” He released her chin, and she listened as he took a few short steps back. “Do you believe I should hand down a similar, if not more severe, form of punishment?” He knelt and took her hands in his. It should have been a kind gesture, but 225 knew it wasn’t. The gesture asserted his dominance over her, and the High Lord pulled 225 to her feet. Her muscles and joints flared with pain after the long time spent on her knees. The silence in the room grew as though the world held its breath, waiting for something. His eyes narrowed and his brow drew down, the upper part of his face cast in deep shadow. “Do I need to repeat myself, Knight?”

Knight 225 shook her head, “No, High Lord.”

His voice and expression softened though a shrewdness remained behind his pale green eyes. “So, 225, tell me. What do you suggest?”

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. He had placed her fate in her own hands. That was the worst part. If she chose something too lenient, the High Lord could well order something devious and more painful than she could imagine. On the other end of the spectrum if she went harsh, he might deem it an appropriate response.

“Death.” The word hung in the air, growing in weight and importance even as it had slipped from her mouth like any other word.

She heard the High Lord’s sharp intake of breath and wondered what it meant. The sound of his footfalls retreating from the room before he’d pronounced her sentence sent a thrill of dread through her whole body.
 

The footsteps paused no more than ten feet away. “Take that one to the dungeon. She will be useful and it may bring about the death she has asked for.” The High Lord ordered the Blades standing near his door to comply before she heard his footsteps begin again, fading away to nothing as they were replaced by the soft whisper of the Blades as they moved to her sides.

24

Morgan walked through the forest following a well-defined path. To the left and right, she heard telltale signs of denizens of the forest moving in the shadows. She picked up the pace, her heavy skirts and layers of petticoats brushing against her legs. As she moved deeper into the forest, she began hearing whispers. Unable to understand what they were saying, the voices slithered into her psyche, trying to draw her from the path. In her mind, she heard Richard’s voice.
 

Remain on the trail. No matter what happens, do not step off the path.
Morgan shook her head, trying to recall why she couldn’t step off of the track when it seemed to go on forever.
 

“Run.” A voice hissed from behind her, sending a spike of terror through to her core.

Morgan swallowed hard and took a slow, deep breath, letting it out on a slow count of ten.

“Run or die.” The beast’s breath burned the back of her neck and she smelled the nauseating scent of the speaker’s fetid breath.

Panic took over, Morgan ran as fast as her vampire speed would allow, lifting the front of her skirt so it wouldn’t get caught on her feet. Swallowing her scream, she concentrated on running and staying on the path. It all continued for several minutes with the creature breathing down her neck. Morgan skidded to a stop, the ground opening up in front of her. Staggering back, she found herself standing on the edge of a canyon, more than ten feet wide and so deep she couldn’t see the bottom. The canyon wound into the distance and out of sight in both directions.

Feeling the creature drawing closer with each passing second, Morgan shook her head and bolted left. The moment her foot connected with the ground beside the path it shattered under her weight. She screamed as gravity dragged her down into the black abyss until she lost all sense of space or time.

At the bottom, her senses returned. Though still surrounded by darkness, Morgan knew she wasn’t alone. In an instant, a floor appeared beneath her feet and soft light filled the room. She glanced around and found herself in the center of an amphitheater with stone benches rising up on all sides.

“You lost focus because you failed to follow instructions.” Richard’s voice boomed through the room as he made a grand entrance down the stairs in front of her.

“What the hell was that?” Morgan demanded, walking toward her mentor. As she moved, her clothes morphed from the restrictive dress to modern casual jeans and a form-fitting V-neck T-shirt. She stopped a few feet from Richard and stood… one fist on her hip, her eyebrows raised, waiting.

The sorcerer smiled and strolled, circling his pupil. “You lost focus, lost concentration, lost control. Do you have any idea where we are?” His blue eyes held an edge of genuine malice.

 
Morgan tried to understand the situation and her surroundings. When she finally did, a surprised gasp escaped her lips. In the spaces between the columns were different scenes, from the vast expanse of star-speckled heavens to the tiny self-contained miracle of an atom.

“Well, do you have any guesses?” The impatience in his voice verified his foul mood. Her mind wandered, deciphering if it had more to do with his brother than with her.

She shook her head and shrugged. “I’ve never encountered this place in my travels.”

“That is because this place does not exist beyond
my
dreams.” He paused and shook his head. “After all this time, you still cannot keep me from your dream because you get distracted. Let’s start from the beginning. Come tell me where you made mistakes and what you can do to improve upon your performance.”

“I assumed the dream was real, giving up my power to shape and mold the landscape to my desires.” Morgan’s list of mistakes and oversights were verbalized the way a Catholic repeats Hail Marys in the hopes of earning the Saint’s Grace. Before her mentor had the chance to respond, she continued. “I did not make use of my abilities or question the dream because I took it at face value that it was mine.”

“It
was
yours,” Richard said as he leaned against one of the pillars and folded his arms across his chest.
 

“What?” She frowned and concentrated on manipulating the landscape to something more to her liking, but, no matter how hard she tried, the dream did not bend to her will.

“
This
is not your dream. I have pulled you from yours into mine.” He pushed away from the pillar and approached her with the easy rolling gait of a predator on the hunt.

“When?” she asked before she could stop herself. She already knew the answer; it had been staring her in the face, but she hadn’t seen it before. “The fall.” Her voice became barely a whisper, the level of conviction it held, unmistakable.

Richard smiled and answered with a nod, “The fall.” Their view of the landscape shifted again. The amphitheater melted away, leaving a modern classroom in its place, complete with two small desk chair combos and a whiteboard in place of the traditional chalk. Richard’s clothes changed and his image appeared more like Joshua than himself. “Now, once you’ve been pulled into another dream, you lose control over your situation. However, you’re not powerless. The possibility of escape always exists.”

“How do I go about doing that?”