by SF Benson
“You wouldn’t,” I said, testing my boundaries. “I’m part of your family.”
“A sire never likes to end what he has brought into this world, but I’ll do what I have to. No one harms Alexander. Do we understand each other?” Julien Vladislav didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch.
“I understand you’re a sick motherfucker.”
“There’s nothing sick about protecting one’s family. If I have to imprison someone or end their existence—”
“Makes you cold blooded.”
Julien leaned forward. “No, my dear. Cold blooded would be if I reached into your chest and yanked out your heart. Maybe ate a little just for the hell of it.”
Bile surged up my throat. It took everything in me to force that shit down. Who says things like that?
“Now, do we understand one another?”
Hell no! The asshole only thought he understood me. If he did, he’d realize I took a back seat to no one.
“Sorry, Gramps, I don’t roll over for anyone. This whole scenario sucks—no pun intended. If a bite makes one family, then…” I couldn’t put a name on the twisted shit I’d done with Alexander.
“He’s not your father, Tabitha. Alexander bit you with a different intention—companionship.”
Gee, that makes it so much better. Did that make Edwina my sister or sister-in-law? Did vampires even have those types of relations?
“Alexander turned Edwina to give her true freedom. She was a slave. Even after her master was dead, the system kept her captive. Being a vampire gave the witch an independence she couldn’t have.”
Wow!
Julien Vladislav must have been some sort of legal expert in his human life. He could argue a point. Too bad I wanted to put that point through his wicked heart and brick his ass permanently in a wall.
“Whatever. He still fucked up my life. Your so-called offspring needs to pay for that.”
“Would ending him change anything? You’d still be undead. With few exceptions, most of our kind have been in your shoes. Tabitha, I never asked for this existence. When the Prince of Wallachia laid this burden upon me, I had little choice but to accept it. Fighting him would have been useless. At this moment, your predicament seems reprehensible, but we can make things better for you. Accept help either from Kragen or me. We’ll help you see the advantages in being a vampire.”
“No, thanks.” I pushed to my feet and headed for the door.
Before I could make it to the hall, a dark figure blurred past me and blocked my path. “I’m sorry, Tabitha. Until I can be sure you won’t be doing anything foolhardy, you’ll remain my guest.” He held out his hand. “I’ll need your phone.”
I stared at his palm. “Over my dead—” We’d already crossed that bridge. “I don’t think so.”
Julien stepped closer until his nose was just inches away from mine. “Don’t make me compel you.”
Compel? That was real too?
I didn’t need him—or anyone else—manipulating my brain. Slowly, I pulled the phone from my back pocket. “So I’m a prisoner?”
“A bleak way to describe the situation. You’ll have full access to whatever you need minus the cellular device. For now, you may stay in Morgan’s room.”
Someone walked up, and I looked over my shoulder. A pinched-face vampire stood behind me.
“Kilgore, please escort Tabitha upstairs. She may use my daughter’s room.”
The servant extended his hand toward the stairs. “If you would, miss.”
Before I stepped down the hall, I said, “I want to speak with Morgan.”
“In time. Kragen will summon her. We’ll meet this evening. Now, be a good little vampiress and take your ass upstairs.”
* * *
Morgan’s room was nice if you liked old-school-magnolia shit. The four-poster bed creaked when I perched on the edge. My eyes darted around the room searching for an answer to my crisis. The tree outside the window might be the solution I needed. I walked over and checked out the ledge. It was too scuffed up. Like someone’s shoes hit it going in and out.
Morgan was probably not the pillar of good behavior she wanted everyone to believe. She dressed like a rebel, and the male she called a husband seemed like the defiant type. The dhampir probably snuck out of the house a lot with parents like Julien and Deianira.
Carefully, I inched the window up. When the door didn’t burst open, I reached for the thick branch and swung my leg out. Normally, I hated heights. My dislike dated back to playing with my male cousins as a little kid. One day we were busy climbing fences and shimmying up trees when I slipped. I took a fall off a railing and broke my leg. My fear belonged to the past. Failure wasn’t an option.
Sucking in a deep breath, I eased myself down the tree. Voices floated up through the limbs. It was just my luck that Morgan’s room sat over the drawing room. I stopped my descent to listen to the conversation.
“Was it really necessary to hold the girl prisoner?” It was Morgan’s mother.
“Deianira, the vampiress is reckless. She wants to put an end to Alexander,” said Julien.
“Don’t you think he deserves it? He should have stayed out of New Orleans. He could have continued his despicable behavior overseas or wherever he was hiding.”
Thank you!
“Not the point. If we allow her to end a vampire simply out of spite, how will it look to the VA?”
What did the Veterans Administration have to do with vampires?
“Please. The Vampire Alliance would be grateful that there was one less monster to deal with.”
Maybe I should find the Alliance and seek their help?
“Where is the girl?” Deianira asked.
“In Morgan’s room. Talk to her if you must, but she remains here until Kragen convenes a meeting.”
Heavy footfalls, like bullets, pounded across the wooden floor followed by the clink of a glass. Someone, most likely Julien, was getting a drink.
“Don’t worry, my dear.”
I scurried down the tree and found Deianira standing at the window.
She grinned. “I won’t tell my husband, and he won’t discover you’re gone until it’s too late. Morgan spelled this tree as a teen, and I have yet to undo the incantation. I’m the only one who knows you’re there.”
“You’re letting me go?”
A shadow of a grin crossed Deianira’s face. “Although I married a vampire, it doesn’t mean I agree with all his decisions. Do what you must, but I advise not harming Alexander St. John. If my husband promised to punish you, he will keep his word.” She closed the window and disappeared into the room.
I’d keep her advice in mind, but first I had to find Morgan. She said something about going to the Irish Channel. Most likely to follow up on the lead Delta Ava gave us. Thanks to my newfound speed, I was able to reach the area quickly.
The historic district, once home to working-class folks of German, Irish, and Italian ancestry, was an eclectic neighborhood with single and double shotgun-style houses. Lots of warehouses and buildings were near the docks. Before becoming undead, I enjoyed shopping at the boutiques on Magazine Street. I’d even spent time in the bars and restaurants found there. It would have never occurred to me that anything supernatural lurked in the area.
Alexander’s house, a Greek Revival, was one of the double-gallery homes in the district. The buildings were impressive with deep porches, spanning the width of the house, on two levels. My knowledge of the architecture was confined to what my mother taught me, touring the Garden District. As a child, she pointed out the different elements of a structure, but I barely listened.
Morgan and Edwina were at the corner of Laurel and Pleasant Streets. They looked dazed as I approached.
“What’s up?” I said as casually as I could muster.
Edwina’s eyes narrowed. “Ya tell us.”
Did she suspect something?
“Was my father helpful?” Morgan asked.
“Yeah, yeah. Loads of help.�
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The vampire slash witch pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose. “We’ve been honest with ya. At least ya could do the same.”
Great. She could read me like a damn book.
Morgan folded her arms over her chest. Not an easy endeavor with breasts as big as hers. “What did he tell you?”
I worried my lower lip as I thought of the best way to relay my news. Honestly, there wasn’t one. “Did you know your dad sired Alexander?”
Morgan’s eyes widened.
“I’ll take that as a no. Well, your dad said—”
“He’s technically my uncle.”
“Yeah. That.”
Her face reddened. It felt like the atmosphere heated too. I was about to question if she was okay, when tiny blue flickers—like sparks—danced from beneath her fingertips. Instinctively, I took a giant step backward.
“What else did Julien tell ya?”
I swallowed hard. “Alexander’s last name is really Latour. He was a servant for the Marquis de Sade… And one of his lovers.”
Morgan sputtered.
Edwina stared.
Neither of them said a word.
“Please tell me this is news to you,” I said.
When the dhampir recovered, she nodded. “Father has never been very forthright with his history. He only divulges what needs to be known.”
“He said he’d personally punish me if I hurt Alexander.”
“So that’s why Kragen didn’t want me to go after the vamp,” Edwina pivoted on her heel and walked up the street.
“Where is she going?” I asked.
“Give her time. The hybrid has never done well with bad news. It seems to trigger her anger.”
I tilted my head. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? You don’t do well with negative shit either.”
“True, but I’m working on it. Learning about Alexander means something different to Edwina.”
“Your father said it was done to give her true freedom from slavery.”
Morgan shook her head. “Julien Vladislav is the world’s greatest liar. My father will bend the truth to serve his purposes. I suspect Alexander inherited the tendency.”
“But they’re not blood fam—”
“That’s not what I meant. If he worked for the Marquis, Alexander had to learn when and when not to tell the truth. He also had to learn how to lie convincingly. After so many centuries, he probably believes his own falsehoods.”
We began walking toward her car, parked at the end of the block.
“So how do we get rid of the bastard?” Frankly, I didn’t care if he was family or the pope. Alexander had to go.
Morgan’s face tightened. “I’m not sure. Father will be watching. I have no doubt he’s contacted Kragen.”
“He did. Right after I was sent to your room.”
She stopped in her tracks. “You’re supposed to be at the house? How…” A knowing smile slid into place. “You used the tree. Did my mother stop you?”
“She did. She said something about a spell. You’re a witch too?”
“Both of us are. I inherited genes for vampirism and witchery. I’m not as skilled as Mother, but I’m getting there.” Morgan started strolling again. “The only reason Mother can’t crack my spell is because it’s not mine.”
Opening the car door, I stared across at the dhampir.
Laughing, she said, “My great-grandmother was Morgana Le Fey. You saw her portrait over the fireplace.”
“Oh.”
Morgan cranked the engine of the shiny sports car. Before pulling away from the curb, she said, “You realize that ending Alexander St. John won’t change your circumstances?”
“I know. Is that a rehearsed line for your family? Julien fed me that same line of bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit. It’s called acceptance. You’re pissed about what Alexander did to you. Rightfully so. But ending his existence won’t get your life back. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to come to terms with what you are.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You’ll be one frustrated vampire. It’s like with me and my power. When I first discovered it, I was seriously upset. I thought it was bad enough I’d been cursed a half-breed vampire. Throwing magic on top of it seemed like throwing kerosene on a fire. For years I fought against myself.”
“How?”
“Oh, I refused to believe I had power. Whenever I’d get pissed off, my magic would surge forward. Without control, I caused a lot of damage. It wasn’t until I accepted all of me—vampirism and witchery—that I learned to restrain my ability.” Morgan steered away from the curb. “Don’t get me wrong. I still get fucking mad about shit, but now I know how to hold onto some of the magic.”
“What’s the worst you’ve ever done?”
“Oh, caused a few floods.”
The dhampir didn’t say anything more, leaving me in awe. Were the catastrophes in New Orleans all from Mother Nature? Or did the magical being driving the car have something to do with them? Maybe I was better off not knowing.
19
Wavering Trust
Morgan
* * *
My lingering suspicion of Tabitha went without saying, but the doubt had nothing to do with her revelations. Nothing she said truly surprised me, even learning about Alexander being my uncle. My father had a knack for springing information at the worst times. Still, I took issue with Tabitha’s word. I simply didn’t trust the female because she’d given no reason for assurance.
Recently turned vampires were sketchy creatures. Driven by bloodlust they’d rise up against the woman who birthed them. The desire for crimson had provoked new vamps to kill spouses and children. Virgin vampires operated under the falsehood of total control. They didn’t realize the first drops could be addictive. So damn addictive. All agents of the BlackGuard were warned to never put our faith in one of the creatures. It was why I firmly believed Tabitha would harm St. John if she found the opportunity.
Although it was an easier way to keep tabs on the vampiress, I could have done without entering my childhood home. The way I ended things with Mother and Father didn’t make me too eager to see either of them again. But that was where Kragen called the meeting. When that bony vampire summoned you, you put in an appearance.
Mother appeared nonplussed when I walked through the door with Tabitha. Father, on the other hand, was clearly disturbed. His eyes widened as he swore under his breath. Honestly, he should have known she wouldn’t stay put. Obviously, he’d forgotten about my many exploits out the window. After all those years, I would have thought he’d cut down the tree.
Quite a crowd had gathered in the drawing room. Besides my parents and Kragen, the Elders stood on the far side of the space while agents sat on any available piece of furniture. I found Ace leaning against the wall in a darkened corner, speaking with Edwina.
They ceased talking as soon as I approached.
Ace jerked his chin toward Tabitha, who had stopped at the door. “What gives?”
“We’ll talk later,” I said. There was no way I’d talk or think about the female in a room full of other vampires. “Let’s hear what Kragen has to say.”
Our irascible leader stretched his long limbs and then rose to his feet. “It appears everyone has arrived. Let’s begin.”
My father stood in front of the fireplace and clapped his hands. “There’s a matter we need to discuss…”
He was leading the meeting?
From the murmurs and gasps floating around the room, I wasn’t the only shocked one. I couldn’t remember the last time my father spoke before an assembly of the organization. Normally, he didn’t bother with BGS business.
“Alexander St. John, the rogue vampire, is back in town. Some of you…” Father’s dark eyes darted around the room, scrutinized everyone, before landing on Edwina. “Have had the impression that it’s open season on him. Allow me to enlighten you. No one, and I mean no one, is to harm Alexander. If you h
ave a complaint regarding him, bring it to either me or Kragen.”
No one spoke.
I sensed Edwina’s fury. The hybrid did an admirable job of forcing down her contemptuous thoughts. Tabitha didn’t. She snarled and revealed her fangs. A wave of anger blasted off her. It knocked me backward, but I tried my best not to react to her execrable emotions.
Father continued, “Under no circumstances are you to end St. John’s existence. Harm him, and you’ll be punished.”
Was I included in that warning?
Rodrigo cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Julien, but why would you protect the rapscallion?”
Thank you for that, Rodrigo.
“Because I’m his sire. He belongs to me.”
The agents began talking amongst themselves.
Rodrigo, however, was the only one to challenge my father’s authority. “I fail to see how that’s our concern. We always exterminate any rogue committing atrocities, regardless of their lineage.”
Kragen said, “This is an exception.”
Cassandra pursed her lips and then stared at me. “Then we should all have exceptions. Or is this a Vladislav rule?”
I had a feeling I knew what she meant.
When the immortal witch perched her ass on my parent’s antique writing desk, Mother cringed. “It seems to me your family is constantly enjoying allowances.” Cassandra looked at me. “We’re all aware of the leniency shown toward Morgan’s son.”
Others concurred.
The petty witch had to go there.
She’d been annoyed with me ever since I rejected her advances. After Tavi Mercier’s death, Cassandra’s propositions worsened. Finally, I had a talk with the witch…
She came by the apartment while Ace was gone. Unfortunately, I wore nothing but a short robe. The wrong outfit to deal with the lecherous witch.
