Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone Vampires Book 1)

by Michelle Rabe

  “How long ago?”

  “About fifteen minutes. Neighbor heard a scream,” she responded as Marcus knelt beside the corpse.

  Damn it I always feel like I’m stuffing my hands into sausage casings, Marcus thought as he pulled latex gloves on. “Eric called you?” He nodded toward the human man pacing the entrance to the alleyway.

  “Yeah. We’re on a timetable here Marcus,” she chided as he touched the strand of pearls around the victim’s throat.

  “He’s playing with them before he kills,” he mused thinking back to the other two victims, the ones he’d seen in grim crime scene photographs. Marcus settled the pearls back on the victim’s neck and rocked back on his heels. I’m not a trained investigator. I can track Rogue vampires, but this one baffles me. “There should be more to go on than this. If he’s playing cat and mouse with these women, there should be something of the cat left on the mice.”

  “According to Eric, nothing out of the ordinary has been found on the other victims.”

  “Then what are we, and the human authorities, missing?” Marcus closed his eyes, letting the careful control he kept on his abilities ease a little.

  The scream pierced his psyche, a spear point into his temple, sending him staggering backward as he fought to pull his senses back under control. His mind had turned against him, like a slippery eel he couldn’t keep a hold on. Never one to give up, Marcus clung to consciousness by running over the names of every human wife he’d had over the centuries. The litany helped him focus, and after a few moments he was able to bring his abilities back under control. He came back to himself but the feeling remained; a constant tug at the edge of awareness.

  “Marcus!” Elizabeth was at his side in an instant. She caught his arm and used it to guide him to a nearby lamppost. “What is it?”

  “I heard screaming,” he whispered, half paying attention to what she was saying. The screams in his mind had subsided, replaced by soft, heart–wrenching weeping.

  “The next victim?” Elizabeth asked.

  Shaking his head, Marcus waved her away and eased his control just a little, letting the thought flow from his mind. Where are you? Who are you? He knew it was foolish to believe that the woman would respond or would even hear him, but he had to try.

  Marcus? A swamp. A voice answered, and he staggered again. He recognized it; his defenses were down as another scream ripped through him. Marcus faltered, fighting to keep his eyes open and mind alert. The next scream; the horror, rage, and betrayal it held, left him limp and panting in Elizabeth’s arms.

  Time slowed, and Marcus’s mind reeled, shutting down in self–preservation. His mouth worked in a desperate attempt to impart information even as his vocal chords froze. He fought the darkness that was dragging him under. His hand fumbled in his pocket as he tried to extract his cellular phone. Come on, come on! I just have to get my hand around this infuriating piece of technology that Morgan... Just thinking her name was enough to shatter what remained of his defenses. He was in her mind, echoing her screams, feeling her pain for a split second before her defenses slammed into him. The darkness was immediate.

  Marcus woke on Elizabeth’s sofa, a faint shaft of light streaming through the drapes. He couldn’t control the fine tremors that ran through him as if he had over exerted himself. He pushed himself into a sitting position, groaning as his head screamed in protest. What in the name of Dante’s seven Hells was that? Gods know I’ve managed a bender or two in my long life, but never felt this bad the evening after.

  “How long have I been out?” He groaned covering his eyes with one hand.

  “About four hours.”

  “Shit,” Marcus swore.

  “You need to feed,” Elizabeth’s soft alto voice was tinged with a hint of the Creole accent she’d been born with.

  That accent of hers doesn’t come out unless she’s exhausted or stressed. Of course watching your Sire get knocked on his ass by something you can’t see would be a little off–putting, Marcus thought as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “I need to call the Assassin and get his lily–white ass out here,” Marcus snarled, forcing his eyes open. He clutched the sofa with one hand as the room spun in a riot of blurred colors and distorted shapes before righting itself.

  “What the hell happened back there?”

  “Not now,” he answered, as he fumbled through his pockets. “Where is that infernal device?” Elizabeth snatched his jacket, and before Marcus could chew her out, produced the phone from a pocket. He took it from her with a slight nod and flipped it open.

  “Are you going to enlighten me; or do the whole ‘I’m the boss and to hell with you’ bullshit routine all night?” she asked, with a low growl, as he dialed.

  “Not now.” He lifted the cell to his ear. It rang several times before it connected and a voice Marcus knew all too well came over the line.

  “Nicholas here, what can I do for you?” His tone betrayed no emotion.

  “You can get your ass on a plane to New Orleans last night, Assassin,” Marcus growled putting special venom in the unofficial title given to the lead enforcer, the name no one called him to his face. He knew it would piss Nicholas off, and that was, more often than not, the best way to get his former best friend to act.

  “Marcus," Nicholas responded, not rising to the bait. "I’m sure you and Elizabeth are more than capable of handling the Rogue she’s told me about. I am rather swamped at this time.”

  Of course, when I need him to take my bait, the bastard stays calm. “Where is your wife?” Marcus whispered, trying not to think of Morgan, or the screams. He knew he should try to reach out to her, to see if they could make the connection again, but this wasn’t the right time.

  “She’s on one of her trips. I expect to hear from her soon,” Nicholas replied, his tone taking on a sharp edge as he spoke.

  “How long, Assassin?”

  “Since I heard from her? I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Old Man,” Nicholas snapped. He was getting pissed, but in this situation, Marcus figured pissed was good.

  “She didn’t take her cell phone, did she? Did she leave Charles and Christophe in charge of her latest project, that nightclub, what’s it called, The Dracul?”

  “Why are you asking all these questions, Old Man? The truth. Cut the crap.” The order was clear. Even if he’d wanted to lie, Marcus would have been hard pressed to. He shivered a little, thinking of the abilities that the Council’s Lead Enforcer wielded, and how much damage could be done if the wrong vampire was chosen to fill the post.

  “She’s in trouble. Last night Elizabeth, and I were examining the Rogue’s latest victim before the human authorities arrived and I heard her screaming,” Marcus answered keeping his tone even, hoping to calm the very hornet’s nest he’d stirred.

  “Screaming?” His voice held no emotion.

  “In my mind, Assassin, it was like a blade through my skull.” Marcus replied. “I was only able to figure out that it was her and something about a swamp.”

  “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Marcus could feel the rage rolling out of the phone in waves even across the distance.

  “I collapsed. Didn’t wake until now, you are my first call.”

  “What do you intend to do?” The fear in Nicholas’s voice sent a chill down Marcus’s spine.

  He knows that by all rights, under vampiric law, I could just walk away. Leave Morgan to her fate and the Council wouldn’t do shit to me. They would rule that it was a fair exchange for Nicholas’s failure to protect Sarah. He thinks I’m going to do it that I’m going to demand a life for a life. “I’m going to get off Elizabeth’s couch, grab a bite on my way to the bayou, and see what I can find.”

  “That’s a lot of area to cover. I can send some enforcers,” Nicholas answered on a long exhalation of breath.

  “That wouldn’t be wise, Assassin.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

  “Good.”

  “Is
this your cellular?” Nicholas asked, catching Marcus by surprise.

  “Yes.”

  “So, she got to you too?” Nicholas asked.

  “Morgan has always been enamored of technology.” Marcus chuckled, realizing that Nicholas had used caller ID to get his number, and committing it to memory.

  “Find her Marcus, and keep her safe,” Nicholas whispered. Those few words were filled with a world of sorrow and pain.

  “No promises, Assassin. I will, however, do my best.”

  “Thank you,” he said before the line went silent. Marcus sighed and closed his phone before slipping it back into his jacket pocket.

  “What happened at the crime scene had something to do with Morgan?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes. She’s in trouble.”

  “But why not ask for a full contingent of Enforcers? Nicholas can order it. They would find her.”

  “Elizabeth, I taught you better than this.” Marcus laughed bitter and sad. “Who taught Morgan self–defense and swordplay?” he asked, thinking of the hours spent working until her technique was better than most. And who nursed bruises and wounds for weeks on end, when she fought with a ferocity we didn’t think a woman could show? Gods, we were a pair of idiots back then, well–intentioned, but idiots.

  “You and Nicholas. Both of you said she should learn from the best,” she answered shrugging her shoulders and tilting her head to the left.

  “Exactly.”

  “But Nicholas is her husband,” Elizabeth insisted.

  “And you’re like one of ten people who know that,” Marcus quipped, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

  “Come on, you don’t think he’d reveal that if it would help Morgan?”

  “That’s not my call to make. No matter what, we’re left with very few options with regard to what happened to Morgan. I haven’t talked to Christophe and Charles. However, based on what Nicholas said, it looked as if she had just gone on one of her sabbaticals. That leads me to believe whoever attacked her is one of us, and perhaps even someone she trusts,” he explained with a sigh of frustration. Gods, I wish I had some idea what we’re dealing with here.

  “Otherwise Christophe and Charles would have found signs of a struggle and reported to Nicholas right away,” his Blood Child replied. Marcus knew she was working through the possibilities as he’d taught her.

  “Right,” Marcus answered, and pushed himself to his feet. He swayed for a moment as his brain seemed to slosh around his skull. Yeah, this is worse than any hangover I’ve ever had, human or vampire.

  “What do you need me to do?” Elizabeth asked all business.

  She wants to help. Not that the extra pair of trained eyes would be a bad thing, but we need to keep this quiet. “I need you to stay on that Rogue’s trail.”

  “Marcus!” She rolled her eyes, and he knew she was about to read him the riot act if he didn’t cut her off.

  “I may be retired but I still have seniority over you, as an Enforcer. Not to mention I’m your Sire. Girl, I do not have time to argue with you. Just keep on that Rogue, and call Nicholas if you have a problem with my orders.”

  “You know he’s not going to disagree with you. Nicholas won’t risk Morgan’s safety by calling in the cavalry.”

  “Yeah, darlin’. Well, shit happens,” Marcus called over his shoulder, as he walked out of her house into the darkening night.

  Fifteen hours later, Marcus was exhausted, but he paced the drawing room of his New Orleans mansion, traces of swamp clinging to his boots and leather coat. Damn, my butler is going to have one hell of a time getting the muck out of the fabrics, he thought with a laugh, feeling every inch of his frame vibrating with energy. I want to keep looking. But Nicholas was right; after searching all night and the bitch–slap my psyche took going out during the day it was just stupid. He cursed the sun, invoking the ancient Gods and Goddesses he’d worshiped in his human life. I do not want to be stuck in this house right now.

  The Assassin’s voice boomed through the closed double doors to the study for the fifth time since he’d entered the room with Morgan’s Blood Sons, almost five hours before. Marcus cringed as the doors were flung open, and Nicholas strode out, rage radiating from every inch of his six–foot, four–inch frame. Storm–gray eyes landed on Marcus, narrowed to slits, and he stalked past, commanding him to follow with an imperious wave of his right hand. Not wanting to piss the Assassin off more, Marcus bit back a snide comment, and followed him up the sweeping staircase to the mansion’s upper floors.

  “Damn it all to hell, Old Man!” Nicholas roared as he began pacing the landing at the top of the stairs. He wanted Marcus to throw himself against his temper to take the edge off.

  Ye Gods, Marcus thought, we’ve done this more times than I’d care to count in the centuries we’ve known one another, but this is different. Well, something other than the fact that we’ve barely spoken a civil word to one another in almost two hundred years.

  “I take it the boys couldn’t add anything to what we already knew. In spite of the almost five hour interrogation?” Marcus asked, fighting to rein in his own temper, leaning against the banister at the top of the stairs.

  “Five hours?” Nicholas stopped moving. He turned to Marcus, meeting his eyes. The other vampire nodded. “It was really that long?”

  “Yes. What’s next, Assassin?” Marcus asked, letting some of the frustration he felt give his voice a hard edge. The last thing they needed right now was for Nicholas to go soft.

  “We can’t do anything before the sun sets,” he said, after giving Marcus a long, appraising look.

  He’s assessed my well–being and decided I’m not fit for the field. I’ve seen that look too many times before and know better than to argue with him, Marcus thought, trying to work out a logical counter argument.

  “I haven’t slept.” Nicholas sighed. “You look like death warmed over and those two are rattled.” He nodded toward the room where he’d left the younger vampires.

  “Fine.” Marcus nodded. “I took the liberty of having my staff get us some SUVs. If Morgan’s alive, she’s going to need fresh blood. We’re going to need the extra room.” Marcus was almost certain that he didn’t have to mention that, but the desperate look in Nicholas’s eyes led him to believe that there was no such thing as being too careful in this situation.

  “She has to be alive, Marcus.”

  “We’ll find her.” Marcus answered, feeling like an ass for lying. We both know that the odds suck. This could be nothing more than trying to find her body. Gods, whoever did this is going to pay.

  “I have a very bad feeling about this,” the Assassin muttered, looking through Marcus. Nicholas’s mind was turning over what he knew, making connections and searching for others.

  “How so?” Marcus asked, prompting Nicholas to think aloud, knowing it helped him make connections he otherwise missed, and it gave Marcus the opportunity to make a few as well.

  “The security footage Danny sent over from the club’s parking lot shows Morgan and her attackers, but never their faces.”

  “The club has cameras outside?”

  “Apparently one of the human staff had some trouble right after the club opened. Morgan had them installed after that.”

  “They could have scoped out the cameras. Not too difficult when you know what to look for,” Marcus muttered, his brows drawn together. “Why didn’t anyone see her being attacked, if it was caught on camera? Why are we just learning about this now? Just because she somehow jacked my mind and knocked me flat on my ever–loving ass.” Marcus’s words sped up as he continued, agitation given voice.

  “The footage is stored on massive hard drives but not reviewed unless an incident is reported. Since no one reported her disappearance...” Nicholas’s voice trailed off.

  “I have a feeling Morgan will be revising that policy when she returns.”

  “If she returns.”

  “You can’t think like that, Nicholas. Not yet.”
>
  “I don’t know what, but there’s something wrong, something we’re missing.” Nicholas ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. When he met Marcus’s eyes, his gaze was cold, hard. “I don't want anyone else to know about this. I’ve already sworn Christophe and Charles to secrecy. Can I count on your discretion?”

  “For Morgan, anything. Can’t have my little sister killed because I couldn’t keep my yap shut. But Elizabeth was with me when I went down and called you,” Marcus replied, glad to stop thinking about thousands of possibilities racing through his mind with maddening clarity.

  “You want to get her on board with the program, or shall I?” A sneer curled Nicholas’s mouth, the sight of it sent a chill through Marcus.

  “I’ll handle my Blood Daughter. Now, is there anything else that I can get for you?” Marcus asked, though he knew nothing would help. The sense of loss and impotent rage was a crushing weight, leaving only the desire to scream and pound someone into their grave, or give into grief.

  “Truce for now?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t have made the call if I hadn’t been willing to put that shit aside,” he answered. Nicholas is no fool; he’s given me the chance to call him out for Sarah’s death, and I’m refusing. No matter what, the living deserves more consideration than the dead.

  “Thank you.”

  Marcus watched the remaining energy drain out of his friend. “Come on Assassin, you need sleep, like now,” he coaxed, putting his hand on the other vampire’s shoulder. Nicholas turned vacant eyes on him, and Marcus fought to suppress the tremor of fear that ran through him as the other vampire nodded.

  “Sleep,” Nicholas muttered, slurring the word as though he’d just gotten back from one of their epic pub crawls from centuries past. Marcus nodded, not trusting his own voice, and led Nicholas back down to the second floor. They steered away from the landing, down the hall past the two rooms where Charles and Christophe had retreated, to the last empty room other than his own. Marcus opened the door and waited.