“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.
“Morgan,” Lucian began. Fear flashed in his eyes as he tried to find a
nother tactic. Morgan had sighed before she cut him off. He saw something pass behind her eyes that Lucian had never seen from her before. Resignation. She means to give in to me, he thought, feeling a sense of triumph blossoming in his chest.
“You are not welcome here, Lucian.” She met his gaze, watching for some kind of reaction as she spoke. His crystal blue eyes met hers, as if daring her to continue. Morgan smiled, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction as she continued. “Blood kin or not, I will call the human authorities if you continue to trespass on my property.” When she’d finished speaking, Christophe steered her back toward the kitchen, but not before she caught sight of the scowl twisting Lucian’s face.
“You wanted to hear it from her, and I believe Morgan has made her wishes abundantly clear. Now I must insist that you leave. We will keep you informed, as is your right,” Nicholas said, as he moved back into the doorway. Without needing to be asked, Marcus took up position next to him. The pair of them blocked the entry.
“She is not in her right mind,” Lucian muttered, more to himself than Marcus or Nicholas.
“Believe what you will, but your behavior has not gone unnoticed.” As he spoke, Nicholas stepped forward, forcing Lucian to back up a step, when Marcus followed his lead. “Like Marcus, I begin to wonder why you are so adamant that she comes with you. Is it truly for her benefit?” Though his tone was calm, the storm gathered in his eyes. Marcus touched Nicholas’s shoulder. Lucian stood, frozen for several moments, as though he was weighing Nicholas’s words. Nicholas watched, as an emotion passed over Lucian’s face, as his take on the situation changed. His eyes slid halfway closed, and the corners of his lips drooped in a semi scowl.
“Very well, and do keep me informed, Nicholai or I may still see fit to bring the matter before the full Council.” In spite of giving in to Morgan’s demands, the elder vampire pulled an air of authority around him like a well–worn cloak. “Perhaps we have given the Lead Enforcer too much latitude, if you can be easily moved to such blatant insubordination,” the elder vampire answered, before turning and stalking back to his car, his body stiff with leashed rage. Only the feel of Marcus’s fingers digging into his upper arm kept Nicholas silent, as they watched until Lucian’s car pulled out of the driveway.
“What, in Dante’s seven Hells, was that about?” Marcus growled.
“I don’t know, Old Man, I just don’t know,” Nicholas sighed. “Maybe Morgan can shed some light on the matter. I can’t take what we have before the Council. No one will believe it. If we can’t find anything to back up Morgan’s story, we’ve just really pissed off our Sire’s brother, without cause.” The weight of his office was balanced against his responsibility as a husband was, like a heavy wooden yoke around his neck.
“I needed a new hobby,” Marcus laughed as a man being led to his execution. He knew that they had just made a powerful enemy, as they turned and walked back into the house.
“Let’s go see what’s brewing in the kitchen.” Nicholas shook his head, as they strolled through the house. When they stepped into the kitchen, Morgan was seated on one of the barstools, rolling a goblet of dark golden liquid in her hands. Charles was at the stove, answering a question Nicholas hadn’t heard.
“Joshua did caution that he’s not sure how a vampire’s system might react to it. Apparently the blend somehow balances out a sorcerer’s blood, allowing them to work with the elements without fear of losing control.”
“If this doesn’t make you feel horrible, we made a stop at the local blood bank.” Nicholas stepped up behind Morgan and wrapped his arms around her, offering his support.
“I know you hate the way blood bank protocols change the taste, but I doubt we want to take the chance with one of our live donors,” Charles explained, leaning against the island.
“How did Joshua come up with the sorcerer theory?” Morgan asked, watching the liquid roll inside the goblet as though she expected the fluid inside to sprout tentacles and attack her.
“I explained your symptoms. He said that some sorcerers have the ability in their blood, but their talents don’t manifest until they’re older. Apparently they exhibit similar signs. This is how the Conclave handles those cases.”
“How long do they have to drink this?” Nicholas asked.
“It varies. Some have to drink it for the rest of their lives,” Charles answered.
“What if they don’t?” she asked, hoping that her terrible assumption was wrong.
“Their fevers run unchecked. Nothing can be done to bring their temperatures down.”
“It kills them,” Morgan muttered.
“Yes.”
“Alright,” she answered, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over her. Some part of this was right. Closing her eyes, she brought the goblet to her lips and inhaled. The aroma was a heady mix of herbs and full–bodied red wine. She waited the span of several heartbeats for her stomach to go into convulsions. When it didn’t, she smiled, and took a sip. As the warm mixture slid down her throat, Morgan sighed, enjoying the slight burning sensation that flowed into her chest. The flavor isn’t half bad, a nice balance of sweet and spicy. All in all, a nice earthy natural blend, Morgan thought in the short time she had to savor the mixture before her stomach clenched. As the convulsions began, Christophe moved faster than the human eye could see and managed to slide an empty stockpot to her just in time. Morgan closed her eyes, gasping for air. I am not bleeding internally, and those were not shards of glass that just forced their way out of my system. The thought passed through her mind when the dry heaves subsided, and she could think beyond the veil of pain. Nicholas moved to stand at her side, smoothing Morgan’s hair, as she leaned into his chest.
“The fever’s worse,” Nicholas muttered, feeling the heat of her skin through his shirt. Morgan opened her eyes when someone touched her on the shoulder.
“I doubt that left a pleasant taste in your mouth,” Christophe offered, handing her a glass of water.
“Very practical my friend, thank you.” Morgan had rinsed her mouth with the water, before she spat it into the stockpot. She tried to look inside, to see if the black bile were still there, but Christophe took it away before she had the chance.
“If you feel up to it, we’d like to try something else,” Charles asked, watching Morgan through thoughtful eyes.
“Didn’t you hear what I said? Her fever’s worse! That didn’t do anything!” Nicholas growled, putting himself between Charles and Morgan, as if he meant to protect her from her Blood Son.
“Nicholas…” Morgan began, but he talked over her.
“Maybe we should let Lucian help. After all, if he is the one who set this in motion, he should know how to stop it,” Nicholas muttered, searching for anything that would give him answers, even if it meant going to someone Morgan didn’t trust.
“Are you through?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice level. Nicholas turned his gaze on her, his eyes dark like a raging storm cloud, every trace of his usual humor and compassion obliterated. She watched, as he shook his head, and started pacing. “We will not be calling Lucian. There is no need yet.” She paused, closing her eyes. When she continued, the words tasted like ash in her mouth. “There may come a time when his intercession is the only option, but until then, the answer is no.” She finished. I just hope this pacifies Nicholas long enough to figure out what’s going on, without having to resort to that, she thought, as she turned to Charles and slid the goblet back to him. “What’s next?”
“No. I won’t let you try something else right now,” Nicholas insisted, from near the back door, where he’d paced while she spoke.
“You won’t let me?” Morgan snapped.
“Not right now. You need some time to recover, and regain as much of your strength as you can.” He braced himself on the island leaning toward her. “Gods know I want to see you well just as much, if not more, than you do, but I will not let it happen like this.”
“Nicholas, we don’t know that time will
help,” Morgan countered, hoping that he would be reasonable.
“We don’t know that it won’t,” he answered, with maddening calm.
“Oh, there’s a brilliant argument,” she scoffed and rolled her eyes.
“Fine.” He threw up his hands and stepped away from the island. “I will withdraw my objection if you can stand there for two minutes without needing to lean on someone or something for support,” Nicholas challenged, certain that she wouldn’t be able to.
“You can be a son of a bitch sometimes,” she growled, shaking her head in frustration.
“If it keeps you from pulling a stupid stunt like this, then by all means call me whatever you want, babe,” Nicholas rumbled, stalking close to where she was sitting.
“Asshole.”
“Sticks and stones, love,” Nicholas whispered, leaning in close to her. She closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Damn you, that’s not fair,” Morgan muttered, as his hand drifted up her thigh. He knew what it would do to her, and wasn’t above playing a bit of dirty pool.
“Yeah well, I never said that I play fair. Come on, let me take you to bed.”
“Tease,” she answered, with a petulant frown.
“You knew that when you married me,” he chuckled and offered Morgan a hand.
“I’m not going to stay in bed forever.” She frowned at him but took his hand.
“Not forever, I wouldn’t ask that,” Nicholas answered as he helped her stand. “Just long enough to get some of your strength back, so that we can explore the options that Joshua offered, without risking your life.” Nicholas wrapped his arm around her waist.
“There are times when I hate you, love,” she grumbled.
“Only when I’m right,” Nicholas teased, as he steered her toward the safe room. They walked down the stairs, and Nicholas let go of her when they were inside. He sealed the door and leaned against the wall beside the control panel, as Morgan moved around the room, using the walls and furniture to help steady her, getting ready to sleep. She’s still weak, but if I go and try to help, she’ll get pissed. She needs to do this herself or else she’ll never forgive me. About ten minutes later she slipped under the covers. Morgan turned onto her side and yawned. “Ah ha, I was right,” Nicholas chuckled, kneeling beside her.
Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone Vampires Book 1) Page 9
