Morgan reached out and snatched the card back before Christophe could turn it over and see who had sent it. “It’s for a ball.” She turned the invitation over in her fingers. “In San Francisco.” She dropped it onto the surface of the desk and stepped away from it. “On Halloween.”
Christophe frowned and shook his head. “That’s three weeks away. How long have you known about this?” He reached out and picked it up, still uncertain what the big deal was about a Halloween ball.
She glanced down at her hands and shrugged. “About three weeks.”
“You haven’t made it a secret that you’re scouting locations for a new club in the city. Someone you know and despise found out and now you have to go or be rude.” He shrugged and managed to make the gesture appear elegant.
“It’s from Zachary.”
Christophe dropped the card back on the desk. “Merde.” His right hand went through his blond locks and his lavender eyes narrowed. “Is there not some edict or law stating that once you’ve shunned your Sire, you are no longer allowed to invite them to social functions?” He rubbed his hands together as though some strange substance had rubbed off the card onto his skin.
“There kind of is.” She shrugged and continued, “But this is Zachary we’re talking about. You know he’s never been a letter of the laws kind of guy.”
“So, respectfully decline.” He shrugged.
“I can’t.” Morgan sighed and started pacing. “I’m not even in town yet, and he’s painted me into a corner.”
“Why? How has he painted you into a corner?”
“Because, all the important vampires in the city who are either Nomads or Dynastic are going to know that I’m in town. And if Zachary’s up to his old tricks, each of them will know he’s extended this invitation. Though none will have heard it from him, of course.” She picked up the card and began tapping it against the fingers of her other hand. “If I don’t show, it will be seen as an insult to one of the more powerful Nomads in Northern California.”
“And we don’t want to piss off the populace before we open the new location.”
“Oh, we definitely want to wait as long as possible to piss them off,” she answered with a smirk.
“There’s got to be a way out of it.” He shrugged. “Cancel the trip.”
“I can’t. Meetings have been scheduled, some a month or more in advance, and it will look bad not only to the vampire community but also to the business community if I cancel at such a late date.” Morgan shook her head and tossed the card on the desk.
“At least Nicholas will be there, and you can attend with your husband.”
“Because of the situation with Daniel’s death and the Renegade, no one knows Nicholas is in town.” She sighed. “Even though I’d like to attend the ball with my husband,” she said, shaking her head, “it’s not going to happen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She flashed him a sugary sweet, too pleasant to mean anything good smile.
Christophe felt a chill run down his spine before he asked, “Why not?”
“Because you’re going to be my date,” Morgan said, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
Christophe stared for a moment before he shook his head. “What?”
“Come on. Who else would I invite to a party?” she asked with a shrug. “That is, if Nicholas can’t make it, of course.”
He sighed, deciding to give in. “Whatever shall I wear?”
Morgan bit her lip and had the good graces to look away, sheepish before answering, “I don’t know but make sure you pick something to match for me.”
“Even though I know it is a late date, I will see to it.”
“Nothing too risqué,” Morgan cautioned. “This event will be dress to impress.”
“As you wish.” He inclined his head to her and smiled.
“All right. Enough about this San Francisco mess and my wayward Blood Child.” She took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of her nose before glancing up. “You came up in here with your own purpose. What’s up?” she asked, changing the subject.
“I wanted to talk to you about one of the suppliers.”
“Who is it, and what’s the problem?” Morgan set the invitation aside and leaned on her desk, hands folded. Her attention quickly returned to the problems of the club, and she was glad to be able to focus on the mundane tasks at hand.
11 - San Francisco, CA - October 11, 2012
Nicholas stepped out of the French doors onto the patio. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the cool night air, letting the salt sea air fill his lungs. The moon hung low on the horizon. In the sitting room, a television anchor reported on a missing man before asking for the public’s help in finding him. Nicholas knew he should be out hunting, but didn’t want to leave while Morgan slept. The thought that she needed his protection made him chuckle.
In the three years since Morgan had been snatched, his wife had changed. She had control over the elements that ran through her blood and had faithfully spent several hours every night training with Richard. In trying to control her, Lucian had guaranteed that she would find her own way.
“I just wish I knew what the hell Lucian is plotting. It’s been three years. He’s biding his time,” Nicholas muttered, letting the wind carry his words across the city.
Morgan’s voice drifted through the night from the open doors. “If you spend all your time worrying about my Grandsire, you’re going to make that funny wrinkle between your brows permanent, and I don’t think Botox would last very long in your blood.” He’s talking to himself, never a good sign. If I knew what was bothering him, I might be able to help. First, he needs to open up.
She crossed the cool stone floor to stand beside her husband. “You’re awake,” he said, choosing to ignore his wife’s verbal taunt.
“And you’re not out making nice with the Lord of the City,” she replied, fitting herself against his side.
Nicholas slipped his arm around Morgan and tipped her chin up with one finger. “I still have an hour or so before my meeting with Samair.”
“Why do Nomads give themselves such titles?” she mused.
“I really have no idea, love.” He chuckled before sliding his hand down Morgan’s arm and catching her hand in his as he drew them back into the sumptuous master suite. “Do you have any idea what you do to myself control?” He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a quick kiss over her knuckles before letting out a shaky breath. “So,” he cleared his throat, “what’s on your agenda for tonight?” He stepped into the large walk-in closet. Morgan’s right, I need to get the night started.
“Oh, a meeting with the realtor to look at a couple of possible locations,” Morgan answered in what Nicholas called her business voice.
She knows that voice drives me crazy. I hate that I have no idea what she’s thinking. He smiled and asked, “Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“I have a couple of ideas, but nothing too concrete,” she answered, distracted, from her side of the walk-in closet.
Nicholas glanced over his shoulder and noticed his wife chewing on her lower lip while eyeing her wardrobe. Eventually, she selected a blue pinstriped suit with a cream blouse.
“I’m sure you’ll know it when you find it.” He laughed, pulling a black sweater over his head. “Are you training with Richard later tonight?”
“Nah. He has something to take care of, family stuff.”
“He has family… in San Francisco?” Nicholas asked, turning to where Morgan had begun dressing.
“I was as shocked as you when he mentioned a sister.” Morgan slid the blouse over her shoulders and started working on the buttons. “What about you? Do you have plans, beyond dropping in on the Lord of the City?” she asked, pinning him with her emerald gaze.
Oh yeah. I am so busted because she knows I should have been gone at least an hour ago. He looked away from her questioning stare and slipped the belt through the loops around the waist of hi
s jeans. “Why do I feel like I’m going to be underdressed?” he asked, hoping she’d go along with the change in subject.
“Would you feel better in court dress maybe from Henry’s reign?” Morgan teased as she smoothed her hands down his chest. The soft cotton of his sweater felt pleasant under her fingers.
“You’re having way too much fun, minx.” He slid his arms around her waist.
“Of course, I am.” The look she pegged him with told Nicholas she would play along for the time being but, he would have to answer her. It was just a matter of time.
“After I meet with Samair, I’ll be hunting the Renegade.” He sighed. “From all the reports I’ve gotten, I think his name is Jayson. He seems to be in love with himself and the idea of being a vampire. However, it appears an infatuation as though he wants to be caught so he can have it end before the…” Nicholas paused for a moment, searching for the right word, “…novelty can wear off. I can’t tell if he’s just sloppy or if his actions are calculated.”
“You’re worried that this one’s going to go public in a big way.” Morgan slipped out of Nicholas’s embrace and stepped back into the closet. “That he’s going to do something we won’t be able to cover up?”
“That’s why I’m handling this personally. Magnus will go ballistic if something gets leaked to the humans. The Lucian situation has him more paranoid than before.” Nicholas opened the wall safe hidden in the closet.
“Are we wrong to bide our time? It seemed like the right course three years ago, but now…” Morgan emerged from the closet with a pair of boots in hand, and she sat on the edge of the bed.
“What more do we know, Morgan? Nothing. Lucian is waiting for the right time as much as we are. Unless he makes a move, we don’t have enough information to do anything. If we only had some kind of evidence, we could take it to the Council, but we don’t. He’s covering his tracks too well.”
“That’s why I worry,” she whispered. Nicholas felt the thread of fear slip through her mind, sharp-edged quicksilver.
“As do I,” he murmured, not really paying attention as he settled his empty holster on his shoulders.
“I love it when you do that,” Morgan said, tossing a coy smile his direction.
Even after more than seven hundred years of marriage, Nicholas felt his heart skip a beat. “Do what?” He frowned and looked at her with genuine confusion.
“Instead of saying as do I, you could have said me too, or I love you too, but you went all old world and formal.” Affection and contentment were obvious in her voice.
“I went all old world and formal? That’s funny coming from the seventeen-hundred-year-old,” he teased, knowing that Morgan hated being reminded of her age, like any other woman.
“It’s even funnier coming from the one who’s over two thousand,” she countered with a playful gleam in her eyes as she pulled on the high-heeled boots. Oh yeah, he’s one to talk about age.
Nicholas fought to hold in a laugh. “Yeah, we’re tons of fun. If Richard isn’t with you tonight, who will be?”
Since Morgan had been attacked, Nicholas had insisted that she have at least one bodyguard at all times. The hours she spent training with Richard were the exception because her teacher insisted on privacy.
“Eric. Marcus thinks it will be good for him.” She held her wrist out and Nicholas buckled her small dagger’s sheath in place.
“I’d feel better if it were the Old Man.” Nicholas said using one of Marcus’s nicknames.
“Everyone needs a vacation, Nicholai.” A note of caution showed in her voice that he knew quite well. When accompanied by a slight buzzing that tugged at the back of his mind, it meant Morgan was getting pissed. Their shared blood had definite advantages.
“I know.”
“You just worry,” she whispered before standing and crossing to him. She caressed his cheek. “And it’s sweet.”
“I do what I can, my lady,” Nicholas answered with a slight bow.
Morgan smiled and slipped her arms around his waist. She brushed her lips across his in a quick, gentle kiss. “You do more than enough, my love. Even after all these centuries, you make me want to cancel my evening and stay in all night.”
“Hmm, that thought is oh so very tempting. Though, I don’t want to face Magnus’s wrath if I don’t do my duty.” Nicholas shrugged on a leather jacket making sure it hid the weapons he wore.
“When do you think you’ll be done?” Morgan whispered, a hint of seduction in her voice.
“I should be able to spend a few hours before dawn with my wife, if that’s what you’re asking.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
She grinned. “That sounds wonderful.”
“Then perhaps we should be on our way, so we can get the annoying parts of the night over with.” He offered Morgan his arm. She smiled and linked her arm with his, and together they walked downstairs into the living room.
Across the room, Eric leaned against the bar, the jacket of his charcoal suit tossed over the stool beside him as he read the newspaper. The young vampire sighed, folded and tossed the paper aside, and ran a hand through his brown hair.
“Be careful tonight,” Morgan whispered as Nicholas wrapped her in a tight embrace.
“I could say the same thing to you.”
“I’m just meeting with a realtor. You’re the one who’s chasing a renegade.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean trouble won’t find you,” Nicholas chided.
Morgan rolled her eyes. “I’ll be careful. Besides, I’ll have Eric with me.” She fought to keep her tone light because as much as she hated to admit it, Nicholas had good reason to worry.
“And I know that if anything happens to her, it means, slow, painful, permanent death,” Eric said from where he stood by the door to the garage.
“Go. I’ll see you later,” Nicholas whispered.
“Be careful,” Morgan answered before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
“Always, love.”
Morgan and Eric stepped into the garage, and the door closed on its own behind them. Smiling, Nicholas turned and made his way into the library. There were a few things that he needed to check on back in Ireland before he needed to leave for the audience he’d been putting off for far too long.
12 - San Francisco, CA - October 11, 2012
Half an hour later, Nicholas eased the borrowed Mercedes sedan into a parking space and stepped out. All around him massive stone and steel structures loomed, devouring ground, sucking up what little jaundiced light the street lamps threw off. He stood for several minutes—listening—getting a feel for the area. The entrance loomed, a huge gaping maw with wrought iron dental work. The doors opened, spilling warm orange light onto the asphalt at his feet.
You’d think that would look welcoming considering my surroundings, but knowing that I’m about to walk into a pit of vipers kind of kills the friendly vibe. Without thinking, he found the grip of the Colt .45 he had holstered under his left arm. Before he’d taken a few steps, two lithe figures slipped into the night, their shapes visible through the gossamer material they wore. He never changes, a lounge lizard, now and then. Though, the harem look is new Shaking his head, Nicholas closed the distance separating him from Samair’s vampires.
“Nicholas Falstaff, we are honored by your presence,” the woman on the right intoned in a smooth accent he couldn’t place.
“Is your Lord of the City still telling you how to dress?” Nicholas asked. A quick glance at the ground from both women answered the question for him. “Still treating his people as a personal harem, I see,” he muttered as the pair led him into the building. Ahead of him the two vampires stiffened, their sinuous gaits faltering. How bad have things been here? What wasn’t Daniel telling me?
The brick and mortar walls held torches set in brackets at regular intervals down the long hall, leading to the audience chamber. Nicholas crossed to the center of the room, and scanned the crowd of
vampires milling around the perimeter.
“Well, if it isn’t Nicholai, the Council’s Lead Enforcer? You’ve been in my city for almost forty-eight hours, without informing me. I call that a serious breach of protocol.” The Lord of the City spoke in a bored tone as his hand stroked the head of a young woman kneeling at his feet.
Nicholas smiled, pleased that Samair thought that he’d arrived with Morgan. His eyes flicked to the kneeling woman. If his sources were correct, she was his current blood donor, and he didn’t treat her with the respect a true Covenant required. Nicholas remained silent allowing it to stretch into several minutes.
I’m constantly amazed that he’s been able to hold this territory so long. Gods know there are stronger vampires in this room right now. And yet here I am in a pissing contest with the lounge lizard from one of Dante’s Hells. On the dais, Samair shifted in his seat, unsure what the protocol was once he’d insulted the Council’s Lead Enforcer. Sensing his discomfort, Nicholas let a sly smile curve his lips. “You’ve lost control of one of your young followers.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Lord of the City replied, his face a blank mask.
“You know. Jayson. Young kid all around. Seems to think the whole edict about cleaning up your own mess doesn’t apply to him. Am I ringing a bell here?” Nicholas asked. His words affected a tone of flippancy he’d heard from certain younger members of the staff at The Dracul.
“If he is not following the rules, he is clearly a renegade and, as such… not my concern. He will be dealt with by the Council’s Enforcers, no?” The elegant shrug that accompanied the question seemed out of place coming from him.
“By Council Law, whether dynastic or rogue, his Sire is to be held accountable for risking our secret like this,” Nicholas explained, working to hide his annoyance. Even the newest vampire knew the Council guarded their existence with zeal reserved for religious fanatics.
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