Forged in Flame

by Rabe, Michelle

  Yeah. That’s it, buddy, just keep babbling. See how far it gets you. A sharp pins and needles sensation started working its way along the bottoms of the vampire’s feet. He knew it was just a matter of time before his system processed whatever drug this human had injected.

  The doppelgänger of Richard straddled Nicholas’s torso, watching his captive with curious eyes. He settled back on his captive’s legs for a moment, head tilted as though considering an interesting problem. Nicholas sensed the telltale razor-sharp, biting pains dancing from the tips of his extremities to his core.

  A needle hovered mere centimeters over his flesh like a waiting guillotine. Whatever you gave me is starting to wear off. Come on asshole, I need you to keep talking. Just stay in love with the sound of your own voice, Nicholas silently urged the stranger. The darker side of his vampiric nature wanted to rip this man’s throat out and bathe in his hot blood as the man’s heart faltered and stopped.

  “Time to get this over with.” The guy cooed a second before he plunged the needle into Nicholas’s chest.

  Nicholas felt an increase in pressure; his rational mind screamed that there should be more pain as the needle punctured his chest. The human grunted with the effort and smiled as the syringe slammed home. A clear glass tube above the needle began filling with sluggish red-black liquid. “You know what we do with a vampire’s heart blood?” the man asked as he swapped the glass tube for a new one. Nicholas fought to remain still as feeling crept its way through his torso. “We use it to create poison that is deadly to your kind.”

  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you what happens when you underestimate your enemies?” Nicholas growled as his hand shot out and gripped the man’s wrist.

  He gasped and jumped back, but the vampire held him in a viselike grip. “I gave you enough of that shit to down an elephant.”

  “Too bad I’m not an elephant,” the vampire said, squeezing the man’s wrist. “Now, tell me who the fuck you are?”

  “Never.”

  Nicholas moved so fast the human had no chance to react. He used his free arm to push into a sitting position. As he shifted, he wrenched the human’s arm behind his back and applied more pressure on the wrist and elbow. With his face a few inches from the man’s, Nicholas bared his fangs. “Are you sure you don’t want to share?”

  He met the vampire’s eyes, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Why would I betray The Order like that?”

  “The Order? Are you talking about the Hunter’s Guild or some other group?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  Nicholas chuckled and knew his eyes had gone cold. “It will mean the mercy of a quick death.”

  “You call that mercy?”

  “I spent some time as a guest of The Inquisition and know how torture works. I think I can recall some of their techniques well enough to recreate them for you.” Nicholas paused, letting a merciless smile cross his features. “Or perhaps I should say on you,” he finished on a low threatening purr.

  “The inquisition. You can’t be serious.”

  “I am, young man. Now, what order are you a member of?”

  “How many do you know who hate your kind?”

  “Oh, there are more than you think. From your little tattoo…” Nicholas nodded toward the man’s left hand. “…it’s not a stretch to guess that you’re a member of the Order of the Black Rose.”

  “How do you know about the Order?” The man hissed, his eyes going wide with shock.

  “Well, until now I thought you guys were a myth. Tell me, do you really let the Order cut out your heart in the binding ritual? Because that’s a bit extreme, if you ask me.” Nicholas mused, frowning as he examined the man’s face closer. “Tell me something, do you have a brother, a twin perhaps?”

  “Why do you care?” he spat.

  “Curiosity.” Nicholas took a deep breath, hoping to catch the man’s scent, but the smell of the alley around him overpowered everything, and he didn’t have time to sort through all the information his heightened senses were giving him.

  “Killed a cat,” the man quipped as he squirmed, trying to free himself.

  A smile curled Nicholas’s lips and a low, threatening chuckle escaped. “Well, seeing as how I am not planning to die…” His lids slid halfway closed and his fangs lengthened. “Hello, kitty.” His hand slipped into the man’s pocket and retrieved the vials of his own heart’s blood. “I believe these rightfully belong to me. I hope you don’t mind.” Moving faster than the Knight could see, he drew his dagger and stabbed him in the gut. “I can’t have you following me. Whether or not you die, well…” Nicholas shrugged. “That’s not my concern.” He reached into his jacket and retrieved a handkerchief. He used it to wipe the blade clean, before putting it away and sheathing his weapon. Pocketing the vials of his blood, he turned and headed toward the garage where he’d parked his borrowed car.

  16 - San Francisco, CA - October 12, 2012

  Morgan sighed and shook her head, shifting on the sofa to find a more comfortable position before turning her attention back to the book in her hands. Her eyes drifted over the page, but she didn’t really see or comprehend the words she read. She closed and tossed the hardcover on the coffee table where it landed with a resounding thump. At any other time, reading was one of her great pleasures. For some reason, tonight, she couldn’t muster the enthusiasm for it. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and groaned before closing her eyes and letting the relative silence settle around her.

  She raked her hands through her hair several times to massage her scalp as thoughts bounced around in her skull. Focus. It’s not that difficult. You do it every night with Richard when you practice. You can do this. She took a deep breath and let it out, trying to school her thoughts as he had taught.

  Most nights, it took only a few seconds before bringing her ability under control. However, tonight something was different. Thoughts slid through her mind and were bounced around like a psychotic pinball in an asylum’s arcade. With a hiss of frustration, Morgan got to her feet and began prowling the house in search of something to soothe her anxious mind.

  For the first time in three years, she wished she wasn’t alone. The doctor’s face flashed in her mind’s eye, his smile warm and open with the shrewd eyes of a serpent watching for prey. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, still hearing his voice echo in her head. The sensation of needles sliding into her flesh was real, as well. Her blood still burned as a constant reminder of what had been done to her.

  She sighed and made her way up to the patio, stepping into the chilly night air. Morgan walked to the center of the space and sat on the ground, her legs folded in the lotus position, hands resting on her knees. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Sounds of the city echoed around her and she inhaled a deep breath of the salty mist-laden air. As time passed, Morgan lost herself in the night. Hearing sounds that no human ears would capture, she relaxed, her muscles eased. Fear slipped away.

  Unaware of how long she sat listening to life move around her, she gasped and snapped out of her meditative state when the front door closed louder than normal. She smiled and waited, listening to the footfalls on the hardwood floors. Muffled, like the soles are made from some kind of soft material. That means it’s either Eric or Richard. Nicholas was wearing boots. She enjoyed, playing the guessing game. As the footsteps drew closer, the cadence changed. Whoever it is, they’re climbing the stairs, she thought, letting out a soft laugh. A couple of seconds later he joined her on the patio and stopped, just as the air shifted and brought confirmation on the breeze.

  “Richard.” Morgan sighed and opened her eyes as she began rolling her shoulders.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, knowing she always resorted to meditation when her usual methods of distraction failed.

  “Nicholas is hunting that Renegade and isn’t back yet,” Morgan answered.

  “Do you get the feeling that something’s wrong?” Richard asked, denim blue eyes ful
l of concern.

  “I can’t sense anything through the bond.” Morgan shook her head and stretched her legs out in front. “But before he went out, he locked down his end pretty tight. He didn’t want to risk anything setting me off. It’s been pretty damned disconcerting all night.”

  “I can imagine. You have this presence in your mind all the time, even when the two of you don’t make use of the bond. It’s always there.”

  “And tonight he’s got it so well hidden that I can’t sense him.” She stood and continued to stretch her muscles. “It’s made me restless.”

  “Worried too, as I’m certain you’ve been many times in the past.”

  Morgan nodded, then whispered, “He hasn’t come home yet.”

  “It’s not that late. Why don’t you give him more time before you start panicking?” Richard asked, being careful to keep his tone neutral.

  “I’m not panicking,” Morgan insisted with more emphasis than she intended.

  “I know, but you’re working up to it,” he said, almost daring her to contradict him. When she shook her head, the sorcerer smiled and nodded. “Why don’t we get some practice time in tonight?”

  She frowned and walked toward him. “I thought we weren’t going to have a lesson this evening.”

  “Well, you’re not going to sleep until you know Nicholas is safe and sound, so I see no reason to sit around doing nothing.” He shrugged. “Besides, I think this might help distract you.”

  Morgan paused and met her mentor’s gaze. “What do you have in mind?”

  “We talked about dreams the other night on the plane.” Richard shrugged. “I thought we might get started with that.”

  “That sounds logical.” She inhaled a long, deep breath. “Where do we begin?”

  “Well, the dream realm is one of the most difficult branches of sorcery to master. We are going to have to take things slow. I admit, I may have to make some of it up as we go along.” Richard offered her his arm, and when she accepted, he steered them back into the house.

  “Haven’t we been making most of this up as we go along already?”

  “Yes, we have. But this will be different. Riskier and it will require more focus and concentration than anything else we’ve tried before.” They entered the living room where Richard let go of Morgan’s arm before he settled on the plush leather sofa.

  “So, even more practice?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” She shook her head and let out a soft laugh.

  “Because we’ve been at this for three years, and that is most certainly the mantra.” Richard sighed and thought for a moment before continuing, “In a lot of ways, this will be a lot like starting at square one again. You need to trust me.”

  She frowned, “I already trust you with my life. I’m not sure I can go much further than that.”

  “You’re going to need to allow me into your mind,” Richard’s said in a matter-of-fact tone as if he knew she would agree.

  A genuine look of shock had dawned on her face before she asked, “Do what?”

  “We’re talking about the manipulation of your own mental state as well as those of others, once you’ve mastered your ability.”

  “Manipulate the dreams of others?”

  “It’s possible, but difficult, and takes most practitioners years and sometimes decades to master. But, it can be done.”

  “Are you trying to scare me away from learning something you suggested?”

  “Yes,” Richard said with a nod. “As I said, it’s dangerous, a lot of risk for little to no reward in the long run. I don’t even know if I can teach you this.”

  “So, why even bring it up?”

  “Two reasons.” Richard smiled. “First, you needed a distraction.” He watched an expression of annoyance flicker across his pupil’s face. “And I have been doing some research on your kind. It appears that vampires do not dream.”

  “We’ve had this discussion before.” Morgan rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her torso.

  “Yes, but I’ve been looking deeper into the situation and am concerned about the dreams you’ve been having.”

  “It’s taken you three years to come to that conclusion?” I think I reached the worried stage about three dreams in. What’s taken you so long to get with the program, Sorcerer boy?

  “Well, there have been other things on my mind.” Richard chuckled. “And there’s the fact that your kind is notorious for their privacy. Add to that the Conclave’s own brand of secrecy and, there you go. Three years to learn that there have been other vampires who were sorcerers before their change. I’m not sure how they survived. From what I was taught, it should have been impossible, but it’s happened a time or two. I have reason to believe someone is using the magic in your blood to try and control your dreams.”

  “So, this could be bad.” Morgan sounded wary, something that Richard had gotten used to hearing over the years they’d been working together.

  “Very bad. At the very least I think I can teach you to shield your mind so you don’t have to worry about anyone manipulating yours.”

  “None of the dreams have been bad. In fact, some have been quite nice.”

  “I have reason to believe those are meant to lull you into a false sense of security. If I’m wrong, then I’m wrong,” he admitted, “but I think this is more of a situation where we can’t be too careful.”

  Morgan sighed and started pacing. “I thought this was supposed to distract me.”

  “You’re not worried about Nicholas now, are you?” His lips curved into a clever grin.

  “No. I’m worried about going to sleep in the morning, thanks to you.”

  Richard chuckled, a genuine smile dominating his features. “So, I’ll take it that you’re open to at least learning how to shield?”

  “After that somewhat frightening introduction, yes.” Morgan paused. “Do you have any idea how long this will take?”

  “To teach you to shield? It shouldn’t be more than a few days or a couple of weeks at most.” Richard paused, furrowing his brow. “I’m hoping it’s not more than a week, considering how fast you’ve picked up other things.”

  “When do we start?” Morgan asked.

  Before Richard had the chance to answer cool predawn air flooded the room. Morgan turned as the door slammed. Nicholas stood in the foyer. His clothes were stained, the fronts of his shirt ripped and his eyes locked on Richard. He moved so fast that his hand wrapped around Richard’s throat before the door closed with a soft thump.

  Nicholas had stepped into the house as the first blushes of sunrise painted the sky. He felt like death warmed over, and based on Morgan’s reaction, his looks matched. She should have been his first thought, and he knew he should have gone to her, but the instant he saw Richard, his temper raced to the fore.

  Crossing the room in five quick strides, he grabbed the human sorcerer by the throat. Seeing the world through a red haze, hearing the Sorcerer’s heartbeat thundering in his ears, Nicholas pressed Richard up against the wall as his fangs lengthened wanting to taste the other man’s blood.

  “I think it’s high time you explained yourself, Sorcerer.” Nicholas snarled.

  “Nicholas! What in the name of Dante’s Nine Hells are you doing?” Morgan snapped from across the room. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that his wife had gotten to her feet, but beyond that, had made no move to force a physical confrontation.

  “I want to know what our friend… Richard knows about the Order of the Black Rose.” The words came out a low rumble in Nicholas’s throat as he turned his gaze back to the Sorcerer, choking in his grasp. The sound of tapping boots on hardwood told him Morgan was moving. Damn it, Morgan, stay back.

  “Are you saying that you think Richard is a member of the Order?”

  “I don’t know. Though I do find it rather interesting that, on the one night he isn’t training you because of, so-called family business, someone who matches our friend�
�s description attacked me. Care to explain that one, Rich?” The question dripped disdain like thick, poisoned honey.

  “Come on, Nicholas. Think about all the time I’ve spent training with Richard,” Morgan insisted from a few steps behind him. She stayed out of his line of sight, trying to calm her husband while not taking his crap. “Do you truly believe that a member of the Order would let me live for three years when he’s had more than ample opportunity to exterminate me? Do you really think I could fail to notice whether or not Richard had the mark of the Order on his wrist?”

  “He could hide it.” Nicholas scoffed. “You can’t tell me there’s no way he could hide something like a tattoo.” He turned back to Richard. “I think something like a simple concealment spell would do the trick, correct?”

  “Nicholai, I know you’re upset, but you need to take a moment and think about this rationally.” Morgan had switched tactics; she was trying to soothe him, and appeal to his rational mind.

  Nicholas’s mind raced in the ensuing silence, thinking that she made sense as usual. He became angry with himself knowing that with Richard there, her life, along with the others, was in danger.

  “He’s hardly rational when it comes to questions of your safety, Morgan,” Eric offered from where he stood at the bottom of the stairs.

  “It was my twin brother, Jarreth,” Richard answered, his voice strained but calm, in spite of the hand clamped around his throat.

  “Your twin?” Nicholas asked. A portion of the rational being that Richard knew slipped out of the darkness swirling in his eyes.

  “Yes. If you take your hand off my throat, I’ll do my best to explain and answer your questions.”