Forged in Flame

by Rabe, Michelle

  “Start talking,” Nicholas snapped as he let go of Richard’s throat. Unable to remain still, Nicholas paced the room. Richard swallowed hard and rubbed his throat, massaging as the circulation returned to normal. He crossed to the sofa and sat, scrubbing his hands over his face with a sigh.

  “I’m helping Morgan because I believe it is the key to breaking a five-hundred-year-old curse on my family.”

  “A curse? What sort of curse are we talking about here?” Nicholas asked as he hurried to stand beside Morgan, sliding his arm around her waist.

  “The men in my family have been active in the Conclave as far back as we can trace. During that time, we grew in power and influence. As could be expected, my ancestors made enemies.” Richard paused and swallowed hard. “About five hundred years ago, a sorcerer applied for master status. He was granted permission to face the elemental trials, but on the day of his trial, the head of my family was the most senior member of the Conclave’s governing assembly. When the sorcerer failed, he blamed my family not his own lack of talent and preparation.”

  “He originated the curse?”

  “Yes. Despite the fact that my ancestor was a woman, this sorcerer cursed the men of our line.”

  “What exactly does the curse involve?”

  “Since that time, the women in our family have given birth to three children. One set of twin boys and about two years later, a girl. We all have unnaturally long life spans. The women can have children, but the men are impotent.”

  “So you’re looking for the magical equivalent of the little blue pill?” Morgan asked.

  “No. If my research is correct, when the curse is broken we will go back to having the expected life span for any Sorcerer,” Richard answered turning to face his student. At that moment, he knew he should have told her sooner. Her stiff posture spoke volumes about her mood.

  “And you somehow think that what happened to Morgan is the key to breaking the curse?” Nicholas asked, his curiosity piqued.

  “Have you heard of an Oracle who was once made a vampire?” Richard asked, still rubbing his throat.

  “I’m aware of the vampire. I know she had made a number of predictions before her life ended.” The Assassin had become evident in the predatory way Nicholas paced the room, always aware of Richard’s location.

  “One of her predictions refers to a vampire who obtains the powers of a sorcerer in a manner very much like Morgan’s situation.”

  “How does this tie into the curse?” Eric interjected. He’d joined them and taken a seat on the sofa.

  “To be honest, I really don’t know yet. When I agreed to Joshua’s request to take Morgan on as a student, it was purely a gut reaction. I’m not sure whether or not she is the key to my family’s salvation,” Richard answered with a shrug as he sank into one of the high backed leather chairs flanking the fireplace.

  “I see,” Nicholas answered, again running one hand through his sandy hair. He had always known that Richard had his own motivation for offering to help Morgan. He’d never pushed the sorcerer because Morgan needed him. He continued pacing, letting the silence stretch for several moments before he sighed. “Now I need you to explain who the hell I saw tonight.”

  Richard sighed. He could no longer keep the truth hidden. There are about three hundred ways I can stall or dance around the issue, but where will that get us? Nowhere. It’s best if I just come out with it. “As I said, it was my twin brother.”

  Nicholas frowned and paused, turning his gaze to Richard before he said, “You, are a member of the Conclave, and your twin is claiming to be a member of the Order of the Black Rose?”

  “That’s something I just found out this evening,” Richard answered, nodding. “It’s why my sister wanted to meet with me. She’s worried about him and wanted me to talk some sense into him.”

  “Have you had the chance to talk to him yet?” Morgan asked, her dark brows low over emerald eyes as she tried to anticipate his answer.

  “No. I called the number my sister gave me and left Jarreth a voicemail.”

  “I’m not usually this blunt, but with Morgan’s safety at risk I can’t help it. What are your intentions when you speak with your brother?” Nicholas asked.

  “I don’t know. Actually, I won’t until after I’ve had the chance to talk with him.” Richard took a deep breath and let it out, shaking his head as if trying to clear thoughts he didn’t want. “My sister wants us to reconcile, but that’s not going to happen. I agreed to meet with him so I could see why the Order is involved.”

  “They want to exterminate all vampires and don’t care who else they take out in the process. I think that’s reason enough for them to be involved,” Nicholas scoffed.

  “They’re not usually this out in the open about it. Almost everyone in the not-quite-human world believes they have died out. Something more is going on here, and I hope that speaking with Jarreth will give us some insight into their plans.” Richard stood. “I can’t promise anything, but I know that if I don’t talk to him, we could be shutting out a source of information unavailable anywhere else.”

  “Do you think this might be a ruse to separate you from Morgan in the hopes of weakening her?” Eric asked, tapping his left hand knuckles on the bar in front of him.

  “It is possible, but I can’t see the logic in it.” Richard shook his head. “If they wanted to weaken Morgan, the best time would have been right after I started training her. Her level of control was much lower back then, and as such, the risk that she could hurt or even kill herself, much higher. Separating us now would mean just slowing her progress. She would continue to learn on her own based on our previous lessons.”

  “None of this makes sense, but I don’t like it,” Nicholas said.

  “And Richard, I don’t like the idea of you going to meet with someone from The Order. It doesn’t matter whether or not he’s your brother,” Morgan said.

  “Sorry, this is my family and as the head, I make the decisions,” Richard insisted.

  “And if this is some kind of ruse to get you alone?” Nicholas pressed the issue. Family is one thing but this effects my family and I’ll be damned if I do anything to put my family at risk.

  “I can protect myself, Assassin.” Richard insisted, feeling a bit of his control slip.

  “No one can prepare for everything.”

  “I know, but I have more tricks up my sleeves than the average human.”

  “So do the Knights, if memory serves,” Nicholas replied as his mind turned to the encounter in the alley. Without being aware of it, his right hand drifted up to his throat where the drug had been injected.

  “I’ve set the meeting for the middle of the day for a reason,” Richard explained. “If there’s even the slightest hint of vampire around, my brother will bolt. I need you to stay away.”

  “No.” Nicholas crossed his arms with the action causing a slight twinge where the second needle had entered his chest.

  “Nicholas.” Morgan moved to stand beside him. “Richard has a point. If his brother is a member of The Order, and he doesn’t meet him, we lose what could be our only chance to learn anything about their plans.”

  “Still, I don’t like it.”

  “I didn’t think you would. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s the smart thing to do.”

  “Since when do you like doing the smart thing?” Nicholas asked.

  “Oh, since I realized it makes my husband much easier to deal with. But on this, I don’t think we can go with smart. We need information, and if Richard thinks he might be able to get it from his brother, isn’t it worth the risk?”

  “This isn’t your call, either of you,” Richard interjected, reminding the pair of vampires that they weren’t alone in the room. “I’m a big boy and can make my own decisions. I will go meet with my brother. Hopefully, I’ll gain some useful information, though, to be honest, I don’t hold out much hope. This is probably just an exercise in futility to make my sister feel better. I w
ill call and leave you a message when the meeting’s over.”

  “If we don’t hear from you, we’ll send out the search parties.” Morgan laughed.

  “I’d make a smart-ass comment, but I’m sure you’re serious,” Richard said as he turned and walked to the front door.”

  “When in doubt, go with a smart-ass comment,” Morgan countered. “Get some rest before you go meet him, okay?”

  “That’s the plan. See you later tonight,” Richard called over his shoulder as he stepped into the guest room and closed the door.

  “I’ll take that as my cue to call it a day too,” Eric said. “See you at six tonight, Morgan?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  Eric nodded and went to his room.

  Once they were alone, Morgan turned to face Nicholas. She assessed him and frowned. She let her breath out, the frown pulling the corners of her lips down.

  “What?” Nicholas whispered.

  Her gaze drifted up and down his body, taking in every injury and the state of his clothes. “You look like you had a bad night.”

  “It wasn’t what I expected when I went out this evening.”

  “I’m sorry, love.” She wrapped her arms around him and stood on her toes to give him a quick kiss. “Why don’t you grab a shower, and we’ll call it a day?”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Nicholas raised an eyebrow and smiled.

  “Great minds.” Morgan shrugged and turned on her heel, making her way upstairs.

  17 - San Francisco, CA - October 12, 2012

  Richard walked out of the house and squinted into the sky as he closed the door. All the vampires were asleep and because he’d gotten used to their sleep schedule, his whole body felt like a lead weight. High above, the sun was a bright spot in the otherwise hazy gray sky. The sorcerer sighed. He had chosen the time of day, choosing to play into The Order’s belief that vampires wouldn’t or couldn’t stand the sun. Richard knew better, that only young or weak vampires couldn’t walk in the sun but that the vast majority preferred the dark. He paused before entering the waiting cab. While momentarily considering postponement of the meeting, he remembered the tension and genuine anger in his twin’s voice when they’d set the time. Rescheduling wasn’t in the cards.

  “It’s now or never,” he muttered under his breath.

  Once settled back in his seat, he gave the driver the address. Richard paid little attention to the cityscape as it whizzed past. He’d spent plenty of time riding in cabs and ignored the borderline insane way the driver did his job. Paying attention or trying to sightsee resulted in a bad case of motion sickness.

  The ride lasted less than ten minutes, and he tipped the driver before watching the flash of bright yellow speed off. He turned toward the park, searching for his twin. Jarreth reclined on a bench near a large lake. Quietly, Richard joined him.

  They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. To Richard, it seemed like hours. “Wasn’t sure you were coming.” Jarreth’s voice retained a lot of the New England accent of their youth.

  “Same here,” Richard answered. He sighed and shook his head, turning slightly to meet his brother’s eyes. “What do you want?” The question sounded harsher than he’d intended, but Richard didn’t care. Right now, all I really want is my room and bed.

  “Wasn’t my idea. This harebrained scheme is all our dear sister’s grand plan.”

  “I told her it was a waste of time.” Richard sighed. “And that if you had fallen in with The Order, there was no point in meeting.”

  “Joining was my choice. No one just falls in with The Order.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of, little brother.”

  “We were born at the same time.”

  “Didn’t happen that way and if it were the case, I doubt we would have survived. I was born before you, which makes you my little brother.” Richard knew that making of issue of it always pissed Jarreth off. He hoped putting him on the defensive would make him pissed off and allow details about The Order to slip.

  “By all of thirty minutes.”

  “Still makes me head of the family, since mom and dad are gone.”

  “Why are we here?”

  “Lisa wanted me to talk you out of whatever you’re going to do for The Order. She’s worried about you. You can still back out. If you haven’t gone through the initiation rites, you can still walk…” his words trailed off as Jarreth pulled up his left sleeve. There on his wrist, like a poisonous spider, sat a delicate black rose surrounded by a circlet of interwoven vines with scythe-like thorns. Shit.

  “You and our dear sister…” he sneered as though Lisa were some disgusting bug to be crushed under foot, “…are too late.” Jarreth stood and turned to face his brother. “While you’ve been wasting time cozying up to the bloodsuckers, I’ve been doing something to break this curse.” He held up his hand and Richard caught sight of the black rose tattooed on the inside of his wrist. “I’m the only one who’s been proactive to fix this. I will not have my course of action dictated by you or Lisa.” He didn’t give Richard a chance to respond before he turned on his heels and stormed away, disappearing into the crowd of humans.

  Several hours after meeting with his brother, Knight 157, once known as Jarreth Minagh stood in front of the Keep. The High Lord had summoned him more than half an hour ago. He shivered in spite of the sunshine and relative warmth of the day. The looming facade had sucked all the warmth from the air surrounding it. He swallowed hard, squared his shoulders and held his head level, meeting the gaze of any who crossed his path as he stalked through the halls. When 157 stepped into the audience chamber, the room temperature plummeted to near freezing. The High Lord isn't pleased, 157 realized as he took a deep breath to bolster his courage. He strode to the center of the room, posture defiant, head held high until the last possible second.

  When he couldn’t put it off any longer, he dropped to his knees at the heart of the mosaic black rose. It wasn’t the smooth, controlled move that he’d hoped for. His knees hit the tile with enough force that his teeth snapped together. Pain flashed through him and 157 fought to keep his expression neutral. Without missing a beat, he prostrated himself, leaning forward and stretching his arms out in front of him, resting his forehead on the patchwork of tiny tiles and mortar.

  The annals of The Order offered no prescribed length of time, no guideline that would end his humiliation. His fate lay in the hands of the High Lord, and only his command would release the Knight from his penance. One word from the High Lord would end this torture and start a new one.

  I’m not sure which torture is preferable at this point. It’s just two sides of the same painful coin. I’ve been a Knight long enough to know that.

  “You have failed.” The High Lord sounded bored as he spoke in slow, simple words. He didn’t release the knight from his humiliating position. “What do you have to say in your defense?”

  “The vampire was not the one The Order told me to expect.”

  “That should not have been a problem.” A note of mocking disbelief echoed in the Scottish accented voice.

  Knight 157 fought the urge to raise his head or show any hint of the defiance that had built inside him. “I believe that any of us would have difficulty in taking down The Assassin.”

  “The Assassin?” The High Lord’s voice hissed mere inches from his ear while hot, fetid breath, invaded his senses.

  “You had enough of the drug to take down three vampires. Why did you not use it all? Do you have any idea what we could have done with a single vial of the Assassin’s blood?”

  “I gave him all the sedatives I had. He shook it off in less than three minutes.” Knight 157’s knees ached, and his body trembled as muscles protested the prolonged time on his knees. Regardless, he didn’t dare move.

  “You are telling me that the sedative was not enough to keep him out long enough to take his blood?”

  “I took the blood, High Lord.” He paused and took a deep breat
h. “From his heart. Two vials as instructed.”

  “Then what happened? Why do you not have them?”

  “He took them back.” Knight 157 waited for the ax to fall.

  The High Lord said nothing. Silence hung heavy in the chamber, threatening to suffocate him. Still 157 remained on his knees. The tiles pressed against his knees, and he knew he would have bruises that matched their shape once he was allowed to rise. He heard the whisper of soft-soled shoes on stone as the High Lord returned to the dais.

  “You have failed,” the High Lord repeated as he sat and steepled his fingers together.

  Silence closed in. Air left the room, and 157 felt his lungs scream out for precious oxygen.

  The High Lord’s voice rang out from the front of the great hall. “Failure is not acceptable, no matter the reason.” He cleared his throat. “Why did you reach out to your family?”

  “Pardon me, High Lord?”

  “You called your family. The one you were born into. You met with your brother.”

  Jarreth’s heartbeat started pounding in his ears. How does The Order know?

  “I will take your silence as an admission of guilt. Still have nothing to say?” The High Lord waited, letting the silence stretch. “Very well.” Heat in the room intensified, and 157 feared his blood would boil in his veins. “Twenty lashes and forty hours upon the rack.” The High Lord proclaimed his sentence in his normal, bored tone.

  Knight 157 stayed still, knowing that additional time would be added to his punishment if he moved. The rituals that bound every Knight to the Order gave them advantages against vampires and other unholy creatures, but there were a trade-offs, the ability to survive extended periods of the most painful and creative torture among them.

  When a cold hand closed around each of his arms, 157 flinched. They hauled him up and dragged out of the stone chamber, fighting to get his feet underneath him, but the hooded figures, known as the Blades, were moving too fast for him. They pulled him through the confusing network of halls to the torture chamber.