Forged in Flame

by Rabe, Michelle

  “You are correct.”

  “So, why are we going to a known Nomad hangout?”

  “We are here to meet with a friend.”

  Eric smiled and nodded as understanding dawned. “I assume this is a well-connected friend we’re talking about here?”

  “Of course.” Morgan smiled, as she expertly maneuvered the car into a tight parking space in front of an old, unimpressive brick building. “Add to that the fact that she hates Samair, and you have a winning combination.”

  “So, you’re going to give her some gossip?”

  “Yes, I’m here to gossip, in the right way.”

  “There’s a right way to gossip?”

  “But of course!” She managed to sound scandalized while laughing. “The wrong way brings the story back around to you, and you get your nose dirty. If you do it the right way, no one knows where the story came from, and you come out smelling like honeysuckle and jasmine on a humid New Orleans night.”

  “Your friend knows how to gossip the right way?”

  Morgan slipped into a sweet Southern belle accent as she killed the engine. “She does, and it doesn’t hurt that she’s very old South from a time when all so-called proper ladies learned how to cut to the quick with honeyed words.”

  “Sounds like not much has changed for ladies of the South,” he muttered and shook his head while opening his door and stepping out of the car. He had walked around to her side of the car before asking, “What do you need me to do?”

  She glanced at the storefront for a moment before turning her emerald eyes on Eric and flashing a fang-bearing smile. “Just watch my back. Make sure no one tries to kill me tonight.”

  “If they do?”

  “Well, then.” She shrugged. “Make sure they aren’t successful.”

  “I can do that.” He smiled and offered her his arm. “No questions?”

  “Not while we’re meeting with her. If there’s anything you have to know about, please ask me later.”

  “You act like you have some history with this woman.”

  “I do,” Morgan said and left it at that.

  Eric wanted to push more, but they were at the entrance to the shop. When he opened the door, they were assaulted by a cloud of aromatic smoke. “A cigar bar?”

  “Why not? It’s not as if we can get cancer. Besides, it’s a great way to get the majority of humans to leave us alone. And you’re only half right, it’s a cigar club.”

  “Is there really a difference?”

  “I suppose there is, legally.”

  “I’d never thought about it that way.” Eric mused as Morgan stepped into the room. He followed a step behind.

  He stopped where he stood, his feet planted as he stared. A rundown counter stood in front of a wall covered in faded signs. Three tiny tables were placed around the small room and an annoyed looking young man stood behind the glass case counter filled with cheap tobacco products. Eric watched, curious. He’d learned that not much in the vampire world could be taken at face value.

  Morgan walked over to the man and smiled so he could see the flashed tips of her fangs. The kid nodded and reached under the counter before tilting his head to the left. “Go on back.”

  “Thanks,” Morgan said in a neutral voice, then she turned and walked through a door that had opened to the right of the human.

  Eric kept his eye on the kid as they entered the secret room.

  His second surprise came a few seconds later. They stepped into a hidden room filled with a grey haze of drifting smoke and furnished like a rich man’s study. Off to his left a long bar anchored the area. Dotting the rest of the large, open space were tables surrounded by high-backed winged leather chairs. The entire room had been furnished in dark mahogany and burgundy tones flooded with liquid golden light that poured from flickering incandescent bulbs, which mimicked candles or gas lamps.

  Morgan reached a table on the side of the room where a young woman with long reddish-gold hair sat- a cigar in one hand, a tumbler of amber liquid on the table in front of her.

  “Savannah.” Morgan drawled, letting the name stretch so it seemed there were more syllables than the proper three and adding an extra ‘ah’ sound in the middle.

  “Morgan, darling.” The other vampire stood and held her hands out in a warm welcome to his employer.

  She stepped forward and placed her hands over Savannah’s upturned ones, leaned in and air kissed the other woman’s cheeks before sitting down in the empty chair across the table.

  “Who is your young man friend? Don’t tell me you’ve decided to turn Nicholai loose after just seven centuries.” Savannah managed to sound scandalized even though she was the one who made the suggestion.

  Morgan shook her head and laughed. “I would never dream of setting Nicholai loose as you put it. I love my husband too much to let him go.”

  "Pity about Nicholai.” She offered Morgan an almost too sweet smile before turning her attention back to Eric. “So, just who is this young buck?”

  “This is my protégé, Eric.”

  A look of surprise had flitted across Savannah’s features for a brief second, and she asked, “You’re mentoring him?”

  “Yes.”

  “He must be very special.” She eyed him as though he were a commodity she sized up for marketability, considering what strengths and weaknesses she could find with her eyes alone. From the smile that curled her lips, Savannah found very little she didn’t like.

  “He is.”

  “Yes, and he’s also standing right here,” Eric said, fighting to keep his tone neutral.

  “Eric, this is Savannah Davis. Savannah this is Eric Kincade.”

  He offered Morgan’s vampire friend his hand and wasn’t surprised when she gave it a dainty shake and replied with a shy, “Charmed.”

  He responded with the customary, “A pleasure.”

  “Perhaps Eric would like to see more of the club?” Savannah suggested.

  He glanced at Morgan, who nodded and smiled. “I will leave that decision to him.”

  “I believe I will.” He turned and returned Morgan’s nod. “If you need anything just holler. I’ll be close by.” Bowing to Savannah, he added, “Perhaps we will meet again.”

  “I look forward to it,” she said before turning her attention back to Morgan. “So, you wanted to meet? Is it just to catch up on the latest gossip? I’ve known you a long time, Morgan, surely you must have something else in mind.” She paused and sipped her mint julep, every inch the dainty lady. “You have never been one to gossip.”

  Morgan leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in front of her on the table. “Well, I’m hoping to open a business in the city and wanted to check in with some of the local vampires.” She smiled and shrugged one shoulder. “I want to know what conditions are like for all of our kind here. The Enforcers can only tell me so much.” She smiled at the waiter who offered a menu with drink selections. Morgan pointed to an excellent red wine. The waiter nodded, without saying a word, and slipped away to fill her order.

  “Enforcers don’t know as much about the Nomads as they think they do.” Savannah waved a dismissive hand. “And the problem, if you want to call it that, has grown worse since the new one, Nora, took over.” Her name had been spoken with an air of disgust while Savannah rolled her pretty blue eyes.

  “Is the problem not knowing enough about the Nomads?” Morgan asked, her curiosity piqued, her brow furrowed in thought.

  “Yes.”

  “I will have Nicholas look into it.”

  “You should do that. With our so-called Lord of the City, we need someone looking out for us. Daniel was great but he’s gone and nothing can bring him back.” Savannah shook her head. “I had hoped Nicholai would appoint someone competent.”

  “He’s been busy as of late and now there’s this Renegade in town.” Morgan spoke as though commiserating with a long, absent friend. The waiter returned with the wine, she reached out for the glass and took a sip. “I
will bring the matter to his attention. Don’t worry about that.”

  “That’s another thing. This Renegade is making things difficult around here. Are you sure you want to open a new club in the city?” Savannah’s hand flitted to her throat and she looked aghast. “It could be harder than usual to get those stuffy members of the Council to agree.”

  How dare she speak about Nicholai that way! Concentrate. You’re here to plant the seed in her mind against Samair. Morgan let a slight smile curl her lips. “Well, when we were preparing to open The Dracul, Manuel was great about helping.” She invoked the name of LA’s longtime Lord of the City knowing that there was bad blood between the two Lords.

  “I doubt our Lord will be so accommodating.” She shook her head and clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “He doesn’t want to see any more Dynastic businesses opened in his territory.” Savannah glanced around in a flash and then leaned in, whispering, “Doesn’t want any more competition for his own interests, and seeing how he takes a percentage of all Nomadic owned businesses, anything that’s not Nomadic is a competition to our dear Samair.” As she spoke, her accent became more pronounced and sickeningly sweet.

  “He doesn’t get to dictate where I open. Though if I do decide on a different city, say New York or perhaps New Orleans, it will cost Nomads in San Francisco a lot of work.” Morgan’s mention of specific locations were ones where the Lord and Lady of the city were downright hostile toward Samair. “I hire a balanced staff so no one gets their nose bent out of shape and convinces their people to stay away.” She shook her head. “That wouldn’t be good for business at all.”

  “Well, then I’d suggest you go and have a little chat with Samair before you make any concrete decisions.”

  “I will, thank you,” she answered, filing that tidbit away with everything else she learned. It would all be examined further once she returned home.

  Over the next few hours, Morgan got a feeling for the mood of the Nomads and Rogues in the city. As she moved around the room, visiting various tables, she sowed the seeds of discontent with a deft hand, guiding the conversation in such a way that the other vampires were the ones to bring up Samair in the first place.

  After she had said goodnight to another old friend, she slipped the silver pocket watch out of her jeans. The tiny thing was an anniversary gift from Nicholas and her heart skipped a beat as she checked the time. The hands showed a little after eleven fifteen. Morgan closed her eyes, letting some of the building tension slip away. I’ve got to meet Richard in about an hour. It’s almost time to...

  The chair across from Morgan rasped across the floor. A soft sigh and the creak of wood broke her silent musings as someone settled into the seat. Morgan took a deep breath, taking in the scent of the vampire who had joined her before raising her eyes to see. Chills skittered down her spine… no spark of recognition.

  In a split second, she called the power that rested within her blood to the ready. She waited a few seconds, listening, waiting for her unknown guest to say or do something. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes and peered into the chocolate brown eyes of the Blood Son who had disowned her almost eighty years ago.

  “Zachary.” Morgan fought to keep her voice calm even while her body tensed. The last time she’d been in the same room as Zachary, he had shocked her by breaking all ties between them. She had been blindsided then and wasn’t sure what to expect from him now.

  “I saw you and wanted to say good evening.” He inclined his head and offered her a slight smile. “I know it’s been a while since we last spoke.” Letting the thought hang in the air between them, unspoken, she used the time to determine his purpose.

  “Since you stood before the Council and denounced our Blood Ties…” She didn’t release the hold she had on her power, enjoying the feel of it in the back of her mind. At least Nicholas and I will have something interesting to talk about tonight.

  “Well, I had my reasons. I thought you understood.” Zachary leaned back in his chair and frowned.

  “I do. What I’d like to know is why you’re sitting across from me right now?”

  “I just wanted to say hello.” Zachary smiled and stood. “It’s good to see you.” His lips turned up in a warm, genuine smile. “Will I see you at my ball?”

  “Christophe should have sent my response.”

  “Yes, he did. I just wanted to be sure my Blood Brother had your blessing when he did. We both know he has a tendency to be somewhat impetuous.” When Morgan responded with a quick nod, he continued, “Then we will speak later. You look as though you were preparing to leave.”

  “I am.” She stood abruptly, facing him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Though Zachary seemed genuine, a sharp intelligence behind his eyes told Morgan not to accept his words at complete face value. Between this and the invitation, I really do wonder what’s going on that he’s not sharing. Another quick check of the watch told her she didn’t have the time to try and figure out what her prodigal Blood Son had in mind.

  Zachary took a breath and seemed about to say something, but changed his mind. He shook his head, flashed her that smile again and stood behind his chair. “Maybe we will see one another again before my party.”

  “Perhaps.” She slipped the watch back into her pocket, turned her attention back to Zachary, waiting until he’d made his way across the room and become involved in an animated conversation with someone else before she caught Eric’s eye and signaled that it was time to leave.

  23 - New Orleans, LA - October 21, 2012

  Moisture filled the night air. The crowd spilling from the bars and restaurants was below the normal level of intoxication as Marcus walked down Bourbon Street in the French Quarter. He wasn’t really paying attention where he was going. Preoccupied, his phone pressed to his ear, he rolled his eyes, sighing as the man on the other end of the line spoke.

  “Mister Rutherford, we understand your frustration with the situation and would like every opportunity to make things right.”

  “Look.” Marcus snarled, his patience had worn thin about three minutes into the now ten-minute call. “I don’t have time for the runaround. Can you get the shipment here tomorrow or do I cancel my contract and find a new supplier?”

  Marcus’s anxiety drained away as a strange feeling washed over him. Stopping to let the crowd continue to flow around him, he didn’t even respond to the few drunken insults thrown his way.

  The man on the phone cleared his throat and made a couple of false starts before he managed to spit out, “We will have a replacement shipment delivered to your bar tomorrow.”

  “Good.” Marcus hung up and scanned the crowd.

  An unexpected tug at the back of his mind felt like another vampire near, but different, more scattered and manic than he’d come to expect from even the youngest of his kind. Marcus’s eyes found a male vampire moving through the crowd at a fast clip, trying to be as small as possible, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around his torso and staying as far from other people as possible.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, flicking the switch to silence it.

  Glancing around, Marcus shadowed the vampire for several minutes before turning into an alley. About halfway between Marcus and the other vampire, a small woman followed. “Curiouser and curiouser,” Marcus whispered under his breath while trailing behind the woman. I know I should call in the Assassin’s people, but this is interesting to walk away from. Besides, I doubt they’d get here in time. Marcus gripped the handle of his sword cane tighter.

  While 225 walked behind the vampire, she kept track of the bloodsucker’s movements. Over the past few weeks, the shadow and observe thing had become routine. Her prey appeared like just about any other suburban human being, plain, easy to lose in a crowd.

  Knight 225 frowned. The Order taught their followers that vampires were under orders from their so-called Council to only create attractive blood children so they
’d have a better chance of enticing prey, or others who wished to be turned.

  She shook her head. This just proves that beauty is, in fact, in the eye of the beholder. As the vampire turned into an alley, 225 allowed a slight smile to show across her lips as she kept a safe distance behind. The turn deviated from the vampire’s usual routine, and she hoped it would give her the opportunity to complete the task the High Lord had set before her.

  She followed the vampire farther into the darkest area of the alley, watching as he slipped into the shadows too dark for her eyes to penetrate. When he neared the end, the vampire turned to face her with scars the change hadn’t healed and a pair of unremarkable, muddy brown eyes.

  “Why did you follow me?” He sounded tired. The more 225 watched, the more this bloodsucker seemed to be one of the less violent of his kind. “This is on you.” A note of desperation echoed in his voice and he jabbed a finger at her. “This is on you, not me!” He looked up as though he were talking to the universe or some other higher power. “Do you hear me? This is on her not me!” The vampire cocked his head to one side, presumably listening to someone or something, before his gaze fell on 225 again. “Who are you?” he asked.

  Though it went against her nature to be dramatic, 225 made a show of drawing her weapon. The obsidian daggers she wore at her hips shone in the minimal light, shadows playing over the black stone blades. When 225 brought them up to eye level and examined the fine edges, a smile crossed her face.

  The vampire watched her every move. “Who are you?”

  She heard the harsh edge of fear emerging through the insistent question, so she continued to wait and check her blades. Magic coursed through the weapons, which told her better than a visual inspection that the spells, and razor-sharp edges were intact.

  “Who… Are… You?” the male asked again, his voice slipping to a deep, almost guttural growl.

  When 225 glanced up and met his eyes, she laughed cold and harsh. “I am your death.” She couldn’t hide the genuine smile shining on her face.