Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone Vampires Book 1)

DEDICATION
 

This one
’
s for my mom,
 

my toughest critic and biggest fan all in one.
 

And for my dad,

who introduced me to the fantastic.

Thanks for everything.

CAST IN BLOOD

Michelle Rabe

Copyright © 2013 Michelle Rabe

All rights reserved.

ISBN:
1493558102

ISBN-13:
978-1493558100

CONTENTS

1 – HOLLYWOOD – JULY 9, 2009

2 – UNKNOWN – UNKNOWN

3 – NEW ORLEANS – SEP 4, 2009

4 – UNKNOWN – UNKNOWN

5 –
 
THE BAYOU – UNKNOWN

6 – NEW ORLEANS – SEPTEMBER 11, 2009

7 – NEW ORLEANS – SEPTEMBER 26, 2009

8 – NEW ORLEANS – SEPTEMBER 28. 2009

9 –
 
NEW ORLEANS
 
– SEPTEMBER 30, 2009

10 – NEW ORLEANS – SEPTEMBER 29, 2009

11 – NEW ORLEANS – SEPTEMBER 30, 2009

12 – NEW ORLEANS – SEPTEMBER 30, 2009

13 – NEW ORLEANS – OCTOBER 1, 2009

14 – NEW ORLEANS – OCTOBER 3, 2009

15 – NEW ORLEANS – OCTOBER 4, 2009

16 – THE MOUNTAINS – OCTOBER 9, 2009

17 – THE MOUNTAINS – OCTOBER 9, 2009

18 – THE MOUNTAINS – OCTOBER 10, 2009

19 – PACIFIC AVENUE – OCTOBER 11, 2009

20 – THE CABIN – OCTOBER 13, 2009

21 – HOLLYWOOD – OCTOBER 14, 2009

22 – HOLLYWOOD – OCTOBER 14, 2009

23 – HOLLYWOOD – OCTOBER 15, 2009

24 – HOLLYWOOD – OCTOBER 15, 2009

25 – HOLLYWOOD – OCTOBER 15, 2009

EPILOGUE – HOLLYWOOD – NOVEMBER 22, 2009

FORGED IN FLAME PREVIEW

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

FEEDBACK

T
HE
D
RACUL
WAS
one of Hollywood’s hot spots, a place for the beautiful people to see and be seen. On any given night, Hollywood stars could be seen mingling among the crowd or holding court in one of the private rooms that dotted the periphery. The club’s owner, Morgan Blackstone, stalked through the center of the packed dance floor, rage rolling off her in frozen waves. She paid no attention to the loud music thundering through the converted church, or the mob parting to let her pass. James, the head of security, walked at her side, and it didn’t take them long to reach one of several doors that led to the employee–only sections. She entered a code on the small panel beside the door and pushed it open.
 
James followed her into the maze of halls, letting the door thump closed behind them.

“What happened?” she asked, her words clipped and precise.

“Apparently the two we are about to see, decided it was okay to harass a regular about his job.” James answered, being cryptic, since it was possible that a human staff member might hear.

“Was it one of the VIPs?”

“Yes. Christophe is taking care of him,” he answered, all cool professionalism.

Morgan nodded. She trusted her Blood Son to see to it that the situation was defused.
 

“The other two are in the security office,” James continued. “A couple of my people are making sure that no one goes in. Danny and the rest of the team are out on the floor making sure that nothing else happens.” He finished as they stopped in front of a door marked ‘Security.’

“Good,” she answered. She stepped into the room, feeling the emotions of the two men inside permeating the air.
“Idiots,”
she muttered under her breath and crossed to the table where the pair sat on opposite sides. The door closed, and James leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest.

The vampire was dressed in unrelieved black. His hair fell in long lanky shanks, and he looked as though he’d forgotten to feed for the past few days. His flesh was pale and drawn tight over his bones. The werewolf was just as bad, in a flannel shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and tattered jeans.
 

“Goddess! Could you two be any more cliché?” Morgan rolled her eyes and set her cane on the end of the table. “Do either of you have any idea of the trouble you caused?”

“That poser started it,” the vampire insisted in a high pitched whine that sent a spike of pain through Morgan’s skull.

“That poser, as you call him, happens to be a regular, but that’s beside the point.” Morgan reached down and slipped the blade free of its cane sheath. “Do either of you morons have any clue how many hoops I had to jump through to get this establishment cleared by the Council?”
 

“An insane amount of paperwork, not to mention upholding a strict set of rules at all times,” James answered from where he leaned on the door, sounding bored.

“There are advantages to slogging through all the red tape though,” Morgan continued. “It does afford the owner some…” she paused and examined the edge of her blade, “…
latitude
when it comes to dealing with rule breakers.”

“I really didn’t expect to be dealing with corpses tonight.” James sighed, looking down at the faded jeans and white t–shirt he wore.

“C–Corpses?” The werewolf stuttered. “I–it was just a fight!” Desperation pushed his voice into a high falsetto squeak, and his breathing sped up.

Morgan turned and moved closer, invading his personal space. “Here’s the thing. The guy you decided to mess with is one of
my
regulars, not to mention the fact that he is well–known among humans.” She shook her head, dark curls falling over one shoulder. “Had my people
not
intervened, you might have drawn the attention of gossip hounds. I cannot allow that to happen.” She took a half step back from the table and tapped the toe of her high–heeled boot. “So, what do you think?” She looked over her shoulder at James. “Quick?” she smiled. “Or slow?”

“Club’s pretty packed. We don’t have the time to drag this out, as much fun as slow would be.” He let a feral smile curl his lips.

“You have a point.” Morgan sighed. She turned back to the miscreants at the table, and smiled widely enough to reveal the tips of her fangs. They both shrank back, trying to become one with their chairs. “You are both hereby banished from The Dracul. Do not return, on pain of death.” Her tone had taken on a stiff formality that overrode her anger. “This will be reported to the Council.” She slid her blade back into its sheath while watching the vampire, and turned to the werewolf. “James will make a similar report to the elders. Do not get the idea that I might be lenient should you get it in your head to return. James will escort you off the property. Do not return.” She dismissed them with a wave of her right hand. Morgan waited until the room was silent and the door thumped closed before she reached into the folds of her skirt and drew a cell phone from a hidden pocket.
 

She dialed Nicholas’s office in Ireland. As the phone rang she started pacing the room. Her high heels clicked in a quick staccato rhythm while she waited. After the fifth ring, an automated voice came over the line, informing her that no one was there to take her call. She hung up before the voice had the chance to tell her that she could leave a message after the tone.
There’s a distinct advantage to being married to the Lead Enforcer
, she thought as she dialed Nicholas’s cell phone. She continued pacing. The line had rung three times before there was a soft pop, when the connection was made.

“Well, hello love. I didn’t expect to hear from you. To what do I owe the honor of this call?” His voice was a smooth chuckle.
 

“You’re not in the office.” Morgan answered, feeling her anger and frustration begin to melt away.

“No. There was a minor situation at the estate. I needed to take care of it.”

“So, what happened at my estate?” she asked, trying to hold in an unexpected laugh that threatened to bubble up from her chest.

“Since I am your husband, it’s technically our estate,” he teased.

“Are you ready to admit to the rest of our kind that we are, in fact, married?” Morgan asked, hoping that Nicholas would take the hope she heard in her words as teasing.
He has a good point about my safety but damn it! I want to be able to tell everyone he’s my husband!

“You win,” Nicholas conceded before adding, “this time.”

“Good.” Morgan laughed. She closed her eyes against the usual pang of regret that she felt when he won this particular argument. “Now, back to the original question, if you don’t mind, what happened at the estate?”
 

“According to the authorities, there was…” he paused, “a weather event.”

“I love how they say things like that,” Morgan groaned.

“This particular
event
,” he put emphasis on the last word, “caused one of the older trees to fall.”

“How much damage was there?”

“Actually very little, all things considered. We lost a couple of windows, and the structure around them will need to be assessed, but from what I can see, that’s about it.” He paused for a moment, letting the information settle into her mind. “So, back to
my
original question, to what do I owe the honor of this call?”

“There was an incident at the club tonight,” she answered, though she didn’t want to.
 
She knew that once she spoke the words she wouldn’t be talking to her husband, but to The Council’s Lead Enforcer.
 

“Define
incident
.” His voice had taken on a hard edge.

“There was a scuffle between one of our Hollywood regulars and a pair of Neanderthals.”

“I assume that one of our kind was involved, since you called me.”

Nicholas was all business. Every trace of warmth or humor was gone.

“Yeah. Some I–just–cut–my–fangs–yesterday punk,” Morgan said, not bothering to hide her disdain.
 

“Tell me how you really feel about him,” Nicholas teased, his harsh tone melting away.

“I should have ended that little cretin,” Morgan growled. “Harassing a human in my club. Not to mention the fact that the human is a well–known regular.” She shook her head and sighed.

“How did you handle it?” he asked in a low whisper.

“Banished, on pain of death.” Her answer was flat, lifeless.

“Send me an official incident report?” Though phrased as a question; his tone made it clear, this was an order.

“As soon as I have a chance,” she answered.
 

“Look on the bright side,” Nicholas countered. “He might be dumb enough to try to return. Then you’d be well within your rights to end him.”

“A girl can dream,” Morgan sighed, “though I doubt he’ll be that dumb.”

“You never know. I’ve seen renegades do some downright idiotic stuff in my time, I’m sorry, love I’ve got to go. I have to listen to another insanely high estimate.”

“You don’t have to do that Nicholai.”

Morgan hoped to keep him on the line longer. She hadn’t realized how much she missed hearing his voice until she’d heard it.

“There’s staff at the manor which are paid quite well to see to things like this.”

“I know, but I had to get out of the compound.” He sounded exhausted. Morgan heard him take a deep breath before he continued. “There’s something going on. More than the usual politics and I can’t stand it. So this turned out to be a great excuse.”

“I won’t argue with you.”

“So, unless there’s something else?” There was an air of distraction as he spoke.

“No, that’s it,” Morgan lied, wanting more.

There was another, indistinct voice over the line for a moment before Nicholas spoke. “I’ve got to go,” His voice was soft and full of regret.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Morgan assured him.

“Later love,” he said, just before the connection was cut.
 

“I love you Nicholas, but sometimes your manners leave something to be desired.” She spoke to the empty room, slipped the phone into her pocket, and continued to pace, letting time and movement soothe the frayed edges of her temper.