Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone Vampires Book 1) (19 page)

That night, her laughter, had been all joy, with a little bit of cocky surety that she would best him. He had offered to go easy on her, in deference to her sex and the heavy skirts she wore. By that time, Christophe had been laughing, hearty guffaws, that doubled him over as he listened.

Morgan strolled to the table where several rapiers waited. Without answering, she had selected one, tested its balance and had come at him. She forced him on the defensive and rained rapid blows down on him. After a few minutes his fingers were numb, she caught his blade near the cross guard and with an easy flick of her wrist, disarmed him.
 

 
Tonight, he watched with the certainty that what had happened to Morgan was all his fault. The realization settled on him like a crushing weight. She didn’t move with the easy grace that he remembered. She was sluggish, and when she shifted her balance, there was a slight sway as she overcorrected. He’d seen her do these forms countless times, yet there were small mistakes: a blade not held at the exact right angle, a foot slipping when it should have been planted. Charles couldn’t watch anymore. He cleared his throat and waited for Morgan to acknowledge his presence. When she did, she beckoned him over with a gesture, before going back to her practice. Charles knew what that meant he bared his sword, setting the sheath on the bench. He took up a position a few feet on Morgan’s right and began moving through the forms with her.
 

The pair moved in silent unison for a little while before Morgan spoke. “So, what can I do for you?” Her words were breathy, like someone who had run a long distance.

“I wanted to return something to you. And apologize,” he answered, on a long sigh.

“What do you have to apologize to me about?” She stopped in the middle of the form and turned to face him.

“The night after you disappeared, a guy showed up at the club with your cell phone.” Charles found that he couldn’t look her in the eye, so he walked over to the bench. “Apparently, he found it in the early morning hours near the employee’s entrance.” He sat down, hunched his shoulders and looked down, studying the cobbles.
Anything is better than seeing whatever will be in her eyes. She’s going to blame this whole thing on me. And she’s right to
. “I gave him a reward, sent him on his way, and left the phone on your desk. I didn’t even give a thought to letting Nicholas know that you’d gone and hadn’t taken it with you. I didn’t think to check your messages. I didn’t even think to check the house to see if you’d taken anything else. I just assumed that you had gotten a case of wanderlust and would be in touch when you wanted to.” He looked up, and found Morgan standing close to him, watching. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“This isn’t your fault.” Morgan knelt, reached out and closed her hand over his. “Maybe you could have changed the way things went, but it’s also possible that Nicholas would have thought the same thing you did.”
Goddess, I can’t think about what might have been. It won’t do any good now. I know that. So why is the idea so tantalizing?
she thought, fighting to keep her expression neutral.

“I should have done something,” he insisted, and snatched his hand out of hers. As if her touch burned an indelible mark on his flesh.

“You know what humans say about hindsight?” she asked, with a soft, melancholy laugh.

“That it’s always twenty–twenty?” Charles’s voice was wary.
 

“Exactly. So, learn from the experience, and leave the guilt to the Catholics,” she replied a tart note of humor in her tone.

“I am a Catholic,” he replied, with dry sarcasm.

“Okay, then learn from it, and give me back my phone,” she said. “I assume you brought it with you?”

“Of course.” He reached into his pocket, slipped the device out and handed it to her.

She hit the home button, tapped a code on the screen, unlocking it and smiled. “You plugged it in.”

“Yeah,” Charles shrugged, “I know how much you hate it when the battery is dead and you want to use it. So I…” He shook his head and stopped before his long–winded explanation turned into full–on babble.

“Thank you, my friend.” Morgan offered him her hand. When he took it, she pulled him into a hug.

What the Hell?
Charles thought. It felt awkward being in her arms. He half expected Nicholas to walk out and interrupt them. More than that, he wasn’t sure he deserved either her thanks or friendship. After a few moments, he pushed away, holding her at arm’s length. He narrowed his eyes and put on what he hoped was a playful scowl. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“That’s what Nicholas and Marcus seem to think,” she scoffed and pulled free of his grip. She wrapped her arms around herself, and rubbed her upper arms as though she was trying to warm up.
 

“Considering what your body is going through,” he began, intending to take her side, when his eyes met hers, there was something in them that challenged him, had always challenged him, and the rest of the world. He smiled and finished with the truth she knew, but didn’t want to hear, “I am inclined to agree.”

“I just don’t want to be stuck inside.” A dramatic roll of her eyes accompanied the frustrated sigh.

“So there’s this lovely bench.” Charles shrugged a very human gesture that made her smile. “You can be out in the air, and still make Nicholas happy.”

“When did you get to be so practical?”

“Blame the applied psychology courses I had to take the last time I went to college.” He paused and rolled his chocolate eyes. “They’re all about decision making and relationships.”

“What have they done to you?” Morgan teased, bumping his shoulder with hers.

He chuckled and bumped her back, when he thought he heard a soft gasp escape her lips, he remembered the still healing bruises that dotted her skin. “Do they hurt?” Charles asked, eyeing the ones on her arms, visible past the sleeves of her shirt.

“Only when someone bumps them,” she answered, with a stare that saw everything and nothing. “Alexander thought it was a fine game to try to make me scream.”

Charles felt a shiver pace the length of his spine. “Make you scream?”

“He was trying to break my will.” She turned haunted eyes on him, and Charles went still.
This can’t be good
he thought, not daring to breathe lest he antagonize the beast he saw lurking deep within those emerald pools.

“He liked to slice my flesh open and put shards of glass or metal in the wounds,” she continued her stare still boring through him, without acknowledging his presence.

“So, you have metal and glass in your skin?” Charles asked, in a low whisper. He wanted to reach out and wrap his arm around her, to take away that haunted look, but he didn’t dare.

“Not anymore.” A fine tremor ran through her whole body. “They worked their way out, ripping and tearing new wounds as they went. I couldn’t let him win,” she whispered, turning the phone over in her palm.

Charles didn’t know what to say or do, so he took Morgan’s empty hand in his, and waited for her to say more. After several minutes, she glanced back at her phone. “You want to check your messages?”
God, that feels like an easy way out, but that’s what we need. I don’t think she’s ready to talk about this yet. She gives Nicholas and Marcus their answers, but there’s more that she remembers. This is Morgan; she’s going to tell us everything on her own time or never.
 

“Yes,” she breathed. A slight smile curled her lips as though she too had been looking for a way out of the conversation.

“I’m sure most of, if not all, are out of date,” he reminded her.

“I don’t care,” she snapped, and Charles thought he saw a speck of orange flash within her pupils. “This is my life. It was taken from me. I need to do something to try to reclaim it.” There was an edge of desperation as she spoke.
 

“I suppose I can understand that,” Charles nodded, and let go of Morgan’s hand.
 
“Just don’t stay out here too long. Too much alone time is not good for getting your head together, trust me.”

“I do. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He gave her a small bow, “Christophe and I will be going out, if there’s anything you need.” He offered, and waited until she shook her head, before walking back inside.

Morgan watched him go, rubbing the smooth front of her phone with her thumb. She frowned. Before her abduction, she had kept it with her at all times, but now it looked like a piece of alien technology.
It would be so easy to just smash this and never worry about what’s on the voicemails. That won’t make them go away. The service provider will still have them on their servers. Better to get this taken care of now.
She tapped a button and the screen lit up, showing that she had several dozen text messages, missed calls and voicemails waiting for her. She took a deep breath and slid her finger across the cool glass front.
 

After a few minutes, she had gone through the business related texts and messages. Charles or Christophe would have handled all of them. The only messages that remained were from Nicholas.
 

I don’t know if I want to listen to this, she thought. Under normal circumstances, I welcome the sound of his voice. He could read the dictionary for all I care, but can I listen to these?
She wondered. She knew the path they would take. The first few would be from the days after she disappeared. He would be wondering why she hadn’t called him to check on the estate. He would give her updates. As time went on, the messages would take on a more concerned tone. The last would be frantic, after he’d heard from Marcus. He would be grasping at straws, perhaps even angry that she had allowed herself to be caught off guard.
I don’t know if I have the strength to hear him like that.
 

E
MOTIONS
THAT
WEREN
’
T
his own flowed through Nicholas’s mind, reminding him of a television turned on for the white noise. Schooling his thoughts, Nicholas let them join the flow, waiting for the right one to catch his attention. He hated how vulnerable this method of hunting left him while he sought his prey, but it was the most efficient, and time was of the essence.
 

That’s her, she’s the one!
Nicholas smiled, when the other man’s thought caught his attention. A self–satisfied smirk curled the vampire’s lips, as he pushed his consciousness outward, using abilities passed from one so–called ‘Assassin’ to the next.
 
Those abilities allowed him to invade his prey’s mind. Looking through the human’s eyes, Nicholas was able to get his bearings. His prey was only a few blocks away.
 

His smirk, changing to a predatory smile, Nicholas broke into a sprint, moving too fast for human eyes to register. The city flew past, as he dodged several intoxicated pedestrians, and one man taking his dog for a walk. Nicholas stopped, a discreet distance from his prey.
 

He paused, scanning the area, needing to learn the lay of the land. Oak trees canopied the edges of the street, bowing their leafy heads toward the ground casting deep shadows along the sidewalks. Grand houses lined the streets, hidden behind walls or wrought iron fences. Nicholas smiled. He was still in the affluent Garden District. Nicholas watched his prey and his prey was watching the girl, in
her late teens, perhaps early twenties. I wonder why she’s walking alone so late, Nicholas
thought, as his prey slid out of his hiding place to follow her.
 

On silent feet, Nicholas stole through the shadows, closing the distance to his prey in less than a minute. Night air filled his lungs, and the quickening thump of his prey’s heart, his ears. The human man was so focused on the young woman that he had no inkling he was being stalked. On some visceral level the human’s instincts registered the presence of a predator, because his scent spiked with the sharp tang of fear, but the man didn’t look around.

That’s right. Chalk it up to fear of being caught, because you are. I’m not what you fear, though you should,
Nicholas thought, as he relaxed the tight control he kept on his beast. His smile morphed, becoming a fang–bearing grin, as he saw what he needed; the rest was a waiting game. Up ahead, the young woman pulled her coat tighter around her, as though the balmy night had taken a sudden chill. At that moment her stalker’s heartbeat quickened. He was making his move, the thrill of the hunt overtaking caution.
 

A soft chuckle escaped Nicholas’s lips as he slipped through the shadows, passing his prey and the woman. The vampire breathed deep, letting the varied scents fill his lungs, as his mind filtered the information. This was where he was at his best, prey before him, thrill of the hunt pumping within his veins.
 

The young woman walked past Nicholas. Her steps were short and quick, as she tried in desperation to convince herself that this was just another walk home. Reaching out with part of his mind, Nicholas brushed against her consciousness, projecting menace.
You need to be away from here, or else you’re not going to live to see morning. Run away little girl.
The woman yelped, and with a slight jump, she began running. As Nicholas watched, her stalker deflated, a puppet whose strings were left loose. The only sounds in the night were the slap of her shoes on the pavement, and the slight rustle of leaves in the breeze.