Forged in Flame Read online

  Christophe held his right hand up and folded the thumb over the pinky before saying. “I swear that Nicholas will not hear of your nightmares from me.”

  Morgan shook her head and sighed. “Then, yes…to answer your question. The nightmares are about what happened to me three years ago.” Her right hand drifted to her left forearm and she gripped it tightly before she realized what she’d done.

  “Reliving events?” Christophe asked. Their family still walked on eggshells around Morgan when it came to talking about events when she’d been held prisoner and drugged as part of an experiment. We don’t know everything that happened when she was missing and worse we’ve got no clue why they were doing the experiments in the first place. None of it has ever made sense to me.

  “Yes and no.” She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “Some of the dreams are about what happened.” A fine tremor ran through her, and Christophe saw gooseflesh on her exposed arms. When she started speaking again her voice had an empty, hollow quality to it, that sent a chill through him. “I can see Lucian and the doctor with the needle. Feel the straps holding me down. Hear their laughter. Feel the drugs keeping me paralyzed. I can feel the blood burning me burning from the inside out.” She paused, taking a deep breath and holding it. When she continued, her voice sounded stronger, but a hint of terrified little girl remained. “The heat becomes too much and I can’t control the flames. I’m burning, dying and just when I’m about to slip into oblivion, I wake up.” Morgan crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her forearms as though trying to create friction for warmth. “I hate going back to that so-called lab in my mind. It’s like I have no control over what’s happening all over again.” She shuddered as some of the memories she never talked about slithered their way to the front of her mind.

  Christophe nodded and leaned on the edge of the desk. Reaching out, he left his hand facing palm up for her to take if she wanted. “How long have the nightmares been back?”

  She smiled and took his offered hand, forcing a smile. “A few weeks.”

  Christophe nodded and pursed his lips. “So before Nicholas left for San Francisco?”

  “Yes.”

  He ran a hand through his blond hair. “Did you tell him?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “He gets this frightened look in his eyes when I mention anything during that time.” She shook her head and sighed. “I know my husband worries and it’s sweet, but most of the time I can’t handle it.”

  “Cherie,” his voice soft, soothing, “have you spoken to Richard about the nightmares?”

  She glanced down at her desk. “Not yet.”

  Christophe nodded and smiled. “Then you and I shall strike a bargain.”

  “What do you have in mind?” she asked, eyes narrowed, knowing she shouldn’t trust him to be completely on the level.

  “You speak with Richard… or I will speak to Nicholai.” Christophe offered his hand again and flashed her his most charming smile. I know it’s dirty pool threatening to tell her husband. “Bastard,” she whispered before linking their hands, palm to palm.

  Christophe shrugged. “I know you, you know me.”

  “You’ve got a deal.”

  “Good.” They shook and released before he continued, “Now, we’ve got a situation here at the club that you might want to address before you leave the city for a few days.”

  Morgan’s cringed, breath hissed through her teeth. “I’m thinking it might be a month at least, most likely longer,” she said. “The plan was to go to New Orleans and come back, but since Nicholas is in San Francisco, he’s asked that I find some reason to go there and offer him some cover. My husband would like to stay under Samair’s radar as long as possible.” She paused and tapped the desk with her index finger. “I’ve been thinking that San Francisco might be a good place for the new club and I’ve already contacted some local realtors to set up meetings.”

  “So the short trip has grown into something more?”

  “You could say that. I will try to swing by and check in for an evening or two before I head up to The City.” she replied with a melancholy laugh. Morgan took a deep breath before offering her Blood Son a weary smile. “So, what happened down there?”

  Christophe rubbed his neck, then stretched it left and right before he said, “Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve heard rumblings that one of our staff members is either doing or selling illicit substances.”

  Morgan rolled her lips under her teeth before pursing her lips. “Who was it?”

  “What makes you think that I’ve found a suspect, let alone a perpetrator?”

  “The fact that you’re sitting across the desk from me right now.” Morgan smiled, letting a saccharine sweetness slip into her words. “You’d be out stalking them if you hadn’t figured out who it was. That whole four hundred years thing, runs both ways you know.”

  Christophe took a deep breath of his own. “It’s Patrice.”

  “That little redheaded vamp you hired about six and a half months ago?”

  “Yeah. She said all the right things. Didn’t ring any alarm bells.” He shrugged. “Seemed to be doing great. I don’t know what happened.”

  “You mentioned hearing rumors?”

  “Oui. They started about three weeks ago.”

  “That means she’s been doing it for a while.” Morgan glanced at her watch and sighed. She wouldn’t make it to the airport on time if she didn’t leave soon.

  Seeing the frustration begin to etch into her expression, Christophe said, “Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll handle it.”

  Morgan rolled the chair back from the desk and got to her feet. “Fire her. Give her detailed consequences of what will happen if she ever sets a toe in my club again. Inform Miguel. I’m certain he’ll want to keep an eye on her, and inform the rest of the staff. Explain why she was dismissed, remind them of our policies.”

  “Oui,” he answered again, nodding. He knew Morgan well enough to realize when to allow her temper to run its course.

  She stood and made a move toward the door but stopped when she caught the subtle shake of her Blood Son’s head. “You think it would be a bad idea if I go talk to her?”

  Christophe smiled and had the decency not to lie. “I did not say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I know you almost as well as you know me, mon ami.”

  He shrugged, accompanied by a grin. “This is quite true. So, why don’t you let me handle our wayward former waitress while you head off to look at new locations?”

  “The plane will wait for me. There are distinct advantages to having a private jet.”

  “True.” He paused, considering how to continue. Since the changes in her blood, after the kidnapping, Morgan could no longer heal the damage done by the sun as she once had. Everyone in her little family did their best to avoid the sensitive subject. “However, the sun will not wait, cherie, and don’t forget to take the time difference into account.”

  Morgan thought about what he’d said for a few moments before she agreed, nodding. “Good point. I’ve been putting this off far too long.” She stood and crossed the room, pausing with her hand on the door frame. “Take care of this situation. I don’t want to hear about any complications.”

  “Consider it done. Have a good trip.”

  “Thanks. I’ll check in after I land,” she said, leaving Christophe alone in the office.

  A little over an hour later, Morgan was seated and strapped into the cabin of her company’s private jet. She checked her phone for any messages while Eric and Richard got situated in their seats. She closed her eyes and gripped the leather armrests as the plane lifted off. No matter how many times she flew, she still felt a spike of terror when she felt the moment of weightlessness as the wheels left the ground. Once the jet had reached cruising altitude and the pilot had finished his announcements, Morgan took off her seatbelt, stood and walked over to Richard. He looked comfortable in
his reclined seat holding an open book in his hands. She settled into a seat across the small folding table from him and waited.

  In the three years since she’d met the Sorcerer who taught her to control the magic flowing through her veins, she’d learned that Richard hated to be interrupted while reading. She leaned back in her chair and waited until he closed his book and acknowledged her, a question clear in his eyes.

  “Do you have a couple minutes to talk?”

  “Of course.” He set the book down, and his hands went to the armrests of his seat. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve been having dreams again.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Not every night.”

  “But enough to worry you?”

  She nodded. “Enough that Christophe felt compelled to blackmail me into telling you.”

  “I see.” Richard nodded, a crease appearing between his brows. “Do you know if they’re simple or prophetic?”

  “As far as I know, so far they’re simple.”

  “Nothing like the ones you had three years ago? No one trying to send a message?”

  “No. I can only explain them as odd. Strange things happen in the dreams, and I wake up feeling put in place. I’m stuck in them for a few minutes before I really remember where I am.”

  “So, for lack of a better way to put it, nightmares?”

  “I suppose you could call them that.”

  Richard nodded, understanding in his denim blue eyes. “And you don’t want to tell Nicholas because with the Renegade in San Francisco he has enough on his plate already?”

  “Did Christophe call you?”

  “No, I just know you fairly well after three years of rattling around your head.”

  Morgan’s brows sank low. “I find that rather frightening.”

  “So, you’re worried because, as you’ve told me and every other vampire who’s spoken to me about their sleep patterns has said, vampires do not dream.”

  “No. When we sleep…” She made air quotes with her fingers. “It’s more like passing out. We’re just gone for however long our bodies need to repair and regenerate the damage that particular night or day has done.”

  “That’s what normal vampires experience.” He quirked one ginger brow and a half smile curled his lips. “But what about you?”

  “Most nights it’s like a vampire’s. However, there are nights when it’s more like a human’s… I guess, it has been a while.” She finished with a nervous chuckle and drummed her fingers on the armrest of her seat.

  “Does everything seem fuzzy when you wake up? Like you’ve had a little too much to drink and what sleep you got wasn’t exactly restful?” Eric asked as he took a seat across from Morgan, on Richard’s left.

  “What are you, Freud with fangs?” She shot the handsome young vampire a dirty look.

  Eric rolled his eyes and even stuck his tongue out at his mentor. “No, but I was human until three years ago. I remember what it’s like waking up.”

  “And what do you think I am?” Richard asked, eyebrows rising closer to his hairline.

  Eric opened his mouth as if to speak and closed it again, brow furrowing. “You know, I never thought about it. What are sorcerers? Do you guys sleep like humans? I mean I know you don’t because you hang around with us,” he made a vague circular gesture with one hand, “but what about the others?”

  Richard laughed and shook his head. “Sorcerers are human. We just have longer life spans because of working with magic. Members of my family are a bit of a special case. We are even longer lived than the average sorcerer, but I’d rather not go into that right now.” Richard tilted his head to one side and shrugged. “As for sleeping, it’s the same as any boring human unless we are practicing the art of dream manipulation. Then it’s not really sleeping at all.”

  “What’s that like?” Morgan asked.

  “It resembles meditation and exercises we do when we train. Not restful at all.” Richard leaned back in his seat and tapped the armrest a couple of times, getting lost in his thoughts for a couple seconds before he took a deep breath. “I think it’s time that we begin looking into the dream world. I am going to admit, spirit and the realm of dreams are not my strong suits. Give me a few weeks to start looking into where we should begin.”

  “Not a problem.” Morgan stood and smiled. “I’ll let you get back to your book.” She gestured to the well-worn copy of a fantasy novel sitting by his hand.

  “Thanks.” Richard picked up his book and Morgan went back to her seat. Eric disappeared into the cockpit, he’d shown an interest in learning to fly and the pilot had been showing him some of the basics. Morgan pulled out her smartphone, turned the music player on, and settled her headphones over her ears. She pushed her seat back as far as it would go, closed her eyes, and got lost in the melodies.

  4 – San Francisco, CA – September 23, 2012

  Nicholas Falstaff, Lead Enforcer for the Council of Ancients, also known as the Assassin, looked out the cab’s window as it pulled up in front of a questionable looking café and came to a halt. He pulled his hood up over his head, hiding his sandy hair. A pair of dark glasses hid his blue-grey eyes before he paid the driver, giving her a generous tip. He stepped out of the vehicle into the cool San Francisco evening. Waiting for the car to pull away from the curb and disappear into the night before he crossed the sidewalk, Nicholas looked up and down the street. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be seen, he walked into the café. The place appeared to be a tiny dive, but he knew it was all for show, so the majority of human clientele would look for other, nicer places to hang out. Behind the counter, a barista turned her attention to him.

  “What can I get for you?” she asked, giving him the once over as she fluffed her hair with one hand while taking in his, lean six foot plus form.

  He smiled and put his left hand on the counter, the platinum wedding band on full display as he studied the offerings. “Mocha latte, hold the whip. Double chocolate,” he said, making certain to flash her the barest hint of long fangs.

  The barista, either a vampire herself or one of the few humans trusted with their secret, wouldn’t stop him from entering the back room. From there a hidden staircase led to an upper floor, to the room upstairs where “other worldly beings” hung out.

  “You got it.” She turned and started mixing the drink. Nicholas looked around the coffee shop, his eyes scanning the few humans who sat at tables scattered around the room, their focus on their own affairs. “That’ll be four fifty.” The barista’s voice broke into his thoughts.

  When did a cup of coffee become so complicated and costly? He shook his head and laid a ten on the counter before picking up his drink, enjoying the warmth that spread through his hand. He didn’t bother waiting for change, just stepped to the side of the counter and with a quick glance over his shoulder, walked behind the curtain. At the end of the long, dark hallway a single yellowing light bulb cast jaundiced light on an entrance to the stairwell. Well, this feels like a setup for one of those horror movies that Eric adores, Nicholas thought as he strode down the hall and took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the second floor, the horror movie atmosphere disappeared.

  Filled with warm, modern furnishings, the room decor included low tables in light wood tones. Brushed steel accented tables set in the center of colorful clusters of chairs, sofas and, much like the space downstairs, almost empty. The sun had not yet set, and most of the vampires in the city would still be hunkered down in their safe rooms at home, waiting for nightfall. Nicholas found the vampire he sought and made a beeline for the table where Daniel sat, staring into a steaming cup of coffee. His Enforcer didn’t even look up when the Assassin sat in the chair across the table from him.

  “Daniel?” Nicholas said when the other vampire ignored his arrival. “You requested my assistance with a situation?”

  “I did.” The Enforcer’s voice held no emotion.

  Nicholas saw that purplish green circles had formed underneath Daniel’s da
rk brown eyes. His black hair had become a disheveled mop, and a deep frown tugged at the edges of his mouth. One of the longest serving enforcers. Despite being a throwback to the previous Lead Enforcer’s ways, he was still damn good at his job.

  The elder vampire pushed his drink to one side and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You’ve called me here, so tell me, what’s going on?”

  “There have been deaths.” Daniel shook his head. “Too many deaths.” His stare remained on the coffee as if he could divine the future from unseen patterns in the foam.

  “That’s why I’m here. Come on, man, talk to me. Why did you call me in?” Nicholas said, making a mental note to send Michael or Adain to cover the territory. Daniel needed a break once this latest crisis had been resolved. Maybe Morgan is right, it would seem that everyone does need a vacation every now and again.

  “I can’t get close to him. I think I know who he is and where he is, but every time I get close…” Daniel slammed his hand on the table, making the coffee cups rattle and jump in their saucers. “…he’s gone again like a fucking ghost.”

  “That’s why you called in the big gun. I’m here to help.” Nicholas sipped his coffee. “Start from the beginning.”

  “Three weeks ago, a body washed up on Baker Beach, drained of blood. The locals wrote it off as an accident because of the long, deep cut on the arm. Two days later, a woman was found in an alley off one of the most popular club hangout areas. Again, no blood. Her throat had been slashed. Three days later, another one showed up, made to look like a suicide. You get the picture.” Daniel sighed and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I started asking around, trying to get a fix on who might be responsible. When I found the culprit, I was going to give them the old clean up after yourself, the Enforcers aren’t your mommy speech, but I can’t find him. I think I’ve focused on the right guy, but I can’t get close enough to confirm it.”

  “What do you know about the killer?” Nicholas asked, trying to keep his spooked Enforcer on track with the facts.