Forged in Flame (34 page)

“Do you want me to talk to Nicholas?”

“I turned my back on the Dynasty.” He shook his head. “I can’t go running to Nicholai every time I have trouble with the local Lord.”

“Are you planning to relocate then?”

“That would be dishonorable and is not an option.” Zachary sighed. “Samair has Devin, my donor. I don’t think he will live if I run. Though I may have turned my back on the Dynasty, I still had all of my donors sign and abide by the Covenant. I can’t just leave them there.”

“Very well.” Morgan nodded. She’d been asking the questions trying to get him to give her some indication of his mindset. “How can I help?”

Zachary took a deep breath and continued, even though he didn’t want to. He preferred to stand on his own without help. It wasn’t happening. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but will you stand with me?”

“You do realize that since I was involved in…” Morgan said, pausing for a breath, “an incident a few years ago, I no longer go
anywhere
alone.”

His lips quirked up in a half smile that gave Morgan her answer. “I do. Your bodyguards would be welcome.”

Morgan nodded her understanding that Zachary had requested her presence to bolster his position. “And since Christophe and I were both guests at the party, it will also show that we do not blame you and hold no ill will for what happened. So be it. In the meantime, I will be in touch with Michael.” Morgan named one of Nicholas’s two Blood Sons who worked at the Council’s compound as his top lieutenants. “Michael is one of the most knowledgeable people I know when it comes to vampire law. If he can’t recite the statute, he can ask Sophia. As a Councilor, she should know something that could help.”

“Under a strict reading of Council Law, what happened was a breach of hospitality.”

“As is taking your donor.” Morgan paused as a thought crossed her mind. “Please, please tell me that you didn’t give him to Samair’s people willingly?”

“No. Of course, I did not.” Zachary stood and cowered as though he’d been slapped. “They took him while he was out running errands.”

“Good.” Morgan nodded and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Try not to worry. We’ll figure something out.”

“What if we lose?” He shook his head, a lost expression crossing his face.

Morgan considered her response and decided to take a page from Marcus’s playbook and be blunt. “Then you won’t have any cares.”
 

“Oh God, maybe this was a mistake.” Zachary’s hands went to his head again, but this time he grabbed fistfuls at the temples. As she watched, he tugged so hard that Morgan thought he would rip out large chunks. “I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“Have you considered the idea that perhaps it is Samair who should be dragged down? I mean the idiot is laying blame and taking down a potential rival rather than appearing before the Council asking for aid in seeking vengeance against The Order of the Black Rose.” Morgan bit her lower lip, revealing the tip of one fang.

“Are you suggesting that the legal challenge be answered by an actual one?”

“There are many vampires in the city who are not at all pleased with Samair and his handling of a lot of issues facing the Nomads of the area.”

“You’re a member of the Dynasty. Aren’t you supposed to stay out of these things?”

“And if the current Lord or Lady were threatening all vampires?” Morgan countered, instead of giving him time to answer she pressed on. “Isn’t it the duty of
every
vampire to assure that the secret is preserved?”

“I turned my back on all of this!” Zachary lashed out, stepping up so only a few inches separated him from her.

“No, you didn’t. That’s impossible. You are a vampire and what any of our kind does affects us all.” She stayed calm and didn’t back down. “Come on Zachary, I need you to do this, even though I know you’ll hate it and find any kind of power distasteful. Maybe that’s what makes you the best choice.”

“I do not want to challenge Samair!”

“It may be the only option.”

Zachary turned his back on her and walked away shaking his head. “I do not know if I can best him.” He stopped walking and his shoulders slumped. “I have not kept up my sword work like I should.”

“We can do something about that.” Morgan sighed when Zachary shook his head to object. “I know it won’t be much, but I’m sure we can convince Nicholas to spar with you. If not, I can help. Marcus and my husband insist that I’ve been lax in my sword work, but I’m not bad.”

“That’s supposed to help?”

“Lax by Nicholas and Marcus’s standards isn’t the same as for everyone else,” Christophe interjected from where he’d been watching the entire scene unfold. The summons lay on the bar in front of him, and he’d smoothed it out so he could read it.

“Good point.” Zachary wrung his hands. “Is there anything else we can do?”

“Not right now. Just try to stay calm and maybe start seeing what support you have among the other Nomads in town,” Christophe offered.
 

“I doubt there will be much after that disaster of a ball.” Zachary walked over to the bar and raised the glass of amber liquid his Blood Brother had poured.

“Zachary, if you keep talking like that, there is no reason to even try,” Morgan said. “You might as well start making sure your Blood Will is up-to-date.”

“I see your point. I will do that.”

“That was not my point.”

“I know, Sire,” he emphasized their blood ties in words and body language. “It is still sound advice. I need to be sure that Devin and certain others are taken care of, should things go poorly.” He sipped his drink and frowned.
 

Morgan winked at Christophe. “I don’t imagine they will.”

32 - San Francisco, CA - November 8, 2012

Nicholas drifted through the crowd, keeping a careful eye out for the man in the photograph with Emily Stanton. She’d been a popular young woman; most of the people attending carried her photo or spoke her name. Despite his preternaturally sensitive hearing, Nicholas didn’t hear Steve Dawson’s name uttered much at all.

The Lead Enforcer kept Eric in sight and wished for the hundredth time that Marcus wasn’t in New Orleans and that Christophe had been able to join him. However, it wasn’t in the cards. He needed Marcus halfway across the country, chasing down information on The Order of the Black Rose. Christophe had insisted that he accompany Morgan to Zachary’s trial which Nicholas wholeheartedly endorsed. Still, with the size of the crowd, he felt as though they were looking for a tiny needle in a massive haystack.

In his pocket, his smartphone vibrated with an incoming call. He glanced around before pulling it out and checked the caller ID. He had taken a moment to read the number before answering.

“Nicholas here, how can I help you, Inspector?” His voice remained low, slowly drifting away from the humans. He didn’t need some foolish mortal overhearing their conversation.
 

“He’s here.” Grace’s voice came over the line without any pleasantries, a fact that Nicholas appreciated. “I’ve got eyes on him right now.”

Nicholas froze for a second and scanned the area, trying to get eyes on Grace. “Where are you?” His anxiety rose when he couldn’t find her.

“Down by the house.” Her whisper threaded through with a fine edge of panic. “He’s standing with friends and family of the victims.”

“Where are your people, Inspector?”

“They’re around, but none of them are paying attention to your guy.”

“Good,” Nicholas said as he got a clear line of sight on Grace. “Sit tight, Inspector, and let Eric and I take care of him.”

“This feels so wrong,” she said as Nicholas approached the area where mourners were gathered. Grace stood on the fringe of the crowd.

“Don’t overthink. You’ve seen what he can do, and you’re aware of what our kind can survive. Let my people handle it. All I need from you is to keep your people away, for their safety and your own. Can you do that for me, Grace?” He stopped far enough back in the crowd where Jayson wouldn’t be able to see him, but he could watch the young vampire and follow, waiting for his moment.
 

On the other end of the line, he heard the young woman sigh. “Yeah, I can do that. Do you need me to get in touch with Eric?” Her voice matched the calm, cool and collected investigator coming through in a crisis.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have it covered. Just focus on keeping your people out of this.”

“All right. Happy hunting.”

“Stay safe, Inspector,” Nicholas said. He hung up, not wanting to be further distracted.

Nicholas sent Eric a quick text telling him where to find the young vampire. He waited for confirmation before sliding the phone back into his pocket and returning his attention to the proceedings.

At the stairs leading to the entry of Emily’s apartment building, stood a handsome older man and a woman who would have been beautiful if not for the mask of agony. The woman held a framed photograph of Emily. Her husband stood beside her, telling stories about his daughter and begging for the public’s help in finding her killer.

Nicholas shook his head, wishing he could do something that would help the family or offer them the closure they craved. The best they could do was stop Jayson so he didn’t kill anyone else.

“I’ve always hated these things,” Eric whispered low enough that only Nicholas would hear.

“Agreed.”

“What’s the plan?”

“We watch and observe. Then we follow him. If the opportunity presents itself, we take action.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Eric balled his hands into fists at the possibility that Jayson might slip through their grasp. As Emily’s father finished his speech, he broke down sobbing. Eric’s rage grew. “I hope we end the son of a whoring bitch soon.”

“You’ve been hanging around with Marcus far too long. The next thing you know you’ll be adding hells to Dante’s Inferno.” Nicholas’s teasing expression instantly turned into a cringe.

The gathering started to breakup. Near the makeshift stage, Jayson wandered toward the parents of both victims. He appeared to be offering condolences. After a few minutes of pressing the flesh, the murderer walked away from the gathering and faded into the night.

Nicholas and Eric let the Renegade get a lead on them before following.

33 - San Francisco, CA - November 8, 2012

Zachary paced in front of the stone edifice that housed the seat of power for the Lord of San Francisco, feeling his stress level rise. He checked his watch again and saw that only a few minutes had passed since he’d last looked. Thirty minutes remained before his appearance in front of Samair, but the minutes seemed to be ticking away at the rate of one an hour. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone as a long, black car coasted to a stop at the curb.
 

The rear passenger door opened, and Christophe stepped out. The French vampire scanned the area, amethyst eyes intense. Satisfied with what he saw, he stepped away from the car toward Zachary.
 

Michael O’Brien emerged and checked the area too before reaching back inside the car for Morgan’s hand. His Sire caught Zachary’s eye and smiled before the trio started walking his direction. They all wore black suits with blood red shirts. Each carried matching ebony canes.

Zachary gave a wry smile. “How come I didn’t get the dress code memo?” he asked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Because you’re not supposed to look like you got it,” Morgan answered as she looked him up and down satisfied with his choice of a charcoal gray pinstriped suit with a dark amethyst shirt.

“Ah.” Zachary drew the sound out as he realized what his Sire had planned. “So I am playing the outcast?” he asked to confirm his suspicions.

“Yes,” Morgan said. “You have walked away from the Dynasty, so you shouldn’t appear to fit in with those of our ilk.” The twist of her words brought a smile to Zachary’s face.

“Shall we? I wouldn’t put it past Samair to have his clocks running fast,” Michael said as he nodded toward the building.
 

“After you.” Morgan gestured Zachary ahead of the group.
 

He nodded his thanks, turned, and feeling a yawing pit in the bottom of his stomach as he walked into the building, head held high. A spectator might think he owned the place. The other three vampires fell into step a discreet distance behind him. The pit grew with each step they took toward the audience chamber. When the great wooden doors opened, he had to fight the urge to turn and run until the sun forced him underground.

Spectators and witnesses filled the cavernous meeting hall. Vampires of every class mingled together, chatting and sipping drinks as if they were attending a party, not a trial with a man’s life on the line.

Zachary scanned the crowd and found several allies who made eye contact and nodded.
I’m not alone in this. I can do what’s right. God, I hope Michael’s right, and I don’t get myself killed tonight.
Reaching deep within himself, Zachary found a spark of courage and stepped into the room. Before he’d made it more than a few feet beyond the threshold, a vampire dropped to one knee at his side.

“What business do you have with the Lord Samair?” Her voice came across as little more than a tremulous whisper. Somewhere behind, Morgan made a sound of disgust.