Forged in Flame (36 page)

Darkness crept in along the edges of his vision, a single tear slipped out of one eye. Braden’s mind turned to Peter. His heart ached, and he hated that their last conversation had been an argument, no, a fight.

Jayson drank, driving his fangs deeper with each swallow, enjoying the feel of the tips ripping through flesh and sinew. The human’s blood filled him with energy and strength and made Jayson want to laugh. This man had been easy to trap after a fight with his lover. The weak human sought a sympathetic ear. 

At the other end of the alley, on the sidewalk, a woman stood with her back to the proceedings. She didn’t need to see the action to complete her assignment. The Master had given her strict instructions to follow. “
When eternal life is on the line, it’s best to not piss off the vampire offering it.”

Leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, she held her bag steady, knowing the camera hidden within would capture the footage he wanted. She only had to wait until the police were on the scene before slipping away.
 

A strange three-way standoff began, with Morgan and Zachary staring down Samair. The Lord of San Francisco’s eyes were narrowed; a look of contempt settled on his features. After a moment, he smiled and leaned back in his chair, appearing content to wait for one of the other vampires to make the first move.

Christophe stepped toward Michael as his eyes scanned the room. Rolling waves of restless whispers ebbed and flowed through the crowd. Some of the younger vampires shifted their weight from one foot to the other while the older ones had gone still.

“What’s Zachary doing?” Christophe whispered.

“My guess is there will be a challenge issued soon,” Michael replied.

Christophe fought to keep his expression neutral. He’d never witnessed a formal challenge, but from what he’d been taught, members of the Dynastic Bloodlines were not invited nor wanted.

“What do we do then?”

“We bail,” Michael answered with a casual shrug. “If it goes well, then he’s fine. If it doesn’t, we don’t want to be caught on the firing line.”

On the dais, Samair rose to his feet again and took a step away from his throne. Ignoring Morgan, he directed his question to Zachary. “Do you have proof of this slander?”
 

“No.” The other vampire’s voice stayed strong, steady, with an air of confidence that he did not feel. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, the soles of his shoes making a hollow sound in the silent room. “But I know you killed her.”

“Of course, I killed her.” Samair shook his head and rolled his eyes. “It was a
duel
. And that, in case you have forgotten, Amberhill, is not murder.”

“Did the Lord of the City just roll his eyes?” Christophe whispered.

“Aye, I believe he did.” Michael shifted the cane to his sword hand.

“It changes nothing, Samair.” Zachary’s words were sharp, the reproach clear. “You used poison to wound Melinda. That was not part of the agreed upon rules for the challenge.” His voice quavered with emotion, and his hands clenched into tight fists at his side.

“That was almost a century ago.” Samair leaned forward in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Your Blood Daughter should not have made the challenge if she wasn’t up to it.”

“I am giving you this one chance, Samair. Step aside. Allow your people to choose a new leader, and I will let you live.” The uncertainty and emotion were gone from his voice as Zachary spoke.

“Are you issuing a challenge?” A shadow of fear settled over Samair’s face when he asked the question, but his voice remained steady.

“Yes.” Zachary took three steps forward and met Samair’s gaze. In a loud voice, he proclaimed, “I, Zachary Amberhill, Blood Son of Morrigan Blackstone who is Blood Daughter of Julian Constantine, Blood Son of Lucian, Blood Brother of Magnus, the first of our kind, am challenging you, Samair, the Bastard.” He paused, letting the insult sting for a moment. Then he finished the formal declaration in slow, distinct words. “For the rule of San Francisco’s Nomadic vampires.”

“Can he invoke blood ties like that?” Christophe whispered.

“Yes.” Michael breathed. “He disowned Morgan, but before that he’d been part of her acknowledged bloodline. He has every right to invoke his blood, though I didn’t think he was paying attention when we talked about it last night.”
 

“Does it screw us?” Christophe whispered.

“Only if he loses,” Michael replied in a low whisper and shook his head.

“How so?”

“It makes Morgan’s and, therefore, Lucian’s line look weak.”

“That can’t be good.”

“It’s not.”

“So we hope he wins?” Christophe asked though the answer seemed obvious.

Michael chuckled and slipped his hands into his pockets. “We were hoping for that before he opened this fun can of worms.”

“Nicholas is not going to be happy when he finds out about this.”

“The Lead Enforcer always knew the risk.” Michael shrugged. “So now the stakes are higher. You owned a casino. Didn’t you like the risk?”

Christophe chuckled. “At the Coffin Club, the players took the risks. I didn’t.”

Up on the dais, Samair smiled and leaned back again in his throne-like chair. He chuckled and turned his gaze on Morgan. “You are behind this?”

Morgan didn’t react to the accusation knowing that Samair sought any chance to hold onto his power, like any despot who sees the writing on the wall before realizing that it’s too late to change the outcome.

Zachary stepped in front of Morgan, blocking Samair’s line of sight. “The challenge has been made. Do you accept, or are you a coward?”

“You dare call me a coward?” The Lord hissed, fangs flashing.

“Yes.” Zachary’s smile widened before he continued, “Answer or be branded as such before everyone in attendance.”
 

Samair walked to the edge of the dais, stepping around the circle of humans he kept around him. He stepped on a woman’s hair and she cried out in pain, but he ignored it.

With a cold smile, his voice echoed in the great hall, “I, Samair, Lord of the City of San Francisco, sentence you to summary execution.”

“You cannot do that once a challenge has been issued.” A small white-haired vampire stepped out of the gathered crowd. She had spared a glance at Morgan before moving to stand beside Zachary. “As Amberhill said,” she nodded toward him, “you must answer the challenge or be branded a coward.”

Morgan waited for a moment, feeling Samair’s glare on her, waiting until he’d moved on before she drifted back to stand with Michael and Christophe. She couldn’t do anything to help Zachary now.

Win or lose, his fate is in his own hands,
she thought.

“You know Nicholas would want you to leave now,” Michael said under his breath though he knew a couple of vampires near them might hear.

“I know,” Morgan whispered. “However, there’s no easy way out. We cannot leave without making Zachary appear weak. Unless you have any suggestions, I think we’re stuck here for the moment.”

Michael scanned the crowd, looking for something to extricate them from the situation. “Yeah,” he said with a sigh, “I got nothing.” He watched Nomads drift forward, some standing behind Zachary, others stepping closer to Samair.

Across the rough circle that had been created in the center of the room someone pushed through the crowd. Bodies shifted, making way for forward progress as a whisper passed among the onlookers. Morgan frowned at the vampire who stepped into the open space between the combatants.

A petite woman by any standards, she had dark brown hair styled in tight ringlets that were pulled back to frame her heart-shaped face.

“Well, that’s not at all what I expected,” Morgan whispered as Savannah made eye contact with her.
 

“Morrigan Blackstone, Michael O’Brien, and Christophe Marchon.” Her Southern drawl smooth… words drawn out like honey when spooned from a jar. Flashing a hint of fang for a second before speaking, she said, “While I understand your desire to support one of your bloodline, I am afraid your presence is no longer acceptable. The charges have been answered and a challenge has been issued. This is now an internal matter for our people.”

Aware of the accepted protocol, Morgan nodded and spun a tendril of her power out, seeking Samair’s mind as Richard had taught her. She slipped a spark of doubt through a tiny crack in his weak mental defenses, not too much, nothing that would draw suspicion, but just enough that the other vampire might hesitate. It gave Zachary the chance to slip past Samair’s physical defenses and win.

Satisfied, Morgan turned and strode out of the room as if it were her decision to leave.

Nicholas stepped through the door onto the roof and paused, closing his eyes and focusing on what his hearing revealed. When the whip-like crack of a gun with a silencer ripped through the night, he knew Eric had taken the modern option. Another shot followed a few seconds later.

Can’t say I don’t approve, because I do. No sense playing around with this vermin.

“It seems as though your detective has a minor problem,” Julian said, pointing his cane toward the end of the alley where Nicholas had seen the bright pop of a flash out of the corner of his eye.
 

Nicholas heard Eric’s wordless exclamation of frustration followed by two sets of footfalls retreating from their location.
 

“Oh, will you look at that?” Julian mused as he tossed his cane into the air and caught it in his right hand. “He just ran away and left the body there for anyone to find.” He turned to look at Nicholas, drawing his concealed sword from the cane. “Haven’t you taught him better than that?”

“Of course I have. I also taught him to assess risk. He thought the human with a camera might be more dangerous. Social media, you know,” Nicholas said with a shrug, projecting more confidence than he really felt.
I also happen to know that there’s a detective who will make sure this gets lumped in with the growing file of weird shit, but is never really investigated.
 

“I know nothing of the kind… social media, social diseases… all the same.” Julian shook his head and tossed the empty sheath aside. “Morgan used to try and get me connected to one of those infernal devices, but she never succeeded. I am somewhat surprised you know about it. It doesn’t seem wise for the Assassin.”

“Oh, it is. My Enforcers and I have a Facebook page where our reports are posted. The humans believe it’s fiction. Some of the comments can be quite hilarious,” Nicholas said, sarcasm oozing from every syllable.

“Are we going to dance,
Assassin
?”

“Once you decide you’ve had enough of the foreplay.” Nicholas drew his own weapon, tossing the sheath to the ground and settling into a ready stance.

“I’ve heard for decades, no, make that centuries, about how you’re a natural swordsman. Perhaps it is time I put the rumors to rest and see for myself.” Julian saluted and closed rank to meet the other vampire.

They touched blades, and each took one step back.
 

Nicholas struck out at Julian, a quick testing hit, to measure the other vampire’s skill. His blow had been answered by a quick block and counterattack. Nicholas tried not to smile as he blocked and disengaged.