Forged in Flame (9 page)

Morgan knew she shouldn’t be dancing with this strange vampire. She had to find Christophe and go home.
Courtesy be damned, I want to leave now.
She started scanning the crowd in search of her Blood Son when, something brushed up against the edges of her psyche. She shook her head, trying to clear it. As if reading her mind, her partner reached up, his cool, ungloved hand cupped her cheek. His touch sent a jolt through her. Morgan screamed and pushed him away.
 

She caught sight of Christophe across the dance floor, his total attention on the redhead in his arms. The laughter of the party guests filled her senses, drowning out the orchestra as they continued to dance, oblivious to the drama playing out in their midst. The plague doctor reached up and removed his mask, revealing Lucian’s grandfatherly face. He smiled as a strand of salt and pepper hair slipped out from underneath the mask.

Morgan took several steps back as a syringe filled with a yellowish substance appeared in his hand and he advanced on her. The crowd stopped dancing. The silence shattered with high-pitched laughter. Masks hid the reveler’s faces but not the madness within. From deep inside the sea of attendees, Morgan heard Christophe cry out, only to have the sound cut off in a choked gasp, as the laughter rose to a fever pitch.
 

Lucian’s normally blue eyes had gone red like the lenses in his mask. He held out his hand as if in offering. Morgan met his strange eyes and stood her ground. A sad smile curling half of his mouth, as he nodded.

The partygoers around her reached out and clawed at her, ripping her sleeves and scratching, leaving bloody trails on her arms. Synchronized and moving as though they’d been ordered to, the crowd pulled Morgan to the ground and held her down.

Lucian approached and knelt at her side. He reached out and pushed her head hard to one side, raising the syringe above her throat and pushing the plunger. Morgan called upon all her strength and ability but struggled to free her arms—too many hands held her down. She screamed, feeling the heat within her reach a boiling point as the world around her shattered and she fell into oblivion.

Morgan’s eyes snapped open, adjusting to the darkness in a moment. She took three deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves and shivering as the remnants of the unsettling dream drifted into the recesses of her memory.

A quick glance at the wall clock reminded her that she still had two weeks before the masquerade ball. When she reached in the nightstand drawer for her dream journal, the cell phone rang. She knew who it was without seeing the caller ID.
The Blood Bond is supposed to be helpful. Not give my husband a direct line into my thoughts. It’s damned near impossible to keep a secret from him anymore.
She thought as she picked up her phone and tapped the bottom center of the screen to answer.
 

“Nicholai. I am fine. Just a nightmare,” she said without any other greeting.

“They’re getting worse, aren’t they?” Her husband’s voice came over the line with a fine edge of frustration coloring his words.

Morgan smiled, knowing that after seven centuries he still worried about her. The thought warmed her heart. “I’ll have another chat with Richard on the flight tonight. See if he can work on finding some way to keep the nightmares at bay.”

“Good.” He sighed and through their shared blood, she sensed his relief.
 

Morgan chuckled. “You worry too much, my love.”

“After thinking I’d lost you three years ago…” During a slight pause, she heard him swallow hard. “I think I worry just the right amount, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Nicholas.”

“Is that your way of telling me you want to go back to sleep?” She heard him shift in bed.
 

“Goddess, no.” Morgan rolled over, getting comfortable. The thought of going back to sleep frightened her and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine.

Nicholas chuckled. He sensed her unease. Her own stubbornness kept Morgan from opening up about it.
I’ll just have to wait until she’s ready.
Smiling, he shifted his grip on the phone and said, “Well, we seem to have about an hour or so before the sun goes down.”
 

“Oh my.” She feigned surprise. “Whatever shall we talk about?”

Nicholas chuckled, a masculine sound that sent a pleasurable thrill through her. “Well, I’m certain we can come up with something,” he promised.
 

“Now I may have to hold you to that.” Morgan smiled. “So what do you have in mind, Mister Falstaff?” She snuggled down into her pillows and blankets as Nicholas spoke.
 

Later that night, Morgan pulled up in front of The Dracul, stopping at the valet stand, she put the car in park and stepped out. Danny one of her two heads of security came out of the building and jogged over to the driver’s side of her car. The valet nodded and slipped behind the wheel, easing the car into a spot close to the doors.
 

“Hey Boss. We weren’t expecting you.” Danny said.
 

“Hey Danny,” Morgan shrugged and they started walking toward the main entrance. “I wasn’t planning to be here but there’s something that I need to take care of in the office.”

“Whatever it is, it must be important.”

“You could say that.” Morgan muttered as they crossed the threshold into the club.
 

“I’m guessing you’re not going to want to be bothered?”

“Not unless it’s Charles or Christophe.”

“Charles isn’t in till later. He’s on a second date with that Senator’s daughter,” Danny said.

“Oh, that’s not going to go well,” They wove their way through the crowd and Morgan paused at the base of the spiral staircase leading up to the office.

“She seems like good people.”

“Good human, my friend, and therein lies the problem.” Morgan said before she jogged upstairs.
 

Fifteen minutes later, she sat behind the desk no closer to making a decision. She held the envelope in her left hand, tapping it against the fingers of her right. The continuing nightmares were leaving her feeling restless, but she wouldn’t have another chance to speak with Richard until she met him at the airport. So, she’d gone to the office hoping to find a measure of peace. Instead, she found nothing but a reminder of something that she could no longer ignore.
 

Christophe stood in the doorway to the office, watching Morgan, waiting for her to notice him. After standing there for what felt like a year, he stepped inside the office and let the door close behind him. He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. She remained focused on the small square card in her hand.
 

“Morgan? Is the card going to come to life and eat you?” he asked, breaking the long silence. “Because if that’s the case, I’ll stick around to see. If it’s just a card, then I’d like to touch base and get back downstairs to the club.”

“It’s an invitation,” she answered without rising to the bait or teasing him back.

Christophe frowned. He’d given her a golden opportunity, and she hadn’t taken it.
I know something’s bothering her, the question is, what
. “Unless it’s the eighteenth century and, that is an invitation to visit Madame Guillotine…” He crossed the room and plucked it from her hand. “It should not elicit such a response, not even from you. I know how you distain parties.” The card looked to be a standard invitation, black with silver and purple metallic writing embossed on it.

Morgan reached out and snatched the card back before Christophe could turn it over and see who had sent it. “It’s for a ball.” She turned the invitation over in her fingers. “In San Francisco.” She dropped it onto the surface of the desk and stepped away from it. “On Halloween.”

Christophe frowned and shook his head. “That’s three weeks away. How long have you known about this?” He reached out and picked it up, still uncertain what the big deal was about a Halloween ball.

She glanced down at her hands and shrugged. “About three weeks.”
 

“You haven’t made it a secret that you’re scouting locations for a new club in the city. Someone you know and despise found out and now you have to go or be rude.” He shrugged and managed to make the gesture appear elegant.
 

“It’s from Zachary.”
 

Christophe dropped the card back on the desk. “
Merde.
” His right hand went through his blond locks and his lavender eyes narrowed. “Is there not some edict or law stating that once you’ve shunned your Sire, you are no longer allowed to invite them to social functions?” He rubbed his hands together as though some strange substance had rubbed off the card onto his skin.

“There kind of is.” She shrugged and continued, “But this is Zachary we’re talking about. You know he’s never been a
letter of the laws
kind of guy.”

“So, respectfully decline.” He shrugged.
 

“I can’t.” Morgan sighed and started pacing. “I’m not even in town yet, and he’s painted me into a corner.”

“Why? How has he painted you into a corner?”

“Because, all the important vampires in the city who are either Nomads or Dynastic are going to know that I’m in town. And if Zachary’s up to his old tricks, each of them will know he’s extended this invitation. Though none will have heard it from him, of course.” She picked up the card and began tapping it against the fingers of her other hand. “If I don’t show, it will be seen as an insult to one of the more powerful Nomads in Northern California.”

“And we don’t want to piss off the populace before we open the new location.”

“Oh, we definitely want to wait as long as possible to piss them off,” she answered with a smirk.

“There’s got to be a way out of it.” He shrugged. “Cancel the trip.”

“I can’t. Meetings have been scheduled, some a month or more in advance, and it will look bad not only to the vampire community but also to the business community if I cancel at such a late date.” Morgan shook her head and tossed the card on the desk.

“At least Nicholas will be there, and you can attend with your husband.”

“Because of the situation with Daniel’s death and the Renegade, no one knows Nicholas is in town.” She sighed. “Even though I’d like to attend the ball with my husband,” she said, shaking her head, “it’s not going to happen.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She flashed him a sugary sweet, too pleasant to mean anything good smile.

Christophe felt a chill run down his spine before he asked, “Why not?”

“Because you’re going to be my date,” Morgan said, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
 

Christophe stared for a moment before he shook his head. “What?”

“Come on. Who else would I invite to a party?” she asked with a shrug. “That is, if Nicholas can’t make it, of course.”

He sighed, deciding to give in. “Whatever shall I wear?”

Morgan bit her lip and had the good graces to look away, sheepish before answering, “I don’t know but make sure you pick something to match for me.”

“Even though I know it is a late date, I will see to it.”

“Nothing too risqué,” Morgan cautioned. “This event will be dress to impress.”

“As you wish.” He inclined his head to her and smiled.

“All right. Enough about this San Francisco mess and my wayward Blood Child.” She took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of her nose before glancing up. “You came up in here with your own purpose. What’s up?” she asked, changing the subject.