Forged in Flame (29 page)

“We’ve made the obligatory appearance. Do you want to leave?”

“You know we can’t,” she said, rolling her eyes, “because we have to wait for the host to make his toast at the stroke of midnight.”

Christophe sighed and checked the pocket watch tucked into his vest. “Leave it to Zachary to have a flair for the dramatic.”

“You can bet he picked it up hanging around Counselors and other members of the Dynasty before he turned Nomad.”

“Which practically guarantees he’s going to ramble on with a long-winded toast.”

“Exactly,” Morgan said. With a sigh, she sipped the champagne.

As soon as she began drinking, the drop of blood slipped free from whatever kept it whole, and it dispersed in the drink. That provided an aftertaste of cinnamon and something faintly metallic. She nodded and took another sip.

“Something wrong?” Christophe asked.

“Just the usual,” she quipped.

“There’s only one cure for that.”

“What’s that, my friend?”

“Dancing and drinking. Maybe not in that order.”

“Why does that sound suspiciously like your cure for everything?” Morgan pursed her lips and tilted her head to the left.”

“Because it is.”
 

“Just don’t let anyone cut in for a while.” She frowned.

Christophe finished his champagne and set the glass on a passing server’s tray. He looked at Morgan and then at her glass. “Don’t expect me to dance while you have that.”

“Spoilsport.” Morgan laughed and finished her drink, setting the empty glass on a nearby table.
 

Christophe bowed low and offered her his hand with a melodramatic flourish. “Shall we dance, milady?”

“Certainly,” Morgan replied, and allowed her Blood Son to lead her into the crowd of vampires. He put an arm around her waist, and she mirrored his action. In moments, they were swept up in the swirl of the ballroom.
 

After a few songs, they strolled to the edge of the room. Morgan felt a little light-headed, and wanted to rest for a minute or two. When a dark-haired Asian woman in a 1920s flapper costume with massive ostrich feathers on her mask asked Christophe to dance, Morgan waved him away. He nodded and swept the other woman into his arms. Morgan watched the pair for several minutes. She wandered among the other guests, enjoying drifting from one conversation to another. The orchestra finished a sensual tango and transitioned to a dark, moody waltz.
 

Feeling an icy thread of fear slither up her spine, Morgan scanned the crowd, her eyes roving from one face to the next. An involuntary shiver ran through her as she caught sight of a vampire in a Plague Doctor costume. She gasped, the memory of a dream crashed into her.
Lucian would never be so foolhardy, would he?

Morgan started walking toward the Plague Doctor, but he turned and went deeper into the room. she pushed her way through the crowd searching for him. When she reached the other end of the room, she turned, taking in everything. He had disappeared.

She caught sight of Zachary as he drifted through the crowd, taking a moment to talk with any of the guests who stopped him. He turned and their eyes met. Zachary acknowledged her with a nod before finishing a conversation and started making his way in her direction. Several times other guests tried to stop him, but he brushed them off. As he got closer, he grabbed two glasses from the tray of a passing server.

“Morgan.”

“Lovely party, Zachary.”

“Thank you. I do try to make a splash,” he said, extending one hand out to her, offering the drink.
 

“Thank you for the invitation.”
 

“I’m not very good at the whole small talk thing right now.” Zachary sighed and shook his head. “I admit that I had an ulterior motive in extending an invitation to you and Nicholai.”

“I am sorry Nicholas wasn’t able to attend. He is in town hunting a renegade and could not shirk his duty, even for one night.”

“Understandable. However, I would like to discuss something with you, although I am afraid it is not a lighthearted matter.”

She eyed his hand with growing suspicion. Since he had turned his back on her and the Dynastic way of life, there hadn’t been many times when they had spoken alone. “Considering our relationship in the past few decades, I’m not surprised.” She took a deep breath. “Very well, what would you like to discuss?”

“It is not something I prefer to speak of in front of my guests.” He shrugged and ran his hand through his dark hair. Behind his mask, Morgan noticed the tension in his expression.
 

She considered his request before nodding, “Perhaps we should go where there are fewer ears?”

“That would be preferable.” Zachary crooked his elbow, offering his arm, and together they strolled through the ballroom out to one of the large empty balconies. The lights of the city twinkled in the distance through the trees. He released Morgan’s arm and stepped to the railing, staring into the night.
 

“So, how may I help you, Zachary?” Morgan asked. When he didn’t react, she crossed to stand beside him. “I know I am not Nicholai, nor do I have his authority, but I do have his ear. I can speak with him about whatever you like.”

“I trust you will inform him and be circumspect about whom the information is shared with.” Zachary straightened to his full height and clasped his hands behind his back.
 

“Whatever you tell me will go no further than Nicolai and whoever he deems needs to know.”
What is going on? He’s not usually like this. Then again, it’s been a few decades, maybe something’s happened that’s made him this guarded. But he wasn’t this way when we arrived. No, something’s wrong.
 

“An alarming number of my Blood Children and other vampires I know have gone missing in the past few months.”

Morgan frowned. Though they hadn’t seen each other in almost a century, she knew him well enough to know when he tried to sugarcoat a situation.
Damn it, Zachary, I don’t need your tap dancing bullshit.
She wanted to say it out loud, but knew he would take it as an insult, so she tempered her response.

“Missing or dead?”

“Both. Three Blood Children are dead. The situation with my friends, I have no way of knowing what has happened. All I know is that I can no longer reach them. I have gone to their homes and checked with their donors. No one knows where they can be found.”

“How many friends?”

“Six.”

She inhaled and held her breath, letting it out on a slow ten count to keep her own rising fear in check. Nicholas would need as many facts as possible.

“I’m going to assume one or more of them had invitations to the ball.”

“All of them did. Their names have not been called because they have not arrived.”

“Have you spoken to the local Enforcer?”

“I have… but… she is new and… not responsive to the likes of me.” Long pauses between the words indicated his need to choose them with care.

“The likes of you?” Morgan asked, not wanting to consider what he meant.
 

“Vampires who have turned their backs on the Dynasty.”

Morgan sighed and began pacing. She slipped her mask off and rubbed her temples with her free hand. Zachary stood in silence, watching intently but uncertain of her reaction.

“You’re telling me that when you spoke with her, the Enforcer of San Francisco trivialized the disappearance of vampires simply because they were not members of the Dynasty?”

“I believe so.”

“Nicholas will hear about this as soon as I see him. I’ll relay your suspicions and your concern about his Enforcer. I do not know how he will react. Even though I’m his wife, he still manages to surprise me sometimes. It is possible he will want to call on you.”

“He knows how to reach me, and I look forward to speaking with him.” Zachary held out a hand to Morgan. “Shall we return to the party?”

“You are more than welcome to. However, I find that I would like some time to myself.” She furrowed her brow. “It has been a strange evening.”

“As you wish. Do not forget, the toast is soon.”

“I won’t. I just need some time, fresh air and peace to figure a couple of things out.”
 

“Then I shall leave you to your thoughts.” Zachary bowed, and returned to the party. Sounds of the orchestra playing a lively Charleston drifted out as he stepped inside.
 

Once the doors had closed, the music and party sounds were muffled, and the trees helped buffer the ebb and flow of the city. She could almost believe they’d managed to find solitude. Morgan closed her eyes and eased the control she kept over her shared connection with Nicholas just enough so she could sense him.
 

Her awareness brushed up against Nicholas’s, like Eric’s kitten, Mina, when she demanded food or affection. She felt his concentration and caution through their shared blood and hoped that it meant they were close to finding Jayson. She pulled back and put her defenses in place, so he wouldn’t be distracted by her unease.

Good hunting, my love.
Thinking about Nicholas and his success brought a smile to her face as she put her mask back in place.
 

Christophe watched as Zachary stepped back into the ballroom, but Morgan remained out on the balcony. He strolled over to the double doors and glanced out. She stood by the railing, gazing out over the city with a far off look in her eyes. He knew that particular expression. It meant that Morgan had opened herself up to the connection she shared with Nicholas.

Not wanting to intrude, Christophe spun back to the ballroom. The whirling mass of bodies on the floor ebbed and flowed with the music, and servers carried trays of drinks through the crowd ringing the floor. A waitress, dressed in a black bodysuit that left nothing to the imagination, slinked up to Christophe and offered him a tray of champagne flutes.
 

“No, thank you.” He inclined his head to her and stepped to his left, hoping to get away from her.

 
She stepped in the way to block his path and held the tray out again, in silent offering.
 

Christophe stepped back, scowling, “I said, no, thank you.”
 

She tilted her head to the left, Christophe wanted to see her eyes, to give her at least one human feature. The light glinted off something that flashed red beneath the white mask; lenses covered the eyeholes blocking out all humanity. Perfect bow-shaped, crimson lips and an abstract design over the right eye were the only embellishments.

Christophe frowned as she took a glass and mimed a toast before holding the flute of bubbling, pale gold liquid out to him. Like the earlier glass, this one held a drop of crimson blood suspended near the bottom of the flute. He accepted the glass and hoped that would be the last time he’d see the strange server. She nodded and strolled away, balancing the tray on one hand as she offered drinks to other partygoers.
 

“Something bothering you?” Morgan asked from his right side.
 

“Ever have one of those moments when something raises your hackles, but you can’t explain why?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the woman with the champagne.

“Yes.” After a moment’s silence, she asked, “What spooked you?”

“The servers.” Christophe paused, realizing that it sounded crazy. “Yes, if you can believe it.”

“The servers?”
 

“Yes. Have you seen how they’re dressed? It’s creepy.”

“Imagine that, seeing something creepy at a vampire’s Halloween masquerade ball.” Morgan chuckled as she took the glass of champagne from the server.
 

“I didn’t think we’d see something like this.” He felt a chill run down his spine, fine hairs on his arms and neck rising. “I don’t know, but there’s something about them that sets me on edge.”

“We’ll…” Morgan started to respond when the clear bell-like sound of metal tapping against crystal rang throughout the room. The sound began with one tone, but soon many others had joined in creating a chorus of peals that went on for several moments before dying out.