by SF Benson
Bishop frowned. “I think not. Actually, you’re in the perfect position. If you refuse my offer, I’ll allow Bonaparte to pierce your heart. It might be fun to see where he plans to bury your ass.”
Kragen growled. “Just get on with it.”
“I forgot vampires are terribly impatient.” Bishop walked around Kragen and leaned against the wall beside me. “Here’s the deal. First, your precious son isn’t dead. That’s Alexander’s corpse.”
“Where’s Clint?” Kragen asked through his teeth.
“In due time. Let me finish…” Bishop tapped his chin. “Where was I? Oh, yes, Morgan beheaded St. John. I believe that’s a violation of a BlackGuard Society rule.” The sorcerer pointed to the dagger. “Punishing her is justified. Council, however, will see the situation as much more dire.”
“The point, Bishop,” I urged and then realized what I’d said. It wasn’t time for bad puns.
“If a certain person went to Council with evidence of Morgan’s recklessness, how long do you think the BGS would continue?”
So Bishop planned to go to Council? What evidence did he have?
Kragen glanced at me. “What did you do?”
My lips parted.
Before I could respond, though, Bishop said, “She killed my twin. He was totally innocent. Then, instead of apprehending my mother, Morgan pushed her through a portal and decapitated her.”
“That’s not what happened!” I shouted and shuddered against a wave of pain. Wrong move.
“It’s what Council will believe,” said Bishop. “I have it recorded.”
Of course he did.
Kragen bared his fangs. “What do you want from us?”
“That’s an easy answer. Deactivate Morgan.”
“Done!” blurted the angular vampire.
“Wait! Why?” I asked. What was the purpose of deactivating me?
The two males ignored me and continued talking as if I wasn’t in the room.
“What else, Bishop?”
The evil sorcerer grinned. “This is the best part. You’re going to step down.”
“Like hell I am!”
“Interesting choice of words,” Bishop said. “I’m sure you’ll agree your resignation is a necessity. The death of your son has left you too distraught to lead. In the best interests of everyone, Council will appoint me to lead the BGS.”
“Never!” I shouted. My back arched as my body cramped around the blade.
A Mercier would never run my great-grandmother’s agency. Bishop would upend everything she stood for. The BGS protected those unable to protect themselves from people like him. If he was in charge, who would defend innocent humans and supernaturals?
Bishop waggled his finger. Kragen’s arm moved a mere centimeter, but it was enough to drive the dagger deeper. Blood flowered and soaked through my tank top.
“Remember what I said? Refuse me, and you’ll never see that shifter husband of yours again.”
Honestly, I hadn’t thought about Ace since I entered the house. Maybe if I had, I would have done things differently. I wouldn’t have acted without him by my side.
To Kragen, Bishop added, “Don’t agree with me, and I’ll get rid of the delusion. Council will learn that Alexander was killed by you. How do you think that will go over with Julien Vladislav?”
Not well at all.
Father would consider the act to be a different type of death stroke, quickly severing their relationship. The two vampires valued their friendship. Kragen wouldn’t want to jeopardize it, which meant Bishop would get what he wanted.
“You’re despicable,” Kragen said.
“No.” The sorcerer smiled broadly. “I’m a Mercier keeping a promise.”
“I’ll step down,” said the angular vamp.
“Good choice.” Bishop stared at me. “Just think, Morgan. You’ll have more time to spend with your new hubby.”
I grimaced and then said, “I’ll spend every waking hour scheming to take you down.”
“A waste of time. The only one who could take me down is on the other side of the Veil.”
Great-gran.
She would be so disappointed in me.
* * *
The next two days were spent in agony and denial. I couldn’t tell Ace the truth about what happened at St. John’s. According to the deal I made with the devil known as Bishop Mercier, my husband would learn the details when everyone else did.
In the meantime…
I took care of disposing Tabitha’s body. Thanks to Kragen, I was forbidden from organizing a memorial for the fallen vamp. So I packed up her apartment instead, donating her belongings to a shelter and putting her mementos in storage. When Clint returned, he could decide what to keep. The dhampir would be heartbroken when he learned of her demise. On some level, I suspected that the guy loved her.
But I had bigger fish to fry. Somehow, I had to act as if everything was normal in my life. I had to ignore the fact that the sword of Damocles, courtesy of Bishop, hung over my head.
* * *
THE END
Sneak Peek
Read on for a glimpse into
* * *
THE BLACKGUARD SOCIETY:
Blood Fury
SF BENSON
Prologue
Colby
* * *
An intense pain hit me as the memories cascaded back. I rolled over on my side and tried hard to push them aside, but I couldn’t. My agony was caused by my grandmother and my father.
They tinkered with what didn’t belong to them. In the end, they didn’t endure the torment. Grandmother had assured me the process was painless.
“There’s nothing to worry about, Colby. Just imagine. You’ll no longer be a scrawny kid. You’ll be big and strong like your father and uncle. Don’t you want that?”
Like an idiot, I nodded. I thought becoming an adult would ease my father’s harsh treatment. I was a fool for believing he’d love me if I was no longer the sniveling child he called me.
But Grandmother Tavi lied.
I screamed and dropped to the floor. Beneath my skin all matter of hell erupted. I heard my bones break. Watched my limbs grow longer. Felt my muscles stretch and contort. I vomited as parts of my anatomy swelled and throbbed.
The procedure took most of the night. At one point, I just wanted to die. Death had to be better than being ripped apart and put back together.
“Mother, you’ve outdone yourself,” Father said like a proud fucking peacock as I writhed on the floor.
“It’s my greatest accomplishment,” said Grandmother.
It was my greatest suffering. If I could have clawed out my eyes, I would have, but I couldn’t make a fist. I couldn’t lift my head.
The pain finally stopped with the morning light. I sat, cold and naked, on the guest house floor. Somebody draped a blanket over my shaking shoulders. I tried to speak but couldn’t get the words out.
“Look in the mirror, son.” Father helped me to my feet.
I shuffled across the floor and stood before the looking glass. The man before me scared the shit out of me. He resembled both my father and my uncle. I stared at the reflection, trying hard to find some piece of me. But the boy was gone.
Every night I recalled the event with vivid accuracy. And every night my fury grew. Bishop and Tavi Mercier had no right stealing my childhood. No one should experience the suffering I did.
Father should be grateful that I had more control over my emotions than Mom. If I didn’t, I would have happily shown him the weapon he created. Bishop groomed me for one purpose only—to take down the Vladislavs. Little did he know, I had no intention of doing so. I had my own plans.
Plans that would rewrite the Mercier history.
Plans that would give Bishop Mercier the reward he truly deserved.
Unmitigated Changes
Morgan
* * *
My week of silence was all part of Bishop Mercier’s demands. Not a word had been spoken betw
een Kragen Bonaparte, leader of the BlackGuard Society, and me. Apparently, humiliation didn’t satisfy Bishop. Kragen and I had to agree on some horrendous terms. First, the demented sorcerer insisted that an announcement be made to all the agents and Elders at the same time. And the second requirement? He had to be present for the big event.
Bishop’s wishes put me at odds with my mate, Ace. Repeatedly he’d asked what happened at the rogue vampire’s house, and repeatedly I left out all but the pertinent facts—Alexander St. John had his hand in Tabitha’s chest when we caught him. We had no choice but to execute the male. Ace understood, but a lingering shred of doubt remained. He wanted to know more, but I couldn’t say a thing.
So I went about my days, not answering my husband’s incessant questioning. I simply told him I had a lot on my mind, but I wasn’t ready to share. How could I tell him the demented secret I kept? Not even my parents knew the bad news coming down the pipeline.
But Bishop said that as long as Kragen and I remained quiet, Clint would be returned to his father. We had to follow Bishop’s orders exactly, or Clint Bonaparte would never leave Hell. The only way Kragen would see his son again would be on the other side of the fiery gate.
Staying true to our bargain wasn’t easy, but we carried out the demands. And then Kragen summoned the agents and Elders to his house.
Ace glanced over at me. “Morgan, before we go in there, tell me what’s going on.”
I sighed. “Nothing’s going on.”
He shook his head. “I’m not buying your bullshit. You’ve been too quiet. Every time I ask about what went down at St. John’s house, you tell me exactly what you think I should hear.”
My heart thudded as fear twisted my gut. The only lie I ever kept from Ace involved my son and my affair with the Mercier brothers. After I confessed—and Colby appeared in the form of a twenty-one-year-old man—I promised never to keep secrets again. Placing my hand on the door, I said, “We should go. You know how much Kragen hates to be kept—”
“I don’t give a fuck about Kragen.” Ace touched my knee, and I practically melted on the spot. “My wife is keeping shit from me, and I deserve to know what it is. Are you cheating on me?”
My gaze whipped to his. “Hell, no! There is no one else for me.”
“Then what?”
“We’re late.” I opened the door and bolted from the car.
We were definitely the last ones, outside of Kragen, to arrive. Baldovino, Kragen’s gargantuan manservant, escorted us into the main drawing room. Crossing the threshold, the ever-present stale odor hit my nose. I never knew whether the stench came from the undead inhabiting the mansion or the dusty ancient furnishings occupying each room. The biting cold, however, should have frozen the oppressive funk.
Is the air conditioning on?
Despite my heavy sweater and jacket, I was as cold as a revenant fresh from the grave. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms and attempted to push my apprehension to the background. Unfortunately, the sea of suspicion staring at us chased away any level of confidence. Agents, heads tilting and eyebrows raising, whispered as Ace and I walked by.
“I’m surprised she’s here,” said an unfamiliar female.
Ignore her.
I chose to turn my attention to the vast number of BlackGuard Society members crammed into one space. They filled every nook and cranny of the obsolescent room. Under normal circumstances, only convocation ceremonies brought out the masses. The large turnout just to listen to Bishop speak should please the evil sorcerer. I wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness. If the agents and Elders knew what would happen, they’d hightail it before the sorcerer arrived.
Ace, standing beside me, shifted from foot to foot. His unease wafted off his body like a heady fragrance. I would have loved to ease his discomfort, but that required being forthcoming. He’d know soon enough.
As for me, I was accustomed to indifference. Many of the BGS agents hated me. They considered me a privileged brat who didn’t deserve my rank. Over the past week, I was somewhat inclined to agree. Still… Those same members believed leadership should be an earned status. They’d forgotten that only Vladislavs were supposed to lead the organization. Although I should be leading the BGS, my age and inexperience ruled out leadership. My parents determined that Kragen, a longtime friend of my father, would hold the position until I reached maturity.
But the apathy rankling the supernaturals was more than the usual cold-shoulder routine. They spoke about me, but nobody made eye contact. When Ace nodded in greeting, some had the audacity to sneer. Maybe they did know what would take place.
What the hell did Kragen tell them about me?
My husband, speaking directly to me, broke through the silent haze of hatred. “Morgan, it isn’t too late to tell me the truth. I’ve never felt so much malice focused on you.”
“I have no idea what their problem is. Maybe it’s something in the air.”
“Sorry, dawlin’, I ain’t buying it.”
The lack of empty seating forced Ace and me into a space against a far wall. We had a perfect spot to watch the festivities unfold. Not that there’d be anything joyous happening at that meeting. Not for me. Those who questioned my pending leadership, however, might take great pleasure in watching my exodus.
Minutes ticked by, and I continued listening to the disparaging words from nearby agents.
“I bet this is about that rogue vampire. I heard that little Miss Know-It-All ripped out his heart.”
“Really? I heard that brute she’s shackled to caught her in a compromising position and cut off the vamp’s head.”
That statement elicited a low growl from Ace.
“I promise nothing happened between St. John and me,” I said to Ace’s mind.
“I know, but what were you doing in his house? You were told not to go inside alone.”
“I had a lead. I had—”
Before I could finish my thought, the crowd separated, like Moses parting the Red Sea. Kragen appeared, a handsome vampire with perfect golden skin and shoulder-length black hair, and sat on the oversized black wing-back chair. The item, a gift from my father, once belonged to Donatien François—also known as the Marquis de Sade. Alexander St. John, the rogue I killed, and the perverse nobleman were once friends. Perhaps Kragen could channel the Marquis when announcing my demotion. Nevertheless, the piece of furniture seemed a fitting place for the angular vampire to rest his old bones.
Our illustrious leader steepled his fingers together but said nothing. Whispers ricocheted around the room. One of the elders, a gray-haired crony in tattered clothing, pushed to her feet and her thin lips parted.
Before she could speak, though, all eyes turned to the door as Baldovino entered the room. He stepped to the side, and the bastard of the hour emerged. Gasps filled the air followed by an overwhelming silence.
Bishop, dressed in a tailored black suit with a subtle windowpane pattern, sauntered in. A rotund, silver-haired female followed close behind him. The woman’s rounded face, free of lines, belied her age. Why the dye job? Didn’t she understand her hair would eventually turn that shade? The ill-fitting tan plaid shirtdress and rundown black pumps were another poor decision. The outfit made her look like a walking blanket.
Angéle, already on her feet, rasped, “What the fuck is going on, Kragen?”
Rather than speak, his black eyes sought Bishop’s, as if requesting permission to speak. The sorcerer simply smiled like the fucking cat who caught the blackbird.
Kragen frowned and then cleared his throat. “I have a few important announcements.” His dark gaze met mine briefly before he looked over the gathered crowd. “First and foremost, Morgan Vladislav is no longer a BlackGuard agent. Her deactivation is effective immediately.”
His words were more effective than a fetid fart. Everyone standing beside me shifted and moved, leaving a wide vacant space around me. To my chagrin, my constant source of comfort joined the crowd. Glancing up, I saw Ace standing on the ot
her side of the room. My breath hitched as I watched the hard expression settle on his handsome face.
I knew the announcement was coming, but hearing my dismissal aloud gave me a new perspective. Over the previous few days, I thought maybe I’d receive a simple demotion—no more active cases. I wrongly believed that Kragen would put me on the research desk, a position relegated to injured agents. Firing me was permanent. Who the hell will I be without my post? I was the fucking great-granddaughter of Morgana Le Fey. How can I not be part of the organization she founded?
Despite the glacial reception, thankfully, there were those who shared my unspoken sentiment.
“You’re kidding, right?” said Etienne Bettancourt, a former Templar knight before becoming undead. His lips curled back, revealing his fangs. “What did Morgan do to deserve removal?”
Kragen eyed me. Mentally, he said, “Clint may not be dead, but you created the situation. It is your predicament to bear.”
My stomach roiled and invisible cold fingers clutched my heart. In that moment, I realized his next words would create discord and possibly chaos amongst the group. Although I didn’t kill Clint, the belief would make me a pariah. Everyone who knew the dhampir loved him.
Our deposed leader shot me a venomous glare. The light from the chandelier glinted off his sharp canines. “Morgan has been fired because she is responsible for the death of my son.”
The room went silent as every head turned toward me. Confirmation that Kragen had kept up his end of the bargain must have satisfied Bishop, as evidenced from the huge grin he sported. Maybe the lanky vamp had only hinted at what I’d done, and that suggestion fueled his suspicion.
Kragen continued, “I-I can no longer be affiliated with the organization. Morgan’s reckless actions…” He choked on his words, drew in a deep breath, and tried again. “Seeing each of ya, every day, would only remind me of her selfish act.”