Savage Sons (House of Winterborne Book 2)

by Luanne Bennett

  “What do you want, Morgan?”

  “Excuse me? You invited Hawk and me to dinner, remember?”

  The line went quiet for a moment. “God, please tell me that wasn’t tonight.”

  “We didn’t set a date, but I thought maybe tomorrow night? I’m just dying to meet Decker in person.”

  I could hear her muffle the phone with her hand, probably to check with her master. “Tomorrow is fine. Decker is looking forward to meeting you too. Eight o’clock, and bring a bottle of wine.”

  Before I could agree on the time, she hung up. “Well, yes ma’am,” I said, staring at my phone. I noticed I had several voice mails from Jules. I hadn’t spoken to her in a couple of days, and I was going to get an earful when I finally called her back. Wait until I told her where I spent Saturday night. But the story about the blood den had to wait because my phone rang a few seconds later. It was Samuel telling me to meet him downstairs.

  Chapter 7

  We got to Brooklyn around five o’clock and parked behind some apartments that looked uninhabitable.

  “The guy’s name is Wesley Foster,” Samuel said, reaching for the door handle.

  I took a good look at the run-down building. “You sure you have the right address?”

  He checked the email again. “That’s what it says, so let’s go find out.”

  Something wasn’t right about the place, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end the moment we stepped out of the car. At least the sun was still up, so we didn’t have to go in there in the dark.

  “Watch your step.” He kicked a pile of broken glass aside to clear a path to the back entrance, which was nothing more than a door with a broken window and no lock. “Fucking slumlords.”

  “I think you have to actually have tenants to be considered a slumlord.” I guess we were about to find out.

  We didn’t bother to see if the elevator was running, choosing to take the stairs instead since Foster lived on the third floor. When we reached the top of the first flight, we noticed one of the doors was ajar. A face peered through the crack, but the door quickly slammed shut and the lock engaged. That answered the question of whether the building was occupied.

  “I guess you’re right about the slumlord. Jesus, I can’t believe people live like this.”

  “Why would you?” he said as we continued up the stairs. “You live in a castle in Manhattan.”

  It was true that the Winterbornes had privilege, but we paid a price for it by making sure New Yorkers could walk the streets at night with their jugulars intact. We provided a dangerous public service.

  We reached the third floor and headed down the dimly lit hallway, looking for the apartment on the address. Half the doors had stains indicating where the unit numbers had fallen off at some point, so I prayed the one we were looking for was still intact. Otherwise we’d be knocking on all of them.

  “This is it.” Samuel pointed to a door on the left. He tapped it firmly and listened for footsteps. When he knocked a little harder, the door squeaked and slowly opened, but there was no one on the other side.

  He looked at me and raised his finger to his lips before entering. The first thing that hit me when I followed him inside was the rancid smell in the room.

  “Jesus,” I whispered, covering my mouth and nose with my hand.

  There were no lights on, and the setting sun barely illuminated the living room through a pair of thin curtains that were half-drawn. Samuel checked the kitchen and shook his head. Then he headed down the hallway.

  “Mr. Foster?” No one answered when he called out.

  I took a step to follow him but stumbled when my foot hit something on the floor. I grabbed a recliner to catch my fall, cringing from the feel of the filthy vinyl against my hand. When I looked down to see what it was, I caught a scream as it started to escape my mouth. On the floor between me and the hallway was a pile of dead rats. There were dozens of them stacked into a pyramid, shrunken and rotting like empty sacks of fur.

  Samuel came back into the living room when he heard my muffled shriek. He looked down at the pile and pulled out his dagger before heading back toward the bedroom.

  There were two doors. The first one led to a filthy bathroom. It was stained with blood all over the sink and bathtub, some of it fresh. Before checking out the other door, he motioned to his weapon, his forehead furrowing deeply when I didn’t produce my own. Then he shook his head and walked into the bedroom, pushing me back when I tried follow him inside.

  I stood at the door as he checked the closet and then proceeded to tear the room apart. There was trash everywhere.

  He flipped the bed over and then nodded for me to come inside. “Check the dresser.”

  The top drawer contained musty-smelling clothes, but the middle and bottom ones held all kinds of junk. There were several cigar boxes stuffed with everything from old door hardware and screws to Matchbox cars. He even had a shoebox full of CD covers with nothing inside. On the floor next to the dresser were stacks of old books and faded magazines. Wesley Foster was a real hoarder, but there was no sign of the two boxes we were looking for.

  “They’re not here,” I said. “We should check the kitchen.” People hid valuables in strange places, including freezers and kitchen cabinets. But I doubted he knew the value of those boxes, especially if they were covered with as much grime as the one my mother had found.

  After another look at the bathroom, we tore the kitchen apart. Convinced the boxes weren’t in there either, we headed for the front door. There was a coat closet we hadn’t noticed on our way in.

  Samuel looked at me and nodded. In a few quick strides, he reached the door and swung it open. At first I didn’t see anything, but then I spotted something huddled behind the coats. A set of bloodshot eyes peered up at us from the floor of the closet.

  “You must be Wesley Foster,” Samuel said. “We have some questions for you.”

  The man didn’t move. He just stared at us like he was frozen to the floor. Then he let out an extended moan that got louder as Samuel reached in to help him up. His skin was so pale I wondered if he needed a doctor. When he finally climbed to his feet, a shower of hundred-dollar bills fluttered to the floor.

  He glanced back at the money as Samuel helped him to a chair in the living room.

  “What the hell were you doing in the closet?”

  He continued to gawk at Samuel but didn’t answer.

  I approached him cautiously. “Are you sick?”

  He nodded briskly.

  “Do you want us to take you to a hospital?”

  “Morgan!” Samuel snapped.

  “The man is sick!”

  Samuel smirked. “Oh, he’s sick all right. Who did this to you?”

  Foster swallowed a lump in his throat as his eyes grew wider. “He…” His voice cracked. “He came looking for some boxes.”

  “Where are they?” Samuel barked, grabbing the man by his shirt.

  Foster flinched and nearly fell out of the chair. “He took it! Paid me all that money for it.” He nodded to the bills littering the floor.

  “It?” I said. “He paid you for it? There were two boxes. Where’s the other one?”

  “I sold it. Someone bought it a few days ago. Maybe a week ago, I don’t know. It’s just junk!”

  Samuel let go of Foster’s shirt. “Fuck!”

  “Who paid you all that money?” I asked.

  Foster’s eyes grew even wider. “The devil! He came into my shop and said he was looking for some boxes. Said he knew they were in the shop somewhere. I told him to look around ’cause I had plenty of old boxes for sale, but he only found the one. I told him I sold the other one, and he got real agitated.”

  “Did he tell you his name?”

  He shook his head. “Black hair and eyes like dark pits. Wore an expensive suit and drove a fancy car. I got a feeling he wanted that box real bad, so I upped the price. Then I upped it again when I saw the wad of cash he pulled out of his pocket.”
A grin spread across his face. “He must have gotten tired of me haggling with him, because he handed me the whole damn roll.” Foster went somber again as he looked at the money on the floor. “Ain’t no good to me now though.”

  I followed his eyes. “The money?”

  “He showed up here at my apartment two nights ago. Said he wanted to see for himself if I was telling him the truth about selling the other box.” When his eyes suddenly went vacant, I thought we were losing him. But then he looked at me and licked his lips. “After he tore the place apart and was satisfied it wasn’t here, he thanked me for selling him the other one. He said he was gonna give me a little gift for helping him out.”

  He started coughing violently, so I went to the kitchen and got him some water.

  After taking the glass from my hand, he stared at it for a few seconds before looking up at me with a strange look in the eyes. “Thanks, but that ain’t gonna do it, sugar.”

  I flew backward and hit the wall. By the time I recovered from Samuel shoving me, he was on top of Foster, his dagger sliding across the wood floor. He wedged his knee into Foster’s neck and shot his eyes at me. “Get the dagger!”

  By the time I reached it, Foster had managed to get the upper hand. Samuel fell back as Foster jumped to his feet and grinned like a wild animal.

  “I ain’t eating no more rats.” He grabbed a wooden chair and smashed it over Samuel’s head. “Ladies first,” he said as Samuel fell sideways semiconscious.

  I barely had time to grab the dagger before he was on top of me. As his fangs reached my skin, I jabbed the blade into his back. He howled and jerked his head up, giving me enough room to slip the dagger between us. Feeling the steel against his neck, he slammed his forehead against mine, causing me to lose my grip on the handle.

  My eyes closed from the searing pain, making it impossible to focus my magic. But then my palm started to burn. I tried to slam it into him, but he pinned my wrist to the floor with such strength it wouldn’t budge. Then a drop of blood hit my face. The blade trapped between us seemed to slice through his neck on its own. As Foster’s head started to tip and fall sideways, I got a glimpse of Samuel standing over us with the ends of the knife gripped in his hands, He sawed the blade back and forth from behind. Foster’s blood sprayed my face, and my heart began to beat rapidly, my tongue catching a drop as it trickled over my lips.

  Samuel gave the knife a firm yank, and it cut clean through what was left of Foster’s neck, sending his head toppling to the floor.

  “Not the easiest angle to work from.” He kicked Wesley Foster’s body to the side and offered me his hand.

  Shocked not only by the attack, but by the way the blood lingered pleasurably on my tongue, I let him pull me to my feet. I was heading for the kitchen when the taste suddenly turned rancid.

  After rinsing my face and mouth in the sink, I shot Samuel a look. “What the fuck was that?”

  “What do you think? He was turned. Gift!” he scoffed. “Arrogant bastards. Abandoning a newly turned vampire is a death sentence. Foster didn’t know if he was coming or going. Had no one to teach him how to survive.” He looked at the hundred-dollar bills littering the floor. “A lot of good that money was if he couldn’t even leave this shithole to spend it. He was already half dead with nothing but rat blood to sustain him. I did him a favor just now.”

  I found it difficult to pull my eyes away from all the blood on the floor. “I wonder how he found the boxes all the way out here in Brooklyn?”

  “They,” he said, correcting me. “They can sense the boxes if they get close enough. It probably took some time for the Caspian scouts to locate them out here, but now they’ve managed to recover one of them. If Katherine hadn’t found the one at the shop in Manhattan, they would have found that one first.”

  “Great. How are we ever going to find that third box before they do?”

  He looked at the carnage on the floor for a moment before turning around. “Let’s get out of here and worry about that later. Grab the money. I’ll find out if he has any family and make sure they get it.”

  We counted four thousand dollars on the floor and stuffed it into our pockets.

  I looked at Foster’s severed head as Samuel headed for the door. “What about the body?”

  “Not our problem. Besides, the corpse will disintegrate within a few hours. Caspians don’t like to leave trails.”

  Samuel walked several yards ahead of me as we descended the stairs and crossed the parking lot.

  I could feel his foul mood. “Did I do something wrong?”

  He reached the car and gave me a stern look. “Rule number one,” he growled. “Don’t ever walk into an unknown situation without a weapon. Next time I won’t save your ass.”

  Chapter 8

  We drove back to the city in silence with me feeling like an idiot who’d been scolded and put in her place. Samuel had never spoken to me like he had back in Brooklyn, but he’d been right to say what he had. We’re hunters. Even with my powers, which had done me no good tonight, I knew better than to go into battle without a weapon.

  After pulling up to the building, Samuel put the car in park and took a deep breath while staring through the windshield. “Your powers are impressive, Morgan, but you can’t rely on them alone when dealing with vampires. They’re evolved creatures, and we already know the most efficient way to kill one. Let’s not try to reinvent the wheel.”

  “Got it. From now on my dagger goes with me.”

  “And work on your reflexes.” He finally looked at me. “Don’t ever hesitate again.”

  My faltering back at Wesley Foster’s apartment had almost gotten me killed. A stark reminder that my wicked hand was useless if I wasn’t quick enough to use it, letting the enemy have the upper hand. I’d never do that again.

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “You go back upstairs and resume your life. Business as usual so Cabot doesn’t start poking around.”

  I glanced down at my bloody shirt. “Let’s hope I don’t run into him in the elevator.”

  “Right. By the way, are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”

  I shook my head. “I’m having dinner with Avery. She’s got a new boyfriend who’s been putting ridiculous ideas in her head, and I intend to find out what his motives are. It’s like he’s controlling her. When I called her this afternoon, he answered her phone. Can you believe that? He answered her damn phone.”

  “Since when does anyone control Avery?”

  “Exactly. He’s some kind of self-help guru.” I was hesitant to tell him the rest, but it was Samuel I was talking to. “I don’t know what he actually is, but he appears to know what she is. In fact, she said he’s helping her shed her immortality.”

  He snickered for a second before realizing I was serious. “Has she lost her mind?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out.”

  “What’s his name?”

  I could have kicked myself for not asking her for his full name. We could have vetted him thoroughly. But until now I hadn’t thought he was anything more than a gold digger. I’d have it before leaving her apartment tomorrow night though, and if he had any skeletons in his closet other than being a leech looking for his next meal ticket, I’d find them. “His first name is Decker. I’ll get his full name at dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Be careful, Morgan. I have an uncomfortable feeling about this. Winterbornes aren’t easy marks, even if it’s one who’s been itching to emancipate herself from her clan for years. Avery is still a Winterborne whether she likes it or not.”

  Jakob walked up to the car and opened the door. “Any luck in Brooklyn?” His eyes traveled down to my shirt. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Define luck,” I said, climbing out. “Don’t worry—it’s not my blood. And no, I wouldn’t say we had any luck in Brooklyn, but at least we now know there’s only one box unaccounted for.”

  “Meaning?”

  Samuel put the car b
ack in drive. “If there’s any doubt the Caspians are here, we’re convinced now. One of them got to that shopkeeper before we did. Unfortunately, we had to put him down. I’ll let Morgan fill you in. I have something I need to check out.”

  As the car pulled away, I gave Jakob the condensed version of what had happened in Wesley Foster’s rattrap of an apartment. We now knew one of the boxes was in the hands of the Caspians, but the third box was out there somewhere in a city of eight million people, not counting the thousands of tourists. It could have been anywhere. A needle in a haystack. I shuddered at the thought that the one my mother had sent me had been right upstairs under my bed the day I found Ryker waiting for me in the penthouse. It was a miracle he hadn’t sensed it just a few feet away from the chair he was sitting in. I suspected my mother had done something to it. Concealed it with magic so the Caspians couldn’t detect and intercept it before it reached me at the auction house. It had been safely stashed in my bedroom safe ever since.

  “I’m exhausted, Jakob. We can talk tomorrow.” I stepped into the elevator and hit the button. All I wanted to do was go upstairs and kick my shoes off. Then I’d open a bottle of wine and wait for Hawk to show up. But after what he’d told me about his sister, I was beginning to wonder if he would.

  The elevator stopped on the sixth floor. When the door opened, Ethan stepped inside. “Good. Just the person I was coming to see.” He did a double take. “Is that blood?”

  “It’s a long sorry, but I’m really tired, Ethan. What is it?”

  We reached the penthouse before he could elaborate, so I invited him in. Not that anyone ever waited for an invitation.

  Otto greeted us as we walked inside, and I went straight for my bedroom to change my shirt and brush my teeth. Then I headed for the kitchen. “I need a drink. Want something?”

  “Got any beer?”

  I grabbed two bottles from the refrigerator and headed for the terrace. “Let’s sit outside.”

  The sun had gone down, and the evening sky was unusually clear. I walked over to the conservatory windows and sat down on the patio floor.