Bonded In Blood

by L Ann

  “Shadowfall?” The surprise in Taz’s voice was genuine.

  “Well, similar name. Shadow’s Fall,” replied Kayla. “In 1978, before your boss Kane Thoth bought the club. The police report was incomplete, some of it missing. But there was a girl, nineteen years old. Her name was Tracy. Well… her full name was Teresa Bennion. She was the youngest daughter of some big Mormon banker in Salt Lake City. She was a runaway, her and two of her friends. After Tracy’s body was fished out of Puget Sound, the girls – Virginia Coombs and Miriam Higbee – told police that the last time they saw her was the night they were approached on the streets by a strange and very beautiful woman who called herself Hezarae. They said she offered them food and a place to stay – Shadow’s Fall. Virginia and Miriam were spooked by the woman and refused, but Tracy went with her. It was the last time they saw her alive.”

  She glanced at her watch. “And I really should go.” She stood and leaned down to give Taz’s cheek an apologetic caress. “I promised Pete I would be there when his friend showed up. I just… just came by to see if… will I see you tomorrow?”

  Chapter 3

  Zuron stood with his back to his son, gazing silently through the closed balcony doors; while Hamish stood several feet to Taz’s left, also silent, staring at a point in space – though most probably inward – somewhere between the wall and the coffee table. They had been that way since Taz’s arrival. Since he’d told them Kayla’s tale of the attack in Spruce Street Park and the camcorder recording.

  “Hamish? You called Morganna?” Zuron finally broke the silence and turned to face the room.

  “She’ll be here shortly,” Hamish answered.

  “We’ll wait until she’s present. I would prefer not to repeat myself.”

  Their gazes met briefly as the elder vampire completed his turn and Taz saw something in his father’s eyes he hadn’t seen – at least not to such a degree – in a very long time. Pain. Remorse. Guilt? Clearly, the news he’d brought had touched a tender spot.

  “I don’t want to appear pushy,” Taz probed. “But I put little stock in her story. Until she mentioned the location – Cherry Hill. That’s Rroma territory. The whole thing stinks of their M.O.

  “Not to mention all the stuff she mentioned about Seattle in the past,” he threw in, catching a distinct reaction from both his father and Hamish. Bingo! “The first Rroma clans settled in this area around that time, didn’t they?”

  “Would you mind, son?” Zuron gestured toward the bar. “Pouring me one? And… one for yourself as well.”

  Son? Now he knew there was something amiss. Even at the Old Man’s calmest most congenial moments, it was never anything more endearing than ‘young man’ or ‘young Prince’ or his given name, Saijon. “Okay. Yeah. Coming right up, sir.”

  Hamish followed, allowing Taz to pour one for him as well – another unusual occurrence. And, once the task was finished, delivered Zuron’s then remained standing beside his lifelong friend. The two men exchanges significant glances as they took their initial sips, and then Zuron cleared his throat.

  “The history of this place,” he waved a hand to show their surroundings. “Or, more accurately, its predecessor, differs greatly from what you think you know.” He took a substantial swallow of his drink, followed by a deep breath and continued. “The name your… uh… friend mentioned – Hezarae – is, no… was… accompanied by another. Pashet.”

  “Sounds familiar,” said Taz.

  “It should. She was the sire of Khensthoth – more typically known as Kane Thoth. Pashet was the founder, owner and chief resident of an exclusive club, then called Shadow’s Fall. She was known under an alias – Bianca Manx. Hezarae, AKA Justine Manx, was her mother – both highborn Pureblood vampires from the now all but defunct Clan of Samana – affiliates of our own noble House. They were the worst of the worst – monsters, even by our standards. And Bianca Manx far surpassed them all.

  “Shadow’s Fall was just one – the flagship, in fact – of several like-themed membership-exclusive establishments started by Bianca and her mother around the world, between the end of World War Two and 1950. And its main forte was debauchery – the likes of which even the cruellest and depraved amongst our kind could not conceive: blood orgies; gladiator-style death games; sexual fetishes and torture. They would even perform mock trials and not-so-mock executions…”

  “I got a feeling I already know, even before you answer,” Taz cut in, “but how did she get away with it?”

  Zuron shook his head ruefully. “Often the Council of Elders and the Parliament of Lords turned a blind eye to the activities of both Bianca and her mother. First of all because two-thirds of them were members of these clubs – in secret, of course. And second, because the Manxes were very high-ranking officers in the Sacred Star; the female contingent of the Purple Brotherhood.”

  “Also,” Hamish stepped in. “Bianca had the city locked down tighter than the proverbial drum. She owned the police, local government, the media. Some say she even had the Governor on her payroll. Even the local vampire leaders were either unable or afraid to speak out against her. Until 1978.”

  “The Teresa Bennion incident?” Taz guessed.

  Zuron took the reins again, responding to his son’s query. “Yes. But that was just the domino that set off the chain reaction.

  “Looking back on it – had the condition of the girl’s body been, to use a word very loosely, normal then the whole thing might have ultimately faded away and been forgotten.” Zuron closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. “With all I have seen and experienced over the centuries in the way of gore and desecration, I shudder to think of what that poor girl must have suffered before they eventually drained and killed her. They used her like a dog’s chew toy. More than seventy per cent of her body was covered with bite marks, knife wounds and cigarette burns. And, as if the murder of his daughter wasn’t enough, that set Joseph Bennion on a do or die crusade to find her killer.”

  “A bad thing all round –“ Taz prompted, realising he’d held his drink through the story without taking a single sip. It took only a glance to see it was no more than half-melted ice, so he stepped back to the bar and refreshed it.

  “Very bad,” Zuron continued. “Bennion had money, influential friends, and a few potent political contracts. He couldn’t be put off or placated by Bianca’s flunkies in the police department. And, worse than that, as his crusade continued he gained support from the Seattle clergy, a few citizen groups, and one Seattle Newspaper – The Seattle Post-Intelligence. They began to press, too. And their main query was concerning the SPD’s failure to follow up on statements made by Teresa Bennion’s friends – Virginia Coombs and Miriam Higbee.”

  “Investigating Shadow’s Fall,” Taz murmured.

  “Questioning Bianca Manx, at the very least,” Zuron said, pausing in response to a series of soft taps at the suite door.

  It was Hamish who strode across the room in response, pausing after opening the door to give his daughter a brief hug. Morgan joined the group with an initial measure of hesitancy, noticing both its sombre climate and the looks on the faces of the three men.

  “Hamish, if you will,” said Zuron. “Bring Morganna up to speed on the situation.”

  As requested, Hamish filled his daughter in on Taz’s talk with Kayla, placing strategic emphasis on Kayla’s identity, her occupation, the recording and where it was recorded, and the alleged plans for the recording. While her attention was focused on her father, Taz let his eyes wander across the woman he’d spent six months thinking about. Dressed casually in jeans, biker books and a plain black tee, she stood with one handed folded across her stomach and the other loose at her side. Her hair was tied back into a high no-nonsense ponytail and, he noticed with a smile, she knew he was looking at her by the heated glare she sent in his direction.

  “As Taz pointed out earlier,” Zuron said when Hamish had finished the update. “The Cherry Hill district is favoured by the Rromas – at l
east three large clans are in the general area. I needn’t tell either of you that Rromas aren’t known for their adherence to policy, or their subtlety. In fact, they are by far the most irresponsible, anarchistic faction in the entire Nation. Odds are strong that it was one of theirs… and they deal rather harshly with outsiders operating in their territory.

  “It goes without saying,” Zuron made eye contact first with Taz and then Morgan, “that recording cannot be allowed to be viewed by the public. By any mortal, for that matter. At least one has already seen it. I want that recording, any copies of that recording, and I want the person who recorded it – and anyone who may have seen its contents – neutralised.

  “And I want the vampire on that recording shown the error of his ways. Am I clear on that?” His gaze lingered on Morgan, who nodded in response.

  Taz cleared his throat. “Wait a minute. Let me understand something here. You want me to go after this alleged vampire recording? With all due respect, Old Ma— father, don’t we have retrieval teams for that?”

  “We do, Taz,” Hamish replied. “But we believe it more prudent to handle the situation with a little more TLC.”

  “It’s why we’re sending the two of you,” added Zuron.

  Taz coughed, executing a near-comical double-take. “Excuse me? Two of? As in… her?”

  “Scared your girlfriend will cause a scene?” Morgan asked, from where she had settled on the arm of one chair.

  Taz stifled a groan, ignoring Morgan’s jab. “You put me on suspension for half a year. And now I’m back on again – and don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for that – but for this? A bullet between the eyes, an accidental fire and we call up Queen Qetsiyah and have her people bring the stupid son of a bitch on the recording to us? Voila. And two? Why do – why would – I need her? What qualifies her for a mission, period?”

  You could have heard the proverbial pin drop in the silence which followed his question. Zuron and Hamish exchanged glances, then looked over at Morgan who arched an eyebrow.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she sighed, when neither man spoke. “I’m more qualified for this mission than you are, asshole.”

  “And would you care to explain how?”

  Morgan’s smile was a mere tightening of her lips. “Not especially. “ She rose to her feet, turned to her father and held out her hand. “Give me the keys to the Aston.”

  “Morganna…”

  “You want me to do this with him without arguing? Then give me the keys.” Taz watched as Hamish threw Zuron a dark look then thrust his hand into a pocket and pulled out a set of keys, throwing them into his daughter’s waiting hand.

  Her fingers closed around them, and she stepped toward the door. “I’m driving,” she threw at Taz over her shoulder.

  Taz shot a final lingering look at both his father and Hamish, but knew there was little use in continuing to argue. Their minds were made up.

  “I don’t believe this,” he grumbled, moving to follow Morgan out of the suite. “Hey! Look,” he caught up with her down the corridor. “Before we go a step further – answer my question or fuck it. What qualifies you?”

  Morgan slowed to a stop and turned to face him. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

  “And why would I?” he snapped. “Until a few hours ago I hadn’t seen you in six months, then I find out your Hamish’s daughter.”

  “Fair point,” she nodded. “Have you heard of Morgan?”

  Taz shrugged. “Who hasn’t? The big bad bogeyman. Correction: biggest, baddest bogeyman. Top of the list of all the contract assassins. Scariest son of a bitch in the business.”

  Morgan grinned. “Never gets old hearing that.” She put out her hand. “Congratulations, today’s your lucky day. You get to work with the scariest son of a bitch in the business tonight. Now, can we get a move on?”

  ~*~

  Taz stopped for the umpteenth time since leaving his father’s suite. This time was at the bar in his own suite, pouring himself a brimming glass of Bacardi Gold rum. His first quaff took it down to below half and he immediately refilled it.

  Morgan… Morganna, he laughed at the thought. How could he have missed that? The deadliest, most infamous hit-man on the face of the planet turns out to be a woman. And not just any woman. None other than the daughter of his father’s best friend and the House Nikaris’ Chief of Security. A woman he’d bedded six months past and he was now being forced to share accommodation with.

  Jesus, she’s a fucking legend. Larger than life and skilled enough, scary enough to break a sweat on the brows of even the eldest amongst their kind. Hell, even the vampire mobsters – Purple Brotherhood, ‘The Outfit’, Nasatra Lucru – pissed their pants at the mention of the name – her name.

  Morgan.

  And he should have known. The stories he’d heard, the hits she’d pulled off. It all made perfect sense now. Hamish’s daughter. She was Necuno. A race created by the old sorcerer Nikaris himself, utilising methods he’d patented eons before the term ‘genetic’ – or modern-day science – became part of the global collective consciousness. They were neither Human nor Vampire, but possessed the best of both realms. Closer to vampire than human, but without the ‘blood thirst’. Used as Nikaris’ personal guard and private army, they were bred for one purpose: to kill.

  “Do we need to take a moment?” Morgan’s dry voice cut through his thoughts. “I can hear you thinking all the way over here.”

  Taz raised a silent toast toward her with his glass then took a sip. “I guess now I’m supposed to get all humble and reverent? Ooooh Morgan, super assassin deluxe. And little ol’ me gets the honour to work with the best of the best.” He gulped his rum and flipped her the middle finger.

  Morgan shook her head at his outburst. “I’ll tell you what. You stay here and continue to act like a sulky brat while I do the job we’ve been assigned.”

  Taz snorted. “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? I can hear it now. All the assholes in their little elite club gossip circles. Taz couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t hack it, so the Old Man was forced to subcontract. Well, guess again, toots.” He swallowed the last of his drink and headed for the door. “Let’s get this shit on the road.”

  “I always heard you were a pain to work with. I didn’t realise it was because you are so insecure.”

  Ouch! Thankfully, his back was facing her so she didn’t see how on target her comment was. “I work alone, sweetheart, so that’s bullshit.”

  “And you’ve never wondered why that is?”

  No further words were exchanged until they’d left the suite and were several feet down the corridor. And it was Taz who spoke first.

  “I’m professional enough not to let this get in the way of the assignment. I suggest we go to KOMO-TV first and wait for the guy with the recording. Unless you have a better idea.”

  “I’m fine with that.” She reached out and caught his sleeve, drawing him to a stop. “Look, I’Ane. I get you’re pissed about having to work with me on this. It’s no picnic for me either. But stop and think about it for a second. If you don’t give Zuron and Hamish this win, the next one they push for won’t be so easy.”

  “Yeah… yeah.” He couldn’t argue with her reasoning. “You know, thinking about everything, I’m getting the strangest feeling that those two are up to something. I just can’t figure out what.”

  Morgan shrugged. “I’ve learned to leave them to their games.”

  “Truce then? At least until we get this job done and find out what those two old goats are up to?” He held out his hand.

  “Truce.”

  ~*~

  Lower Queen Anne – regardless of the praises heaped on it by the Chamber of Commerce’s tourist brochures (and the fact that at least four of the Houses in the Vampire Nation trampled around it like sailors fresh off the boat in Bangkok’s sex and sin district) it was top of the list of Taz’s least favourite places. And Fisher Plaza – in his considered opinion – was the concrete and g
lass version of the ugliest dog of the litter. Unfortunately, it was the home of (amongst other popular attractions) KOMO-TV and, druthers notwithstanding, he would have to bite the bullet.

  “If I recall correctly,” Taz said as Morgan pulled to a stop across from the entrance to the Plaza’s underground parking garage. “Their offices are on the sixth floor. There are working elevators down there.” He nodded to the entrance’s well-lit maw. “They only go as far as the main concourse which is the shopping mall. All closed now, naturally. There’ll probably be a couple of rent-a-cops making the rounds.”

  Morgan eyed the building, lips pursed in thought and she sighed. “I suppose we better try to avoid security. I don’t think we want them to turn up missing tomorrow.”

  “You’re the stealth expect,” Taz grinned. “Suggestions appreciated.”

  “Where’s the fire escape?”

  “Around the back somewhere, I think,” Taz replied after a moment’s thought.

  “If we can cause a false alarm, we can slip in while everyone is panicking.” Morgan unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door as she spoke.

  “Good enough plan – except for one thing.” Taz slid out smoothly, staring at her over the Aston’s roof, and taking a deep breath of air while tapping his nose. “Take a good whiff and tell me what you smell.”

  Morgan gave him a tight smile. “Did you honestly expect them not to send someone?”

  Taz signed. “Truthfully? I was hoping… but then again, maybe not.” He eased the car’s door shut, joining Morgan on the opposite side. “I would have preferred a head start, mind you.” He checked the Beretta in his waistband. “You know this puts a whole new spin on the situation. They didn’t come here to ask nicely.”

  And talk about situations. The current one, and the situation as a whole, struck him as funny to the point of ludicrous. Here he stood, questioning the vigilance – the skill-set – of someone who’d dealt with situations that made the D-Day beach landings at Normandy look like Bingo night at the neighbourhood church parish.