by L Ann
“I hesitate to use the term overkill,” Morgan laughed as she checked her own weapons.
“Then how about security blanket?” Taz pumped a round into the shotgun’s chamber, remembering the searing pain of the Master’s silver-tipped talons. “If I can help it, the son of a bitch is not gonna get that close again.”
On that score, both wore Kevlar vests, in the very likely probability he would get that close again.
They split up one hundred feet from Kizzy’s large Victorian-style estate and approached slowly, in an inward spiralling circle, stopping every two to three minutes to scan the area with their heightened senses, and kept in touch via special custom made wireless micro ear transceivers. A bit much, in Morgan’s opinion, because both possessed the ability to hear mosquitoes mating across a crowded room.
“It’s like the Scout’s motto – Be Prepared,” Taz had said in defence.
“Like you were ever a Boy Scout,” Morgan chuckled.
“Well, no. But I fed on a few girl scouts,” Taz quipped, with an exaggerated smack of his lips.
“Not just creepy as hell, but damned peculiar,” Taz commented when they met at the front of the house. “I passed what was probably three sentry posts. Their walkies and guns were still there, but no bodies, no remains. It was like they just walked away.”
“So did I, and same thing,” Morgan replied. “Except for the back lawn – the rear patio doors. There were two, clothes shredded to hell, but they were side by side. It’s like they stood there and let themselves be slaughtered.”
Once inside, things became clearer, though not understandable. From the large bookshelf-lined room that was the office of the Queen’s Consilierul Juridic – Legal Counsellor/Chief Advisor – to the sitting room to the large foyer, pieces of furniture, walls, ceilings were riddled with bullet holes; the floors littered with decomposing remains and shredded clothing of Kizzy’s personal guards and house guests.
“It didn’t happen quickly, but it was wild and brutal,” Taz voiced his opinion.
“I think it was to make a statement. He was sending a message, and he had fun doing it,” said Morgan.
“Funny that,” Taz mumbled, turning from his inspection of one of the decayed victims to make eye-contact with Morgan.
“The fact he enjoyed the slaughter is the only thing about this that makes sense,” Morgan replied, bringing a grin to Taz’s features. It was as if she’d pulled the thought off the tip of his tongue.
“More than you realise.” The sudden voice put both into a defensive crouch, guns aimed in the direction the voice came from.
A woman – small, but regal in bearing, her thick curled, inky-black hair draped over one shoulder, her exotically swarthy features pale – stood in an open doorway to their left; her white satin robe torn and dotted with blood. A pearl-handled .38 calibre revolver was thrust outward, aimed in their general direction.
“Come to finish the job, Nikaran?” Her tone was hollow, drained, as empty as the look in her dark eyes.
“We’re here to help, Your Highness. We had nothing to do with…” Taz left the sentence unfinished, waving instead with his free hand to indicate the surrounding carnage.
“I assumed,” she said, lowering the gun to her side. “My people informed me that Zuron was involved; that you took –“ she sagged then, and would have crumpled to the floor had Morgan not been there to catch her.
“She’s in shock,” Taz said. “See if you can find her a coat or something.” He took her from Morgan. “We need to get her away from here, in case he comes back.”
~*~
On the ferry they found a secluded corner of the on-board cafeteria and, though it was against company policy, Taz sweet-talked a waitress into bringing them (or, more accurately, Kizzy) a few stiff shots of brandy. Once she was settled, Morgan stood up and stretched.
“I’m going to take a walk,” she responded to Taz’s questioning look.
Wandering aimlessly for a little while, she stopped near to where a group of old ladies stood watching the waves. Leaning her hands on the rails, she took a few deep breaths and looked out over the water, smiling at the chatter she could hear from the women and waited for Taz. She knew the moment he arrived from the way the old people’s voices dropped, although she didn’t need that sign as she had felt his approach long before he appeared. Just as she knew he stood a few feet away, downwind.
“Found me then,” she commented and heard, rather than saw, him move toward her.
“It wasn’t difficult,” he replied, coming to a stop behind her.
“No,” Morgan agreed.
His arms slid around her and wrapped her backwards into his embrace, surprising her and she stiffened, even as she welcomed his warmth. “What are you doing?”
“You’re cold.” His hands rubbed up and down her arms. “Where’s your coat?”
Morgan chuckled. “In the back of the car covered in your blood. I didn’t think the rest of the passengers would understand.”
They both lapsed into silence and Morgan leaned back into the warmth of his chest.
“Have you figured it out yet?” she broke the silence.
“Figured what out?”
“How you found me so fast,” she answered, and felt him shrug.
“It’s not that big a ferry.”
“True, but you didn’t take a single wrong turn, did you? You left the café and came straight here.” She could feel him mulling over her words for a minute or two before replying.
“Yes, you’re right. So why was that?”
Morgan sighed. “It’s the bond kicking in. It adds some kind of tracking ability. Back when the Houses still battled, it was useful for a Nikaran to be able to find his Necuno easily. The further apart we are, the more vague the pull is. It will give a general direction, but the closer together a Nikaran and Necuno are, the more specific the direction it will take you. Sort of like an inbuilt Sat Nav.”
“Mmm,” Taz rested his chin against the top of her head. “Nice to know. Cuts down on panic, in case we ever get separated.” He tightened his grip, pulling her more snugly against him and experienced a sudden flash of memory. Elsbeth and Zuron – his parents – standing at the large picture window, in the same position he and Morgan were in now, but in the sitting room of the family estate back in Chimera. One of the earliest memories from his childhood, and one of the happiest.
“You were right, you know. I was clueless about the blood bond,” he confessed. “Scared of it, if you want to know the truth. Part of it, I guess, is believing that it is the first step to taking over as Lord of the House Nikaris. Sitting in a room day after day, listening to people bitch and gripe; going to meetings with House Politicians; having folks bow and kiss my ass. Guess there’s more to it than that.”
“A lot more. It’s not the path I would have picked out for myself.”
Not that either of them had been allowed to make the decision on their own, thanks to the behind-the-scenes orchestrations of their conniving fathers.
“I should have expected it,” Taz chuckled.
“Expected what?” Morgan asked, turning in his arms to face him. And for a moment another pull – almost likely a combination of the bond and his libido – tugged at his centre.
Taz grinned. “Every day since I hit puberty, the Old Man has been on my ass, throwing hints and stronger for me to ‘get serious about my future’. Meaning – find a woman and settle down. That stopped just before he sent me to San Diego.”
Although she didn’t say so, it had been a similar story for Morgan. It was standard practice that her assignments – both from the mortal sector and from the House of Nikaris – were passed to her via her faceless contact, either by mail on a special website or by burner phone. The Las Vegas contract had come directly from her father. And she had been a little suspicious in the beginning.
“I’Ane…” she began, after a long moment’s thought. “You ever think about, ever wonder I mean…”
“Ab
out the big ‘what if’?” He voiced her query, awed at their sudden ability to key into one another’s thoughts. “About THE assignment? The one you don’t come back from?” He shook his head and continued. “I try to keep my head out of that place. I don’t want anything to make the Reaper anxious. ‘Cause I plan on doing what I do for a very long time.”
Morgan nodded. “That was my plan, too.”
“Was?”
“How many Necuno women do you see out in the field?”
“Okay, okay,” Taz laughed, drawing it out for almost thirty seconds. Then, after a short beat, asked “And I take it you already started shopping for that shawl and rocking chair?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Morgan pulled out of his arms. Unsettled by how comfortable she’d been standing within his embrace, she turned away from him. “We should get back to Kizzy and the car. The ferry will be docking soon.” Without waiting for his reply, she headed back toward the café where they’d left the Rroma queen.
Taz followed at a slower pace, deep in thought.
~*~
Home Sweet Home.
Taz couldn’t help but smile as they emerged from the stairwell leading up from the underground garage into the lobby. Some of the same faces, the same patrons, guests and employees he’d seen over the past few days were, again, on-hand to witness their arrival and it began, in Taz’s mind, to take on the aspects of a running joke – Morgan and himself either passing through the lobby or going up one elevator in various stages of disarray with an equally dishevelled companion. The rumour mill must have been grinding away at Mach speed.
The delivery of Queen Qetsiyah to Zuron and Hamish was quick and painless.
“We’ll get her registered in a VIP suite, assign guards and let her rest for a few hours,” Zuron had said, following their reports of the events from both nights. “And, on that last note, I think the two of you should do the same.”
“I concur,” said Hamish. “Take the night off. Go out, enjoy yourselves.” His features darkened. “You do not understand how close you came to… well, how close you came.”
“We’ll call you when Qetsiyah is ready to be questioned.” Zuron cut in. “Have a good night.” He hurried them out of the door.
“Looks like we’ve got time on our hands,” Taz commented as they entered his suite and headed toward the bar. “Any ideas what we should do with it?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m planning on a long soak in the tub,” Morgan replied, yawning and veered toward the bathroom.
“You know, I can’t say enough about water conservation,” Taz called after her, flashing a cavalier grin as he poured himself a tall bourbon and saluted her receding form. “I may join…” the house phone interrupted him. “Hold that thought.”
He took his time strolling across the sitting room to where the suite’s cordless phone was located and considered ignoring it for a moment before relenting. “Please let this be important.”
“Your Highness? This is the reception desk.” Taz cringed at the caller’s form of address. “You have a guest in the lobby. A Miss Monroe?”
For a moment Taz toyed with the urge to lie about his identity, to make up an excuse, even to break the connection without so much as uttering a single word and leave the phone off the hook. But reality reared its solemn, burdensome head forcing him to admit that doing any of them would only delay the inevitable.
“Have someone escort Miss Monroe to the downstairs lounge and tell her I’ll join her in –“ he glanced at his watch, “ten minutes.”
~*~
If only he’d said ‘No Thanks’ when Gayle Hunter had offered to introduce him. It wasn’t as if he’d been hurting for female companionship. There were plenty of women – vampire women – in Seattle. Oh bullshit! The voice of reality sneered in Taz’s head. If there had been anyone else available, you’d have turned Gayle down in a heartbeat! Let’s face it, you were bored, pissed, and you did it out of pure spite. Just to get back at the Old Man.
“Yeah, true,” Taz muttered as he boarded the semi-crowded elevator, his verbalised musings garnering the attention of three of his fellow passengers – a pair of turnblood males and their ill-fated blonde flavour-of-the-evening.
“What the fuck are you lookin’ at?” Taz snarled, prompting all three to find more interesting points of aim for their eyes. Glaring, he shouldered past them and tapped the button for Floor One.
No, his inner dialogue resumed, it was his suspension. If Zuron hadn’t temporarily kicked him to the kerb, he would’ve been out of town and not stuck at Shadowfall. More bullshit, I’Ane! First of all, you know now that the suspension was part and parcel of the setup to get you and Morgan together. And, even if it wasn’t, let’s be honest – after the way you handled the San Diego assignment, that suspension was a slap on the wrist. Jesus, man! Of all the people you could have picked to partner up with. Fallon Wylde? Even for a vampire, the man is bat shit crazy.
True, again. He had no one to blame but himself. Even, and especially, for the length of time he had allowed the relationship to continue. He could have broken it off after a night or two. A couple of dates. But three and a half months? Not all of which had been too awful, sure. But the last thirty days had offered its little slices of fist-clenching Purgatory – ho-hum boring sometimes, a sheer pain in the ass in others. But compared to the half dozen dates he’d had with Augustus Dayman’s middle daughter – Motor-mouth Moira and her two tons of jangling jewellery – Kayla had been the Queen of Paradise.
~*~
He turned and walked out of the lounge like an automaton on a pre-programmed course, without so much as a glance in any direction but forward. Most definitely not back. But there was no need to. He knew that Kayla stood rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed on his retreating form.
Taz surprised even himself at how much it had stung, remembering her expression when he delivered his first line.
“Kayla, I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
“Ex-excuse me?” she’d recovered quickly, mouth agape. “Not see? Taz, I don’t under—“
“Look, it’s not you,” he interrupted. “Or anything you’ve done. You’re a beautif- a great person, and a beautiful lady. I just… It’s me. That is, my job. I can’t talk about it, but it’s not safe for us to be together. For you to be with me. There are people out there who would hurt you to get back at me and I can’t let that happen.”
“I’m a big girl, Taz. I can take care of myself. Don’t d—“
“No, I’m sorry,” he cut her off again. “But it’s for the best.” He’d leaned forward, intent on delivering a farewell kiss to her forehead, thought better of it, turned and walked away.
“That was fucking lame and you know it,” he told himself after reaching the elevator alcove. “You weren’t even fucking honest with her.” His cell phone rang as the doors slid open and looking down at the caller ID he groaned audibly. Gayle Hunter, the last person on the planet he wanted to speak to right now. Leaving it to go through to his voicemail, he entered the elevator car and hit the button for his floor.
“You gonna answer that, buddy?” the other occupant asked peevishly when his cell rang for the third time.
“Does it look like I am?” Taz snapped in return and glared at the man, daring him to push it further. The man scurried out at the next floor and Taz wondered if that was because it was the floor he’d wanted or whether he was trying to escape being in the elevator with him.
When the doors slid open at his floor, Taz exited and moved down the corridor to his own suite, not wanting to be stopped by anyone. Entering and locking the door behind him, he paused at the bar to pour himself a large scotch before he even noticed that the suite was in darkness.
Morgan must have gone to bed already, he mused as he sipped his drink and his mood brightened considerably at the thought of the raven-haired Necuno in his bed and he silently admitted to himself that she was the real reason he had finished things with Kayla. Draining
the glass, he left it on the coffee table on his way to the master suite.
Pulling off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, he approached the bed only to stop and frown when he found it empty.
”What the…?” The irritation of earlier returned and, without stopping to think about it, he spun on his heel and stalked through the suite to the guest bedroom. Throwing open the door, he spotted the curled-up figure in the centre of the bed and, with a scowl, he crossed the room and scooped the sleeping woman up into his arms.
“Taz?” Morgan woke almost instantly, her voice husky from sleep. “Has something happened?” The realisation he was carrying her out of the bedroom took a moment, but once it did, she tensed. Taz, feeling her body stiffen, felt a flare of anger – he’d ended a relationship for her!
“What are you doing? She demanded, unaware of his annoyance. “I was asleep.”
Taz didn’t falter from his path. He strode back into the master suite and dropped the now struggling Morgan onto the centre of his bed.
“What the fuck are you doing in the guest room?” he demanded.
“I was sleeping!” Morgan responded, sliding across the bed. Taz caught her shoulder, pushed her back and against the pillows and followed her down, pinning her in place with the weight of his body.
“You sleep where I sleep,” he told her.
“I… what?” Morgan’s eyes widened. “You did not just say that!” She braced her palms against his shoulders and shoved.
“I did.” With one hand, Taz continued to unbutton his shirt, while he used the other to capture and contain her wrists above her head. “According to Nikaran law, your ass –“ he paused and let his eyes drift across her body before rising to her face and quirked a brow “… and the rest of your body belongs to me.” He caught the flare of temper in her eyes and fought to contain a grin, his own bad mood slipping away.
Shirt unbuttoned, he used his now free hand to stroke a finger down her throat. “After I fed from you, you slept in my arms, “ he told her. His finger brushed across her lips, drawing it back with a chuckle when she tried to bite him.