Morvicti Blood (A Morvicti Novel Book 1)

by Lee Swift

Angelique walked into the room. “Thomas, may I ask what you are doing?”

  “Trying to bring Gita back to life.” He held up his hand, revealing the bleeding gash on his palm. “Even seeing it with my own eyes it’s still hard to believe.” He placed his hand back on Gita’s lips.

  “What did you see?”

  “The Ripper sliced my hand and forced me to place my palm on Bathry’s mouth.”

  “Who is Bathry?” she asked.

  “David Bell is Bathry, The Ripper’s mentor.”

  “John Reeves is Jack the Ripper, Sis.”

  “Is anybody who they say they are anymore?”

  “Apparently not,” Doc answered.

  “Did he say anything about Michael?” It was clear that her husband’s well being remained in the forefront of her mind.

  Doc shook his head. “I was foolish to place the gun down. The Ripper took it and held me at gunpoint. He forced me to take him to Bathry. My blood went into the cold corpse’s mouth. Nothing happened at first and then the bastard’s eyes opened. Bathry came back from the dead.” Dr. Wilson stroked Gita’s hair with his uninjured hand. “Come back to me, Gita. This must work. It just has to.”

  Angelique put her hand on his shoulder. “Thomas, are you sure about this?”

  “I’m very sure. I checked Gita’s pulse, going far beyond the normal times of 15, 30, and even 60 seconds. I discovered her heart beats once every two minutes. She’s even breathing. One shallow breath, nearly undetectable, also every two minutes. She’s alive. She’s in hyper-hibernation.” Doc’s voice shook with emotion. “If I can give her enough of my blood she might come back to me.”

  Angelique placed her fingers to Gita’s wrist, leaving them there.

  Austin stared at the woman’s violet palms and then held his own up in front of him. We’re the same. My body went into the same state. For over a decade.

  Angelique’s eyes widened. “Austin, he’s right. I just felt a beat.”

  Gita coughed.

  Dr. Wilson removed his hand from her lips, now red from his blood. “Gita? Can you hear me?”

  She opened her eyes. “I can hear you, Thomas.”

  Austin kept his finger on the trigger of his gun. Gita is one of them. No telling what she might do.

  Doc kissed her on the cheek. “You’re here. You’re alive.”

  “So are you.” Gita smiled, turning to him and Angelique. “And so are these two children, thanks be to the Ancestors. What happened to Bathry, Thomas?”

  “After resurrecting Bathry The Ripper cut off his head right in front of me.”

  “Oh my God,” Angelique said.

  “Doc, I wish you would have told us about that when we first came in.”

  “I had a more important matter to take care of first. This dear lady needed me.”

  “Still the old fool you’ve always been.” Gita smiled weakly and sat up, her face quite pale. “I’m so sorry, Thomas. I didn’t want to tell you this way.”

  “Shh, my dear. There’s plenty of time to talk about that later.”

  “I want to talk now.” She swallowed hard. “But I’m a bit queasy.”

  Austin recalled feeling the same way after waking in the building on Murphy Street.

  “I’ll get you some water,” Angelique said.

  “I don’t need water.” Gita closed her eyes, evidently struggling with what she would do next. When she opened her eyes, she said, “In my refrigerator there is a bag of blood. Would it bother you to bring it to me with a glass? I need blood to fully heal.”

  “Of course you do. I will get it for you.” Angelique ran to Gita’s kitchen.

  “The Ripper was here?” Gita wrapped her arms around Doc. “You could have been killed.”

  “But I wasn’t. The monster was that tech I hired yesterday.”

  “John Reeves?” she asked

  “Yes.”

  Angelique returned and handed her the glass of blood.

  Gita stared at her strange drink. “I didn’t give it much thought that Reeves kept gloves on the whole time this morning in the lab, but I’m sure he must have recognized the coloring of my palms and didn’t want me to see his.”

  “He’s gone now,” Doc said. “Don’t be embarrassed about the blood, my dear. You need your strength.”

  She sighed and brought the glass to her lips.

  Austin watched her face brighten and her cheeks redden. The blood was working its magic on her.

  “Feeling better?” Doc asked.

  “Much. What else happened with The Ripper?”

  “He told me I have to finish my work on the samples he gave me,” Doc informed. “The bastard wants me to send everything to Andrea White at the BBC this morning. If I don’t, he will kill one of my techs every hour.”

  “Maybe we can set a trap for him at the BBC,” Angelique said, no doubt grasping at straws to save Michael.

  “I doubt he will be there, Sis. Too risky for him.”

  “You can’t take your research to the media, Thomas,” Gita said, grabbing his hands. “It would destroy my people and yours.”

  Doc asked, “But what about our techs, sweetheart? We can’t just let them be murdered.”

  “I will make a call to someone who can ensure they are protected. I swear that we will keep our techs safe, Thomas.”

  “Who will you call?” Angelique asked.

  “The king of my people.”

  “You are Morvicti? That’s what The Ripper called you,” Austin said. “Similar to vampires.”

  “We would never call ourselves vampires. We are not supernatural beings. We are flesh and blood just like everybody else. I am Morvicti, but we are not monsters. We’ve lived among humans since the dawn of time, but our secret must remain in place for the survival of both our species. It’s the balance that has allowed us to flourish.”

  “But aren’t humans the food of the Morvicti?” Angelique asked.

  “Long ago, yes, but not now. Not for thousands of years.”

  “And the blood?”

  “We evolved, just like Homo sapiens. It is still part of our culture, our religious practices, and the one source that helps us when we go into slumber. We collect blood through other channels.”

  “Blood banks? Hospitals?” Doc asked.

  “That’s right. We only take a small percentage, enough to care for the ill and our loved ones who sleep below ground, and a tiny fraction more for our religious ceremonies. We never take more than necessary and we make sure it’s never missed through an elaborate but secret set of checks and balances. I swear to you, killing humans hasn’t been done in centuries.”

  Austin knew propaganda when he heard it. “Except by people like The Ripper? He’s one of your people, right?”

  “Yes and no. Jack isn’t a pure blood. I never met him, though he was my sister, Irina’s, son—half human and half Morvicti, like you and Angelique. Regrettably my kind see halfbloods as abominations.”

  “Do you know our parents?” Angelique asked. “Are they still alive?”

  “Your mother was human. She passed away the night you were born. I never met her, but your father loved her very much.”

  “Who is he?” Angelique asked.

  “Octavian Drake, our king.”

  He clenched his jaw. “Are you trying to sell us a fairytale, Gita?”

  “She’s only answering my questions,” Angelique scolded. “You don’t have to jump down her throat.”

  Only a few times during their childhood had he and Angelique discussed what they thought their biological parents were like. Angelique had always been curious, even saying that one day she wanted to find them. Not him. They already had parents. He always felt the past could stay in the past. But now he had to face the past whether he liked it or not—and he definitely didn’t like it.

  “So this king father of ours switched my body for someone else? That about sum it up, Gita?” He couldn’t keep his tone civil.

  “Austin, I can understand how this news is h
ard for you to take in, but you will not talk to Gita that way,” Doc chided.

  “I don’t understand how you can defend her when she’s been lying to you for so long.”

  “I thought I lost her. I can forgive her anything now that I have her back.”

  “It’s okay, Thomas,” Gita said. “I owe you an explanation, too. Let me finish telling these children about their father first. Then I will answer any question you have of me.” She turned back to him and Angelique. “Octavian has tried to protect you your entire lives. When your adoptive parents died in that fire, he worried it was an attack by an orthodox faction of our kind. It wasn’t. He investigated every detail to make sure. The tragedy was proven beyond any shadow of a doubt to be an unfortunate accident.”

  “He was there?” Angelique asked.

  “You met him,” Gita said. “The insurance adjuster that visited you before Austin returned from his basic training.”

  “I do remember him. He was so kind to me.” Angelique turned to Austin. “He signed the insurance papers, but his name wasn’t Octavian Drake.”

  “We use a variety of aliases,” Gita said. “Living as long as we do, it’s necessary.”

  “It’s also necessary to keep your damn covers, isn’t it?” Austin could not hold back his anger, despite his sister’s glares.

  “Austin, stop being like that,” Angelique said.

  “Why? She’s been lying to Thomas for years. What makes you think she isn’t lying to us now?” He fixed his stare on Gita. “The truth. That’s what we want. That’s all we want.”

  Doc’s face reddened. “Watch your tone. I won’t say it again.”

  “Please, Thomas. It’s okay,” Gita said. “Austin and Angelique deserve to know the truth. All of it.”

  “Turner & Turner Insurance. Octavian is behind the money we got, right? IBC Bank’s scholarship to Angelique. That’s his doing, too?”

  “Yes. He wanted to make sure Angelique had money for college, and he kept track of you, Austin, while you were in the United States Navy. When you were shot in Iraq, your father was devastated.”

  “Devastated? You’re making everything very clear to me now, Gita, if that’s even your real name. Octavian Drake brought me to London so it would be convenient for him to keep an eye on his two biological mistakes. He made me lose out on ten years of my life and let my sister think I was dead that whole time—when we were in the same fucking city. I would not call him a father. I would call him a monster.”

  “Austin, it’s not what you think. The entire family loves you. Octavian even sent another cousin to find you.”

  “Who?” Angelique asked.

  “Belisarius, but you know him as Commissioner Poole.”

  “Poole is Morvicti.” Doc lit his pipe. “I should have known.”

  “Another damn alias,” Austin said angrily. “That figures.”

  “That’s why Poole was outside my flat,” Angelique said. “He wasn’t there to hurt me. He was there to protect me.”

  “Your father cares deeply for you both.”

  Anger spread through his body, tensing every muscle. “What are you to us?”

  “I’m your father’s cousin, your first cousin once removed. Please try to understand, Austin, everything we’ve done was to keep you and Angelique safe. We weren’t sure if you would ever rise from your slumber, but Octavian wanted you to be close to Angelique if and when you did. His plan was to tell you both on that very day, but The Ripper’s attack on our sanctuary changed everything. The one good thing was Jack gave you additional blood, and I believe that was what finally awakened you.”

  “Perfect. I owe this second life to a serial killer.” Austin shook his head. “Thanks for nothing, cousin.” He turned away from Gita to the Doc. “Is Bathry’s body still in storage?”

  “Yes.”

  “You coming, Angelique?”

  “I have no desire to see any more corpses. I’ll stay with Gita and Thomas.” She’d been through hell since his arrival, so he understood. “Hurry, Austin. We have to figure out a way to find The Ripper and rescue Michael.”

  He placed his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find him. I promise.”

  Her eyes welled up, but no tears fell. She knew the odds were stacked against them.

  “Sis, I’ll be back in a second. I just want to check if there are any clues The Ripper left around Bathry.”

  As he ascended the stairs, his gut twisted into a knot. Now that Angelique knew their biological father was alive there would be no stopping her until they met him, but only after they found Michael.

  He stepped into the cold storage room. The scene was similar to the one on Murphy Street this morning, though Bathry’s head was closer to his body than Walt Turner’s had been. Today he’d seen two headless corpses. Headless corpses.

  That would make a great name for a heavy metal band. Hell, I play bass pretty well. I might get it off the ground.

  He could hear the announcer inform the crowd: “Put your hands together and welcome Headless Corpses!”

  After all, what other career could he possibly explore?

  He could not go back to the SEALs. The Navy believed he was dead. And he pretty much thought the explanation of time-travel from 2003 to the present wouldn’t go over too well with the Armed Services. The world he’d known had never existed. It was a house of cards built to camouflage him and Angelique from the hidden world of their father…a king. I’m not even human. Fuck.

  He heard a buzz behind him. Swinging around and aiming the gun in the direction of the sound, he saw the source—John Reeves’s cell phone.

  He clicked it on. “What can I do to get you to free Michael, asshole?”

  “Stop calling me ‘asshole’ would be a nice start,” The Ripper said.

  “What do you want?”

  “My brother, you and I are the same. We are warriors.”

  “Cut the crap, John or Jack or whatever you want to be called. I want Michael. Now tell me what it’s going to take to make that happen.”

  “Very to the point. I like that. It’s time for us to meet and decide what we shall do with Michael. Together. Do not bring Angelique. She is too delicate for this undertaking. If you do not follow my instructions, Michael dies. Angelique dies. And you, my brother, die.”

  “And if you dare try to double cross me on this I will kill you.”

  “Have I lied about anything to you, Austin? No. I’m the one person who has been telling you and your sister the truth.”

  “And you will leave Angelique out of this?”

  “Yes. This is between you and me. But I believe once you hear everything I have to say you will join me. And you will give Angelique and me your blessing to marry.”

  Not on your fucking insane life, asshole. “Where do we meet?”

  “We’ll meet at St. Patrick’s cemetery at Mary Jane’s memorial marker.” The Ripper told him the address.

  “When?”

  “I have a couple of things to take care of before you get here. Let’s see. It’s twenty-five past midnight. By car from Dr. Wilson’s house the trip normally takes thirty minutes this time of night. Make it twenty. I’ll see you at a quarter to one. Goodbye, Austin.”

  CHAPTER 67

  12:26 AM

  “Look there, son,” Collin’s father said in his thick Irish brogue. “We be havin’ ourselves a few troublemakers tonight.”

  Collin swept his torch over to where his father pointed.

  “Maybe so, Da,” Collin said. “Father James was right to start the late rounds. Best we call the authorities.” He knelt down to inspect the gates’ broken chain and lock lying on the ground. Carelessly tossed aside nearby was a large pair of bolt cutters. Footsteps led into the cemetery.

  “Looks like a single troublemaker, more like,” his father said.

  He rang the police non-emergency number ‘101’ on his mobile phone. After the recording ended, he was connected to Forest Gate Police Station.

  “Officer Stanton,
how may I help you?”

  “Hello, I’m Collin O’Shea. My father and I are groundskeepers at St. Patrick’s Cemetery in Leystone. We’ve been vandalized.” He told the officer about the broken chain and bolt cutters.

  “Are you in any danger, Mr. O’Shea?”

  “No, sir. Likely just a teenager carrying on after a night at the pub. Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.”

  “We will send someone out as soon as possible.”

  “Thank you.” Collin clicked off the mobile and turned to his father. “If it’s anything like the last time, we won’t see any police for at least an hour.”

  “An hour? If day show ’n two I be surprised. Maybe this vandal will have da decency to be passed out when day arrive, like last time.” His father winked. “Shall we see for ourselves who is trespassing, Lad?”

  “Ya, Da.” He looked over at his father and smiled.

  Sean Niall O’Shea, though brokenhearted from losing his wife, had been the best father a son could ever hope for. Collin still saw a bit of the sadness in his dad’s eyes from time to time, though most days they had that mischievous spark he so loved.

  Collin’s mother had died from cancer when he was just a tiny lad. His father had taken such good care of her during her long battle. The only memory Collin had of his mother was of her sleeping and his dad awake, holding vigil at all times by her side.

  He and his father continued down the cemetery’s path, pointing their torches in every direction. No sign of the vandal so far.

  “Just imagine the faces of the family next week when I tell them about tonight,” his father said. “You and I facing down two…four giant brutes inside these fences.”

  “You and your tales. No one believes a word you say.” He smiled. “Maybe this next trip home you should consider a dash more truth.”

  “If I do, your Uncle Michael won’t keep our glasses full.” His father laughed. “Twenty-one days in Dublin. What a time you and I will—”

  A dark figure appeared suddenly behind his father, covering his mouth and slicing his neck with a large knife. His father fell to the ground, the long gash in his throat spewing blood and robbing him of his final words.