“I’d actually like that. I’ve got to make some calls and check in with staff at The Dracul.” She shrugged. “Christophe said our costumes for the ball should arrive today, so I’ll have to make sure my Blood Son didn’t pick out anything too outrageous.”
“I’ll try and be back early. Maybe we can curl up on the couch and watch some old black and white movies or something?”
“That sounds nice and relaxing.” She kissed him and stepped back, offering her hand.
“I’ll do my best,” Nicholas promised and took her hand as they walked into the house together.
Fifteen minutes later, Nicholas paused at the front door, prepared to leave when a loud bang and pounding footsteps startled him from behind. He spun on the balls of his feet, hand reaching for the hilt of the dagger at his side before his mind had the chance to process what he saw. Eric had flung the study door open and raced to close the distance between them. The young vampire’s eyes were wide and accompanied by a huge smile.
“I found him!” He exclaimed thrusting a sheet of paper at the elder vampire.
Nicholas stumbled back a step and grabbed the sheet. “Found who?”
“Jayson’s history!” Eric bounced on the balls of his feet as Nicholas squinted at the tiny writing.
“Okay, since I guess I’m old and can’t read it. What did you find?”
“As we thought, his name is Jayson. He’s from here in San Francisco, lived in the same apartment building as Emily Stanton. Apparently, Samair made him a vampire over eight months ago. The vampire rumor mill says our friendly neighborhood Lord of the City never really had much control over him. But something changed about four months ago. The Nomads say there was a falling out and Samair exiled Jayson.”
“Is there any other information about him?”
“Not that I could find,” Eric said with a shrug.
“Last name? Anything?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean I won’t learn more. I can use the apartment building as a starting place, and from there I can dig into Emily and the other guy’s lives, see if I can find anything more tying them to Jayson.” Eric put a hand on the elder vampire’s shoulder. “Trust me, boss, this is big.” Without another word, he spun around and raced back to the study.
Nicholas didn't move for several seconds, a million questions running through his mind. No. I’m not going to follow him. I know there was something in there that I’m going to want to know more about. But not right now. Let him run with this without interference for the time being. Who knows, maybe he’ll catch a break?
27 - San Francisco, CA - October 31, 2012
The streets of the city were filled with a wide array of revelers. Children dressed as fairytale characters, superheroes, and animals joined young adults portraying killers and monsters from movies. Adults were not outdone with their choices of more mature versions of the costume spectrum.
As the limousine made its way through the streets, Morgan couldn’t help but watch the humans through her window. She shifted in her seat and tried to adjust the mask that covered the upper half of her face. Well, this is a lost cause. I hate masks, they always cut off the peripheral vision. She had to turn her head to see as their car eased to a stop in front of a grand Victorian mansion. Christophe reached out and squeezed her hand. She smiled, shifted to the other side of the car and waited as he stepped out to escort her inside. Strains of an orchestra drifted through the night air and costumed revelers strolled up to the front doors.
“I’d say we’re fashionably late.” He held out his hand to help her out of the car.
Ahead of them stood a three-story Victorian with a tall stairway entrance that Morgan knew would lead to the second floor. The first level was a partially subterranean basement. Zachary stood in the foyer, greeting guests just beyond the open front door.
“Not exactly a practical layout,” Christophe whispered as he glanced around the house.
“I’d guess he had it redone,” Morgan replied as she noticed the open floor plan.
Several columns rose from the lower level all the way to the ceiling of the third floor. She imagined they continued through to the roof but couldn’t be certain. In front of them, a sweeping staircase led to the main floor where couples danced in formations that hadn’t been popular for centuries. To her right and left were wide balconies where guests congregated to observe the festivities. Morgan and Christophe continued to the other side of the building where a chamber orchestra played soothing background music.
“You don’t think he did it just for the party, do you?”
“Knowing Zachary, it’s possible, unlikely, but possible. No, I think this is where he holds all his parties so, of course, he’s remodeled to fit his vision.” Morgan’s voice held a hint of laughter as she and Christophe joined other guests to greet their host.
Morgan approached the area where Zachary stood watching the throngs of revelers glide around the ballroom with unnatural grace. He wore a Victorian-era frock coat, vest and cravat. His sword cane hung by its handle from the banister. The costume dated back to the era when he had become a vampire, something that Morgan knew had become a bit of a tradition with him.
She wore a sleek, black satin gown that draped her curves. The mask resembled a stylized raven done in black and silver, and it covered the upper half of her face. The costume dated back to one she’d worn in the 1930s, with a few minor changes. On her arm, Christophe’s costume recalled the same era, an impeccably tailored pinstriped suit and tie with a fedora cocked to one side on his head. His mask had been styled as a simple black and white domino. In his free hand, he turned a poker chip over and over with his fingers. The gold stamped double C logo flashed with each spin.
“Thank you for the invitation, Zachary.” Morgan stepped up to their host and offered her hand.
Zachary lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on the back of it. He released it, and she caught sight of a frown behind his mask. “I heard that Nicholai was in town and had hoped he would escort you since you’re no longer being shy about your association.”
“We were never shy,” she answered. “It was careful.”
“Still, I held out hope that the two of you would make your debut as a couple in our society at my gala.” Zachary punctuated his melodramatic statement by a sweeping gesture that made the rings on his fingers glitter in the flickering candlelight.
Morgan wasn’t certain what to make of their host’s attitude and didn’t feel the tension ease until she caught sight of Zachary’s eyes behind his simple black domino mask. She smiled, feeling the edges of her own against her cheeks.
“Well, I feel like an ugly stepsister now,” Christophe grumbled with irritation.
“Ugly? You are anything but, my dear Christophe.” Zachary turned his attention to the other vampire and smiled, flashing his fangs. “You could never be thought of as an ugly step anything.”
“You flatter me,” Christophe replied.
Their host looked over Morgan’s shoulder and nodded to his new arrivals. “Please enjoy your evening.” Zachary bowed to them before he wrapped an arm around Morgan and whispered, “My dear, you and I should speak more, later.”
“Of course,” she said as Christophe took her arm and led her away from their host.
Morgan glanced back to see Zachary speaking to a vampire in a jester’s costume liberally decorated with glittering seed beads or crystals. They walked arm in arm toward a vampire dressed in a herald’s costume, and she handed him her invitation. She and Christophe descended the stairs into the ballroom when the herald called out their names.
Vampires and humans filled the dance floor, moving in time to a court dance played by an actual chamber orchestra. Around the edges of the dance floor, couples and small groups stood drinking blood-laced champagne while chatting.
The costumes were opulent and colorful, ranging from elegant to playful and frightening to historic. Servers, who carried silver trays laden with glasses, wore matching skintigh
t black body suits. White full-face masks with bright red lips and some sort of abstract design over the left eye and cheek completed their costumes. Morgan frowned. She never would have expected something with such a creepy effect from Zachary.
“What do you suppose Zachary wants to talk to you about?” Christophe’s question brought her attention back to her Blood Son.
“I have no idea,” she said, shaking her head. They paused at the edge of the dance floor, and she took a deep breath.
“Why do I feel like you’re getting ready for a fight?” he asked. “It’s just a ball. Hell, you’ve thrown them, there’s nothing to fear.”
“I’ve never thrown a ball and then done what I could to sow dissension among the ranks of a ruler’s people.”
“Then you missed out on a lot of fun back in the day.”
“I don’t recall you doing a lot of rabble-rousing in your time.”
“Well, I did manage to pit a couple of noble houses against one another,” Christophe replied as a gentleman in a simple black and white domino mask and tuxedo approached.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, holding a hand out to Morgan. She smiled at Christophe though he could see the humor did not reach her eyes.
Morgan nodded to the unknown vampire and allowed herself to be led out to the dance floor. The orchestra at the end of the dance floor played a waltz. Morgan and her partner moved with the music, and when that song finished, a different partner pulled her into another dance. She passed among various dancers several times and wove through the crowd in time to the music before returning to Christophe’s side.
“Learn anything interesting?”
“Apparently, our kind doesn’t care much about bad breath.” Morgan scrunched up her nose and pulled a disgusted face.
Christophe laughed and handed her a glass of champagne with a drop of crimson liquid suspended at the bottom of the effervescent drink. “I was thinking more in the rousing of the rabble area rather than the hygienic habits of the modern vampire.”
“The rabble appears to be suitably roused,” she muttered, distracted as she examined the drink in her hand.
“The bartender called it a blood drop. I know, I know it’s terribly original,” he acknowledged at her bemused look. “Yes, I am going to figure out how it is done and what we can use that is safe for human consumption to replicate the appearance.”
“You know me too well, mon ami.” Morgan laughed and sipped her champagne.
“I also know you hate masquerades.”
“I’m uncomfortable not knowing who I’m dancing with or talking to. It’s very disconcerting.” A fine tremor ran through her as she continued her thought. “Don’t you feel the same way, especially considering recent events?”
“We’ve made the obligatory appearance. Do you want to leave?”
“You know we can’t,” she said, rolling her eyes, “because we have to wait for the host to make his toast at the stroke of midnight.”
Christophe sighed and checked the pocket watch tucked into his vest. “Leave it to Zachary to have a flair for the dramatic.”
“You can bet he picked it up hanging around Counselors and other members of the Dynasty before he turned Nomad.”
“Which practically guarantees he’s going to ramble on with a long-winded toast.”
“Exactly,” Morgan said. With a sigh, she sipped the champagne.
As soon as she began drinking, the drop of blood slipped free from whatever kept it whole, and it dispersed in the drink. That provided an aftertaste of cinnamon and something faintly metallic. She nodded and took another sip.
“Something wrong?” Christophe asked.
“Just the usual,” she quipped.
“There’s only one cure for that.”
“What’s that, my friend?”
“Dancing and drinking. Maybe not in that order.”
“Why does that sound suspiciously like your cure for everything?” Morgan pursed her lips and tilted her head to the left.”
“Because it is.”
“Just don’t let anyone cut in for a while.” She frowned.
Christophe finished his champagne and set the glass on a passing server’s tray. He looked at Morgan and then at her glass. “Don’t expect me to dance while you have that.”
“Spoilsport.” Morgan laughed and finished her drink, setting the empty glass on a nearby table.
Christophe bowed low and offered her his hand with a melodramatic flourish. “Shall we dance, milady?”
“Certainly,” Morgan replied, and allowed her Blood Son to lead her into the crowd of vampires. He put an arm around her waist, and she mirrored his action. In moments, they were swept up in the swirl of the ballroom.
After a few songs, they strolled to the edge of the room. Morgan felt a little light-headed, and wanted to rest for a minute or two. When a dark-haired Asian woman in a 1920s flapper costume with massive ostrich feathers on her mask asked Christophe to dance, Morgan waved him away. He nodded and swept the other woman into his arms. Morgan watched the pair for several minutes. She wandered among the other guests, enjoying drifting from one conversation to another. The orchestra finished a sensual tango and transitioned to a dark, moody waltz.
Feeling an icy thread of fear slither up her spine, Morgan scanned the crowd, her eyes roving from one face to the next. An involuntary shiver ran through her as she caught sight of a vampire in a Plague Doctor costume. She gasped, the memory of a dream crashed into her. Lucian would never be so foolhardy, would he?
Morgan started walking toward the Plague Doctor, but he turned and went deeper into the room. she pushed her way through the crowd searching for him. When she reached the other end of the room, she turned, taking in everything. He had disappeared.
She caught sight of Zachary as he drifted through the crowd, taking a moment to talk with any of the guests who stopped him. He turned and their eyes met. Zachary acknowledged her with a nod before finishing a conversation and started making his way in her direction. Several times other guests tried to stop him, but he brushed them off. As he got closer, he grabbed two glasses from the tray of a passing server.
“Morgan.”
“Lovely party, Zachary.”
“Thank you. I do try to make a splash,” he said, extending one hand out to her, offering the drink.
“Thank you for the invitation.”
“I’m not very good at the whole small talk thing right now.” Zachary sighed and shook his head. “I admit that I had an ulterior motive in extending an invitation to you and Nicholai.”
“I am sorry Nicholas wasn’t able to attend. He is in town hunting a renegade and could not shirk his duty, even for one night.”
“Understandable. However, I would like to discuss something with you, although I am afraid it is not a lighthearted matter.”
She eyed his hand with growing suspicion. Since he had turned his back on her and the Dynastic way of life, there hadn’t been many times when they had spoken alone. “Considering our relationship in the past few decades, I’m not surprised.” She took a deep breath. “Very well, what would you like to discuss?”
“It is not something I prefer to speak of in front of my guests.” He shrugged and ran his hand through his dark hair. Behind his mask, Morgan noticed the tension in his expression.
She considered his request before nodding, “Perhaps we should go where there are fewer ears?”
“That would be preferable.” Zachary crooked his elbow, offering his arm, and together they strolled through the ballroom out to one of the large empty balconies. The lights of the city twinkled in the distance through the trees. He released Morgan’s arm and stepped to the railing, staring into the night.
“So, how may I help you, Zachary?” Morgan asked. When he didn’t react, she crossed to stand beside him. “I know I am not Nicholai, nor do I have his authority, but I do have his ear. I can speak with him about whatever you like.”
“I trust you will inform him and be circum
spect about whom the information is shared with.” Zachary straightened to his full height and clasped his hands behind his back.
“Whatever you tell me will go no further than Nicolai and whoever he deems needs to know.” What is going on? He’s not usually like this. Then again, it’s been a few decades, maybe something’s happened that’s made him this guarded. But he wasn’t this way when we arrived. No, something’s wrong.
“An alarming number of my Blood Children and other vampires I know have gone missing in the past few months.”
Morgan frowned. Though they hadn’t seen each other in almost a century, she knew him well enough to know when he tried to sugarcoat a situation. Damn it, Zachary, I don’t need your tap dancing bullshit. She wanted to say it out loud, but knew he would take it as an insult, so she tempered her response.
“Missing or dead?”
“Both. Three Blood Children are dead. The situation with my friends, I have no way of knowing what has happened. All I know is that I can no longer reach them. I have gone to their homes and checked with their donors. No one knows where they can be found.”
“How many friends?”
“Six.”
She inhaled and held her breath, letting it out on a slow ten count to keep her own rising fear in check. Nicholas would need as many facts as possible.
“I’m going to assume one or more of them had invitations to the ball.”
“All of them did. Their names have not been called because they have not arrived.”
“Have you spoken to the local Enforcer?”
“I have… but… she is new and… not responsive to the likes of me.” Long pauses between the words indicated his need to choose them with care.
“The likes of you?” Morgan asked, not wanting to consider what he meant.
“Vampires who have turned their backs on the Dynasty.”
Morgan sighed and began pacing. She slipped her mask off and rubbed her temples with her free hand. Zachary stood in silence, watching intently but uncertain of her reaction.
“You’re telling me that when you spoke with her, the Enforcer of San Francisco trivialized the disappearance of vampires simply because they were not members of the Dynasty?”
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