“The boss wants to see you,” were the words that greeted Morgan immediately upon entering Rodolfo’s villa.
She gritted her teeth against the urge to ignore the summons and run up to the guest suites to check on her team, but that would most likely see her being chased down and probably dragged in front of the Born, considering how seriously Rodolfo’s Turned took their orders. “Of course. Where is he?”
Instead of answering, the muscle-bound vampire chose to escort her. Luckily for him, he wasn’t foolish enough to put his hands on her as he led her through the house. The way she was feeling, she may well have pulled the gun Travis had handed her before kissing her goodbye with enough passion to curl her toes and shot the belligerent guard.
Their destination was the billiards room, and upon entering, she noted that Rodolfo was currently speaking to a human man and something in the way the Born was staring into the other man’s eyes as he spoke almost had Morgan’s mouth dropping open with shock. Olivier Rodolfo had the gift of compulsion. It was an extremely rare gift among their kind, maybe only occurring once in every thousand naturally born vampire. But those gifted with compulsion were stuck in one singular form – a cosmic tradeoff so to speak.
The vast majority of her kind held the ability to change their shape either by dispersing their molecules into a thick mist or fog or by breaking apart into a cloud of bats.As a small child, feeling quite clever, Morgan had once made the observation to her parents that the latter ability gave the Born something in common with the shifters. They had been appalled by the very suggestion and she'd been assigned extra studies as punishment, her tutor told to, quote, keep her mind from contemplating such blasphemous thoughts, end quote.
Morgan personally didn’t like changing form, finding the sensation too unsettling, but it was a convenient attribute should she be attacked, and the knowledge that Rodolfo couldn’t elude her in that way was definitely useful information right now should she be forced to kill the Born if he’d done something to her team. But compulsion? She’d have to warn Travis.
No wonder he, and the rest of law enforcement, couldn’t get anything on Rodolfo despite their best efforts. It wasn’t blind devotion or payoffs that were making random people confess to crimes they hadn’t committed. They were being compelled to do so, leaving Rodolfo completely free to run his illegal businesses without fear of repercussion.
“Ah, Morgan, how lovely to see you again,” Rodolfo declared, striding forward to greet her. When the human man followed like an over-eager puppy, the Born shot him a look of annoyance before shooing him away with the flick of his fingers and a growled, “I’m done with you. Go away now.”
As the human scurried out, Rodolfo took her fingers in his and kissed the back of her hand. “Have you given any thought to my proposal?”
It was tough to keep the pleasant, smiling mask in place in light of both the question as well as the fact that he hadn’t released her hand, but somehow, Morgan managed. “I confess, I might still be in shock, Olivier. Someone like you could have any woman he wanted.”
Openly pleased with her flattery, Rodolfo kept hold of her hand as he led her deeper into the room and motioned for her to take a seat on one of the stools in front of the polished bar. “Let’s have a drink, shall we?”
Morgan wanted to scream. She didn’t want to have a drink, nor waste her time on stroking this asshole’s ego. She wanted to find her team, finish this mission so that she could personally deliver Rodolfo on Destin Jourdain’s doorstep. Then, she could concentrate on searching Rodolfo’s files for any clue as to what had happened to Sophia St. John.
With the end goal in mind, she accepted the tumbler of whiskey on ice Rodolfo prepared for her, took a drink, and went ahead with her previous plan to double down on her line of questioning. Pasting on a coy smile, she forced herself to skim her fingertips flirtatiously over the top of Rodolfo’s hand. “I heard a rather intriguing rumor about you lately.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
His eyes had turned flinty with suspicion so Morgan was careful to keep her tone admiring as she leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “I’ve heard you may have ordered your people to exterminate those pesky little witches in your territory. How utterly clever of you.”
The smile he shot her was hard, his words clipped as he replied, “And where did you hear that, Mademoiselle Rhys?”
If his expression hadn’t been a dead giveaway, her demotion back to the formal address would have. Shit. She’d obviously fucked up, but before she could attempt to backpedal, Rodolfo suggested, “Perhaps you heard it from your cop lover, Officer St. John?” His face turned mocking. “No. He’s nothing more than a weak human you’ve chosen to amuse yourself with, I’m sure.”
Inwardly relieved that Rodolfo obviously had no clue what Travis really was, Morgan outwardly steeled herself for what was sure to come next. The Born was building up to something, taunting her with how much he already knew. Her fingers twitched with the need to arm herself.
Tapping his finger on his chin for a moment, he made a motion as if the answer had just occurred to him. “You must have heard it from your new friend, Destin Jourdain.”
His eyes narrowed threateningly. “Interesting company you’ve been keeping lately, my dear.” Releasing a sound of disgust, Rodolfo shook his head at her in disappointment, his expression a mirror image of one she’d seen on her father’s face far too many times. “Betraying your own kind,” he reproached. “How very sad.”
Done playing nice, Morgan was about to pull her gun, level it at Rodolfo’s head, and demand answers, but she was forestalled when one of the Born’s lackeys barged into the room practically at a full run. “Trouble outside.”
With the promise of, “We’ll finish this later,” Rodolfo walked off without a backward glance.
Hoping Travis hadn’t gone and done something stupid, Morgan ran for the nearest window that afforded a view of the front gates only to blink in surprise at what she was seeing. The gate was bent in on itself, a mangled ruin, the cameras mounted on top sparking in malfunction as Destin Jourdain stood in the gaping hole, arms spread wide. The leader of the Order of Witches, looked fearsome in the glow of the security lights, wearing nothing but a pair of linen draw-string pants. His gleaming torso was painted with symbols, his head held high, his voice carrying all the way to her as he shouted in his booming baritone, “You want to go to war with me!”
Vampires raced toward him to defend their territory only to drop to their knees, screaming and holding their heads as blood leaked from their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths. Morgan watched in awe of the power of a single man against an army of vampires and knew whole-heartedly that the vampires didn’t stand a chance.
Shaking herself out of her fascination, she raced for the stairs to find her team. She checked Jamie’s room first as Kane was more likely to join her than vice versa. No sign of the blonde vampire and while a quick check confirmed that Jamie’s clothes and toiletries were still there, not a single piece of tech remained.
With her heart seemingly lodged in her throat, Morgan ran for Kane’s room and burst through the door to find the younger Born sprawled across his bed sideways and bare-assed naked. The smells in the room, hard liquor, stale perfume, and sex told one story, but another scent, just the barest trace of a familiar, delicate and quite dangerous scent that Morgan recognized from her childhood, gave that story a sinister slant. Belladonna.
It had been one of her mother’s favorite games to play when she was displeased with Morgan’s father. And though her father had eventually learned to recognize the scent of deadly nightshade, frustrating her mother’s future attempts to put her husband out, someone not familiar with the plant and its effects would never suspect that their drink may have been doctored. While the plant wasn’t fatal to vampires like it was for humans, if consumed, it would put that vampire out for a long period of time and upon awakening, they would be nauseous, their reflexes and mental acuity sluggish, leaving them vulnerable and open to attack.
Gunfire erupted outside, the battle escalating, but Morgan couldn’t afford to be distracted. Giving Kane several hard shakes to rouse him, she finally managed to get him to crack his eyes open. He blinked at her a few times, revealing bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes, grunted, attempted to roll over and immediately heaved the contents of his stomach onto the bed.
“You’ve been drugged,” Morgan briskly explained. “And Jamie’s missing. We need to find her. Can you walk?”
Pushing himself up with shaking arms, he let out a few more retching sounds but managed to get to his feet with a groaned, “That bitch.”
