“Well, there’s not a lot of open contracts available at the moment,” Jamie informed him, frowning at her laptop screen.
“That’ll change,” Morgan piped up. “With the Elders’ new mandate in effect, I have a feeling we’re going to be inundated once word gets out to the Turned that certain states are unprotected.”
Jamie shook her head with a wry twist of her lips. “What could the Elders be thinking?”
Morgan filled them in on what she’d learned from Stroud and Kane nodded thoughtfully, pausing his game to swivel in his seat. “They plan on starving him out. Cut him off from any allies and resources, they’re hoping he’ll come crawling back to them.”
Exactly what Morgan had been thinking.
“Should we hold the line then?” Jamie asked. “We can set up in one of the outlying territories, catch the runners before they hit those sanctuary states.”
Morgan shook her head. “For now, we still work solely by contract.”
“I say we take a much-needed vacation before the expected wave hits,” Kane volunteered excitedly. “Disney World, anyone?”
Both Morgan and Jamie grinned at the almost childlike expression of hope on the man’s bearded face. Pulling her phone out once more, Morgan offered, “I suppose I could call down to Florida and let Emanuel know we’ll be heading to his territory for a little R and R after we return Gibson to his Born.”
Kane let out a whoop before returning to his game, Gibson began to struggle, finally waking from his nap only to still and shrink back into his corner when Jamie produced a Taser and let the thing snap and crackle in warning. Meanwhile, Morgan frowned to see that the unknown caller she had completely put out of her mind had left a voicemail.
Assuming it would be either a wrong number or a telemarketer that would be quickly deleted, she was surprised to hear her name spoken in a heavily accented, southern drawl. “Miss Rhys, this is Destin Jourdain.” The caller's name was enough to set her back on her heels and had her quickly leaving the room once more for the relative quiet outside as the head of the US branch of the Order of Witches continued, “I have a proposition I’d like to discuss with you.”
Morgan’s mind spun as she listened to the voicemail a second time before she called the man back, too curious to do anything but. As a rule, witches did not associate with vampires or vice versa. So why was the big man in charge calling her?
“Miss Rhys, I’m pleased you called me back,” Jourdain said as soon as the call connected.
“I must say, Mister Jourdain, I was surprised to get your call.”
A bass rumble of humor met her ear. “I’m sure you were, but as I said, I have a proposition I’d like to discuss with you.” There was a beat of silence before the man added, “In person.”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She had to admit, she was intrigued, but wary just the same. “A visit to New Orleans would require permission from Rodolfo,” she informed the man, referring to the Born that held Louisiana, “and he and I are both going to need more than the head of the Order of Witches has a proposition for me.”
Another rumble of laughter. “What if I told you that I’d like you to investigate a series of murders?”
“I’d tell you that you need to contact the police.”
“Murdered witches. At the hands of vampires – and not to feed. We believe they were targeted.”
Her mind processing this new information and its implications, Morgan watched distractedly as a beat to shit pick-up truck pulled into a parking spot and a giggling, obviously inebriated blonde practically fell out of the passenger side before she lurched back upright with a squeal and tottered on her sky-high heels until the driver, sporting a cowboy hat and western-style shirt, made his way around the hood of the truck to scoop the woman into his arms. As the couple’s mouths met in a heated kiss, Morgan, deciding they weren’t a threat, turned her back on them and paced away.
“You think Rodolfo is behind it,” she guessed.
“Whether he’s behind it, or abetting it, I intend to find out.” The bass rumble that accompanied that statement this time was anything but humorous and Morgan’s nape prickled with unease.
“Why me? What makes you think I’d be willing to investigate one of my own?”
“You have a reputation, Miss Rhys of not only being an efficient Hunter at the top of your field but of being fair-minded as well. It’s said that you have integrity. A rare commodity at times and one I hope to convince you to utilize in this instance.”
Morgan blinked, the unexpected and much-appreciated compliment washing over her in a pleasant wave as Jourdain continued, “As for what you should tell Rodolfo, let him know that you and your team are in the mood for a little Jazz and Creole cuisine. The man loves to show off and will welcome the opportunity to do so with another of his kind I’m sure.”
She’d heard that about the Born that held Louisiana – among other not so nice things. There was a reason why a contract never opened up from Olivier Rodolfo’s territory. He ruled his domain by inspiring terror and maintaining a very tight leash. While that alone wasn’t unusual, in fact, was common among the Born in varying degrees, she’d heard that Rodolfo had his own team of bloodthirsty thugs whose only job was terrorizing new vamps into compliance. Turned vampires who even thought of running never made it out of the area and were rewarded with a very public display of torture and execution in front of his or her compatriots to ensure that no others would contemplate such foolishness in the future. Barbaric? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.
“Perhaps you need some time to think about?” Jourdain said, breaking into her shudder-inducing thoughts.
Did she really want to pit herself and her team against one of her own kind? One with one of the most savage reputations? Not particularly. But if vampires were killing witches unprovoked, the witches would eventually retaliate – most likely without discrimination. Did they really need a war with the magic wielders on top of all the shit that was coming down from the Elders? Hell no. “I’ll need to speak with my team.”
“Of course.”
Assuring Jourdain that she would call him back within twenty-four hours with her decision, Morgan pocketed her phone and headed back to their room. Kane was still gaming, Jamie was biting her lip as she stared at her laptop screen, and their latest bounty was attempting to surreptitiously contort his body to escape his binds. Morgan merely had to raise a brow for Gibson to collapse back into his corner with a defeated huff.
