Morgan jumped, startled, having not been aware Jamie was right behind her. Obviously, something was wrong with her. Her senses had always been overly sensitive to stimuli, even beyond the normal scope of the Born, an attribute which had made her such an excellent Hunter but tonight, for some reason, they were glitching. Just what she didn’t need. Especially when she and her team were in the territory of a Born whose reputation was decidedly blood-thirsty while she contemplated doing a job for one of the most powerful witches in the country.
Shaking her head, Morgan began moving back toward where they had left Kane only speaking once her fangs had retracted enough to not be obvious. “I thought I saw something,” she volunteered by way of explanation to Jamie who was keeping pace at her side.
If the other woman suspected anything, she chose to thankfully keep it to herself. Within moments, Morgan’s odd behavior was most likely the last thing on Jamie’s mind as the woman was too busy shaking her head and letting out a scoffing snort. She had spotted Kane exiting the eating establishment with mounds of food overflowing his arms as well as something breaded and deep-fried gripped between his teeth.
“He has to have a hollow leg,” Jamie muttered. “There’s no other explanation.”
Still ignoring the jangling awareness that was calling her to go back to that man, Morgan let out a chuckle that she knew sounded strained. Luckily for her, Kane was too busy eating and Jamie was too busy mocking him for it to pay her much mind.
“Let’s get over to the Garden District,” she interjected, desperately needing to put as much distance as possible between her and whatever the hell was lighting her nerves up with electricity. “The sooner we get the formalities out of the way with Rodolfo, the sooner we can get to work on this business with the witches.”
∞∞∞
Rodolfo’s villa was a stately mansion complete with plenty of columns, balconies, and old-world charm set behind tall wrought iron fences with enough security cameras mounted on them to make any would-be hoodlum think twice before attempting to breach the property.
While the exterior might be admired as southern traditional, the interior – in Morgan’s opinion, at least – was anything but. In fact, it reminded her of her father’s rather cold, archaic compound back in Wales, right down to the blood sport that was currently taking place in the torchlit enclosed central courtyard. Vampires, as well as vacant-eyed humans milled about, both those in tuxedos and gowns, as well as tattooed bikers in leather, all placing bets as a pair of shirtless combatants in the center, fought to the death as a form of gruesome entertainment.
Morgan looked upon the fight with a jaundiced eye. This type of sport had been a bone of contention between her and her father more than once with him being of the opinion that the games kept his vampires’ fighting skills and survival instincts sharp, while she had considered it a senseless waste of life. Last she knew, he was still holding such barbaric displays weekly. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised to discover that Rodolfo and her father were cut from the same cloth. While she was still disgusted by such brutality, seeing this set her mind at ease that she might be able to deal effectively with this unknown Born. After all, she had long ago mastered circumventing her father’s strictures through sheer wit and cunning. She’d need to remain sharp, but she had no doubt that wouldn’t be a problem as long as she didn’t have another repeat performance of whatever odd bit of lunacy had taken hold of her while on Bourbon Street.
A cheer of exultation reverberated through the room and Morgan saw that one of the combatants had thrust his fist through his opponent’s ribcage and torn out the heart. The champion raised the thing above his open mouth, squeezing it and feeding off the blood before he threw the crushed organ to the flagstones with a roar that only spurred the onlookers to greater excitement.
Jamie shuddered slightly at Morgan’s side. “That’s revolting,” she quietly hissed.
There was no opportunity for Kane to add his own opinion, though the look of disgust on his handsome face spoke volumes. A hush had fallen over the crowd and Morgan turned to see a man who could only be none other than Olivier Rodolfo looking down on the amusements from an upper balcony like a king surveying his kingdom. His hand raised in preparation to address his subjects.
Typical of the Born, he was handsome with the trademark symmetry of features that bordered on beautiful. Dark hair, damp from a recent washing was slicked back from his face and just curling slightly at the nape of his neck, brown eyes under perfectly arched brows, an aquiline nose and perfectly sculpted jaw. He was dressed in a pale peach button-down, rolled at the sleeves to his elbows and left unbuttoned at the neck. Sharply creased charcoal dress slacks and black, Italian loafers that were a perfect match to the belt accentuating his trim waistline completed the look of a casual businessman.
“Yummy,” Jamie breathed, seeming thoroughly entranced and Morgan couldn’t help but point out in hushed tones, “Don’t forget he’s the one who hosted that revolting display you just witnessed.”
“Oh, right.”
Morgan almost chuckled at the look of stern disdain Jamie was now wearing but refrained when she noticed that Rodolfo was staring right at them.
“We have Hunters in our midst,” the Born announced to the crowd which had all eyes turning in their direction and elicited quite a few threatening growls and snarls that had Morgan itching to pull her knives. Not surprising. Morgan had known going into this that Rodolfo had his own little group of vampiric attack dogs that he set upon any runners. Most likely that blood-thirsty lot didn’t want any Hunters in the area to spoil their fun with all thatofficial businesscrap.
“No, no,” Rodolfo purred with great amusement at the crowd’s reaction. “They’re here as honored guests and wish to partake of the rich culture of our great state. Let’s not disappoint them.”
In a show that might impress the humans but did little to stir anything even remotely in someone like Morgan or her team, Rodolfo vaulted over the balcony railing to land gracefully on the flagstones of the courtyard below. Within seconds he was standing before Morgan, loosely gripping her shoulders in his hands and kissing the air on either side of her cheeks. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mademoiselle Rhys.”
Inwardly, she despised the pompous prick on sight, but if he was indeed as like her father as she assumed, she’d do best to manage him with sweet manners and a stroke of the ego, so outwardly, she pasted on her most pleasant smile. “We would have met sooner I’m sure, Monsieur Rodolfo if you didn’t have such remarkable control over your territory. Others could learn from you.”
The praise did exactly as she had intended, the suspicious glint that had previously been in the man’s eyes as he looked her and her team over was replaced with preening self-satisfaction. “Come, come. Allow me to give you and your team a tour.”
Round one went to her, but she couldn’t afford to get cocky. Letting her guard down even for a moment in front of someone like Olivier Rodolfo, who was currently pontificating about his vast art collection as he led them through a labyrinth of interconnecting rooms, could find her and her team being the ones with their vital organs left to rot on the floor while Rodolfo’s people cheered the grisly spectacle of their deaths.
Chapter Five
The sun was a bright glowing orb in the sky when Morgan made her way on foot from Rodolfo’s estate with the intention of meeting the leader of the Order of Witches. Kane had chosen to stay behind while Jamie slept, not trusting their host – a sentiment Morgan whole-heartedly agreed with.
As Turned vampires, especially the older ones, wouldn’t be able to be out in daylight, it was less likely she’d have a tail at this hour, but not impossible as Morgan had noted at least three human guards upon exiting the grounds. Guards that, should they have orders to follow her, could be easily eluded with her preternatural speed, but as she was supposedly in town as a tourist who would have no need to run away, it was much more fun to lead them on a merry chase through one of the famed Lafayette cemeteries. Plenty of places to lose her would-be followers without raising suspicion that would surely be reported back to their master.
Making her way deeper through the rows of tombs and mausoleums Morgan suddenly felt an intense prickle at the back of neck followed by that now disturbingly familiar rush of blood through her veins that brought every nerve ending to life and had her fangs distending in hunger.He was here.
She needed to leave. She needed to turn around and walk back the way she’d come. Her feet refused to listen to reason, her body practically lurching into motion to once again find the man that caused her body to light up like a Fourth of July firework display.
Around another corner, her feet propelled her forward until she was practically running over uneven sections of pavement, past a wall of vaults, before she came to a skidding halt. The scent of blood hit her nose, blood from a vampire, just the tiniest hint, mingling with the scent of death andhim. The man from last night, currently in a New Orleans Police uniform was standing with his hands perched on narrow hips, over the body of a woman lying prone in the weeds, discarded like litter.
He turned fully on her approach blocking Morgan’s view of the body. “Ma’am, you can’t be here. I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to leave.”
