Morvicti Blood (A Morvicti Novel Book 1) (11 page)

She pointed. “There it is.”

“Is it locked?”

“Always.” It felt good to have Austin back, though she was still reeling that he was alive.

He nodded, walking to the window situated by the other door. “Fuck.”

“What’s the matter?”

Taking a step back, he continued peering out. When he brought out a gun, her stomach did a flip-flop.

“What are you doing, Austin?”

“When I left the place where I woke up, a man in a dark suit spotted me on the street and called out my name. He began chasing me, but I ditched him on the other side of the river. Now he’s on the sidewalk outside your house on his cell, likely trying to reach his boss for instructions. They must know you’re my sister.”

CHAPTER 17

10:16 AM

Pulling into an empty car park, David Bathry felt a shiver run up and down his spine. He didn’t want to be driving while on his mobile talking to
him
. More than anything, he had to find the bastard.

“Jack, are you there? Talk to me.”

“Hello, friend.” The voice on the other end of the line sickened him.

“Where are you?”

“You and I both know that isn’t my real name. Nor, is the name you told me yours.”

He can’t know.
“Jack, you need to come in. It’s not safe for you to be out on your own.”

“I appreciate your concern, David.”

“How do you know my name?”
Maybe he only has my given name.

“Easily enough. My outings to the Internet café were quite productive, thanks to your tutelage, Mr. Bathry.”

Fuck.

“I learned your name and so much more. With little effort I was able to connect the dots to the members of the bloodline. I can’t believe with such incredible resources at your fingertips you weren’t able to do the same.”

The man was an arrogant bastard. Bathry decided to try to appeal to his will to survive. “Jack, listen to me carefully. I only want to make sure you stay alive. If they find you, they will destroy you. Trust me.”

“But I don’t trust you. You’ve been clueless to so many things. A deadly house fire that occurred in Texas back in the nineties. An archeological expedition in Guatemala decades ago. And let us not forget the first mission you sent me on in 2003.”

What the bloody hell is he talking about?
“The U.S. senator’s nephew? That was not successful. He still has his head. I don’t understand what that has to do with our situation now, Jack.”

The killer laughed. “Things are right in front of you, but you fail to see them. How could I ever trust a fool like you?”

Bathry had no idea what Jack was talking about, but he could feel his hard work slipping away with every syllable the bastard uttered. “But I rescued you from your prison.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m sure you’re very upset about my changes to your master plan.”

“
Our
plan, Jack. It was always our plan. We share the same enemies. The high born are to blame for what happened to you.”

“But all the bloodlines are my enemy, even the lowly Bathrys. Your kind believes they are the superior species, that the rest of humankind doesn’t even deserve mention in the same breath as you and yours. My mother was one of the Morvicti, my father a mere mortal. But their union created me, the first of a new breed—the pinnacle species.”

Blasphemy
. “You fucking halfblood. I will kill you myself.”

“You have to find me first, David.” The beast laughed. “When you sent me for that task this morning, I had a feeling it was the last one. You’re never happy to see me, but you were positively giddy. I left with the intention of never returning, though I meant to complete the job. A few more dead bloodliners only serve my purpose of exposing your secret society to the entire world. Havoc is my friend, David. Havoc alone.”

Maybe something good did come of this. “Then you did cut off the heads of the Drakes you found in the sanctuary?”

“Only one, but that’s another story. Suffice it to say, I learned this morning that I am not alone.”

More cryptic words.
“You’re insane.”

“I can understand why you might think so, but you are wrong. Everything I have done and will do has a purpose. Thank you for your help in getting me acclimated to this amazing world. I look forward to when we meet again.”

Bathry’s gut coiled into a knot when the line went dead.

CHAPTER 18

10:20 AM (GMT)

Octavian Drake sat inside his private jet with his mobile phone to his ear. His heart pounded hard in his chest. His brother was dead. Austin McCord was missing. “Where are you, Belisarius?”

“Outside Angelique’s flat.”

“Any sign of Austin?” Of course McCord would try to get to his twin. She was likely the only person he knew in London.

“No, but he did create quite the disturbance when he hijacked a delivery van and driver at gun point. Just got the report from an officer with the Met.”

“Damn.”

“My sentiments are the same, Majesty.”

“Talk to David Bathry. Do what you can to slow down the police’s search for McCord,” he said. “We must find Austin before the Metropolitan Police do.”

“I will do my best. What about his sister?”

Good question.
An intruder had defiled the Drake Bloodline Sanctuary. Servants were cleaning up the mess at this very moment.

His brother, Romulus, known by the alias “Walter Turner,” had been slain, his head severed from his body. Losing Rom crushed him utterly. There was no one else above ground he trusted more. Grief threatened to consume him, but he could not let it, not with his invisible enemy still on the loose.

Though the slumbers of his family hadn’t been disturbed, Austin’s whereabouts were still unknown. “We don’t have a choice. It’s time for Angelique to know the whole truth.”

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be with what is going on.” The other bloodlines were screaming for the head of The Ripper. The situation could not be more dire.

“It’s possible that McCord is already inside with his sister.”

“Let’s hope so. It will make your job easier.”

“I’ll report back as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be in flight in the next ten minutes. I should be in London early this afternoon. Don’t fail me, Belisarius.” He clicked off the phone.

Ivana, the woman who had been part of his flight crew for many years, brought him and Duchess Lupei cocktails.

He took the glass of vodka.

The duchess took the wine. “Thank you, miss.”

Duchess Lupei was dressed head to toe in black. Despite her short stature, she had always commanded a regal bearing befitting her bloodline. Now, though, Octavian could see the cracks within her armor, including the barely perceptible way her hand shook as she accepted the wine.

The grieving woman’s husband, Duke Lupei, had asked Octavian if she could fly to London on his plane. Of course he’d said ‘yes,’ glad to help Gail’s mother in any way he could. She wanted to collect the personal items from her daughter’s flat in London.

Duke Lupei decided to remain in Romania at their estate outside the town of Firiza. The Lupei Bloodline had always played an important role in the administration of the Imperial Morvicti Council. That noble bloodline had been awarded a seat at the table after the eradication of the traitorous Stalcucs. Stopping the Stalcucs’ centuries-long rebellion against the crown had been costly; many a noble’s head had been severed. The council had to remain vigilant. Always. But Octavian knew Duke Lupei’s reason for remaining in country had little to do with work for the Morvicti.

“Mr. Turner,” Ivana said, calling him by his latest alias. “The pilot wanted me to inform you that we’ll be taking off shortly and should arrive in London by 1:30 PM.” She smiled. “In ninety minutes, if you look out the left window, you’ll see Prague.”

He took a sip of his drink, needing a distraction to calm his thoughts. “That’s where you’re from, Ivana, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “I’m surprised you know that.”

“You mentioned it in your interview.”

“That was six years ago. You have quite the recall, sir.”

“About some things I do.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he had an eidetic memory. Ivana had a lovely personality, but she wasn’t one of the Morvicti, nor did she have any knowledge about his kind. Best to keep it that way for her sake.

“Would you like something to eat, Mr. Turner?”

“No. Just the drink. Thank you.”

“How about you, Mrs. Simmons?”

“I’m fine.”

Ivana nodded and returned to her seat.

Realizing the duchess was deep in her own thoughts, Octavian looked out the window. He saw the thick tree line that had been planted centuries ago to hide the estate that was the center of the Morvicti’s polity.

The engines roared to life. The jet sped down the airstrip that had been built in the early sixties. He knew that the monies given to the locals were well spent. No one ever breathed a word to any outsiders of the traffic that went in and out of the property, whether by car or air. Non-Morvicti personnel were very well paid for their silence.

As the jet left the ground, he continued peering out the window.

Even if someone stumbled upon the estate, they would discover only a humble farmhouse. This runway wasn’t without explanation either, thanks to the operatives within the Romanian government, which identified the airstrip as a refueling station for the military. What the unsuspecting would never learn is that the farmhouse was atop a massive underground network of chambers that held the workings of the most powerful organization in the world, the Imperial Morvicti Council.

The first time he’d been summoned to appear before the council he’d lived in Ivana’s birthplace. How long had it been since he’d been in Prague? Many, many years. While there, he’d met a man who had turned out to be his enemy—the enemy of all the Morvicti. Blood had flowed, and death had chilled the air.

He realized the past had slammed back into his present. Careful not to grip the glass too tight to keep from crushing it, a protective rage flooded every single nerve of his body. He swallowed the rest of his drink.

His chief pilot’s voice came over the intercom, “Mr. Turner, there are reports of turbulence ahead. I recommend that you, Duchess Lupei, and Ivana remain seated for the next hour.”

“Thank you. We will.”

He set down his empty glass and fastened his belt around his waist.
Turbulence ahead, indeed?

I made a promise to Katherine. I will not fail.

CHAPTER 19

10:25 AM

Austin stared at the street below. The man in the dark suit put his cell away.

“Angelique, we have to go. Now.”

His sister took a step towards the window, but he held out his hand, motioning her to stop.

“This is my flat.”

“Maybe so, but I’m going to keep you safe. No closer.”

She folded her arms in front of her, reminding him of the feisty young woman she’d always been. Even though he now accepted the fact that he’d lost so many years, he still could not believe that she was over forty.
Not possible
. She looked more like a woman in her mid to late twenties. The last time they’d been together they’d both been only eighteen, which in his mind was just eleven years ago, not over twenty.

“It might be Michael, Austin.”

“It isn’t.” He wasn’t about to let her get too close to the window.

“You’ve been out of commission for several years and haven’t seen Michael. You might not recognize him.”

“That bastard outside isn’t Remington, Sis.” He had a ton of questions about her and his old buddy—like when did they begin dating, how did Remington end up in London, what was he doing now—but the interrogation would have to wait. “We need to move.”

“Let me call Michael first.” She opened her purse.

“You can call him when we get out of here.”
Remington married my sister
. He knew his friend would protect her. “Right now there’s no time, Angelique.”

“Michael was headed home when we last talked. If you’re right, I don’t want him coming in and getting ambushed.”

“Neither do I.” Austin recalled the Iraqi bullet that had been meant for his friend. “Make the call.”

“He works at the U.S. Embassy.” She brought out a rectangular white device, thinner than a deck of cards. There were no buttons on it, which surprised him. “He can help us, Austin.”

Dark suit remained on the other side of the street. “Make it fast.” More than anything, he wanted to get Angelique to her husband.