Morvicti Blood (A Morvicti Novel Book 1) (9 page)

Looking at the expensive furnishings around him, including the painting of his father and other ancestors, ripped his heart apart. On the floors above were more of his precious treasures. There was no possible way to remove them without drawing attention to himself. If the beast wasn’t dead already, Bathry would slice the pig’s throat for forcing him to this horrible measure.

Just a few small things to tidy up.

Albert appeared in the doorway with two cans of petrol. “Ready, my lord?”

“What a fucking idiotic question,” he spat. “I’ll never be ready.”

“Forgive me, my lord. I did not mean to offend you.” The man cringed in fear, making David feel a little better.

Power. That was the most important treasure.

Images of his precious belongings filled his mind. Some could be replaced, but most could not. Anger rolled through him. The halfblood had caused this. He would make sure the bastard paid for this crime.

Waiting for his command, Albert’s head remained bowed. Not the brightest of men, but loyal.

There is no other choice. It must be done.
And in an instant, he willed whatever attachment he felt for his treasures away. In the scheme of things they were merely trinkets. He smiled, knowing he had a much bigger prize awaiting him.

“Albert, burn it down.”

CHAPTER 12

9:14 AM (GMT)

Octavian Drake stepped out of the throne room to take the call, leaving the other nobles. “Belisarius, are you on site? Have you spoken to Romulus?”

“I was just about to enter the sanctuary when I saw McCord walking down Baylis Street.”

He felt the blood drain from his face. “What are you talking about? Austin is still underground.”

“Octavian, I am looking at him right now; standing, upright, on the corner of Baylis and Frazier.”

This can’t be happening
. “Follow him. Don’t let him out of your sight.”

“What about your brother?”

“I will send someone else to check on him.”
Where in the hell is Rom? He should not have let this happen.

“We have another problem,” Belisarius said.

“What now?” Octavian asked, clenching his fists.

“He’s spotted me.”

CHAPTER 13

9:15 AM

Austin sized up the man in the dark suit, committing his features to memory. He was well over six feet, taller than him, but leaner. He had high cheekbones and wavy brown hair, clipped close. If the man hadn’t been fixing him with that penetrating stare, Austin would have probably taken Dark Suit for a banker walking to work. But when the guy started heading his direction, Austin ran.

“Wait, McCord.”

Not a chance.
A good soldier knew when to stand his ground and when to pull back to fight another day.

Austin bolted into a narrow alley, which was empty.

He reached into the overcoat, taking hold of the Glock, though not bringing it out—
yet
. A woman came through a doorway, and he rushed past her into a long passage.

With his heart pounding and adrenaline flowing, he sped through the building and out onto another street. Glancing back, he saw Dark Suit enter the same hall running at full speed.

Austin tore down the road, scanning for some place that could give him cover. A blue delivery van pulled away from the curb. Running, he reached it just in time and opened the rear door. In a single bound, he jumped inside.

“What the bloody hell?” The driver jerked and looked over his shoulder.

“Keep driving.” He pulled out the Glock to make his point.

From Navy SEAL to criminal. Man, how did this shit happen?

“Sure, mate. Put that away. I’ll take you anywhere you like.”

“Just keep your eyes forward and your foot on the gas.” Austin peered out the back glass of the van.

Dark Suit stood in the middle of the road, looking every direction.

He’d evaded his pursuer.

Who the hell was that guy? The man had called out his name. Was he Walt Turner’s killer? Or a friend? Did Dark Suit know Angelique?

Austin needed more answers. Lots more.

“This street ends up ahead intersecting with Morley Street, mister. Which direction?”

“Left,” he ordered the driver. “Take me to the other side of the Thames.”

Still no sign of Dark Suit.

Glancing at the driver, he could see him trembling. “You got a name?”

“Preston. Please, mister, don’t hurt me. I have a family.”

“Relax, Preston. I don’t want to hurt you. Do what I say and everything will be just fine.”

“Yes, sir. Anything you want.”

“What’s the bridge up ahead?”

“The Waterloo.”

“Do you have a cell?”

“A what?”

“A phone.”

“Yes. It’s a flip. Very old.”

“Hand it over. I need to borrow it.”

The man fumbled in his coat, producing the cell.

Austin took it. He hated playing the criminal, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He needed enough time to get to his sister without the law trying to track him down.

“Preston, don’t fuck up and go to the police. I have your phone now. With it I can find out where you live. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Consider yourself lucky. But you don’t want to piss me off.”

“I won’t. I swear it.”

The odds were that the man would go to the police anyway, though hopefully Preston would hesitate long enough to give him a head start.

“Pull over at the next intersection.” The sidewalks were full of people.

The man complied and he jumped out, disappearing into the crowd.

Still moving forward, he spotted Preston flagging down a policeman.

Shit. So much for my head start. On to plan B.

He ducked into a small clothing store. Moving quickly, he picked up a black sweater, jeans and tennis shoes. He ran to the dressing room. Without pausing, he placed the Glock on the seat and stripped out of the dead man’s clothes and into the new ones. Once done, he tucked the Glock into the jeans and ran out with Turner’s clothes in his hands. Not wanting to leave any sign of him being here should the police come questioning, he walked up to the clerk standing behind the counter.

The young man’s eyebrows rose. “In a rush?”

“Very. Meeting a girl for coffee. First date.” The lie caused him to think about Mindy with the German shepherd. “Forgot all about it. Hopefully I won’t be late.”

The clerk smiled, appearing more at ease. “We need to look our best for the ladies.”

“Exactly.” He put on a pair of sunglasses that were on a small display by the register. “These, too. How much for the jeans, sweater, shoes and sunglasses?”

The clerk told him and Austin gave him money from Turner’s billfold.

“You have something I can put my other clothes in?”

The guy handed him a bag. “Good luck with your coffee date.”

“Do you know where I could get a map of London?”

“Across the street. Rankin News. I’m sure they have some.”

He rushed out of the building, just as Preston and a policeman walked by.

They didn’t take notice of him. He headed to the store the clerk had directed him to, scanning everywhere for Dark Suit. No sign of him.

After buying the map, he studied it quickly. He knew how to get to Angelique’s home.

Once he’d gotten sufficient distance from Preston and the officer, he slowed down.

Though he definitely wanted to get to his sister’s flat, he also needed to deal with his hunger and thirst. He didn’t want to show up at her place about to pass out.

Across the street he saw an American staple—McDonalds. He walked in and ordered a chocolate shake and glass of water, believing that might settle his queasiness that hadn’t quite gone away.

He downed the water and tossed the empty cup into the trash. Holding the milkshake, he strode out of the restaurant, assuming the look of a normal pedestrian.

Did Angelique know he was alive? Had she ever come to visit him? Doubtful. He could not imagine her mixed up with people who got their heads cut off. But he hadn’t seen her in years. People changed over time. He certainly had. He would give anything just to go back to the last day he’d been with his sister.

As Austin continued walking, painful memories rushed to the forefront of his mind.

He and Angelique were both heartbroken after burying their parents. Being adopted was never an issue with either of them. Alice and Carl McCord were their parents in every way but biological.

The accident devastated Angelique and him. He’d just finished his basic training, expecting a warm welcome home from his mom, dad and sister. But the house had burned to the ground with their parents inside. When he walked in their neighbor’s door, he found Angelique sobbing. The sheriff delivered the news just an hour before his arrival. She was alone. The next several days were a whirlwind of activity, setting up the service, notifying friends and family—the latter of which were distant and few. His dad had a cousin in Maine. His mother was an only child. There was really no one to cling to but each other.

And I left her all alone.

She’d begged him to stay. “I talked with several neighbors who told me you can get out of the military on a hardship discharge.”

“I’m not getting out, Angelique.”

“Please, Austin. I need you.”

He didn’t budge, though it crushed him to see her suffering. “You have your scholarship to King’s College, Sis. I have my Navy career. We both need to get on with our lives.”

Eighteen years old. I thought I knew it all. But of course, I didn’t.

The pain of losing their parents had ripped him apart. He hadn’t known what to do, how to help her or himself. So, he’d pushed Angelique away with his line of BS about starting their lives. It was the best he could think to do for her.

He’d kept pushing her away, causing them to drift further and further apart. Every time they talked on the phone, the pain of losing their parents returned full-force. She was a constant reminder of the grief he didn’t want to deal with. For several years, she didn’t stop trying to reconnect with him. But who could blame her for finally giving up. He was always so cold with her.

The phone calls were the first to go; then the letters became more and more infrequent, until they stopped, too. The only communications that remained intact were birthday cards to each other. Being born on Halloween, their mom had always called them her special little monsters. The continued exchange of cards on that day was their last vestige of happier times.

That’s in the past. I need to focus on the present situation.

When he got to Bedford Street, he scanned every direction to make sure he hadn’t been followed. He turned right and then right again when he came to King Street a block away. He crossed the road and walked up to her building.
Angelique’s home.

Her flat was on the second floor. He went up the stairs. Knocking on 2B, Austin hoped that someone other than his sister would answer and say she was no longer a Londoner.

CHAPTER 14

10:13 AM

David Bathry glanced in the rearview mirror of his Audi and saw the first bits of dark smoke begin to seep out the top windows of the ancient house. Its total destruction would take less than ten minutes. Millions of pounds were going up in smoke. With his mind fixed on the prize ahead, he buried his anger deep down inside for the loss of his precious collections.

Despite his earlier misgivings, he and Albert had followed the plan to the letter. Never deviating from the master plot was how the Bathrys had navigated the murky waters for centuries. Loyalty to the bloodline and always being prepared was his family’s motto.

His father believed that loyalty was not a natural condition, and that it was never earned by showing compassion or respect. Those were signs of weakness. Pay someone a kindness and they might never repay it. But instilling loyalty was another matter.

Perhaps he had been too lenient with the halfblood. Plying the bastard with lavish quarters and giving him the freedom to roam about the city may have been small errors in judgment. He even tried to educate the man, playing Henry Higgins to his twisted version of Eliza Doolittle. Maybe he should have kept the wretch caged in a dungeon somewhere, giving him daily beatings like his father would have done. Then the creature might not have taken liberties with the plan and gone off who-the-hell-knew where.

Bathry rubbed his eyes. Nothing that had happened was his fault. He’d followed the plan to the letter. If any mistakes were made, they weren’t his. They belonged to those who had created the plan in the first place, including his own father.