Books & Beyond

Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone) by Michelle Rabe @michrabe

Posted on: February 8, 2014


The Dracul was one of Hollywood’s hot spots, a place for the beautiful people to see and be seen. On any given night, Hollywood stars could be seen mingling among the crowd or holding court in one of the private rooms that dotted the periphery. The club’s owner, Morgan Blackstone, stalked through the center of the packed dance floor, rage rolling off her in frozen waves. She paid no attention to the loud music thundering through the converted church, or the mob parting to let her pass. James, the head of security, walked at her side, and it didn’t take them long to reach one of several doors that led to the employee–only sections. She entered a code on the small panel beside the door and pushed it open.  James followed her into the maze of halls, letting the door thump closed behind them.

“What happened?” she asked, her words clipped and precise.

“Apparently the two we are about to see, decided it was okay to harass a regular about his job.” James answered, being cryptic, since it was possible that a human staff member might hear.

“Was it one of the VIPs?”

“Yes. Christophe is taking care of him,” he answered, all cool professionalism.

Morgan nodded. She trusted her Blood Son to see to it that the situation was defused.

“The other two are in the security office,” James continued. “A couple of my people are making sure that no one goes in. Danny and the rest of the team are out on the floor making sure that nothing else happens.” He finished as they stopped in front of a door marked ‘Security.’

“Good,” she answered. She stepped into the room, feeling the emotions of the two men inside permeating the air. “Idiots,” she muttered under her breath and crossed to the table where the pair sat on opposite sides. The door closed, and James leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest.

The vampire was dressed in unrelieved black. His hair fell in long lanky shanks, and he looked as though he’d forgotten to feed for the past few days. His flesh was pale and drawn tight over his bones. The werewolf was just as bad, in a flannel shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and tattered jeans.

“Goddess! Could you two be any more cliché?” Morgan rolled her eyes and set her cane on the end of the table. “Do either of you have any idea of the trouble you caused?”

“That poser started it,” the vampire insisted in a high pitched whine that sent a spike of pain through Morgan’s skull.

“That poser, as you call him, happens to be a regular, but that’s beside the point.” Morgan reached down and slipped the blade free of its cane sheath. “Do either of you morons have any clue how many hoops I had to jump through to get this establishment cleared by the Council?”

“An insane amount of paperwork, not to mention upholding a strict set of rules at all times,” James answered from where he leaned on the door, sounding bored.

“There are advantages to slogging through all the red tape though,” Morgan continued. “It does afford the owner some…” she paused and examined the edge of her blade, “…latitude when it comes to dealing with rule breakers.”

“I really didn’t expect to be dealing with corpses tonight.” James sighed, looking down at the faded jeans and white t–shirt he wore.

Michelle Rabe

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Genre – Paranormal Urban Fantasy

Rating – PG-13

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