Blood Vendetta: The BlackGuard Society, #1

By SF Benson

A secret society. Rogue paranormals. The French Quarter is threatened.

A monster, hungry for mayhem and pretty redheads, plagues the French Quarter. Agent Morgan Vladislav kills the suspected perpetrator and inadvertently unleashes a brand of chaos the BlackGuard Society has never seen.

Ghosts from Morgan's past are coming back to tear the life she's built to shreds.

With time running out, can Morgan and her parter, Ace Broussard, rally to stop the rising darkness? Or will a vicious storm wipe the French Quarter right off the map?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Avanturine Press
• Release date: Apr 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9798223484639

SF Benson

SF Benson, a Michigan native, resides in Southern California with her husband, a human daughter, and a couple of miniature fur kids (two female short-haired guinea pigs). At one time, she wrangled a household which included three Samoyeds, saltwater fish, a hamster, and three guinea pigs. She’s an avid bookworm who appreciates a well-written book regardless of genre. SF prefers writing stories about strong, diverse protagonists set in dystopian, science fiction, or paranormal worlds. Connect with Author SF Benson: Be the first one to find out news about releases and giveaways! Email List https://bit.ly/3GnDYCk Facebook www.facebook.com/bensonsf Twitter @bensonshantella

Book preview

1

Turn of Events

As we careened through the crowd, jostling bodies along the way, the usual stench rose from that quagmire of human decadence known as Bourbon Street. Were we being chased? No. We were the pursuers, hunting down another perpetrator. My senses told me that we were near.

Another few feet, and we reached the mouth of the alley. The metallic smell thickened and threatened to turn my stomach.

Damn! Fucking too late, Ace Broussard, my partner, said.

A trail of blood led to a human body—or what was left of one—lying on the worn cobblestone. Ace crouched beside it for a closer examination. Identifying remains, the gross part of our business, didn’t bother him. Sometimes I thought he reveled in trying to determine which species committed a crime.

Morgan?

His voice snagged my thoughts. Yeah?

Privacy. Ace pointed to the gore painting a nearby wall.

Right. That was my department. I waved my hand and murmured a protection spell. Anyone who passed by the alley wouldn’t hear us or see the grim scene.

Creeping over to Ace, I took in the redheaded victim and asked, How long has she been dead?

He pursed his full lips. An hour, maybe two. Shaking his bald head, Ace added, Just like the last ones we found—throat ripped open, entrails removed. This wasn’t a normal feeding. More like a fucking frenzy.

We had to get to the bottom of these slayings before panic took over Crescent City. Humans in New Orleans put up with a lot when it came to supernatural possibilities. After all, it was the stuff that fueled tourist adventures. But if those wild imaginings ever proved true? Well, the apocalypse would be a more welcome catastrophe. Bombs and riots would be an easier reality for mankind to stomach than the existence of vampires and other nightmarish creatures.

As agents of the BlackGuard Society, we swore to protect mankind, not from human disaster but from the supernaturals who created chaos. We referred to them as rogues—individuals who wouldn’t adhere to the established rules. Each species had them and some were worse than others.

The BGS was for the supernatural community as the FBI was for mankind. We made sure beings played nicely with humans. Well, as nice as we could within the confines of each genus.

Usually, our nights were quiet with the occasional renegade revenant or recently turned vamp invading our town. Every now and then, we squashed a threatened uprising of witches or curtailed rowdy incubi who’d been out on a sex binge. Nothing too serious. Nothing we couldn’t handle.

Things changed about a week prior when something attacked one of my roommates. Our other roomie, a girl named Rosie, interrupted the assault. The assailant allowed her to live, but she couldn’t tell the police what transpired—thanks to me.

Rosie was currently living at a special mental hospital where the BGS placed humans who witnessed supernatural acts. Until the doctors determined that her traumatized brain had healed, Rosie was compelled not to speak. The days ticked slowly by as I waited to interrogate her.

Granted, our method wasn’t very efficient. Contrary to the police procedure of questioning victims, we allowed human brains to convalesce from harrowing events. We’d learned that cross-examining too close to an incident made things worse for recovery. Sometimes the humans recuperated. Most times they didn’t. Those were the ones who slipped through the cracks and became the homeless individuals who appeared to be a little deranged.

Because of the tentative grip Rosie had on sanity, we went with information easily ascertained. Most likely, the same butcher roaming the streets had killed Amanda. Similar slaughter. Same manner of leaving the body—propped on her side as if she was only asleep. The crime wasn’t sexual. The clothes and undergarments were untouched. We even ruled out robbery. With each victim, we found purses and wallets with their contents intact. Ace and I assumed the killings were done by a wolf shifter.

I based my presumption on the evidence. For Ace, it was akin to like recognizing like—a wolf picking up the scent of a kindred spirit. Or animal, in this case. To the ordinary eye, no one would guess Ace’s true identity. The alpha had the chiseled physique of an MMA fighter—his chosen profession. Ace fought within the Paranormal Fight Club. It was something I didn’t approve of, but it allowed him to keep a close eye on the PFC’s notorious owner, Damien Duchamp—someone the BGS had on its watch list because of the club’s underhanded operations.

Three women in two nights, Ace said. Think it’s safe to say we’ve another rogue on our hands.

Don’t forget about the two last week, one of them being Amanda. I surveyed the mess once more before chanting a clean-up spell.

In a matter of seconds, the woman’s remains burst into flames. The blood and entrails evaporated into thin air. Another swipe of my hand removed the overwhelming scent of burned flesh, leaving behind the stink of urine and vomit. Unfortunately, there was no form of magic to get rid of it. If someone lived in New Orleans long enough, and their nose got used to the common odor.

Ace eyed me for a moment. Home?

Although I didn’t sense any more bodies, going home was a lovely notion I couldn’t enjoy. After Amanda’s attack, my parents demanded that I move back into their mansion—one of the old estates in the Garden District.

Ace and I were a couple—soul mates actually—and we wanted to be together. Problem was, Mother and Father didn’t condone our relationship. It didn’t matter that Father and Mother could trace their ancestries back to Dracula and Morgana Le Fey—a mixed marriage. Their issue was that historically wolves served vampires. More on point—Ace’s ancestors were servants to my father. Therefore, Mother and Father considered Ace beneath me.

He was some nights.

My parents…

He cut his eyes toward me. Morgan—

I held up my hand. I know what you’re going to say. Now isn’t the time.

When? He stalked out of the alley and onto the sidewalk.

I ran behind him, sidestepping passersby. Ace!

He whirled around unexpectedly. People grumbled as they collided with him. Ignoring the angry words, Ace grabbed my elbow and dragged me through the crowd closer to a building.

With all the shit we handle every single night, I need my mate with me!

Don’t even go there, I warned. This had been a frequent argument ever since we committed the ritual.

He lowered his voice, and it became husky. You’re my sanctuary. Being with ya makes this job bearable.

I know. It hurt hearing the desperation in Ace's voice. He chose me—a dhampir—above every other eligible female. Ace deserved someone who could love him openly.

Do ya? Tell me when’s the right time for us. After Julien dies? Oh wait, he’s a fucking immortal! Ace dropped my arm and stomped toward his bike parked at the curb.

Maybe one night…

If we spent a little time together, maybe he’d calm down. It meant lying to my parents. Again. Sadly, it was something I’d become an expert at.

I rushed over to the bike. Ace held a helmet out toward me. That bastard. He knew I’d give in. I swatted his shoulder. No fair anticipating what I’d do.

Remember, we’re soul mates. He quirked an eyebrow in my direction. We need to talk about the situation.

I smiled and hopped on behind Ace, slipping my arms around his waist and allowing a hand to graze his bulging crotch. "After we take care of our situation."

Ace lived in a comfortable one-bedroom apartment at The Pythian, a renovated historic building in downtown New Orleans. The centrally located property, away from my parents’ prying eyes, was roughly two miles from the condo I shared with Amanda and Rosie. More importantly, it was the home Ace and I picked out together, and I loved it.

The king-sized bed creaked beneath Ace’s large frame as he rolled toward me. I pulled the sheets up over my bare breasts.

Thank ya, he said, dropping a kiss on my shoulder. I needed ya.

And I always need you. I reached up and caressed his cheek. We’ll work out the issue with my parents, but it’s too soon.

He growled. It’s been a year, Morgan. Mates belong together.

There was an undeniable truth in Ace’s words. Although we’d only just performed the commitment ritual, we’d been together for years, but I knew my parents. Father would go ballistic while Mother would rant and rave, speaking incantations meant to impart bodily harm.

Ya wrong, he said, reading my mind. Julien loves ya more than his own life. Whatever makes ya happy, he’ll learn to tolerate. As far as Deianira, she’ll go along with whatever he says.

Not always.

Changing the subject, I said, What are your thoughts about the rogue?

Ace shifted his position. Haven’t been able to track him yet. Every time we find a victim, the trail’s gone cold.

What about Cade?

Irritation flickered in Ace’s gaze. What about him?

He’s a wolf. Maybe he’s heard something within his pack.

Cade Lowell and Ace Broussard were sworn enemies for reasons I’d never understand. When they were teens, Ace became an alpha and extended Cade an invite into the Broussard pack. It was an effort to keep him from becoming a lone wolf. But Cade chose the solo status. About two years ago, he formed a pack with a bunch of derelicts and rejects nobody else wanted, and they operated like organized thugs—anything and everything was acceptable to them—which was why I considered Cade along with the fact that those outlaws probably knew the rogue.

A sudden thought occurred to me, and I sat up. You know… I could infiltrate Cade’s pack. Find out for myself what’s going on.

Hell no! Ace leaped off the bed. The only way ya can do that is by becoming his lady. Ain’t happening.

Baby, it’s not like it would mean anything. That was a lie. Even though Cade and I split up when I was seventeen, he was still into me. Every time our paths crossed, he launched suggestive innuendos. At one point, I was in love with the lone wolf, but after our breakup, I saw Cade for what he was—creepy with stalker potential. It would be just another job, no big deal.

Ace stood in front of the window, looking down at the street. I don’t want my mate with another male.

I came up behind him and placed my hands on his naked back, appreciating the power within his muscles as anger rolled through them. He radiated strength without making a move.

Ace, I said, stroking his golden flesh. We’re obligated to solve this case. Finding out who’s behind the killings is a priority. All we know is the rogue isn’t from the Broussard pack. We won’t know if he has any connections to New Orleans, unless we investigate every pack.

Ya plan on sleeping with all of them? he asked over his shoulder.

I don’t plan on sleeping with any of them. I kissed the tattoo over his spine—a merger of symbols representing both the wolf and the vampire—done by an incubus who recently moved to town. Indulge me, Ace. Let me do this. You know Cade still likes me.

A little too much for my comfort.

We can take advantage of that.

Personally, I hated begging. That was beneath me, but it appealed to Ace’s testosterone-addled brain. If he thought I sought his permission, then he’d give in. Worked all the time.

What do ya have in mind?

Just a few dates. Cade required plenty of charm and cajoling. He liked females to fawn over him.

A few?

Two. Maybe three or four. I let my fingers roam down to Ace’s ass, cupping his cheeks.

He moaned.

You can call it fact finding, I murmured suggestively.

I don’t know, he mumbled with a hint of hesitation.

One little shove—or a finger stroking the right spot—was all it would take.

If you allow this… I drew in a deep breath, preparing to deliver a more convincing act. Hopefully, my voice conveyed it. I’ll speak to my parents about us.

Ace turned around with a smile on his face. We’ll talk to them tomorrow.

Pouting, I replied, I didn’t say when.

"That’s why I put a date on it. I know ya, Morgan. Ya tell me one thing, hoping to get ya way. When I give in, ya conveniently forget about ya deal."

Damn.

I laughed nervously, smoothing a hand across his sculpted chest. So, you think you’ve figured me out?

He pushed my black, wavy locks off my shoulder. Dawlin’, you’re mine. Our hearts beat as one. Ya stopped being a mystery to me years ago.

I shuddered as he lowered his mouth to mine.

Did I win, or did he?

2

Negotiations

Being half vampire and half human had its advantages, mainly being able to see the sun rise each day and not having to drink blood. Despite trinkets and charms that allowed vampires to walk in the light, my father hadn’t seen daylight in centuries. He was a staunch traditionalist, even spending off-hours in a casket. Definitely not a lifestyle I cared to embrace.

The warm rays along with decadent kisses on my spine greeted me. I snuggled closer to Ace. Waking up to him was much better than an alarm. I wanted to savor the moment in case it didn’t happen again for a while. If I kept staying overnight with Ace, I’d have to explain things to my parents. Despite his urging, I wasn’t ready to deal with it.

Dawlin’, not what we agreed upon last night, Ace said into my ear. Have ya forgotten so soon?

Of course not, I said, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe I could grab a few more minutes before having to face the day. We’ll discuss it later. Go back to sleep.

Instead of acquiescing, I received more kisses as Ace stroked my inner thigh. Do we invite ya parents over, or do we go to them?

I bolted upright, nearly knocking Ace over. They can’t know about this place!

Ace pushed onto his elbows with a smirk on his face. Why not? I’m all in.

It’s too early for this. I swung my legs out of bed and reached for Ace’s discarded T-shirt from the previous night. I need—

Coffee and beignets.

Ya know me so well, I said, my irritation already slipping away.

In the kitchen.

You’ve been out? I asked, leaving the bedroom.

Following behind me, he said, Morning run. Fight’s next week. As we entered the kitchen, he added, Scanned the newspaper too. NOPD issued a statement.

My heart froze. We were doing our best to keep the deaths quiet. The BGS always sent the Elders—a group made up of representatives from different supernatural factions—to handle the human authorities. Father, who was in charge of the council, usually spoke to our contact within the department who concocted plausible explanations for the families involved.

What did it say? I asked.

Only that the unrelated disappearances were being investigated.

I could breathe again. It buys us some time, but—

We need to call in the other agents.

No!

Yes, I was stubborn. Always had been. But this wasn’t about that. Calling in the others meant facing my enemy—Edwina Devereaux. She was a vampire who somehow hung on to her witchy ways after being turned. The female had existed since slavery times and thought she was a better witch and a better vamp than me. Maybe she had me beat in the vampire department, but Edwina was also responsible for Ace fighting with the PFC. It was her strong suggestion to Kragen that the BGS needed to keep an eye on Duchamp. More reason for me to hate her.

Morgan, quit with the jealousy. I didn’t choose her.

And there was the primary reason why I detested that bitch. When Edwina joined the BGS, she had the unmitigated nerve to make a move—several moves actually—on Ace. I had to set her ass straight on more than one occasion.

I’m not jealous, but I don’t want her anywhere near you, I shot back.

Have ya forgotten she’s married?

Have you forgotten that I don’t trust her? Besides, we don’t need to call in anyone else. We can handle this on our own.

Ace closed the distance between us and put his arms around me. Okay. We’ll take care of it for as long as we can. I’ll check in with the pack. Get some backup.

Thank you. Now to settle the other problem casting a dim light on an otherwise sunny day. About my parents…

Don’t worry. I’m not gonna press the issue. For now.

My breathing became even easier.

I want cha to consider somethin’ else though.

And just like that the fucking little butterflies returned. What?

Dawlin’, we’ve done the mating ceremony, but I want the whole thing.

I squinted up at him as my heart rate kicked up a notch.

Marry me. Today.

My lips curled up. Today? Let me guess—city hall or with the pack?

His arms tightened around me. We do have an ordained minister in the pack.

When? Honestly, marrying this man wasn’t something I had to think about. I wanted to tie the knot right after the mating ritual. Besides, if we married, my parents couldn’t just break us up. Bonds were different. Witches knew enough rituals to either tamper with bonds or obliterate them altogether.

This evening. Round seven?

I leaned in on my tip toes. That’s a date, Mr. Broussard.

He swatted my ass. Hurry up and get dressed. I’ll drop ya at ya folks.

Minutes later, I was ready to go in a sleek black dress and sky-high stilettos, and I tamed my hair into a stylish updo.

Ace let out a low whistle when I stepped into the living room. Damn, dawlin’. Ya look too good just to go see ya mama. Ya do realize that the ceremony isn’t ‘til tonight?

Smiling as I crossed the room, I said, You know this is standard fare for my mother. Anything less, and she’ll zap something more appropriate on me. My mother wore a suit seven days a week along with high heels. Although she expected me to do the same, I had no desire to imitate her style. Ripped jeans, a snug tank top, and boots were my preferred outfit.

I grabbed my leather jacket and followed Ace to the door.

It was a short ride from downtown to the Garden District. My parents owned one of those Italian Neoclassical mansions, dating back to 1859, on Third Street. The Vladislavs had been a part of New Orleans society for centuries. We were old money, but I didn’t believe in flaunting it. I always lived modestly, so no one figured out my background. Not that I was ashamed, but having financial means changed how people reacted. If they believed I was just the average female, nobody got their noses out of joint.

The front door shut loudly behind me, and my footsteps echoed across the polished mahogany floor. The house was empty, which was odd. I expected to find members from Mother’s coven or maybe some early risers from Father’s side of the family lurking about.

I walked past the winding staircase and into the drawing room. My great-grandmother’s image stared down from over the dark wood and slate fireplace. Everyone said I resembled the formidable woman. I didn’t see it. True, I had her long black hair and unusual turquoise eyes, but where she was statuesque and elegant, I was average height and ordinary—if you didn’t take into account my ample boobs. Men died fighting over her figure. I never had that problem.

Is there something wrong, dear?

I jumped as Mother glided into the room and took a seat near the fireplace, sitting tall like royalty. She was the epitome of elegance from her swanlike neck to her tapered, manicured red nails. Mother’s hair had started to gray along the edges, and her eyes were like cool sapphires. In a black suit and red heels—her customary attire—she appeared like a force to be reckoned with.

No, Mother. I sat on the chair across from her.

"Are you certain?