+ 1.28: Missing

The wail of a Nazgul couldn’t even compare to the horrified screech of Morrigan Hemlock.

“What do you mean gone?” Morrigan spat the words out at the nurse who was more petrified of the eerie appearance of the woman before her than of the wrath she might be subjected to.

“Gone. His bed is made and everything. He’s not here” her voice shook with every word and she tried with whatever strength she had left to keep herself standing.

Morrigan shoved the nurse aside and stormed into the private ward Troye was supposedly booked in.

“Are you telling me that my unconscious son, who has never made a bed before in his life, has up and left like he was never here?” Her voice rose without a care that she may wake the other sleeping children in nearby rooms.

“No. Just that he might have been” the nurse paused, swallowing hard, questioning the logic of what she was about to say: “taken.”

“Get the chief on the phone.” Morrigan raised a threatening eyebrow, waving her fingers intrusively in the nurse’s ashen face.

“He’s off duty but-”

“Get him on the phone!”

The nurse nodded and hurried off leaving Morrigan to pace up and down, like a caged tiger.

“Mrs. Hemlock?” A female doctor, Dr. Maya Hill, had knocked on the door, stepping in and continuing to speak before Morrigan could respond with any further verbal abuse at anyone who came into the firing line. “The woman, who had brought your son in, is still here. If you could wait in my office; it’s only a few doors down”

Azaria paced the waiting room, fuming at Davrin for having left her here to deal with the mess on her own. Selfish. Coward. Asshole. The words shot out in an angry canon. But she couldn’t leave. Not when she was within metres of her son. Troye was a bigger priority to her and right now it didn’t matter if she’d never see Davrin again. She’d tell that vampire woman where Troye belonged if she had to; even if it were suicidal.

“Miss Hawthorne? Come with me.”

Upon introduction it had registered to Morrigan that standing before her was Troye’s real mother. No doubt she would want to take him away and Morrigan wasn’t prepared to let that happen. If anything she had more of a right over Troye seeing as she had put her blood, sweat and tears into raising him. Not this human who had forgotten about him for twelve years.

“Azaria, the boy you brought in a few hours ago has gone missing.” Dr. Hill tried her best to tread around the situation carefully without offending Azaria by insinuating that she may be behind it. “Was the man you were with, in any way... disturbed?”
Disturbed was exactly what Davrin was but whether he would have risked such a mission was questionable – in Azaria’s mind.

“Man? What man? Sinestra! He was here? Where is he? He’s behind this whole thing and the two of you are in cahoots.” Morrigan had in every metaphorical sense, jumped down Azaria’s throat, her words all slamming into each other that it took the other two women a few seconds to comprehend the accusation that was made. Her face was inches away from Azaria’s. Her hot breath beating on Azaria’s neck had the faintest trace blood.

“Mrs. Hemlock, please.” Maya tried to steer Morrigan away from Azaria but she felt herself being shoved aside.

“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.” It was the truth.

“Liar!” Morrigan was ready to lunge herself at Azaria; her arms stretched in front, her claw-like fingers tensing as she prepared to wrap them around the other woman’s fragile neck. But she stopped. In her blinding rage to strangle Azaria she heard her name being barked out with full command and authority.

“This is no way to behave. Dr. Hill I’ll take it from here. You may go.” Elvira laid her coat down on the back of a chair and seated herself comfortable in Maya’s chair. So taken aback by the audacity, Maya found no voice to protest. She left quietly praying that she wouldn’t return to an office vandalised by bloodshed.

“Morrigan, you do know I’ve always maintained that Troye should be in his biological mother’s custody.”
“I do know that you’ve never supported me, Elvira.” Morrigan refused to be seated in front of her like a bad kid called in for a good talking to from the principal.

“That is not true and furthermore it is an entirely different matter. Once the boy is found he will be entrusted to Azaria. There’s no going back on this.”

Years of motherhood had made Morrigan selfish and over-protective of her children. It was an inherent characteristic of pure and ancient vampires to be possessive. But Elvira wasn’t giving in to her acquaintance’s innate stubbornness and vehement protests this time. Troye was no one else’s responsibility.

“The humans will have a field day if they find out that a vampire refuses to let her foster son be reunited with his human mother all because she believes the other woman is unfit to raise a vampire child.”

“However” Elvira now had the full attention of both women. As their eyes travelled up to her face, the need to know what clause she was about to throw in burned intently in their eyes. Azaria knew that given the occurrence of a certain condition she could lose Troye forever. And Morrigan would try everything in her power to cunningly ensure that it did happen.

“Finding Troye will be the council’s duty. Not yours, Azaria.” Elvira stared at her for a good few minutes to drive the point home. She knew, despite not having children of her own, that desperate mothers would resort to desperate means. “And should Davrin find you before we find him, it will be your duty to contact us immediately. If you don’t it would be, what you humans call, aiding and abetting a criminal. And you will lose Troye. Vampire law is very clear on the punishment of traitors and the assistance of them. Is that clear?” She spoke slowly, emphasising each word.

Azaria could only nod; she wouldn’t be able to get everything she wanted after all.

 “It’s without question that Davrin wouldn’t have let you in on his plan. He’s smart enough to know how easy it is for us to read your mind.” She smiled curtly, threw on her coat, buttoned it up to the top and ushered Morrigan with her toward to door.

“Don’t forget. We’ll be watching.”

*  *  *

He settled into the armchair, a chilled bottle of Merlot resting on the end table to his right and the melodious symphonies of Bach filling the room. For the first time in weeks he had the day off from the hospital and he wasn’t going to let any disturbances take this away from him.

As his fingers reached for the stem of the glass his phone rang.

“It’s me. I need a favour.”