‘Did you kill him?’ Fi hovered over Dominic’s body, the worst of her loop behind her.
‘No.’ At least he hoped not. But wouldn’t Dominic have gone to ash if Doc had killed him? Doc poked at Dominic with his toe. The man was definitely out. Whether from the colloidal silver or the laudanum, Doc wasn’t sure, but the combination had done the job. Even if he had burned his fingers on a few stray drops of the silver.
Fi wavered, biting her lip. ‘What did you do to him, then?’
‘Knocked him out.’ Like a chump.
‘Why?’
Just like always, Fi was full of questions. ‘To get his blood, sweets. Need that to fix you.’
She smiled. ‘I can’t wait to be fixed.’ A second later, she clapped her hands over her mouth. When she took them away, she was frowning. ‘He’s going to be mad.’
‘That’s a sure thing.’ Doc hefted Dominic’s limp body into his arms and swung the vampire over his shoulder. Better to leave him in one of the small sun-proofed cabins than down here in the grungy, rat-infested hold. Dominic would be furious at what Doc had done, but maybe a little consideration would keep Dominic from killing Doc the first chance he got. Or not. Whatever. It was worth a shot.
Fi quivered. ‘Not just mad. He might try to kill you.’
‘Not if I can help it.’ He gave her a quick, reassuring smile. ‘Don’t you worry about that. Now, I gotta go. Probably won’t be back for a little bit.’ He tipped his head against the vampire pitched over his shoulder.
She nodded. ‘Not until he leaves. I understand.’
‘Good girl. I don’t want you to worry. I might be gone, but you know it’s because I’m working on making things right for you, okay?’
‘I know. Okay. Be careful.’
You too, he wanted to say, but what was the point? No matter how careful she was, she was still going to die every night until he got her free. So instead, he said a quick good-bye and left the light of his life alone in the dark with her demons.
After dumping Dominic in a cabin, Doc hustled out to the Glades. At this hour, Slim Jim, the good ole boy Doc rented air-boats from, was in bed. Most humans were. His shop was dark, locked up tight. Mindful of Slim Jim’s itchy trigger finger and bias against trespassers, Doc carefully slid some bills though the mail slot and unplugged one of the boats from its charger. In minutes he was skimming across the shallow water, headed for Aliza’s.
He shifted to his half-form, using his leopard-enhanced night vision to navigate and his heightened senses to keep tabs on the strange world unfolding around him.
From the narrow banks and grass thickets, animal eyes reflected the boat’s running lights. A large splash greeted him as he rounded an island of cypress thick with Spanish moss. Once, he caught sight of a snake slithering through the water. Damn thing must have been as thick around as his thigh. Reminded him why he hated the Glades. After dark, the place was a nightmare, rife with things that would gobble down a house cat like it was a snack.
No wonder people dumped bodies out here.
A large winged shape passed through the moon’s light, casting Doc in shadow for a moment. He glanced up, but the thing was gone. Too big to be a bird. What else lived out here, he didn’t really want to know.
Aliza’s house rose off the horizon at last. Doc slowed as he approached, happy the lights were on. Waking the old witch would only add to an already crappy evening. And, in a second stroke of luck, Chewie’s spot on the dock was empty.
Doc idled the engine and went fully human. Classic rock and laughter spilled from the house. ‘Aliza!’ he yelled to be heard over the ruckus. He was about to yell again when the screen door opened onto the wraparound porch.
‘Well, look what the cat dragged in.’ Aliza saluted him with a bottle of vodka and laughed like she’d said something original. A few of her coven members drifted out behind her. Most of them looked as sloshed as she was.
‘I’m here to talk about what we discussed.’ He recognized one or two of the women standing behind her but none of the men. He wasn’t about to air personal business in front of strangers. Especially when it was the kind of business that could be used against him.
‘What we discussed?’ She took a swig from the bottle. ‘Your little undead dead friend?’ Her audience laughed.
‘Yes.’ Once again, a trip to Aliza’s was not turning out the way he wanted it to. Surprise.
She leaned on the railing, dangling the bottle over the water. ‘I already told you what I need to make that happen.’ She glanced back at her friends, then at him again. ‘Begging ain’t gonna help you.’ She snickered. ‘Purring might.’ Her friends broke out in laughter and she joined them, snorting at her own hilarity.
‘I’m not here to beg. I have what you want.’ He had both items she’d asked for, including the Medusa.
She spoke to her friends but loud enough for him to hear. ‘If I had a fiver for every man who told me that … ’ More laughter, but she suddenly turned to look at him with more sobriety than she’d showed since she stepped out onto the porch. ‘You have the blood?’
The word turned the assembled crowd’s laughter into murmurs and whispers.
‘Yes.’
‘Show me.’
Again, not how he wanted this to go down, but what he’d done wasn’t going to stay secret once Dominic woke up anyway. He reached into the interior pocket of his jacket, pulled out the vial, and held it up. Aliza handed off the vodka and adjusted one of the security floodlights anchored to the railing to shine on him directly. The blood glowed like expensive wine. Deathly quiet spread over the crowd.
Aliza, suddenly all business, gestured toward the dock. ‘Get up here.’
He moored the airboat, jumped off, and climbed the stairs to the door. Aliza had it open and waiting. The smell of booze, pot, and magic assaulted him as he walked in. Beer bottles and cups littered the flat surfaces. Someone had strung fairy lights around Evie’s statue, and a mostly eaten sheet cake sat on the counter next to the sink. Black sugar roses trimmed what was left of it. ‘Am I interrupting something?’
Aliza shut the door behind him, her face somber. ‘Today is Evie’s birthday.’
He handed her the vial and a small packet of Medusa. ‘Well, this should mean she’ll be here in person next year.’
‘Yes.’ Aliza nodded, oddly quiet. ‘Stay here. I’ll be right back.’
As she left, her coven filtered through the kitchen getting drinks, cake, whatever excuse they could to check him out, all the while eyeing him like he might snap them up like field mice. Or turn into a unicorn. Varcolai and witches didn’t exactly run in the same circles, but they weren’t unknown to each other either. Or maybe they’d just never seen one who’d gotten blood out of a vampire and lived to tell the tale.
A few of them nodded in greeting. He just stared back from where he leaned against the wall. He wasn’t here to make friends.
Aliza returned, her face cranked into a scowl. She waggled the vial of blood at him. ‘This is no good.’ The few coven members left in the kitchen quickly disappeared.
He straightened. ‘Like hell it is. I took it out of Dominic myself.’
‘Oh, it’s that scum sucker’s blood all right, but it’s tainted. Laced with laudanum and silver.’
Frustration burned in his gut. ‘How the hell did you think I was going to get the blood out of him? I tried asking. Trust me. Didn’t work.’
‘You screwed up, shifter.’
‘No, you screwed up.’ He jabbed his finger at her. ‘You said get Dominic’s blood. You never said anything about what it could or couldn’t have in it. Now, you find a way to clean it and make it work.’
‘Are you threatening me?’ She squinted at him, but her gray eyes were too bloodshot to intimidate.
‘I’m telling you to live up to your end of the bargain.’ If she took that as a threat, she was smarter than he gave her credit for, because if she didn’t fix Fi, he would find a way to make Aliza and her whole coven pay.
She glared at him for a moment, then studied the fluid in the vial, swishing it around. ‘I can try to clean it, but chances of that working are almost nil. Either way, the blood stays with me.’
‘Fine. Keep it. Just figure out a different way if you can’t clean it.’
‘There is no different way.’ Aliza’s eyes took on a watery sheen. ‘You can’t just release the kind of magic Evie’s under without wiping it out. It has to be destroyed.’
A thought struck him. ‘If you don’t, what happens?’
She shook her head, looking drunk and confused once again. ‘What happens to what?’
‘To the magic. If you don’t destroy it, what happens?’
‘It would find Evie and turn her into stone again.’
‘Just Evie?’ He raised a brow, wondering if his idea had any merit. ‘Or could the magic be redirected?’
She slumped into a kitchen chair, turning the vial in her hands. ‘Sure, but who are you going to get to volunteer to be turned into stone?’
Doc laughed with new hope. ‘Who said anything about a volunteer?’
Chapter Twenty-two
‘Too bad you can’t go in.’ Creek nodded toward the house from his side of the gate into Chrysabelle’s estate.
Mal snorted. ‘She said neither of us could come in. Human hearing must suck more than I remember.’
‘I heard her just fine. I meant you’re incapable of going in. Couldn’t if you tried.’ He shrugged, enjoying the night air. It was good to be outside, although he’d prefer to be at Chrysabelle’s side. ‘Not unless she invites you, which obviously she hasn’t. Now, I, on the other hand, could walk right through that front door—’
‘What makes you think she hasn’t invited me?’
‘Has she?’
Chrysabelle was so much the vampire’s weakness. Who could blame him? She was beautiful. A comarré and a vampire. Kind of like a mouse falling for a cat. A mouse Creek had a vested interest in.
Mal glowered in response.
‘That’s a no, then. You scared that wysper she keeps on staff will start singing?’ He wasn’t sure what Chrysabelle saw in Mal, but he knew too well how good women could fall for bad men. Especially when they’d been brainwashed into thinking it was the right thing to do. The KM could offer her sanctuary if she needed it.
‘Velimai doesn’t scare me. And Chrysabelle’s mother never gave vampires invitation into the house. Chrysabelle has chosen to keep that rule. It’s a good one, considering.’
‘Considering what?’ Creek laughed. ‘That you might sneak in and drink her to death?’
Mal’s eyes went silver, his voice husky. ‘I would never hurt her. She knows that.’ He looked away. ‘I’m not the one she needs to worry about.’
The vampire seemed sincere. Creek guessed that was possible. ‘You mean Tatiana, the woman you were talking about before.’
‘Yes. She’s after something Chrysabelle has. And she’s more than just a woman.’
‘She’s after the ring.’ The focus of his mission. ‘I know who Tatiana is. Elder of the Tepes family. Nasty female vamp. Rumored to be Lord Ivan’s favorite bed toy.’
If the vampire was surprised by Creek’s knowledge, he hid it. ‘I mentioned the ring the night we battled the Nothos. All that proves is you’re a good listener. And yes, that’s the Tatiana we were referring to. Is that all you know about her?’
‘I knew about the ring before that night.’ Creek checked his mental files. ‘As far as Tatiana, there isn’t a lot more to tell. She came out of nowhere, appearing on the scene right after she went through navitas. We also know that Lord Ivan is the noble who resired her, but he’s not her original sire. She’s borderline insane, too, most likely because of the navitas.’
‘Borderline? Try over the line. But I’m pretty sure it started before the navitas.’
‘How do you know? You weren’t ever truly part of the nobility, as far as KM records show.’ Truth was, Creek knew nothing about Mal except what Chrysabelle had told him.
‘You got that right.’ Mal stared toward the house. ‘But I know plenty about Tatiana. I know her intimately. She was my human wife. I’m the one who sired her.’
Creek turned to stare at him. ‘She was your wife?’ He shook his head. ‘Dude. I feel for you.’ Some choice in women. ‘That locket she wears, the one with the portrait of a little girl inside. That little girl mean anything to you?’
Mal’s face froze, but sorrow laced his gaze. ‘Yes.’ He turned his body away from Creek. ‘Our daughter, Sofia.’
‘What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘I thought the KM knew everything.’ The vampire crossed his arms, his gaze still fixed on the house. Probably listening to Chrysabelle’s heartbeat.
‘The KM might. I only know what I’ve been told.’
‘Tatiana was the linchpin in my being cursed. She’s also responsible for imprisoning me in the dungeon of a ruined castle for fifty years.’
‘Fifty? Damn. I was only in for seven.’ He couldn’t imagine doing a stint that long. He leaned against the gate, feeling luckier than he had when he’d woken up. ‘Time like that changes you.’
‘Tatiana meant for me to wither into dust in that dungeon. Lord Ivan was there that night. He helped her. So was another vampire, but he’s already been taken care of.’
‘Good to know.’ He’d had no idea Tatiana had such a history, but she was definitely capable of everything Mal had said.
Mal stepped away from the wall and moved a few paces toward the house. ‘Do you know the extent of my curse?’
‘Just that you are cursed. That’s all Chrysabelle told me.’
Mal nodded. ‘I’m sure she’ll fill you in over time, but I’ll save her the trouble. I can’t drink from the vein without killing my victim. The voice of every soul I take inhabits my head.’ He yanked his sleeve up. Black script covered his skin. ‘I wear their names on my skin.’ He pulled his sleeve back down. ‘I’ve drunk from the vein once since Tatiana’s curse. That soul manifested as a ghost who haunts me to this day.’ His gaze dropped to the ground for a moment. ‘She did anyway. She’s gone now. Killed because of Tatiana.’ He shook his head. ‘Long story.’
‘Why are you telling me all this?’ Not that Creek wanted him to stop. Tatiana was his enemy, and it was good to know more about her and what she was capable of, but Mal’s sharing so easily was unexpected.
Mal pointed toward the house. ‘Because Chrysabelle wants us to get along. I know you’re here to kill me. Up until a few weeks ago, I would have painted a target on my chest and opened my arms to your bolt. I’m not that creature anymore. Because of her. My life, such as it is, has purpose now. To protect her.’
‘I’m not here to kill you, unless you present a threat to her. And protecting her is part of my job as well.’
‘Then we meet on common ground.’
‘Even where Tatiana is concerned.’ Creek stuck his hand out. ‘Truce.’
Mal stared at his hand. ‘Why should I trust you?’
‘You shouldn’t – not any more than I trust you – but we have the same purpose.’ He tipped his head toward the house. ‘And the same enemies.’
Mal stilled for a moment like he was thinking, then shook Creek’s hand. ‘Agreed.’
They went back to leaning on their respective sides of the gate, passing the time without a word until Mal spoke. ‘What were the seven years for?’
‘Killed my father.’
A few seconds ticked by. ‘Any particular reason?’
‘He was choking my sister to death.’
Mal gave him a sideways glance. ‘She okay?’
‘She is now.’
Mal nodded. ‘Tatiana hates me because I didn’t save Sofia’s life by turning her into a vampire.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Like I would damn my daughter’s soul.’
‘Hard decision.’ Creek wasn’t sure what else to say to that, so he chose nothing. Mal didn’t need platitudes. Th
e silence stretched out between them until a pale figure appeared in the upstairs windows.
‘Speaking of decisions … ’ Mal pushed off the wall. ‘I just made one.’
Chrysabelle knew she should be in bed, resting, but instead she stood at the French doors that led from the master suite to the large balcony overlooking the front of the estate. With the lights off and if she stood angled just so, her night vision was still sharp enough to pick out the two dark figures standing on either side of the property’s gate.
If she walked outside, she could see them even better. But she wasn’t going to do that because she didn’t want to hear them arguing and threatening to kill each other again. How could two intelligent men be so stupid?
They had to find a way to share this world, because she didn’t want either of them hurt. They were both good men at heart. Just very different. And equally interesting.
Creek because of his humanity and because she believed he was a warrior on the side of right. The kind of man she should align herself with. She wanted to know him better.
With Mal it was different. They’d been through so much together, and where Creek was a connection to her mortal side, Mal connected her to the side that definitely wasn’t. She also believed she served as a link for Mal to his long-forgotten humanity. Mal had fought for her. She wanted to fight for him, too. Even if they weren’t currently seeing eye to eye.
And lastly, both men were powerful reminders of the light and dark that lived within her. She had moments when one side definitely pulled her more strongly than the other. Losing touch with one might push her over a line she could never uncross.
She feared that like she feared losing her comarré identity. No matter how much she wanted to leave it behind and become a modern woman the way her mother had, there was comfort in the routines and traditions. It was all she’d known, and for all those years, comarré life had provided her with guidelines and boundaries. Breaking away meant making decisions based on feelings, not rules. Feelings she’d been trained to subvert.
Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) Page 20