Out for Blood

by Kristen Painter

  “Now we pray,” Chrysabelle said. She glanced at Mal, her calm expression noticeably forced. “Well, I pray.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  Mal watched the crowd around them, but no one paid the unsocial noble and his comarré more than a passing second of attention. Then movement on the dais caught his attention. Maybe this was the start of it. He hoped. Anything was better than the waiting. “Chrysabelle.”

  “Hmm?” Her eyes were still closed.

  “Octavian’s moving. He has the child and she’s fussing. This might be the opening we’ve been looking for.”

  She opened her eyes and turned to see. “Okay,” she said with a nod. “Time to go.”

  Still seething from the embarrassment of Damian’s stupidity, Tatiana almost snapped as a hand touched her shoulder. The moment she saw Octavian, she forced herself away from the volatile edge she teetered on. “What is it?”

  He shifted a fussing Lilith to his other shoulder, patting her back to no avail. “I’m going to take her to the suite.” He frowned, his gaze roaming her face. “Are you all right? What happened with…” His eyes darted toward the nobles she’d been speaking with. “Perhaps we’ll just talk later.”

  She laid a hand on his arm to keep him there, then turned only enough to engage her audience. “If you’ll excuse me, my child and my consort need me.” She didn’t wait for their response. “What’s the matter, my darling?” She leaned in to brush a curl back from Lilith’s forehead. “Are you hungry?”

  “She might be. Oana’s in the suite and Kosmina’s already headed there to warm a bottle.” He jounced Lilith up and down a bit. “I think the crowd might be overwhelming her, too.” He shook his head in frustration. “These people. They want to touch her and hold her and—”

  “Touch her? Hold her?” Tatiana squeezed his arm as horror gripped her. “You haven’t let them, have you?”

  “Of course not.” He pulled Lilith deeper into his embrace. “Let me take her to Oana; then we can discuss what happened with Damian.”

  Tatiana shook her head. “Stay with her. I’ll come in a few minutes and we can talk about it in private. I could use a break myself.”

  He hesitated. “All right.” He kissed her on the cheek. “In a few.”

  As he left, she deposited her half-empty goblet of blood onto a passing server’s tray, then picked up the skirts of her gown and prepared for the arduous slog to the door. She hoped the look on her face would stop anyone from approaching her.

  “You’re not leaving, are you, Lady Tatiana?”

  At the question, she turned. “Lord Moreau.” She lifted her chin and ignored the spark of unwanted desire his voice ignited within her. “I must see to my daughter.”

  He stared at her, pinning her with an oddly familiar look that arrowed through every carefully cultivated ounce of bravado. She hated him for that. And desperately wanted to bend him to her will. He shrugged. “Your consort isn’t capable of that?”

  “He’s perfectly capable.”

  Lord Moreau barely moved, but he was somehow closer. “Let him handle it, then, as I am incapable of bearing this crush much longer. How soon do you want the issue with the comarré resolved?”

  Business it was, then. “As soon as possible.”

  “Do you want her alive?”

  “Yes.” Even though he was going to help her, she wanted to jab at him. To prove to both of them that he was no one special. “You won’t succeed, you know.”

  He smiled ever so slightly. “You should really work on those trust issues.”

  She picked up her skirts again. “I have to go.”

  “I want all the information you have on this comarré. Unless you want me to fail for a reason.”

  She paused, the peculiar feeling of being bested unsettling her. She wasn’t quite ready to declare this battle over. “Fine. You may walk with me, Lord Moreau, and I will fill you in on this rogue comarré. That way when you fail, you will have no one to blame but yourself.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Hilda was gone. Lola hadn’t seen her since she’d run out of the bedroom. So be it. If the woman couldn’t handle her boss being a vampire, there was really no point in her remaining employed here.

  Hector returned from her office and held out the phone she’d sent him to fetch. “Anything else I can do for you, my lady?”

  “No, that’s fine.” She took the phone and pointed to the empty end of the sofa. “Come sit.” The den was the darkest room in the house with its north-facing windows sheltered by large palms and overgrown palmettos. The potion Luciano had given her was keeping her awake like he’d said it would, but the sun’s presence still made her skin itch. She shuddered. “Once the helioglazing is done, I won’t be such a prisoner in my own home. I hate feeling so dependent.”

  Hector looked crestfallen as he sat.

  She smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll still need you.”

  Happy with that, he picked up an e-reader off the coffee table and settled his back against the sofa’s high arm. His feet stretched toward her, the tops covered in a constellation of gold stars. For the briefest of seconds, she wondered how much that had hurt, but the thought slipped out of her mind as quickly as it had entered. She punched her office number into the phone and waited.

  “Mayor Diaz-White’s office. Valerie speaking.”

  “Valerie, it’s Lola. I’m working from home today. Can you let general reception answer the phone? I need you to come over here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lola sighed at Valerie’s terse response. “I’m dropping the curfew and I need you to help me draft the announcement.”

  “You are? That’s great. What changed your mind, if you don’t mind me asking? Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy you’re dropping it. Just curious.”

  “I’ll explain when you get here. There’s one more thing.”

  “Sure, anything.”

  “I need you to bring John Havoc with you. Can you arrange that? I’d like to make things right with him.”

  She answered with a smile in her voice. “I’d be happy to arrange that. Be there as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you.” Lola hung up and held the phone to her chest. If this went as poorly as things had gone with Creek, she’d be looking for a new administrative assistant tomorrow. But Valerie wouldn’t react that way, would she?

  Lola stood and paced to the bookshelf that held more plaques and awards than books. Maybe John was the one she should be worried about. Vampires and varcolai weren’t supposed to get along, but John wasn’t just any shifter. He was a friend. Or had been.

  A heartfelt apology and they’d be back on solid footing, wouldn’t they?

  Or was that wishful thinking? Exactly how much animosity was there between the varcolai and the vampires?

  Nerves skipped over her skin along with a sudden vision of John attacking her. She shook her head and went to the bar to pour a shot of rum, wondering just how big a mistake she’d made by asking Valerie to bring a potential enemy into her home.

  “Mr. Silva.” Doc stared at the man, mentally sizing him up. Rodrigo was shorter, but maybe a little more muscled. Doc definitely had him on reach. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”

  “I already know about the challenge. Heaven called me a day ago. Told me what was going on. I know I missed the event, but I got here as quickly as I could. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my daughter.”

  Doc shot Omur a look before returning to Rodrigo. “That’s… very admirable.” Damn, this was going to suck. “You’re right that you missed the challenge.”

  Rodrigo came a little farther in. “I wish to congratulate my daughter, but first, I want to speak to you.”

  Congratulate her? Ouch. “What about?”

  “This… other woman of yours.” He sat in the last empty chair in front of Doc’s desk and heaved out a tired sigh. He opened his mouth to speak, then glanced at Omur and Barasa. “These are your council member
s?”

  “Yes.” Doc sat as well. “I’m in the process of replacing the third.”

  “You trust them?”

  So far, Doc thought. “Yes.”

  Rodrigo nodded thoughtfully. “Good. Having men around you that you can trust is very important in our position.” He spread his hands over his thighs. “This is how I wish to speak to you today. Pride leader to pride leader, si?”

  Doc leaned back in his chair, still apprehensive. “Yes. Good.”

  “What I say here to you is not to be repeated outside these walls. I have your word?”

  Slightly more intrigued, Doc gave a short nod. “You do.”

  Rodrigo leaned forward. “This other woman…” He sighed again. “I understand how it is. My marriage was a political one as well. My mate was not the woman I was in love with, but love…” He shrugged. “Those of us who hold power have little room for love.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Doc said.

  Rodrigo smiled sadly. “You are young. You will learn. Unfortunately, my daughter has no doubt made things difficult for you.” He muttered something in Portuguese. “Heaven is our youngest and my wife spoiled her. I know she is beautiful, but beauty is no replacement for a kind heart and a sweet spirit. She is…” He raised his hand. “I will just say she is too much like her mother.”

  Doc stared at the man for a few seconds. “This isn’t the conversation I expected to have with you.”

  “It is good to have this honest talk, yes?” Rodrigo sat back. “I will confess one more thing. I never liked Sinjin. Not his politics, not his personality, not his excess of ambition. He pursued me for Heaven’s hand. He was relentless. I knew he wanted only the political standing the alliance would bring.” Rodrigo frowned. “I finally agreed. I thought actually marrying her would be the punishment he deserved. And part of me was happy to give her into someone else’s hands.”

  Again, Doc was left without words. What could anyone say to that?

  “I know, you are thinking I am a bad father.”

  “No, not at all.” Doc shook his head vehemently. “You did what any man in your position would have done.”

  Rodrigo went silent then, nodding only slightly and studying Doc. At last, he spoke. “I know very little of you, but what I do know, I like. Perhaps our alliance will actually mean something.” He stood and offered Doc his hand. “I am not unhappy to have you in my family.”

  Doc stood but kept his hands on the desk. “Before you shake my hand, there is something you should know.”

  Rodrigo let his hand drop. A fleeting shimmer of gold passed through his eyes. “What?”

  “Heaven lost the challenge. She’s…” Dammit, there was no easy way to say this. “She’s dead.”

  The soft leather soles of Chrysabelle’s slippers made it fairly easy to trail Octavian undetected, but she still kept a good distance between them, occasionally ducking into open doors or hiding in alcoves in case he looked back. He was a vampire, after all, and the farther away they got from the ball, the less noise there was to cover the sounds of her breathing and heartbeat.

  Perhaps the constant traffic of servants through the halls helped her. With so many guests staying at the estate, there was too much to be done for the servants to rest. Or perhaps it was the child’s crying in his ear and the soft words he spoke to her in an attempt to soothe her. She settled down a little, but the crying only became soft whimpers and hiccupy sobs.

  When he stopped, Chrysabelle darted back around the last corner and listened. A door opened and closed. Holy mother, protect me. With a false confidence, she sauntered forth, opened the suite door, and slipped in.

  Beyond the foyer’s arched entrance was a living room, and through there, another door opened into a bedroom. All empty as far as she could see, but small sounds deeper in told her to proceed cautiously. She inched forward, every nerve in her body on alert to hide or run or fight. Through a closed door in the living room, the sounds she’d heard became more distinct. More female. Two women. Most likely the child’s nursemaid and another of Tatiana’s servants. If Octavian had handed the baby off, where was he? If they had two adjoining suites, he could have left by another door. She relaxed and stopped hunching.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  She froze, the male voice behind her proof that Octavian hadn’t gone anywhere. With a deep breath, she fixed an innocent smile on her face and turned. He still held the child, who had finally quieted. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotten so turned around. All these suites look the same to me.” Then, as if just noticing the baby, she exclaimed, “Oh, the baby! Look how darling she is.” Chrysabelle came a few steps closer. “Look at those precious cheeks. May I hold her? I’d love to hold her.”

  “No.” Octavian lifted Lilith higher.

  Chrysabelle had expected that answer. Time was not on her side. If she tried to talk him into giving her the baby, all could be lost. Hoping she was doing the right thing, she pulled one blade free of its sheath and brandished it. The false sweetness left her words. “Give me the child and I’ll let you live.”

  His eyes silvered. “Who are you working for? Who sent you?”

  “You don’t need to know that.” She lifted the dagger, her heart pounding. “The child. Now.”

  He stood his ground. “What family? Tell me that much.”

  “No family. No more questions. Hand her over.”

  The silver in his eyes faded. “KM?”

  “What?” She’d heard him, but doubted her ears.

  “Kubai Mata?”

  Caught off guard, she went still, her only movement the intake of breath. She’d never known a vampire to give enough credence to the KM to even bring them up as a possible enemy, but then Octavian had been with Tatiana at Aliza’s. Maybe he’d figured out that’s what Creek was. She shook her head, unwilling to give anything away. “No.”

  “You lie. I heard the skip of your pulse.”

  “So what if they are who sent me? No one will believe you when you tell them that.”

  He walked closer, stopping only when the point of her dagger was within striking distance. “I won’t tell them. The KM train us to reveal as little as possible.”

  “You’re… KM?”

  “Who do you think sent the picture of your brother and the invite to the ball?” He lifted Lilith from his shoulder and held her out to Chrysabelle.

  The shock of the moment could be processed later. Right now, she needed to go. She dropped the dagger Mal had given her and untied the sash Nyssa had reworked into a sling for the baby, looping it across her body and retying it securely. Then she took Lilith from Octavian’s arms and settled her into the sling.

  Octavian picked up the dagger, holding the hilt toward her to take when she was ready. “Quickly,” he admonished. “Tatiana will be here any—”

  The door opened in the next room and Tatiana walked in, Mal right behind her. Rage glinted metallic in her eyes a second after she assessed the scene before her. “What the hell is going on?”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Mal had expected Chrysabelle to be gone by now. Octavian, eyes wide in shock—or terror—still held outstretched in his hand one of the daggers Mal had given her. How Chrysabelle had talked Octavian into giving up the baby, Mal couldn’t imagine. He followed Tatiana as she stormed through the living room and into the bedroom.

  “I said what the hell is going on?” Tatiana shouted. “Why is she holding Lilith?”

  Chrysabelle grabbed the dagger from Octavian as she whipped out her second blade.

  “Octavian,” Tatiana snarled. “Do something!”

  Octavian lunged weakly for Chrysabelle, but she dodged him, dancing farther back into the room. Tatiana reached for the top of her gown’s bodice and pulled out two long, slim blades.

  “You, you’re…” She jabbed one in Chrysabelle’s direction, then swung around to glare at Mal. “Is that your comarré, Moreau? Why is she holding my child? Tell her to put Lilith down or I will kill her.”r />
  Their cover would be blown soon enough. “Let me speak with her.” He stepped between Tatiana and Chrysabelle. “Get out now,” he told Chrysabelle in a low voice, throwing his arm out to block Tatiana.

  With a nod, Chrysabelle started past, but Tatiana ducked under his arm. “Octavian, grab her.”

  He did, latching on to Chrysabelle’s upper arm. She twisting and sliced downward, cutting through the upper sleeve of his jacket. Blood scent filled the air and his arm went limp, but the move spun her out of Mal’s reach and toward Tatiana.

  In an instant, Tatiana struck, her narrow blade flashing as it sliced through the top part of the sling, leaving Chrysabelle bleeding across her shoulder and the baby hanging by a few shreds of silk.

  Lilith began to cry.

  Mal grabbed Tatiana’s blades with his hands. They bit into his palms but he yanked them away and tossed them, jerking Tatiana forward and sending her sprawling onto her belly. “Enough.”

  The shock of his actions bought them a small window of time. Blood seeping down the front of her dress, Chrysabelle ran for the door, her arms hugging the baby to her while she kept a grip on her weapons. Tatiana shoved a foot out, tripping her. Lilith was tossed free. The fall sent her wailing to a deafening level.

  “Lilith,” Tatiana screamed. She struggled to crawl toward her child, but Mal planted his booted foot on her back and pushed her down. She whipped her head around, pure hatred gleaming at him from her silver gaze. She thrust her metal hand out in front of her and it morphed into a sword. “You are about to die, Moreau. Samael protects us!”

  As she positioned herself to strike, black smoke boiled in from the foyer, gagging them with the stench of brimstone. Choking, Chrysabelle tried to reach Lilith, but before she could, the smoke parted.

  The Castus stepped out and roared his displeasure loud enough that the entire estate must have heard it. “Why have you called me? Why is my child crying?”

  “Samael,” Tatiana cried. “Help us!” She pointed at Chrysabelle. “Kill her!”