Bad Blood

by Kristen Painter

  The butler scurried past her to open a pair of French doors and direct them into the parlor. Mortalis and Mal joined her, with Hugo bringing up the rear. He nodded to the butler, who closed the doors.

  From a dim corner of the room, the darkness moved and a petite female shadeux fae emerged. Her charcoal leather pants and half vest, only slightly darker than the rest of her exposed skin, showed off a defined midsection and well-muscled arms that sported a row of barbs. Her black hair was braided down the center of her skull, leaving visible her pointed ears and a slender set of horns that jutted from her forehead, then arched back and around to follow the curve of her jawbone. The needle-fine ends were tipped in silver. She wore a sword strapped to her back, and blades at her wrists and thighs. She could have been Mortalis’s twin. Her presence explained Loudreux’s boldness. Chrysabelle had never known a cypher to be particularly daring without heavy backup.

  The bodyguard’s gaze danced over the group, stopping on the other shadeux fae. Still, her face showed zero emotion. “Mortalis.”

  His face hardened with displeasure. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I’m Mr. Loudreux’s personal security detail.” She tipped her head to one side. “Is that any way to greet your sister?”

  Lola gasped. A baby? “Are you sure of what you’re saying? My daughter had a child?”

  The chief nodded. “Yes. The levels return to normal within three to four weeks of a woman giving birth, so it was recent.” He glanced at Creek and John, then back at her. “I know you have questions, but that’s all the information I have. The PCPD is moving forward with every available asset to locate your daughter’s last known residence. If this child is out there, we’ll find it.”

  “If?” she asked. Of course the child was out there. Newborns didn’t just disappear.

  The chief sighed. “We can’t be sure the child is… alive.”

  Lola rubbed her aching brow. The weight of responsibility pressed hard. She had to keep her sanity. Keep her city from crumbling along with her. “I understand. I want to know everything as soon as you do.”

  “You have my word.” He nodded a good-bye and was gone.

  She pushed a forkful of eggs across the plate without really seeing them. “A child. Can you imagine? What else could happen?”

  Creek made a strangled noise. She looked up. He broke eye contact the second she made it, suddenly fixated on his coffee.

  “What do you know?”

  “Nothing.” He crammed half of a guava pastelito into his mouth.

  She glared at him. “Lie to me again and your next meal will be served on a cold metal tray.”

  He chewed, finally looking up. A sip of coffee, a swallow, and he spoke. “You really want to know? Even if it will cause you more pain? Even if it might not be true?”

  “Either way, yes.” Any iota of information he could give her that would help her find this child—her grand-child—she would take. No matter how awful or heartbreaking it was.

  Creek shot a quick look at John, then came back to her. “We—meaning myself, Mal, and Chrysabelle—were told by another person that he’d seen your daughter with a baby and the man believed to have fathered the child in Little Havana.”

  She shrugged. “If you think it bothers me that my daughter lived in such a desperate part of town, it does, but not so much. She is Cuban American, after all.” Despite how Julia had taken her father’s side in the divorce, she was still Lola’s daughter. Nothing Julia did could ever erase that.

  Creek nodded. “I live there, too. That’s not the point. The man she was with—”

  “The baby’s father.”

  “The man we suspect fathered the child. He’s… Look, there’s no easy way to say this. He’s a vampire. And not just an ordinary one. He’s the only one any of us has ever known who can daywalk.”

  Her body went hot, then cold, then numb. A vampire. Her grandchild was half monster. “How is it even possible?”

  “I’m not really sure. Apparently he wasn’t turned in the usual way—”

  She smacked her hand down on the tabletop, making the silverware jump. “I meant, how is it possible that a vampire got my daughter pregnant!”

  Creek shrugged one shoulder. “I really don’t know. It shouldn’t be possible, but Preacher’s not your usual vampire.”

  “You know where this vampire lives?”

  “Yes.”

  She shoved her chair back, threw her napkin down on her plate, and stood. “Take John and go there. Get my grandchild and bring it back to me. Maybe there’s some way to cure the child of…”

  “Being a vampire?” Creek snorted. “It’s not a disease.”

  More like a plague. “Whatever it is, it might be reversible. Bring the child to me at city hall as soon as you can.” She left them at the table as she went out to the waiting car. She was clueless as to what to do with a half-vampire child, but she damn sure didn’t want a vampire to have it. This child, regardless of who had fathered it, carried some of her blood in its veins. She’d failed Julia. She would not make the same mistakes twice.

  The sweet-sick smell of charred flesh reached Aliza before she had her airboat docked. It was almost enough to make her puke up the blood of the two homeless men she’d drained. Almost. A small flock of turkey vultures sat preening on the peak of the metal roof. Dread wormed through her belly, but she shoved it aside. There were plenty of good reasons for those birds. This was the Glades, after all. Stuff was always showing up dead.

  She hopped out of the boat and bounded up the stairs, her old bones no longer a concern with her new vampire strength. The wooden door was open, leaving just the screen door between her and the inside. Through it, she could see into the living room.

  A pair of female legs lay sprawled on the floor, hidden from the knees up by the kitchen wall. The dragonfly tattoo on the left ankle caused a sob to choke her.

  With a howl, she ran into the house, almost tripping over her own feet with the speed. She threw herself down on the floor beside Evie. Pain wracked Aliza’s body in waves. Pain so strong it shook her bones and dimmed her vision. Her only child lay lifeless before her, eyes staring up at the ceiling, a softball-sized hole burned into her chest.

  She scooped Evie into her arms. Her body had already begun to stiffen. Aliza buried her head against Evie’s neck and cried loud, hard tears. Life was damn unfair. She’d just gotten her daughter back from her stone prison. Now someone had murdered her in cold blood.

  Rocking back and forth, Aliza wept until her tears dried up and the sobs wracking her body faded away. She eased Evie’s body back to the floor and stared at her without really seeing much but her beautiful face. At last, Aliza reached out and closed Evie’s eyes.

  The hole in her chest had been made by magic. The kind of magic only a witch could produce. Aliza looked toward the side of her house. Beyond that wall sat the houses of her coven members. One of them had done this. There was no other explanation. She got up to take an inventory of the house, see what had been so valuable that it had cost Evie her life.

  The demon was gone. She picked up a shard of the shattered aquarium. So that was it. Someone had stolen the demon to get the power that came with owning the creature. But how? Aliza’s and Evie’s blood had formed the spell that held the creature. The only way that spell could be broken was if Aliza and Evie were both dead. Aliza slammed her fist into the floor. She was dead. She was a damn vampire. With Evie gone, too, the spell on the demon was broken.

  Why would someone kill Evie if not to have the demon for themselves? Had one of her coven seen her go into town? Wasn’t like she made a secret of it. Too hard to hide an airboat anyway. Maybe someone had followed her, seen her go into the church, then watched the vampire take her body out and figured with her gone, her house was easy pickings. Aliza glanced back at her dead daughter, and a new sob wracked her chest. The old metal TV tray lay to one side, blackened and burned.

  Evie had tried to stop them. And gotten kill
ed for it. “Oh, Evie child. I’m gonna find who did this and I’m going to make them pay.”

  Aliza headed for the door and noticed for the first time the gouges in the kitchen’s linoleum. She bent down to run her fingers over one. Beside it were dried brown spots she instantly knew were blood. She licked her finger, then rubbed it on one spot and brought it to her mouth. Animal blood. It had the same earthy tang as the dog’s.

  Her newly keen sense of sight picked out a few small black hairs a little farther away. She gathered as many as she could and sniffed them. Why would a big cat be in her house? Because that big cat was actually a varcolai out for revenge. And the only black-furred varcolai she could think of who knew where she lived and had a reason to want either of them dead was the one she’d had under her smoke spell.

  Doc. The same low-down, dirty dealer who’d sold her poor Evie the drugs that had turned her into stone for all those years. Wasn’t that enough? Did he have to kill her, too?

  Maybe the demon had ended that miserable leopard. But she knew better. There wasn’t enough blood on the floor for her to believe there’d been a killing blow.

  She stood up and stared out the door, a thousand things going through her head. She had to bury her daughter, but as soon as Evie was laid to rest proper, Aliza was going to hunt down that leopard and skin him alive. If she could get the smoke spell working again, finding him would be a snap.

  Then she’d go back to that vampire who thought he’d killed her and show him just how wrong he was. Come hell or deep water, that vampire child was going to be hers.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Doc stretched, trying to shake the sleep holding on to him. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear the fog. Fi sat at the end of the bed, leaning against the footboard. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open. She flickered like an old-fashioned movie. He smiled. His girl. Safe. That was good. Damn good.

  He shifted into his human form, then propped his head on his hand and studied her. Letting her sleep was the right thing to do. She’d probably been up to all hours after he’d seen her at the church. He wasn’t sure how she’d even found him there, but his girl was resourceful. And braver than he’d ever imagined. His smile faded, remembering the night they’d had there. And the rest of his. It was over now. With Aliza and Evie both dead, that chapter of his life was closed. Permanently.

  He nudged Fi with his foot. She could snooze later. “Hey, sleepyhead,” he said softly.

  “Hmm?” She opened her eyes and the flickering stopped. “Hey, yourself. You’re awake. And human. How do you feel?”

  “Not bad, considering.” Pretty crappy, actually. He stuck out his arm, twisting it side to side to look at the spot where the Castus had snagged him. “Just a little scratch now. Burned like a mother, though.” And still did, but not nearly like it had.

  “You’re lucky it wasn’t deeper.” She scooted toward him and kissed his mouth. “I was so worried.”

  “I know.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. What happened after I left you at the church?”

  “Preacher tried to kill me, but I went ghosty and ditched him, then I went looking for you but you were long gone. I figured since you said witch that you were either under some kind of spell or headed to Aliza’s or both.”

  “Both.”

  “It was that smoke we went through, wasn’t it?” She bit her lip.

  “Probably. Not sure.”

  “Well, I am.” She sighed. “You think Aliza’s really dead?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I know so. And so is her daughter Evie.”

  Fi’s eyes rounded. “How do you know?”

  He flopped back onto the pillows. “About Evie? She tried to kill me with a bolt of heavy-duty fire magic. I grabbed a tray and reflected the fire right back at her. Blew a hole in her chest I could’ve put my fist through.”

  Fi’s face crinkled up. “Gross. Why’d she try to kill you?”

  “She’s the one who had me under the spell. Forced me to bring the vampire baby to her. Then planned to kill me because she could.”

  “So who gave you that scratch?”

  “Castus. Apparently Evie and Aliza had the thing contained with some heavy black blood magic. Demon wasn’t exactly happy about it. When Evie died, the thing broke free, which is how I know Aliza’s dead, too. If she’d still been alive, I’m sure the spell would have held. Aliza’s not dumb. She’d know to put that kind of fail-safe in place with a monster like that.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, wishing he could erase the images in his head. “Worst part is, the demon got the kid. Scooped that thing up like a twelve-year-old girl with a brand-new kitten.”

  “That sucks, but do you think it matters? I don’t mean to be insensitive, but it’s a vampire baby. Isn’t it kind of with its family now?”

  “I can only imagine what a creature like that would do with another creature like that. Maybe Mal or Chrysabelle will know.” He sat up a little. “They back yet?”

  “No. But I hope they hurry.” She bent her knees under her chin. “We had some excitement of our own last night, right after you disappeared.”

  “Yeah?”

  “A vampire showed up and nabbed Saraphina, the new comarré. According to Damian, she was happy to go with the vampire and never wanted to escape in the first place. Dumb comarré sliced Damian’s shoulder open.”

  He sat up completely. “How did the vampire know where to find her? Did you see Tatiana?”

  “Don’t know and no. But we’re sure she must have had her hands in it somehow.”

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I need to talk to Damian now. If a vampire can just walk onto this property, how are we going to protect ourselves against the Castus that’s now running loose?”

  Worry crinkled her brow. “And tonight is Halloween.”

  He grabbed a robe from a nearby chair. “Don’t remind me.”

  Chrysabelle closed her mouth before it became obvious that she was staring. Mortalis had a sister. Now that Chrysabelle saw them together, the resemblance was uncanny. She bent her head to adjust the strap of one sacre, using the moment to slant her eyes at Mortalis. The barbs on his forearms were fully extended, a sure sign of his displeasure. Seeing his sister here had been a surprise for him, too, apparently.

  “A word with you outside, Blu,” Mortalis said.

  “Not while I’m on duty. I have nothing to say to you anyway.” She looked at her employer. “My apologies, Mr. Loudreux.”

  He nodded and she moved to stand behind the chair he’d taken.

  Mortalis’s mouth settled into a thin, hard line. Clearly, this wasn’t over.

  “Please, sit.” Mr. Loudreux indicated the chairs and sofa across from him, then glanced toward the butler. “Fellows, give us some light, will you? And offer our guests some refreshment.”

  The butler stiffened. “Right away, sir.” As he left, he flipped a switch that illuminated a beautiful crystal chandelier above them. It glowed half-heartedly, like the available electricity wasn’t quite up to the task. Still, it was electricity. Mr. Loudreux wanted them to know he had means, in case the house, butler, and private bodyguard didn’t do it. The overkill worked her nerves.

  Mal took a seat on the sofa, leaving room for Chrysabelle beside him. She took it. Mortalis settled into the chair as though he might spring back up at any moment.

  Fellows came in bearing a large silver tray with a china tea set and all the accoutrements. He took it to the side table and began fixing a cup of tea for Loudreux.

  “Extra sugar, sir?” Fellows asked.

  Loudreux nodded. “As usual. And for you, comarré?”

  She’d had enough of the pretend hospitality. “I came for my ring, not tea. You’ve seen me. Now give me my ring.”

  Loudreux laughed. “My, you’re a direct one, aren’t you?”

  “Get her the ring,” Mal said.

  Loudreux sniffed. “I see our Southern charm is wasted on you.” He took the tea Fellows brought him,
sipped it, then put it on the side table. “Fine, business it is.”

  At last.

  “Sklar, the current guardian of our fair city, is worthless. Unfortunately, he’s also the son of the elektos Prime.”

  Mortalis exhaled. “Sklar’s a smokesinger. That explains the band of juvies Mal ran into today.”

  “Let me guess.” Loudreux addressed Mal. “They let you go for a bribe.”

  Mal leaned back. “Yes.”

  Loudreux shook his head, disgust bracketing his mouth. “That’s been the way of it since that slack-wit took over. He’s a disgrace to this city. A hollow threat. He lets more vampires in than he keeps out. Meanwhile the elektos have their hands tied because none of us dare speak against the Prime’s son.” Loudreux cursed in faeish.

  Chrysabelle held her palms up. “Fae politics mean nothing to me. Why are you telling me all this?”

  Mal put his arm across the sofa back. “He wants you—us—to get rid of this problem for him.” He gave Loudreux a bitter look. “Then you’ll get the ring back.”

  Loudreux smiled. “It would be a great boon to New Orleans to have a proper guardian in place.”

  Chrysabelle’s hands ached from clenching her fists. Her back ached because it just did. “Mal is right, then?”

  Loudreux nodded and sipped his tea.

  Mortalis shook his head at the cypher. “Taking bribes bothers you but assassinations are fine? So long as the greater good is served?”

  “Now, you just wait a minute,” Loudreux barked. “I never called for anyone’s assassination. How you go about fixing this problem is your business, not mine.”

  “As long as you don’t get your hands dirty.” Mortalis stood. “Nothing’s changed, has it?”

  Loudreux pounded his fist against the arm of his chair. “Plenty has changed. You think this city stood still waiting for your return? No. Life here goes on, with or without your family.” He twisted in his chair to reach up and pat Blu’s arm. “Don’t you mind that statement, sugar. Wasn’t meant for you at all.”