Last Blood hoc-5

by Kristen Painter

  A maid, dressed in a black-and-white uniform, came through a swinging side door. She set a vase of flowers on the center of the table. “Brunch will be right up. Beautiful flowers you got from the garden today, Ms. Livie.”

  “Thank you, Lally.” Livie pointed the head of her cane at Chrysabelle and Fi. “As you can see, we’ve added a few to our party.”

  “We’re really not here to eat,” Chrysabelle said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Fi said. “When the one and only Olivia Goodwin invites me for brunch, I plan on eating.” She beamed at Olivia.

  Olivia laughed. “I like this one. What’s your name, cher?”

  “Fiona. But all my friends call me Fi. You can call me that too if you want.”

  Olivia reached one spotted hand across the table. “Give me your hand, Fi. If you don’t mind. I like to read my guests.”

  Augustine laughed from his chair beside her. “Watch out, she’s about to tell your life story.”

  Fi hesitated, sucking in her bottom lip. “Then I should probably tell you I’m a ghost.”

  Olivia drew her hand back slightly, her expression a little incredulous. “A ghost? Darling, you’re as solid as the day is long.”

  Fi picked up her fork and held it flat on her open palm. A second later, the fork fell through Fi’s de-corporealized hand and clattered to the table. Sunlight from the transom windows filtered through Fi’s transparent figure. “I go both ways.”

  Augustine whispered something in faeish.

  “Well, now, that is the singular best parlor trick I’ve ever seen.” Olivia smiled and lifted her glass in toast. “Here’s to the most interesting brunch I’ve had in a long time.”

  Lally returned, setting several steaming dishes of food on the table, then went around filling coffee cups and juice glasses. While Augustine helped serve Olivia, she looked to Chrysabelle. “As wonderful as it is to see you, I’m sure you haven’t just come for a visit.” Her amber gaze took on an odd clarity and she dipped her head toward Chrysabelle. “Does your trip here have anything to do with that baby in your belly?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Creek hauled Mal through the corridors of the freighter, finally dumping him in a section of one that was completely free of sunlight. It would have to do. If he tried to find Mal’s actual room, chances were he’d get lost in the ship and end up stuck here until Mal came to and that had bad news written all over it. As it was, Mal was going to be highly irate at being shot and drugged. Common sense said the best thing to do was get scarce.

  He worked his way out of the ship, but a few yards from the door he’d come in, he heard the sounds of someone else on deck. He inhaled, looking for a scent, but found nothing. He crept forward, wishing he knew the freighter better so he could find another way out.

  The door was open a crack, so Creek peered through it. A vampire he didn’t recognize was leaving a container right outside the door. If not for the man’s noble facial structure, Creek wouldn’t have known he was looking at a vampire. It was like the man wasn’t there at all, like he created a dead spot in Creek’s senses.

  Paole. There was no other explanation. Which meant this could be the vampire who’d turned the mayor. Creek wished his crossbow wasn’t collapsed. Snapping it open would make too much noise. Instead, he reached for his halm and jumped through the door, pushing it open at the same time that he whipped his halm out to full length.

  He stopped just as the tip of the halm hit the vampire’s chest. “Move and I’ll run you through the heart.”

  The vampire froze. “Who are you?”

  “I could ask you that same question.” Creek nudged the container with his foot. “What’s this?”

  The vampire straightened as best he could. “A name, first.”

  “Creek. You?”

  “Luciano.”

  Great, another Italian. Maybe Dominic knew him. “What’s in the container?”

  “Blood.”

  “Why are you bringing Mal blood?”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  “You don’t have to live, either.” Creek shoved the halm harder into Luciano’s chest. “Who are you working for? Dominic?” The faintest hint of recognition flared in Luciano’s eyes. “So you are. Why the blood then?”

  Luciano looked like he’d rather sunbathe than answer, but he did anyway. “The blood is drugged. To keep Mal from killing anyone. The comarré requested it.”

  “Chrysabelle?”

  “Si.”

  “We’re not enemies then. Not yet.” Creek moved the halm, but kept it at full length in case the situation changed. “Why would Chrysabelle want to keep Mal drugged? And why would Mal kill anyone? He gets all the blood he needs from Chrysabelle.”

  Luciano sighed and glanced at the sky. “The sun comes soon. Perhaps we can talk elsewhere?”

  “I like the sun. Explain.”

  With another very exasperated sigh, Luciano answered. “Mal’s love for her was stolen by a fae. Now he is like he was before. A beast. A creature controlled only by his desire to feed.” Luciano shrugged. “This comarré still loves him and does not want him to die. Not yet. Not if she can bring his love back. So until then… we feed him. Keep him sedated so he harms no one. Are you satisfied? Can I go? Otherwise I may be forced to kill you so that I do not perish as well.” He smiled like that was funny.

  Creek aimed the halm at him again. “One more question. Did you sire the mayor?”

  Luciano’s smiled faded. “Cazzo! Will no one let me live this down? Yes, what of it?”

  Creek had orders to kill the vampire who’d sired the mayor, but Luciano was keeping Mal from killing anyone else with these blood deliveries. He’d have to explain to Annika what was going on so the situation could be reassessed. He jabbed his halm into Luciano’s chest. “Sire anyone else and I’ll kill you myself, understand?”

  Luciano sneered. “Under what authority, human?”

  Creek twisted the halm so that Luciano’s shirt wound around the end in a tight knot, and then he pulled the vampire in close. “Under the authority of the Kubai Mata, bloodsucker.”

  He laughed. “The KM don’t exist.”

  “You don’t believe me, ask Chrysabelle. She’s seen the brands on my back. Or maybe you should just take a nice deep inhale and get a whiff of the holy magic in my blood. I’ve heard it smells sour to your kind.”

  Luciano’s nostrils flared, and then his eyes went a very fearful shade of silver. He nodded. “I won’t sire any others. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

  Creek yanked the halm back, tearing it loose from Luciano’s shirt. A second later, he stood alone on the deck, the only reminder anyone else had been there the container of blood on Mal’s doorstep and the breeze left behind in Luciano’s wake.

  Chief Vernadetto arrived just after lunch. Within half an hour, Doc had set him up with a conference room to use to take statements. Barasa and Omur waited with Doc in his office. They’d have their turns too, but he was up next. “This is a mess, you know. I’ve lied to Fi. I’ve lied to Remo. Now what, I’m supposed to lie to the cops?”

  Barasa cleared his throat. “You have no choice. None of us do. We have to tell the same story or this house of cards will fall.”

  Omur nodded. “I’m sorry, Maddoc. I know this goes against your grain.”

  Doc snorted. “I used to run drugs for Dominic Scarnato. You think lying to the Five-Oh goes against my grain? It was the only grain I had for a lotta years.” He sighed. “I just don’t like doing it where Fi’s concerned.”

  A knock on the door turned their attention.

  “Come in,” Doc answered.

  Remo entered, looking less than pleased. “Vernadetto’s ready for you.”

  Doc stood and went without a word. Vernadetto sat at the far end of the conference table with an e-tablet in front of him, the screen black, and a cup of coffee. Doc shut the door, then sat near him. “Chief.”

  “Maddoc.” Vernadetto tapped the screen to b
ring it to life. “Where were you the night of the alleged murder?”

  No small talk then. “In the stands of the arena.”

  “What was your relationship with the deceased, Heaven Silva?”

  “Her husband by pride law.”

  Vernadetto nodded. “I remember that. Because you killed Sinjin, correct?”

  “He challenged me. And I killed him in self-defense,” Doc added.

  “Yes, self-defense.” Vernadetto scrawled something with his stylus. “Were you aware that the sand in the arena had been laced with silver dust?”

  And so it began. “No.”

  “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt Heaven?”

  “To be honest, I didn’t know her well enough to be able to answer that. She may have had enemies, but I couldn’t tell you who. I can give you her tablet and password though. You can look through her contacts yourself.”

  “Thank you. That will help.” More scribbling. “Who has access to the arena before a fight of this nature?”

  Doc shrugged. “Pretty much anyone with access to the building. When the arena’s being prepped, it’s hardly ever locked.”

  “That doesn’t make my job any easier.” Vernadetto sipped his coffee. “I’ll need you to provide me with a list of names of anyone who worked on the preparations and those on security.”

  Doc nodded. “I’ll get that for you as soon as I get back to my office.” He leaned in. “What’s your take on all this?”

  “I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.” He tapped his tablet, darkening the screen. “But off the record, the evidence is gone, the site’s been cleaned, and the suspect list includes everyone in the pride. Right now it’s Remo’s word against everyone else’s.” He looked at the door for a moment. “I like Fiona. She doesn’t seem like the type to hurt anyone.”

  “She’s not.” Thank Bast for that cocktail party. Whatever impression Fi had made on Vernadetto that night, it had been a good one.

  “I’m going to handle this case personally and while it will be a by-the-book investigation, I’ll do what I can to wrap it up quickly and without a lot of noise.”

  “I appreciate that more than I can tell you.”

  Vernadetto nodded slowly. “I’ll need to talk to Fiona, though, so wherever you’re hiding her, get her unhidden fast.”

  Chrysabelle’s mouth went dry. “H-how do you know I’m pregnant?”

  Olivia swallowed a bite of Eggs Benedict. “When I touched you outside. Felt that new life in you like a kick to my gut.”

  “No one’s supposed to know,” Fi whispered, looking horrified.

  “Too late,” Augustine chimed. “You spend much time with Livie, you figure out real fast secrets don’t stay secrets long. She’s got enough haerbinger blood in her to make her dangerously interesting.” He winked at her. “My kind of woman.” Then he arrowed his gaze at Chrysabelle and leaned back in his chair. “So, who’s the daddy?”

  “The vampire,” Olivia answered.

  Augustine’s chair thumped to the carpet. “How the hell is that possible?”

  “He bit her while they were doing it,” Fi said around a mouthful of sausage.

  “Fi.” Chrysabelle glared at her, instantly regretting letting her come. Why did Fi always have to say everything that came into her head?

  “Sorry.” She shrugged. “But it’s true.”

  Augustine whistled long and low. “I bet that does have something to do with why you’re here.”

  Chrysabelle set her fork down, not that she’d touched much of her food. Even the smell of things cooking made her queasy these days. “Let me explain.” And so she did, for nearly twenty minutes, telling them about her visit to Khell and answering their questions as best she could without using Mortalis’s or Amery’s names.

  Augustine threw his napkin onto his plate. “Let me get this straight. You want me to get you into the Claustrum?”

  “Please. With Khell out of the picture, I have no one else to turn to and it’s my only hope of making things right.”

  “You know what the consequences are for me if anyone finds out?”

  “I do. And I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t so important.” She exhaled, staring at her lap. “I really have no one else to turn to.”

  He stared at his plate for a while. “There is one person who could grant permission.”

  “I told you, Khell said if I asked again, he’d have me thrown out of the city.”

  “Not him.”

  She looked up. “Who?”

  “The elektos Prime. If he okays it, and he might, considering the circumstances, I won’t have to get involved.”

  Which she knew he preferred. Mortalis had made it clear his brother wasn’t big on putting himself out there. “Who is the Prime?”

  “We have a new one since you were here last. The shift in Guardian really shook things up.” He pursed his mouth for a moment, making her dread his answer. “The Prime is Hugo Loudreux.”

  Every shred of hope she had dissolved. “He won’t help me.”

  “Why not?”

  “The last time I saw him, I threatened to kill him.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Creek waited until Annika slid the door to the machine shop closed. “There’s no way Mal’s the killer.”

  “How do you know? Is this related to your recon on Tatiana last night?” She made herself at home in one of the easy chairs, kicking her feet up onto the cable spool table.

  “Yes.” He took the other chair, setting his bottle of water on the spool. His stomach growled in protest that he wasn’t filling it with more. After his early-morning jog with Mal, he’d slept in and missed breakfast. “She brought at least one Nothos with her, but I took care of it as soon as I got there, then set up on the roof of the warehouse across from the freighter. Not sure how long she was inside, but she left a few hours before dawn. I thought she’d gone in to kill him, and was about to go in and check when he came out.”

  Annika’s brows rose. “Unexpected.”

  “Absolutely. I trailed him, we had a run-in, and I ended up shooting him in the leg.” No reason to tip off the KM about Mal not being himself until Chrysabelle had her shot at fixing him. “I’ve been tipping my bolts with a sedative, so he passed out right after. I carried him back to the freighter and as I was leaving, ran into a new vampire.”

  He sat back in his chair and stared into Annika’s dark shades. “He’s Paole. And he told me he was the one who sired the mayor, but that he did it in exchange for her lifting the curfew.”

  “So you eliminated him per orders.”

  “No.”

  Annika put her feet on the floor. “Creek, he’s a threat. And you had orders.” She tapped her fingers on the chair’s arm. “Perhaps I have allowed our relationship to become… too familiar.”

  He bowed his head in deference. “I made a judgment call, and if I was wrong, I apologize, but after my conversation with him I don’t believe him to be any more of a threat than you or I.”

  She shook her head. “How does this prove Mal’s innocence?”

  “I’m getting there.” Creek sipped his water. “This Paole works for Dominic and Dominic has been sending Mal regular shipments of blood.”

  “Sated doesn’t mean innocent. Some vampires can’t resist the hunt and with Mal’s past and whatever’s going on between him and the comarré…” She shrugged. “It could still be him.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned forward. “No, it couldn’t. The blood he’s been getting is drugged. He’s been knocked out cold every night there’s been a murder.”

  Annika frowned. “Why would Dominic be sending him tainted blood?”

  This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted to do. Share Chrysabelle’s business with the KM. It was that kind of garbage that got her so upset. He got up and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a protein bar out of his lean pantry. “Because of what’s going on between Mal and the comarré. He’s lost the ability to l
ove her temporarily and it’s made him… angry. To keep him from striking out, she’s gotten Dominic to keep Mal sedated until she can heal him.”

  Annika stared at him long enough to make him uncomfortable. She now knew he’d kept information back from her. What she’d do with his subordination remained to be seen. “This is why you didn’t kill the Paole.”

  He nodded.

  “And this situation with Mal, when will that be resolved?”

  He knew Chrysabelle was working on it, but what did that mean in real time? “I don’t know, but soon.”

  “Creek, Malkolm is the most dangerous vampire in this city. You know his past. He was a terror. He’s responsible for more human deaths than any other vampire we have record of. If he’s gone back to that?” She stood and tugged her leathers into place, an air of reluctance around her unlike anything he’d seen before. “The comarré has forty-eight hours to return things to the status quo. If Mal still needs to be sedated by then… there is nothing I can do.” Her mouth thinned to a hard line. “You will be ordered to eliminate him. No judgment calls allowed.”

  Loudreux’s refusal to see her came as no surprise to Chrysabelle. She slammed the car door as she got back in. “I told you.”

  Augustine lounged in the passenger’s seat beside her. “Still worth a shot.”

  Jerem started the car. Fi twisted around from the front seat to face Augustine. “That means you’ll help us, right?”

  His chin jutted forward and he turned to look out the window. “You’ve got to understand, I’m not exactly high on the Best Liked Fae in the City list already. A move like this would really put me in a tough spot.”

  Jerem grunted softly from behind the wheel. Chrysabelle understood. She was frustrated too. And despite what Mortalis had said, she was about to try something she probably shouldn’t. Nothing left to lose, anyway. “That’s pretty much how your brother said you’d react. He said you were lazy. What was that he called you?” She tipped her head like she was trying to remember. “Bala’stro?”

  Augustine sat up straight, anger creasing his brow. “You tell Mortalis that he can shove one of his horns right up his—”