Last Blood hoc-5

by Kristen Painter

  “Do you trust them?”

  She jerked back, his words bordering on blasphemy. “Of course. Don’t you?”

  “I find it odd that they would have the child eat of the tree and not you as well. It seems to me that the child has no need for that kind of power.” He lifted one shoulder in a lazy roll. “I only wonder if she wasn’t listening when he spoke to you. If perhaps he said that knowing you’d understand to do the opposite.”

  She went very still. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do,” Mal said. “You know I could be right. You said yourself that the ancients were afraid of her. How do you know she’s not orchestrating this whole thing in an effort to get rid of you? And if she eats the fruit before you, she’ll pitch a fit if you try to have one of your own.”

  “Hades,” she whispered as she turned away. Doubt flooded her thoughts. “What am I going to do?”

  “You’ll eat the fruit first. It’s all you can do. Once you eat it, she’ll insist on having one as well.”

  She looked at him sharply. “And what if it proves fatal?”

  “It won’t.” He dug into his pocket and held out a small metal box. “Because I have this.”

  “What is it?”

  He lifted the top off, revealing a fine white powder. “Protection against any kind of holy magic.” He smirked. “The comarré gave it to me a while ago.” He sniggered. “Now that’s irony, don’t you think? Me using her gift to me to save you?”

  “That’s absolutely delicious.” She clapped her hands, then reached out and ran her fingers down his body. “The estate you’ll inherit sits on the next property over. It comes with the job of Elder, as you know. I didn’t live there long, but it’s a beautiful property. You’ll enjoy it. And I’ll enjoy having you close again after all these years. Of course, I wouldn’t be unhappy if you wanted to spend more time here. With me.”

  He grabbed her hand and stopped it from moving. “Why would I want to do that?”

  She wriggled her fingers free and leaned into him, the solidness of his body a welcome memory. “You cannot deny that there is still something between us.”

  “Animosity. Bitterness. Deep-seated resentment. Take your pick.”

  “Oh, Malkolm. You can’t still be harboring ill will toward me? Not after we’ve been working so well together.”

  He went quiet, watching her, only a flicker of silver in his eyes.

  She poked him. “See? You know it’s true.”

  “I suppose,” he grunted. “Things have been going… well.” He shifted, putting some space between them. “But you can’t expect me to just forget everything you did to me.”

  She leaned back against the bar where he’d just been, planting her elbows on the marble top in a way that pushed her breasts forward. “You should at least give me the chance to make all that up to you.”

  “All I need is what I’ve been promised.”

  He’d fold. She knew what he liked, how to motivate him to do her will. And once they were rid of Lilith, she’d have nothing else to worry about. Then she could put all her efforts into wooing him back to her side for good. She shrugged like it didn’t matter whether or not he gave her a second chance. “Shall we get on with it, then?”

  He crossed his arms. “Please.”

  She tipped her head back. “Lilith, my angel, come to Mother. I’ve got a very special surprise for you…”

  Damian waved to Chrysabelle on his way from the car to the guesthouse. “I’ll be over in a few minutes. Don’t open any portals without me.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” She nodded as the gates began to open. “Vel, we have a visitor.”

  Fi’s sedan pulled through the gates. A minute later, Fi hopped out, then waved to Velimai and Chrysabelle as she ran up to the front door, a shopping bag swinging from her hand. “Hey, I was just going to drop this off.” She lifted the bag. “I can’t stay long. There’s a lot of craziness going on at headquarters. You didn’t kill Tatiana yet, right?”

  “Right. She’s not dead yet. But soon. I’m meeting Mal in a few hours.” If everything went as planned.

  “Ooo, the final showdown.” Fi’s eyes brightened. “This is perfect timing then.” She shook the bag. “I have just the thing for you to wear.”

  “I thought we were done shopping.” Chrysabelle let Fi drag her upstairs.

  “This wasn’t shopping. This was custom made, which is why it wasn’t ready until now.”

  “That sounds expensive.”

  “It was, but don’t worry about it. The pride’s loaded. Think of it as my and Doc’s wedding gift to you and Mal.”

  “What? We’re not getting married.”

  Fi laughed. “You will be. You’ll see.” She opened the door to Chrysabelle’s quarters and handed her the bag. “Go try it on.”

  If Fi smiled any harder, her teeth might pop out. Chrysabelle peeked into the bag but all she could see were swathes of tissue paper. “What is it?”

  “Scared?” Fi laughed again and sat on the bed. “Don’t be. It’s just exactly the right outfit for crushing Tatiana. She sees you in this and she’ll be so freaked out, you’ll probably catch her off guard.”

  “Okay, yes, now I’m scared.” Chrysabelle started to take the bag into the bathroom with her, then stopped and looked back at Fi. “You know you’re the first female friend I’ve ever really had outside my mother and Velimai. And I know we didn’t exactly get along at first—”

  “You were trying to kill the vampire who was keeping me alive.”

  Chrysabelle nodded, laughing softly. “True. But I’m really glad we got past that.”

  Fi grinned. “Me too.”

  Chrysabelle’s smile thinned out. “I just want you to know that I’m thankful for our friendship. In case things don’t go well with Tatiana.”

  Fi frowned. “I’m thankful too, but you shouldn’t say crap like that. You’re going to kick Tatiana’s fangs right out of her mouth, you got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Good. Now get in there and change. I have to get back soon and I want to see this thing on you.”

  “Going!” She hustled into the bathroom, where she removed the tissue-wrapped outfit from the shopping bag. She laid it on the counter next to the map of the Garden and the gold pipette she’d be using to draw blood to form the portal. She pulled back the first layer of tissue.

  Red leather, worked into beautiful patterns and burnished with black so that the leather took on an almost antique look. It reminded her of some of the outfits she’d seen Mortalis in. She ran her hand over the skins. Super soft but so very different from the kind of clothing she was used to. She shook her head. “Oh, Fi,” she whispered. “You silly girl.”

  Reluctantly she undressed and put the pants on. They clung to her form, but were surprisingly flexible and fit over her swelling belly as if they’d been measured for her yesterday. She shrugged. Fi said they’d been custom made. The top looked more like an engineering project in the back, straps crisscrossing her shoulders and lower back in an intricate pattern. The front was a solid piece. Almost like a breastplate, and it too fit like it had been molded to her body.

  She tugged the laces tight at the back of the top, tying them off before looking at herself in the mirror.

  A warrior stared back at her. A gold-gilded, red-leather-clad warrior. “Holy mother.”

  “You like it?” Fi called.

  “I… I don’t know. It’s different. And it shows a lot of signum.” And it was too tight to hide the one thing she didn’t want Tatiana to know about. She turned sideways to see exactly how pregnant she looked in the outfit.

  Oddly, her stomach was perfectly flat. She ran her hands down over her belly. She could feel the curve of it. Why couldn’t she see it?

  She opened the bathroom door. “Fi, why—”

  “Holy crap, that’s freaking awesome.” Fi bounced on her knees on the bed. “You look like you’re going to kill someone. Like you’ve already killed someone. A lot of
someones.”

  Chrysabelle held up her hands. “Take a breath. Why can’t I see my stomach in this?” She turned sideways and studied her reflection in the bedroom mirror. “Look. Nothing shows, but I can feel it. So strange.”

  Pure delight gleamed in Fi’s eyes. “Not really that strange when you consider who made it.”

  Chrysabelle glanced over at her. “Who?”

  Looking extremely self-satisfied, Fi laid down on the bed, propped on one elbow on her side. “The same fae that makes all of Mortalis’s leathers. Nyssa hooked me up with him.” Her gaze went to Chrysabelle’s stomach. “The reason you can’t see your belly is fae magic, plain and simple. I figured it would come in handy in case you needed to hide the pregnancy for these next few months.”

  “Or just from Tatiana.” Chrysabelle’s hands coasted over her abdomen. “Amazing.”

  “So what do you think?” Fi asked. “Are you going to wear it to face down Tatiana for the last time? I know I’d be afraid of you if you came after me in that outfit.”

  “Why red? I know I’ve been trying to wear more color, but red?”

  A satisfied gleam sparked in Fi’s eyes. “Red means stop. It’s a warning of danger. It’s the color of blood. There were a lot of reasons I chose that color.” She crossed her arms. “So are you going to wear it?”

  Chrysabelle took another long, hard look at herself. “Believe it or not, yes.”

  The front door slammed. “Chrys, where are you?” Damian called out.

  “In my bedroom,” she answered.

  He walked in. “Are you ready to—holy mother, what do you have on?”

  Chrysabelle planted her hands on her hips. “My Tatiana-killing outfit.” Fi snickered at that. “Am I ready to what? Open the portal? Yes.”

  He stared open-mouthed another second, then shook his head. “That looks like a Tatiana-killing outfit.”

  “Fi’s choice. She did well, didn’t she?” With a wink at Fi, Chrysabelle continued. “How was the penthouse? Are you going to move in there?”

  “It’s nice, but not my style. If it’s okay with you, I’ll stay here a little bit longer.”

  She frowned at him. “What’s okay with me is if you don’t leave at all. I really don’t want you to go.”

  “You’re sure? I just thought with things about to change the way they are, that… I don’t know. You’d want your own space.”

  “Damian, the space I want has you in it.”

  He nodded and smiled. “Then I’ll stay.”

  “Good. Thank you.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m glad that’s settled. One less thing to worry about, especially since I really need to open that portal and get to the Garden.”

  Fi hopped off the bed. “That’s my cue to leave. I told Doc I wouldn’t be long.” She gave Chrysabelle a hug. “Get it done and bring Mal home.”

  Chrysabelle hugged her back. “Will do.”

  Fi waved to Damian as she left. “See you later, D.”

  Chrysabelle shot her brother a look. “You ready?”

  “Absolutely. Are you? Do you have everything you need? Are you sure you don’t want me with you?”

  “I’d love to have you with me, but I’d rather have you here protecting the portal.” And out of harm’s way.

  “Understood. I know with our training you can handle yourself. I just can’t help but worry about my sister.” He smiled. “Give her hell, Chrys.” He laughed. “Or at least send her there.”

  Chrysabelle returned his smile. “That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Doc nodded to Creek after Remo was seated. “Show him the pictures.”

  Creek tapped the screen of his phone, and then held it out for Remo to see.

  He studied the picture for a long second before his angry gaze rose to meet Doc’s. “You are having me followed? On what grounds?”

  Doc fixed his gaze on Remo and held it there. One way or another, Remo was going to tell the truth. “I’m not having you followed. Creek took those while on surveillance for another matter.”

  “So.” Remo shrugged. “What is it supposed to prove, other than I often take walks through the streets?” He sat back. “Is this the council meeting? If so, I fail to see what a photo of me out walking has to do with anything.”

  “Those photos were taken after I chased you out of Fritz’s apartment.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Remo laughed nervously. “Who is Fritz?”

  “You know who he is. He’s the council member you replaced. The one you’re trying to frame as Heaven’s murderer.”

  Remo started to stand, but Creek put a hand on his chest and pushed him back into his chair. “Don’t be rude. Your pride leader’s talking to you.”

  “Get your hand off me. I’m done with this,” Remo snarled.

  Doc rapped his knuckles on the desktop. “You leave and you’re done with this pride, you get me?”

  Remo shut up.

  Doc continued. “What this proves is that you’re not the innocent you make yourself out to be.”

  Creek set the phone down on Doc’s desk. “I saw you in that alley in your animal form. You had four scratches on your back.”

  “Do you have pictures of them also?” Remo asked.

  “No,” Creek answered.

  “His word that he saw them is good enough,” Doc said. “Because I know where those scratches came from. I put them there when I chased you out of Fritz’s apartment.”

  Remo had the nerve to look bored. “I said I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Doc took a breath and tried to remain calm, tried to pull the frustration from his voice. “Look, all I really want to know is why you did it? Why you’d kill your sister? I can’t make it work in my head.”

  Remo’s face didn’t change. “I loved my sister and I resent the implication that I would hurt her.”

  “Why’d you frame Fritz? What does that get you?”

  Remo sighed and stood. “I believe the time has come for me to consult with my father on this.” He moved toward the door.

  Doc decided to call his bluff. He leaped over the desk and blocked Remo’s path. “You’re right. Maybe we should call your father. Maybe he’s the one behind all this.” Yellow flickered in Remo’s eyes like a flame, then went out. Doc pushed harder. “That’s more likely, isn’t it? You wouldn’t have the brains to think up something like this. Or the connections to make it happen. No, this definitely wasn’t something you’re capable of, because killing a family member? That would take stones bigger than what you’re carrying around. Rodrigo Silva–sized stones.”

  Remo’s lip curled. “My father wouldn’t have the guts.”

  “You’re the one who wouldn’t have the guts.” Doc leaned in until they were almost nose to nose. “You couldn’t even get this position without him.”

  Remo’s eyes went gold and he snapped his jaw, baring his teeth. “I should have killed you too.”

  He swung, but Doc grabbed his arm and threw him against the wall. Remo staggered back, swinging again. This time Doc caught Remo by the waist, took him to the ground, and held him there. “Why’d you kill her? Why?”

  Beneath Doc’s grasp, Remo snarled and fought. “To push you and your useless human wife out of power, you stupid Mané.”

  Doc jerked him to his feet. “I don’t know what the hell you just called me, but I’m sure it wasn’t good.” He shoved Remo up against the wall. “How does getting me out of power help you?”

  Remo snarled. “Fritz was going to call for fresh blood to be voted in.”

  “Fresh blood?” Doc stared at the murderer in his grasp. “As in you?”

  “Yes. On the strength of my family name and with the sympathy of my sister’s death, every vote would have been mine. I would have taken over this pride and run it the right way. Restored the power it had under Sinjin and doubled it.”

  Doc’s lip curled. “Under Sinjin, this pride was being punished for
his whims.”

  “And now it’s better that the pride is run by a street hood like you?”

  Heat built in Doc’s bones but he was in no danger of losing control. He’d won this. “Considering you laid the plans that killed your own flesh and blood, I don’t think you’re in any position to be insulting your pride leader.”

  “You’re not my pride leader.” Remo spat the words out. “You’re a pretender and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

  “If Fi hadn’t given you that vial of sand, how were you going to make all this happen?” Doc forced a smile. “Because honestly, you don’t strike me as smart enough to have made this work otherwise.”

  Remo snapped, but Doc held him back. “I would have planted the tainted sand, then had my sister’s body exhumed and reexamined, but your stupid wife saved me the trouble.”

  New warmth crackled along Doc’s nerves. He leaned his full body weight onto his forearms, pressing into Remo so hard that the other shifter’s breath went ragged with effort. Then he put his mouth next to Remo’s ear. “Do you know what they do to pretty boys like you in prison?” Doc shook his head. “Bad, bad things.”

  “Damn straight,” Creek said.

  Shaking with the effort of controlling his fiery temper, Doc dropped Remo, stepped back, and called for the police chief. “Vernadetto, come get this piece of garbage.”

  Vernadetto and his officers charged out of the other room.

  “Was that enough?” Doc asked.

  Vernadetto nodded as two of the officers cuffed a struggling Remo. They went to the ground with him, but Vernadetto had been smart enough to bring varcolai officers. They could handle Remo. “With Creek’s pictures and testimony, yes. Plus, I’m guessing if we search Remo’s quarters, we’ll find the evidence he intended to plant.”

  “You need a warrant for that?”

  Vernadetto shook his head. “Not if you give us permission.”

  “Done.”

  Vernadetto smiled. “I’ll have Barasa and Omur released within the hour.”

  “Thank you.” Doc stared at the man who’d created so much chaos in his and Fi’s life. “One more thing.”