“Also nice to hear.”
“I stopped to see Mortalis on my way over here. Like I said, he thinks the reason I said Damian’s name is the same reason you mentioned—because Damian is my brother.” She looked at him, clearly waiting to see his reaction.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. You pointed out that I haven’t seen Damian since he’s been here. I barely remember him from life in the Primoris Domus. Could he be my brother? I guess. How do I determine if that’s true?” She rubbed the back of her neck.
Fi stuck her head back through the doorway. “Why not good old-fashioned DNA testing?”
Mal growled softly. “I thought you were throwing the pizza box away?”
Fi shrugged. “Sorry.”
“I can’t,” Chrysabelle answered. “Not unless you know someone who could do it with complete confidentiality. I’m not looking to become a government science experiment. Now that othernaturals are out in the open, I’m sure they’d jump on the chance to test more of me than just my blood.”
Mal rested his hand on top of hers. “I agree, but if we can find someone we trust—”
“Big if.” Chrysabelle pulled her hands from under his. She glanced at Fi. “Could you give us some privacy?”
Fi swiveled back toward the hall. “Your wish, my command.”
When the sound of her footsteps faded, Chrysabelle spoke again. “Mortalis is putting feelers out to see if he can get a lead on where the vampiress might have holed up with Damian.” She rolled her bottom lip in, slowly releasing it. “I also talked to Mortalis, on Velimai’s recommendation, about finding someone who could tell me—us—what power the ring of sorrows might have contained.”
Mal kept the surprise off his face. This was a big step for her. “What did he say?”
She leaned back in the chair and met his gaze. “Mortalis told me about a very dangerous fae who, if willing, could tell me pretty much everything I want to know.”
“Besides this fae being dangerous, what’s the catch?” Because there was always a catch.
“He’ll exact a price, but we have to agree to pay it before he helps us, and we won’t know what it is until he’s done.”
Mal’s mood went sour. “That it?”
“Well, let’s see…” She started ticking things off on her fingers. “He could get here, then decide he doesn’t want to return to the fae plane. Then we have to either find a way to persuade him to go home or kill him. Mortalis says no way can he stay on the mortal realm. Of course, he could kill us first. And then again, he might not agree to help us at all.”
“You don’t have to do this. We can figure out another way.”
She shook her head. “No. There won’t be another way, or if there is, it’ll be harder. You always tell me I run instead of dealing. It’s time to deal. I’m doing this, with or without you.”
“There is no without me. Not anymore.”
Smiling, she reached across the table and took his hand. “That’s how I know I’ll get through it.” Her smile faded a little. “Or at least I won’t die alone.”
Chapter Thirteen
Fi ditched the pizza box first chance she had, then adjusted her sweatshirt hood so it hid her eyes. The air had the slight nip of what passed for fall in New Florida. Kinda reminded her of her childhood in Colorado, but by this time of year, there’d probably be snow on the ground. Or at least ice on the river. Here, the best you could hope for was a rare frost appearance.
The trek into town wasn’t so bad. Gave her time to think, time to figure out her words. She couldn’t go without seeing Doc any longer. The separation and the not talking were killing her. They hadn’t been apart this long since she’d known him. What kind of a hold did this woman have over him? She had to see his new wife for herself. See what the competition was all about.
Wife. What kind of a job came with a wife? That was crazy.
Pride headquarters loomed ahead. She slipped into the alley behind the building but didn’t bother with a door, just shifted into her ghost form and floated inside, zipping up through the floors until she reached the penthouse.
She hovered near the ceiling while she searched the place. She found Doc sitting on the sofa, elbows planted on his knees, eyes staring straight ahead. Classic thinking pose. What was on his mind? The incident with Mal and Chrysabelle from the night before? Or was he thinking about her? Missing her?
She drifted down until her feet touched carpeting, then went corporeal. She walked up behind him and slipped her hand over the back of his neck. “Hi, baby—”
With a snarl, he shifted into his half-form, latched hold of her arms, and dragged her over the back of the sofa until she was pinned beneath him.
She kissed him, just a quick peck, doing her best to avoid the fangs jutting over his lip. “Hi, kitty cat.”
“Fi.” Her name sighed out of him and he relaxed, going full human again. He sat up, pulling her with him. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Mal.”
“Nice to see you, too.” Not the welcome she’d imagined, that’s for sure.
He rubbed a hand over his scalp. “Sorry, babe, I wasn’t expecting you.”
She sniffed. “Obviously.”
His gaze shifted to a spot behind her before coming back. “Look, now might not be the best time.”
“Why? What’s happening? I feel like I have no idea what’s going on in your life anymore.”
Scooting closer, he took her hands and squeezed them. His voice was low as he spoke. “What’s going on right now is complicated, but you gotta know everything I do, I do for us.”
“Complicated because of your new wife?”
He nodded. “That and what happened last night.”
“Mal killed that guy, huh?”
“Yeah, and it was settled until Chrysabelle showed up alive at Seven earlier tonight.”
“News travels fast. I thought there was a pride rule about feline-shifters going to Seven? As in it’s not allowed?”
He dropped her hands and leaned back. “That was one of the first rules I changed.”
“With your history with Dominic? Did you suddenly become friends with him?”
“I didn’t do it for him. I did it for the pride. Seven is a huge joint. Dominic employs a lot of people. I was trying to open up opportunities for the pride, show them… I don’t know… show them I’m not Sinjin. That I’m looking out for the pride’s best interest, not just my own.” He tipped his head back against the couch. “I never wanted this job.”
She slid closer to him and began to massage the back of his neck. “I know, baby.”
He bent his head, giving her hand more room. “Some of the pride members are calling for Mal’s death now. It ain’t good.”
“Shhh. It’s all going to be okay.” She leaned in and kissed the soft spot behind his ear as she dragged her nails over his scalp. Her reward was a soft, growly purr rumbling out of his chest.
“I’ve missed you something fierce, Fi.” His hand slipped between her knees to massage her leg.
“Me too, you,” she whispered against his skin before nipping his earlobe. “I hate being away from you.” She kissed his jaw. “I hate eating alone.” She kissed the bow of his upper lip. “I hate showering alone.” She ran her tongue over the seam of his mouth. “I hate sleeping alone.”
He pulled her onto his lap, his fingers digging into her hips as she straddled his legs. “Fi—”
“I know you want this as much as I do,” she urged him. She leaned back and yanked her hoodie over her head, revealing a skimpy tank top.
“I can’t. Not here. Not now—”
She shut him up with a kiss. Her hands found their way under his shirt.
A hissing noise filtered in through the low purr coming out of him.
“You little vadia!” Someone grabbed her by the hair and yanked her onto the floor.
Fi’s head smacked the table on the way down. She rubbed the sore spot as she looked up. A l
eggy brunette stood over her, but the woman’s eyes were on Doc.
“And you,” she spat, pointing at Doc. “Bringing your whore into my home. How dare you? Are you trying to shame me?”
Doc stood. “Wait just a damn minute.” He held his hand out to Fi, helping her up. The woman backed up a few steps as he tugged Fi behind him. “Don’t you ever call Fi a whore. Ever. So help me Bast, I might actually hit a woman if you do.”
The woman shoved a finger into his chest. “I am your wife. Any other woman who touches you is a whore. You don’t like it, don’t let them touch you.”
“Heaven, calm down.”
Heaven? Great. Perfect. Doc’s new wife was named for paradise. Fiona meant “fair,” but fair didn’t compare to perfect bliss.
Heaven hissed at Doc again. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Get her out of here or I swear, I will kill her like I promised.”
Fi stepped out from behind Doc. “Kill me? Kill me? Look, lady, I don’t know if you think inheriting my fiancé gave you some kind of special permission, but he was mine first. Got it? Mine first.”
“Fi.” Doc gave a little shake of his head.
“That’s right,” Heaven said. “Tell your whore to close her whore mouth before I do it for her.”
Unable to take any more, Fi launched, catching Heaven by the waist and knocking her off her ridiculous high heels. They hit the floor with a thud. Heaven let out a guttural growl that caused Fi’s muscles to contract. The body beneath her shifted and suddenly Fi’s hands were full of soft, spotted fur.
She jerked back. Heaven had just become a jaguar.
Doc pulled her away and set her on her feet, his eyes shifter-yellow, his body tensed like a trip wire. “Get the hell out of here, Fi, and don’t come back until I tell you.”
She stumbled away from him, trying not to cry. Those were words she’d never thought he’d say to her. She certainly didn’t need to hear them twice.
Morphing to ghost form, she slipped through the wall and out into the night.
Soft knocking woke Lola. She lifted her head from the pillow and turned on the bedside lamp. Squinting toward the door, she called, “Yes?”
“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but there’s a visitor,” a voice said from the other side.
“Come in, Hilda.” Lola twisted to look at the clock on the nightstand. Nearly 3:00 a.m. Why could nothing wait until a decent hour? Her maid, Hilda, entered the room a few feet. “Who is it?” Not many people had the cojones to visit her at home, forget at 3:00 a.m., but if they’d gotten past her security, it had to be someone she knew. Or something very urgent. Her only daughter was dead—what pressing news could someone be bringing her?
“He said his name is Thomas Creek, ma’am. Do you want me to send him away? He said you’d want to see him.”
She flipped the covers back and reached for the robe at the foot of the bed. “No, no. I’ll talk to him. Where is he?”
“Foyer.”
“Put him in the living room and tell him I’ll be in shortly, then go back to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Hilda left, closing the door.
Looking at the robe in her hands, Lola yawned and changed her mind. Being in her nightgown would make her feel vulnerable. Instead, she dressed in jeans and a sweater, then brushed her teeth and hair and slipped her Walther PPK into her waistband before heading into the living room. She trusted Creek as much as she trusted anyone, which wasn’t much.
He stood at the windows, staring into the night. The outside was pitch-black except for the distant glow of the security lights. Somewhere out there, Luke Havoc and the evening security team patrolled the grounds.
“This better be important.”
Creek turned sharply. He tipped his head to one side, eyes gleaming darkly. “Mayor.”
“Why are you here?” At this hour, her patience was limited.
“I’ve come to accept the advisory job you offered me.”
She hoped he could read the disbelief on her face. “Are you serious? At three in the morning?” He deserved a bullet for this, but somehow she managed to keep her hand off the gun resting against her back. “Go home. We’ll pick this up tomorrow in my office.”
He shook his head, blinking rapidly. “I planned to start tonight since you don’t understand the problems plaguing your city.”
“My grandchild is in the hands of demons, the news is full of horrible stories, my inbox overflows daily with complaints, my councilmen are resigning, and you think I don’t understand the city’s problems? Like hell I don’t.”
“Then the time to act is now.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing? I’ve already spoken to Malkolm.” Although her memory of their talk was blurred around the edges. “He’s promised that he and the comarré will get Mariela back.” Had he? She couldn’t really remember.
Creek’s nostrils flared as he snorted out a breath. “If you’re willing to trust your granddaughter’s life to a cursed vampire and his blood slave, you may not have what it takes to rescue this city.” He blinked a few more times and stared harder at her. “Unless they’ve already gotten to you.”
“What? No.” She looked at him a little closer. He seemed… not himself. “No one’s gotten to me. I knew Chrysabelle’s mother. She was a good woman. Why shouldn’t I trust her daughter and Malkolm?”
He came nearer, his steps odd. Mincing. “Because the comarré work for the vampires and no vampires are to be trusted. Ever. No othernatural of any kind should be trusted. They will all turn against mankind sooner or later.”
“Two of my best security men are othernaturals.” She gestured toward the city. “So are some of our police, firefighters, and paramedics.”
“And if they decide they’d rather run the city than protect it? Who will guard your streets then?”
Lola settled into the nearest chair, the gun’s metal pressing reassuringly into her back. Creek sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, waiting. Maybe he was right. Maybe—
“What of the child’s father?”
“What of him?”
“Has he offered to go after his daughter?”
She dropped her chin a little. “He’s looking into it.” Not that she knew what that meant.
“You’ve been to see him, then.” Creek’s eyes narrowed.
She sighed. That was information she hadn’t intended on sharing. “Yes. I went to see him.”
“What help is he giving you?”
“I’m not sure.” Maybe she should talk to Malkolm about turning her into a vampire. Surely he’d understand the importance of leveling the playing field. The thought was muddled in a cloud of déjà vu. Had she already asked him about turning her? She glanced up at Creek. “You once told me noble vampires had powers that fringe vampires didn’t. What kind of powers?”
He leaned back and squared his shoulders as if preparing to recite something recently learned. “The power of mind reading, the power of black magic, the power of alchemy, the power—”
“What kind of power does Malkolm have?”
With a burst of rapid blinking, Creek tipped his head to the other side. “The power of persuasion.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“He can convince humans to do as he says or cause them to forget things.”
“Forget things? Like conversations?”
Creek leaned in. “Yes.” He stroked his fingers down her arm, his touch as soft as feathers. The contact drew sparks over her skin, causing her to pull away.
Like a switch being thrown, her memory of the evening returned. She had gone to see Malkolm. She’d begged him to turn her into a vampire, even offered him her body, and still he’d refused her. The scornful look on his face filled her vision. As though she were too stupid to understand what becoming such a powerful creature entailed. And he’d never promised anything about rescuing Mariela.
That arrogant fool. “Damn it,” she whispered. Hot tendrils of anger wormed up her spine. He’d de
nied her. Then stripped the memory. She slammed her fist down on the arm of the chair. “That bastard messed with my mind.”
Creek nodded twice in rapid succession. “None of them can be trusted.”
“So what do I do about it? You want to be my advisor, advise me.”
Creek stood and planted his hands on his hips. For a split second, an odd shadow seemed to hang off his arms in the shape of wings; then he dropped his hands and the shadows were gone. “The first step is controlling the othernaturals.”
“How?”
“Hold a press conference tomorrow morning announcing a curfew with the only exceptions being for law enforcement, firemen, and emergency personnel. Your security men may then continue working for you. Any city employees who disagree will be showing you which side they’ve chosen. The human citizens will thank you.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea—”
Creek grabbed her arm, his eyes darkening as the protests left her tongue.
She nodded, a little numb. “A curfew, yes. The human citizens will thank me.”
He released her.
“What if someone violates the curfew?”
He pressed his fingertips together. “When they violate the curfew, they will be made an example of. You will show these othernaturals that you are the one in charge, not them.”
Lola nodded again, the fog lifting slightly from her brain. Maybe she’d get lucky and Malkolm would be the first one to tangle in her net.
Payback was hell.
Chapter Fourteen
Tatiana tipped her face into the evening breeze, lifting Lilith into it as well. “Isn’t that lovely, my darling? Doesn’t the night air feel good?”
Lilith cooed, kicking her little legs and reaching out as though trying to grab a star from the sky. Probably she just wanted to be put down. She’d begun to crawl, something the kine doctor had said was far more advanced than an average child of her age, but then Lilith wasn’t average. She was a vampire princess and nothing was beyond her grasp.
“Shall we sit by the fountain or shall we walk? Hmm?” Tatiana turned Lilith around, rubbed her nose against her daughter’s cheek, and inhaled the sweet smell of her soft skin. Lilith wrapped her hand in one of Tatiana’s curls, giving it a tug.
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