Out for Blood hoc-4

by Kristen Painter

  “What you thought was right?” She lunged toward him. “I could kill you for what you did. You and the mayor. If you think I’m not going to make her pay—”

  He grabbed her hands before they found his throat, tried to talk her down. “But you won’t. You’re not built like that.” Sorrow made fine lines around her eyes and he wished like hell he knew exactly what had happened in that office. It was so much easier to think when Yahla wasn’t around.

  “Yes, I am. You just haven’t seen that side of me.” She jerked out of his grasp, another sob muffled but audible. “Why are you here? There’s no damage left for you to do.”

  “I’m not…” He stopped. What was the point? She was going to think what she wanted to think. “The KM found out that Daciana has returned to Corvinestri and taken your brother, Damian, with her. He’s back in Tatiana’s control now, but being held as a prisoner. She’s still using him for blood, though.”

  Chrysabelle’s breath hitched. “Damian?”

  “Yes.”

  A tiny spark of hope lit her eyes. “They have proof he’s my brother?”

  “It’s in the file they gave me.”

  “Is he all right? How does the KM know he’s my brother?”

  “The KM have been protecting him as best they can. As to how they know, they have inside sources. Ways of finding out this stuff.” Creek took out his phone and pulled up the info he’d been given.

  She closed her hand over his to hold the phone steady, her touch colder than he remembered it being. He’d loved her once. Maybe not as much as Mal, but enough that he would have willingly given his life for her. Probably still would. But she’d chosen the vampire and Creek had come to terms with that. Didn’t mean he’d ever completely stop caring about her. “Tatiana will take him to achtice, to the Dominus ball.”

  She nodded. “The comarré always travel with their patrons.”

  “The KM will give you whatever resources you need to get to achtice and get your brother back, so long as—”

  “I bring the vampire baby back with me.” She let go of the phone and went back to staring at the water.

  “Yes.” There was no point in denying it.

  “There’s nothing the KM could give me I don’t already have access to. Nothing from them I need.”

  He reached for the envelope tucked into his waistband beneath his shirt. “There is one thing.”

  She sniffed. “I doubt it.” But she glanced over anyway. “What?”

  He held out the envelope. “An invitation to the Dominus ball and maps of the comarré tunnels underneath the estate where the ball will be held.”

  “And if I don’t bring the vampire baby back with me? If I only rescue my brother?”

  He hadn’t wanted it to come to this. “The KM know what you did with the ring of sorrows. They’ll come after you and…” The KM’s dictates were more than he could stomach at times.

  “And what?”

  “They’ll take it back. By whatever means necessary.”

  As soon as Creek left, Chrysabelle loosened her grip on the invitation and let it fall to the side. Despite the news about her brother, her mind had no space for thoughts of going to achtice and all that entailed. She couldn’t give it room, not with Mal… gone.

  She swallowed hard and blinked back tears she’d thought long ago used up. Holy mother, how would she survive this? The hole inside her widened with every breath, the pain rippling out in relentless waves. Mal was gone. That was the only word she could manage right now, and even it felt much too close to a truth that weighed a thousand pounds.

  Sorrow mingled with guilt, scraping her raw every time she managed a breath. Guilt that she hadn’t told him how she felt when she’d had the chance. Guilt at her own cowardice.

  She closed her eyes. Instantly, his image appeared, playing across the insides of her lids like a horror movie. Her hand reaching up to him. That blinding bright sun off the car that had seared the pictures into her brain and melted away her last shred of hope as he turned to smoke.

  How could the mayor have done this? How could she, with a few words on a written statement, so casually extinguish the one bright spot in her life? What past crimes? An example of what? Of how insane the mayor had become? How cruel? How stupid? Chrysabelle’s hands clenched and she imagined them around the mayor’s neck. Imagined the mayor’s soft flesh and the crunch of bone as her throat gave way. Not since Tatiana had killed Maris had Chrysabelle wanted to take a life with such ferocity. She would end Lola for this.

  The sun beat down relentlessly on Chrysabelle as it began its descent below the horizon. With a shudder, she bent under its unyielding heat, her anger turning back to sorrow. It burned her skin until she imagined she felt a fragment of the same pain Mal had in his last moments. She tucked her head against her knees and forced herself to breathe when all she really wanted to do was collapse onto the ground and pray for it to swallow her up. If not for the crowd of people inside, who were all friends, all there for her, and all tiptoeing around her like she’d suddenly turned to glass, she’d climb into her bed and stay there for a month, but going inside meant more of the sideways glances and meaningful looks they thought she didn’t see.

  She saw and understood those looks. They were worried about her. They were right to be worried. She was a little worried herself, about the way she felt, the thoughts building in her head, the revenge fantasies that were the only real comfort she’d felt today. Her friends were here to help her in any way they could, but the help she needed, no one could provide. No one could bring him back.

  No one could ease this pain.

  Her eyes burned from the deluge of tears she’d cried. Maybe his being… gone would be easier to take if she’d found the strength to tell him how she felt. Because she did love him. Just thinking it caused a sob to snag in her throat. There was no question about it. She’d just been too afraid to say it. She pounded her fist into the chaise and bit back a scream. What had she been so worried about? That he wouldn’t say it back? He’d already said it to her.

  She rolled her forehead back and forth against her knees. Mal had been right about her. She ran from the things she needed to face the most.

  How was she going to go to achtice and rescue Damian without Mal? She’d gotten so used to him fighting at her side. They made a great team, no matter how odd a pairing. Her throat closed up again. She cleared it, trying to find a way to breathe that didn’t make her soul ache. Maybe she wouldn’t live through the visit to achtice. Maybe that would be the end of it. Of her. Of this pain.

  Anger wormed through the inky black grief suffocating her insides. Anger at herself for not telling Mal how she felt. Anger at the mayor for what she’d done. Anger at Tatiana for being such a thorn in her side. Their sides.

  Her hands itched for the red leather hilts of her sacres. To spill blood and ash. What did she have to live for anyway? If she was going down, she’d go down big. Unafraid. She’d start with Lola and finish with Tatiana. She’d make Mal proud.

  A new quake of grief ripped through her and her fingers found their way to her throat. She touched the skin where Mal had bitten her, the bite now healed, the flesh as smooth and perfect as it had ever been. She pressed her fingers harder, hoping to find a nick or a scab or something, but there wasn’t anything to find.

  She had nothing left of him. Nothing to prove they’d ever shared that most intimate of moments between a comarré and her patron. She ground her teeth together as the anger surged upward. The sun sank teasingly lower. She shot to her feet, hands fisted at her sides. Maybe she should get Doc or Mortalis to spar with her. If she didn’t burn off some of this rage, she was going to do something she might regret.

  She almost laughed at that. What would she regret? Certainly not watching the mayor take her last breaths with a sacre stuck in her gut.

  The sun disappeared, leaving her in the cooling, sympathetic twilight. Chrysabelle’s hands flexed, almost feeling the hum of the sword hilts against her palms.
She closed her eyes and tried to inhale with some kind of evenness, the way she’d been taught as a comarré, but the rhythm wouldn’t come. Chaos ruled her mind. She needed to focus, to make a plan, not just to run headfirst into an unknown situation. Maris had planned for years, taught herself to walk again, built a business, and created a new existence beyond the nobility, all with the hopes that Chrysabelle would one day join her and find a life outside the comarré world. Her mother would not want her to throw that all away. Not after everything she’d sacrificed.

  What would Mal do in this situation? What would he say to her?

  “Chrysabelle.”

  A hard sob racked her body. Holy mother, now she was hearing his voice. She covered her face, unable to bear the madness seeping into her brain.

  “Chrysabelle?”

  She turned, already knowing it was a trick of her weary, grieving mind.

  But it wasn’t.

  Her lungs heaved against her rib cage, needing more air to process the rush of emotion threatening to spin her into unconsciousness. “How?” But it didn’t matter how. All that mattered was that Mal was there, standing a few yards from her. Or was he?

  “You’re real?”

  “Don’t I look real?” He held his arms out.

  With no further hesitation, she threw herself into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “You’re alive.” She was crying again but didn’t care. Mal was alive. Alive.

  He laughed as his arms came around her. “Of course I’m alive. Why would you think otherwise?”

  She pulled away so she could see his face. “You turned to smoke. The sun hit you and you burned up. I saw it with my own eyes.”

  Concern grooved his forehead. “I got a few burns, but nothing a good daysleep couldn’t heal. Don’t cry.” He brushed a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “Your blood saved me.”

  “I don’t understand. You told me you couldn’t scatter.”

  He shrugged softly. “I can’t. Never have been able to. Not in the traditional sense anyway. But what I can do is exactly what you saw. Turn to smoke.” He took her by the waist and set her feet back on the pool deck. “Watch.”

  Then he did exactly what he’d done in the square. Vanished into a swirl of black smoke. A second later, the smoke took shape and he was himself again.

  She took a step away from him. “But the sun was out.”

  He nodded and stuck a finger through one of several burned holes in his shirt. “Which is how I got these. I slipped into the storm drain as quickly as I could.”

  She shook her head, still staring at him, every horrible feeling she’d had over the past few hours disappearing. “The sun reflected off the car and nearly blinded me. I must not have seen you go down the storm drain.” She sat on the chaise as a sudden weakness swept over her. “All this time, I thought you were…”

  “Dead?”

  She nodded.

  He kneeled in front of her and took her hands. “I’m sorry you thought that, but I’m perfectly well.” He glanced at his clothes. “Except for a few burns and these scorched clothes.”

  She tugged her hands out of his to grab his shirt and pull him closer. She kissed him hard until she ran out of air. “There are two things I have to tell you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “One is that I have bad news. I love you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t say it to you sooner.”

  He nodded a little, like it was something he’d already known. Any other time, that would have earned him a right hook.

  “Two is that you smell like a sewer.”

  He cocked one brow. “Considering I spent all day hiding out there—”

  “You need a shower.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him up. “I happen to have one in my bedroom.”

  His eyes went silver. “Are you inviting me up to your room, Ms. Lapointe?”

  She was about to respond when a light went on in the kitchen, catching her eye. “Would you mind if we kept this to ourselves for a little bit? I’m not ready to share you.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I had no intention of inviting anyone to join us.”

  “I mean about you not being dead.” She scooped the invitation off the chaise and wiggled it between her fingers. “There’s a lot to be said for the element of surprise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lola stood in her master bath, staring at the ugly red marks on her neck. The reminder of her inability to control what was happening in her city. How was she going to manage it if she couldn’t find a vampire willing to turn her? And worse, how would she ever get a chance to get Mariela back from her vampire captors without that kind of power?

  Her fingers probed the punctures, testing the soreness. Dominic thought he’d scared her away from her desire to become a vampire. Did he understand now how wrong he’d been? Did he also know he’d caused her to issue the statement that had put Malkolm to death? She knew how harsh an action it was, but the remaining councilmen had supported her. They were as afraid of what was happening in the city as she was. And now both the humans and the othernatural citizens would know she was serious about keeping order.

  His death hadn’t been the show she’d expected, though. No fire or burst of flames. Not even a shower of ash. Just a disappointing puff of smoke.

  Her fingers fell away from her neck. Dominic was also wrong if he thought her desire to be turned had vanished with his visit. If anything, he’d shown her just how necessary the transformation was. She’d be ready now, stronger. When the dark pull of death came, she’d welcome it, knowing it wasn’t the end but a rebirth into the life that would solve all her problems. Being transformed would give her the power she lacked as a human and make it possible for her to raise her grandchild to the fullest of her potential.

  A knock sounded at her bedroom door. “Ma’am?” Hilda.

  “Just a moment.” Lola retied the scarf she’d worn around her neck all day to cover what Dominic had done; then she opened the door. “Yes?”

  “Dinner is ready. Also, Mr. Luke and Mr. John have arrived. I took them to your office to wait.”

  “Thank you. I’ll speak with them, then come to dinner.” After Dominic’s visit, she had a few security questions for the shifter brothers. Like how a vampire got into her house without anyone knowing about it. What was she paying them for if not to protect her from situations exactly like that? The more she’d replayed his visit in her mind, the angrier she’d become.

  Hilda nodded and left, but Lola kept the door open, pausing to give herself one last glimpse in the entrance mirror before she left. Dark smudges under her eyes betrayed how tired she was, but there would be time for sleep soon enough. Or better yet, less need for sleep once she was turned.

  John and Luke rose as she entered her office. Both looked ill at ease. Maybe they already knew someone had been in the house? She waved a hand. “Sit.” She was going to reprimand them, but no need for them to stand at attention. She took the chair behind her desk, moved a stack of mail to the side, then planted her clasped hands in the center of it. “Thank you for coming. There’s a very serious matter I need to discuss with you.”

  The two men looked at each other, both starting to speak at the same time. John gave the floor to his brother.

  Luke cleared his throat. “We have something we need to discuss with you as well.”

  She raised her brows and glanced at John, but his eyes were on his brother. Her suspicions that they knew about the security breach grew. They must be here to apologize. She sat back. “By all means, you go first.”

  Again the two varcolai exchanged a look; then Luke continued to speak. “In light of everything that’s happened in the last few days, we can no longer continue working for you.”

  Shock coursed through her system. “What?”

  Luke sat forward, glimmers of anger in his eyes. “Your administration has made it very clear that our kind aren’t welcome.”

  “That’s absolutely not true. I�
��ve made special exceptions for those othernaturals who work in any kind of government service.”

  He snorted. “So if the city benefits from us, that’s okay, but if we’re just ordinary citizens, we’re to be treated like enemy number one.”

  Indignation straightened her spine. “My main priority is doing what’s best for this city.” She stabbed her finger onto the desktop. “It always has been and it always will be.”

  “Just not for any citizen who’s a shade outside of human.” Luke shook his head and stood. “I’m done.”

  “John, certainly you don’t feel this way, too? You’ve worked for me for years.” Kept her alive more than once. Been with her through her divorce. Through the estrangement of her daughter. Every time the press had hounded her, he’d been there to shield her and protect her when no one else had.

  John rose, his mouth a hard line. “I do, and until the situation changes, that’s how it’s got to be.”

  She exhaled hard as his words sank in. “That curfew protects both sides.” He couldn’t leave her. She needed him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  John pushed his shades up onto his head and leaned over her desk, his hands firmly planted on the wood top. “You know what’s ridiculous? You put a good man to death this morning without cause.”

  “A good man?” Did they really think that? Doubt curled through her thoughts, but she forced it away. The time for doubt was past. “That good man was a vampire. And my cause was the protection of the city. I cannot allow things to degrade any more than they already have. That man was a killer by nature. Now the rest of his kind will think twice before they take a life in this city.”

  Luke straightened. “If being a vampire is a death sentence, when do you extend that to varcolai?” He shook his head. “He wasn’t even the one who broke the curfew. Your reasons don’t justify your actions.”

  “I had the full support of the city councilmen, too.”

  “Then they’re just as guilty.”

  She jumped out of her chair. “Since the two of you were so busy planning your resignations last night, let me give you one more reason for my actions. Another vampire broke into this house last night and tried to kill me.” She pulled the scarf down on her neck. Their gazes went to the puncture wound. “I had to make a statement.”