Out for Blood hoc-4

by Kristen Painter

  Double hell. He raised a brow at Annika. Argent would have freaked over this. Speaking of which… “Any news on Argent yet?”

  Annika shook her head. “No. He’s been declared MIA.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” Actually, he couldn’t care less as long as they didn’t figure out what had really happened. He glanced toward the loft. No sign of Yahla. One more thing for him to worry about. If she showed up now… No, she wouldn’t do that, would she? At least Mawmaw was wearing her feather charm.

  “Did you deliver the invitation?”

  His attention returned to Annika. “I did.”

  “How did she take it? Is she preparing to leave?”

  “I don’t think so. She’s in mourning over the vampire.” Hard to believe Mal was dead. He’d never been the enemy the KM made him out to be. At least now the Kubai Mata couldn’t use him as a threat against Chrysabelle anymore.

  Annika’s face lost all traces of pleasantness. “We need her to leave for achtice in three days or the window of opportunity will close. She must be at that Dominus ball. It’s the best chance to recover the child.”

  “I can’t force her to do something she doesn’t want to. She knows her brother will be there. If that’s not enough, nothing will be.”

  Annika pulled her phone from her inside jacket pocket and pressed her finger onto the ID scanner. It came to life, and she swiped through a few things, finally pulling up an image. “Show her this.” She turned the phone so Creek could see it.

  The picture was of Damian. One eye was swollen shut and purple with bruises that matched those on his cheek and jaw. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth. Creek cleared his throat. “Is that real?”

  “Of course it’s real. You think Tatiana’s throwing a parade in his honor?”

  Whoever the KM had planted inside Tatiana’s, they were in deep if they were able to get shots like that.

  Annika turned the phone around and tapped the screen a few more times. A couple seconds later, his phone vibrated. “There, it’s sent to you now. Go back and show her that picture. Make her understand the urgency. If you don’t get her to recover that child”—she glanced at his grandmother and lowered her voice—“your job, and all the benefits that come with it, will be gone. Understand?”

  He nodded. That’s always how it was. The threats to pull the support of his family were nothing new. “Yeah, I understand.” For the sake of his grandmother, he said nothing else.

  For a brief moment, Annika’s face was a stony mask. Then her expression softened. “I don’t make these directives, Creek. They come from higher up. You must know that.” She turned and bowed her head slightly at Mawmaw. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Jumper.”

  Mawmaw nodded back. “And you, Annika. Thank you for your gift.”

  Creek wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant. He watched Annika leave, then went behind her and locked the door. That hadn’t gone as bad as he’d suspected.

  His grandmother stood, brushed a few cake crumbs off her lap, and walked toward him. “That’s a rare one there.”

  “Annika?”

  She nodded. “Not often you meet a basilisk.”

  “You know what she is?”

  She laughed softly. “Child, I know more than you think I do.”

  That much he did know. “What did you mean thanking her for a gift?”

  Mawmaw patted the pocket of her patchwork vest. “She gave me a few scales. You can make some powerful charms with those.” She raised her brows above the heavy rims of her glasses. “Well, the woman ate some of my cake. Fair is fair.”

  Only Mawmaw could accomplish something like that. He shook his head. “You’re amazing.”

  “Yes, I am.” She took his hand and led him back toward the stairs, where she sat on the spool again. “We need to talk.”

  “I knew you weren’t here just to bring me cake.”

  She shook her head, her eyes growing very serious. “The soulless woman came to see me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  How long is she going to shower?” Doc stared at the ceiling. Chrysabelle had come in smelling worse than she had when she’d first gone outside—like smoke and sewage and the faintest hint of vampire. Why, he couldn’t guess. Plus she’d been upstairs a long time. Longer than it took to get clean. Something was up.

  “Leave her alone,” Fi said. She’d been cranky since he’d told her about the deal with Heaven and having to give her an heir to make her an ex. Couldn’t say he blamed Fi, but it wasn’t like he’d made the rules either.

  “You want to talk about this some more?” He wagged his finger back and forth between them.

  Fi planted herself on the couch with a bowl of cheese puffs. “No.” She answered without looking at him, her eyes straight ahead on the holovision.

  Like a movie was going to make them forget that Mal was dead. Doc sat beside her, happy that Velimai, who was also giving him the cold shoulder since the whole Heaven thing, wasn’t between them. “Not talking about it ain’t gonna make it go away.”

  She glared at him. “Why not? Taking ketamine seems to be your answer for your fire problem, so why can’t I medicate with silence?”

  “That’s cold. And completely different.”

  She went back to watching TV. “Is it?”

  “Maybe I should go outside and hang with Mortalis.” The shadeux had been out there since Creek left, making sure no one else got through security and disturbed Chrysabelle.

  “Sure, then you won’t have to discuss this with me.” She shook her head and dropped the handful of cheese puffs back into the bowl.

  He went still, watching her closely. If Fi had lost her appetite, something was seriously wrong. This was more than her being mad. He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go outside and figure this out.”

  She tried to pull away, but he held on. They had to work this out, or they’d both go crazy. Crazier. Reluctantly, she set the bowl of cheese puffs down and followed him.

  Mortalis leaned on one of the front porch pillars, facing the entry gate. He turned as they came out. A black cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth.

  “You smoke?” Doc asked.

  “Nasty habit,” Mortalis mumbled around the butt. He reached up, took the cigarette between his first two fingers, and exhaled a thin stream of pale red smoke, filling the air with the bittersweet scent of burned fruit. “Only do it when I’m stressed.” He tapped the ash from the end and studied it. “It’s nequam, kind of the fae version of tobacco. Nyssa doesn’t like it and Dominic forbids it when I’m working.” He took another drag, tipped his head back, and blew out a series of tight rings. “You know vampires and smoke.”

  And with that, the memory of what had happened to Mal hung heavier than the scent of the nequam. Fi whimpered softly and dropped her head.

  Mortalis rubbed his eyes with his other hand. “Damn it. I didn’t mean it that way.” He dropped the cigarette and ground out the cherry with the sole of his boot. “You didn’t come out here to talk about my bad habits. I’ll leave you alone.” With a nod to Doc, he went back inside.

  The nequam aroma lingered.

  Fi shoved a hand through her long brown hair, but it fell back into place. “I can’t do this. I feel like I’m losing it. First you and this thing with Heaven, now Mal. I’m coming apart from the inside.”

  He took hold of her arms. “I know, baby. I know. Losing Mal is just…” There weren’t words to express how losing the person who’d saved your life made you feel. “That’s why we got to fix this thing with us. And I’m trying to do that.”

  She pulled away from him and went to stand by the pillar where Mortalis had been. “By sleeping with another woman?” She shook her head. “I don’t care if that’s what the pride requires. It doesn’t work for me. Not in any way.”

  “What else am I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know, but not that. Not if you want to marry me. If you even still do.”

  “Of course I do. Don’t s
ay that.” Letting out a breath, he rolled his shoulders to get some of the tension out of his system. Without the ketamine, he’d have been a fireball right about now. “Look, it sucks hard. I’ll give you that. But it’s an afternoon at most and then she and I are done and you and I can get on with our lives.”

  “What if it takes more than an afternoon to get her pregnant? What if it takes a week? Or a month? Or more?” She wiped at her nose. “What if you fall in love with her? What if she falls in love with you and decides not to leave? Women get crazy like that.”

  Like he didn’t know that. “That won’t happen. I won’t let it.”

  “Maybe I should just show up and beat the daylights out of her like you did with Sinjin.” She held a hand out as if to stop him from arguing. “Not kill her, just, I don’t know, kick her sorry self back to Brazil.”

  “Even that wouldn’t work. To displace a pride leader or their mate, the challenge has to come from them. Heaven’s not foolish enough to challenge you.” He took her hand between his. “There’s no other solution but for me to give her a kid. I know you don’t like it, but it’s the only way.”

  “It can’t be.” She turned her head toward the fountain. “I won’t stay if you go through with it. I’ll go back to Colorado. Back to my folks. With Mal gone, there’s nothing to keep me here anymore.”

  If she’d slapped him it would have stung less. “Nothing to keep you here? Is that what I am? Nothing? What we are? You can throw us away like that? Did you ever really love me or were you just keeping yourself occupied since you were tied to Mal and I was convenient?”

  “No.” She looked at him, her eyes clouded with emotions he couldn’t read. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Reeling from her statement, he stepped toward her. Only the ketamine kept him from jabbing a finger at her in anger. “You better figure out what you mean and fast, because I’m talking about giving up a child for you.”

  She crossed her arms and her brow furrowed. “Maybe you should just stay with Heaven, then.”

  “Maybe I should.” Hell, no, that’s not what he wanted at all.

  Fi’s lower lip quivered. Then she went ghost and disappeared.

  The front door of Chrysabelle’s house slammed, followed by Doc cursing loudly. Chrysabelle glanced toward the downstairs. Further discussion with Mal about the missing names would have to wait. “I should see what’s going on.”

  “Let me get my clothes on and I’ll come with you. Seeing me alive might defuse the situation.”

  She nodded with hesitation. “I don’t want everyone to know you’re alive, though. Velimai, Fi, Doc, and Mortalis are fine, but not Creek. There’s something odd with him lately. I think the Kubai Mata are pushing him harder. Making him do things he wouldn’t otherwise do.” She lifted one shoulder, trying to play off the seriousness of it. “Anyway, it would just be better if he continues to think, like the rest of the world, that you’re gone.”

  “Fine with me.” Mal hitched his thumb beneath the towel covering him from waist to midthigh. “You might want to turn around while I get dressed.” He grinned wickedly. “Or you might not.”

  She frowned halfheartedly. “Being dead hasn’t changed you one bit.”

  “I wasn’t dead.”

  She cupped her elbow in her hand and turned to give him privacy. “You were to me. And you can be again if you don’t behave.”

  He answered her over the sound of a zipper zipping. “I don’t think you missed me nearly as much as you claim to.”

  “Please,” she said, spinning back around. “I probably missed you more than you deserved.” She laughed. Amazing how quickly one’s outlook on life could change. She loved this banter between them, the fun of it, the lightheartedness of it. She’d never had that in her comarré life, which had been filled with rules and protocol and ritual. “I love you,” she whispered, oddly aware of how precious this time was.

  His smile softened. “You okay?”

  “Yes. Just thinking how short life can be. Even for people like us.” She sat on the edge of the bed while he pulled his shirt on. There was no better time to tell him what was going on. “Damian is my brother.”

  Mal’s brows dipped. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Creek told me. The Kubai Mata somehow got access to the right records and found out. Creek showed me the file.”

  Mal dragged a hand through his damp hair. “We’ll find him, I promise.”

  “The KM already have. Tatiana has him.” She traced the pattern woven into the coverlet, trying not to imagine what Tatiana might be doing to him. “I have to rescue him. I have to try.”

  Mal walked around and sat on the bed beside her. “You mean we have to rescue him.” He took her hand. “We’ll go back to Corvinestri just as soon as we see that fae you spoke of.”

  She’d told him about Mortalis’s offer to help, thinking now that the fae in question might shed some light on the issue of the missing names through his explanation of what the ring of sorrows was doing to her. What she hadn’t told him was Creek’s message from the KM. “I also have to bring the mayor’s grandchild home. If I don’t, the KM have threatened to strip the ring of sorrows gold out of me.”

  Mal’s eyes silvered. “Like hell they will. Not with me around.” He squeezed her hand. “Mortalis downstairs?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s go talk to him, then. See how quickly he can arrange for us to meet this fae.”

  She smiled, not entirely convinced it would be that easy, but having Mal back had already halved her stress level. “It’s good to have a plan.”

  So together they walked into the living room where a distraught Doc paced the floor, muttering to himself, and Velimai stood staring, shaking her head and judging him with her eyes.

  “What’s going on?” Chrysabelle asked.

  Both turned. Their eyes went directly to Mal. Whatever the issue plaguing them, it was forgotten.

  Doc stared, as speechless as the wysper fae beside him. Mal slipped his arm around Chrysabelle’s shoulders. “Cat got your tongue?”

  Velimai let out a squeal that caused Mal to cringe. “Watch it, wysper.” But he smiled. “Nice to see you, too.”

  Doc rushed him, pulling him into an uncharacteristic embrace. “Damn good to see you, bro.” He released him just as quickly. “What happened? How are you still here?”

  Mal gave them the rundown and another demonstration of his scattering ability.

  You might have a little wysper in you, Velimai signed, laughing.

  After Chrysabelle translated, Mal shook his head. “Not bloody likely.” He looked farther into the house. “Where’s Fi?”

  Doc sighed. “She got pissed at me and took off.”

  “Again?” Chrysabelle took a step forward. “That’s how all this mess got started.”

  Doc held his hands up. “Except this time, I’m not going to look for her. I’m pretty sure we’re… done.”

  Chrysabelle’s heart sank a little. “What? How can that be? You love her. And she loves you.”

  “And I’m married to another woman.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Chrysabelle did. “Doc, maybe if Velimai and I—”

  Mal interrupted. “Car.”

  They all went silent. Then Doc shook his head. “Motorcycle. Creek’s back.”

  Chrysabelle pointed toward her room. “Mal, upstairs and stay there.”

  “On my way,” he said, loping toward the stairs.

  She turned to Doc and Velimai. “Not a word to Creek that Mal’s still alive. Got it? He’s not to know.”

  They both nodded. The engine cut off. Doc lifted his chin toward the door. “What about Mortalis?”

  “He can know, but not now.”

  A second later, the shadeux opened the door and came in. “Chrysabelle. Didn’t expect to see you down here. Creek’s outside, says it’s urgent he see you, but I told him you were resting. Do you want me to send him away?”

  “No, I
’ll talk to him. But outside.” Better to keep him out of the house and as distant from Mal as possible. She walked with Mortalis, waiting as he opened the door for her.

  Instead, he paused. “You want the KM out of here at any point, just say the word. I’ll take care of it.”

  She touched his leather-clad arm. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

  His brows drew together above his stormy-sea eyes, but he said nothing. He opened the door and stood aside for her to go ahead of him.

  Creek sat on the fountain’s edge. He looked less than happy to be back.

  “What brings you here again so soon?” She sat on the far side of the fountain, forcing him to look away from the house to see her. She knew Mal well enough to know he’d be lurking on the balcony, listening to what was going on.

  “Update on your brother.” Without hesitation, without the normal small talk and nice words, Creek pulled his phone from his pocket and brought it to life. He tapped the screen, then held it out to her. “An operative just sent this. It was taken less than a day ago.”

  The picture didn’t register at first as anything more than a splash of colors, blond and gold, purple and red. Then the sick feeling in her stomach and the horror in her brain melded into a crystal-clear understanding of what she was seeing.

  Her fingers gripped the edge of the fountain, digging in to keep from pitching forward. “Damian,” she mumbled. “I thought the KM were protecting him?”

  “They are—otherwise he’d be dead.”

  “And if I don’t bring back the vampire child, the KM will let Tatiana kill him.”

  “I can’t say they won’t.” Creek tapped the phone again. It went black. “The Dominus ball is three nights from now. There will be a KM plane waiting for you at the private airfield we’ve used before. Hangar seven. Be on that plane in two days.”

  “I don’t need the KM’s plane. And you’re not giving me much time to prepare for an undertaking of this magnitude.”

  He scowled. “I’ve been trying to get you to do this for over a week. If time runs out, it’s your fault, not mine.” He picked his helmet up from between his feet and stood. “You want to use your own plane, do it. Just make sure you do it.”