Out for Blood hoc-4

by Kristen Painter

  “I’m not sleeping with her.”

  “I mean to get her pregnant.”

  “That why you got her to challenge you to a fight?”

  Fi rubbed her nose, then scratched a spot on her head. “Yes.” She sighed. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

  He nodded. “At last, something we both agree on.”

  “Well, what was I supposed to do? Let her have you?”

  “Dammit, Fi, she’s not going to—” He stopped, forced himself to lower his voice. “She’s never going to have me, baby.”

  Fi looked away, her eyes suddenly big and liquid. “She’s going to kill me, isn’t she?”

  “No.” He stood up. “Hell no.” He went over and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “You’ll see.” He pulled her along into the living room. “Isaiah!”

  The butler hurried out from the kitchen. “Yes, Maddoc?”

  “Get Omur and Barasa to the arena, then tell security no one else is allowed in.”

  “Yes, sir.” Isaiah went for the phone as Doc punched the elevator button.

  He was too hyped to care if Isaiah called him sir or not. They only had a few hours to give Fi some kind of fighting chance. The doors opened and he guided Fi in, then hit nine.

  As the doors closed, she asked again, “Where are we going?”

  “To turn you into a fighting machine.”

  She frowned. “Are you making a joke? Because now is not the time.”

  “No joke.” The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened. Security hadn’t arrived yet. Good. He held his hand out. “This is where all sanctioned challenge battles take place. The arena.”

  They stepped out and walked toward the double doors, each side guarded by a towering Bast statue. As they passed, Doc brushed his fingers over the chest of one statue, then touched his heart. Fi needed all the help she could get.

  He pushed a door open and let Fi in ahead of him.

  “This place is huge,” she whispered. The cavernous space swallowed her words.

  “It’s meant to hold two prides.” He took her hand, gentler this time, and held it as they made their way to the center of the arena.

  She kicked her feet through the layer of sand on the floor. “Hey, it’s like a giant cat box.” She laughed nervously.

  “Sand makes the blood easier to clean up.”

  “Oh,” she answered. In the great oval space, surrounded by rows and rows of stadium seating, she looked very small to Doc. She pulled her hand out of his and wrapped her arms around her body. “I can’t do this.”

  Voices rang out from behind them. “Maddoc, we’re here.”

  Fi spun. “Who are they?”

  From behind her, Doc clasped his hands on her shoulders. She was trembling. “My council members. They’ve offered to train you.”

  She tilted her head to look at him. “Really?” She glanced at the approaching shifters and smiled a little. “Guess I’m not the only one who thinks Heaven’s the wrong woman for you.”

  Omur stuck his hand out in greeting. “So you’re Fiona.”

  She shook his hand. “Yep.”

  Barasa offered his next. “You’re a brave woman to fight Heaven.”

  “I don’t know about brave. Stupid maybe.” She frowned at Doc. “Love does that to you.”

  Both men smiled. Omur nodded. “Love is a good reason to fight.”

  “But now you need to know how,” Barasa said. “We’re going to help you as best we can.”

  “How does this”—Fi waved her hands over the arena floor—“work exactly? Are there rules?”

  Omur nodded. “Very few, but yes. Once a match begins, the first one out of the ring before the other opponent is beaten loses. In the case of a… a…” He trailed off and looked at Doc.

  Doc’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t a death match. It’s a mercy match.”

  “Are you sure Heaven knows that?” Fi asked.

  “She knows.” Doc motioned toward Barasa. “Time’s wasting.”

  “Wait.” Fi put her hand up. “Doc, can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

  “Sure.” He shot a look at Omur and Barasa, but they were already headed for the door. “Back in five.”

  They nodded as they left. He looked at Fi. “What’s up, baby?”

  “What Omur said about the first person to step out of the ring. I was thinking…” She bit her lip and flickered a little. “I might have a plan.”

  “Tell me.”

  “If I can get her close to me—”

  He scowled. “I don’t like this already.”

  “But if I go ghost at the right time…”

  He nodded. “I see where you going.” He studied the arena. “You’ll have to be positioned just right.”

  “I can do that.”

  “You’ll only get one shot.”

  “That’s the part that worries me.”

  “Then you still need to train.”

  “Agreed.”

  He whistled loud and long.

  Barasa stuck his head through the door. “You ready for us?”

  Doc clapped his hands. “Let’s give her everything we’ve got.”

  For the next few hours, Doc, Omur, and Barasa showed her every trick they could think of, patiently correcting Fi until she got each move right. She was a good student. Not surprising since that’s what she’d been when Mal had sunk his fangs into her.

  Panting and dripping with sweat, Fi held her hand up. “One more round and I think I’m done. I won’t have anything left for tonight.”

  “Enough, then. I’m proud of you. You did great,” Doc said. He didn’t want her worn out for what was to come.

  Omur nodded. “You did very well.” He turned to Doc. “Where is she going to stay until—”

  Shouting from outside the arena interrupted him. “What do you mean no one’s allowed in? I’m not no one, you stupid bunda.”

  Doc rolled his eyes. “Heaven.” Like the rest of them couldn’t tell. “I’ll deal with her.” He kissed Fi, tasting salt on her upper lip. “One of you take Fi out the back and let her stay at your place until it’s time.”

  “I was just about to offer,” Barasa said.

  Doc squeezed Fi’s hand. “They’ll take good care of you, baby. And don’t worry about tonight. No matter what happens, you’re going to live through it.”

  Fi didn’t look convinced. “What if Heaven changes her mind about letting me claim mercy?”

  Doc stared into her eyes a long, hard second, trying to see past the scared college student and find the ghost girl who’d lived with Mal’s demons long enough to know how to handle herself. “I’ll kill her before that happens.” And in his heart, he knew that’s exactly what would happen before he let harm come to Fi.

  Barasa stepped forward. “Omur and I won’t let you do that.”

  Doc snorted. “I thought you were here to help.”

  Omur nodded. “We are. What Barasa meant is that we’d do it for you. That way you can remain pride leader.”

  Without a word, Doc clasped the other varcolai’s hand. “To victory, then.”

  “To victory,” they both responded.

  Or death, Doc thought. If a woman had to die in this arena tonight, he prayed to Bast it wasn’t Fi.

  Lola hung the phone up and pinched the bridge of her nose, but the hospital administrator’s voice still rang in her ears. He’d called to complain about losing ten of his night-shift nurses and demanded she lift the curfew.

  As angry as his words had left her, she wondered if maybe it wasn’t time to do exactly that. She’d have to lift the curfew anyway if she ever managed to become a vampire herself. She drummed her nails on the desk. Why couldn’t Dominic have been more cooperative? Surely by now his pocket must be hurting.

  She checked the time on her desk clock. An hour until sunset. Her finger tapped the intercom. “Have the car brought around, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Since John had quit,
Valerie had cooled toward her. Still doing her job with efficiency, but without the warmth and friendship that had once been there. Yet another casualty of protecting the city.

  Lola shook her head as she buttoned up her desk, grabbed her briefcase, and headed out. “Good night, Valerie.”

  Her administrative assistant nodded without looking up from the filing she was doing. “Good night, Madam Mayor.”

  Lola sighed. “I know you’re upset over the curfew and I’m sure your affection for John has—”

  “I would prefer not to discuss my private life.” Valerie shut the filing cabinet firmly. “And yes, like most of the people in this city, I don’t care for the curfew, but my opinion isn’t going to change it, so I see little point in discussing that either. Is there anything else you need today?”

  “No.” Lola walked to the elevator without further comment, her mind made up. In the course of the hour, she went home, changed into more appropriate evening attire, and had her driver take her to Dominic’s nightclub, Seven.

  As she suspected, there was no crowd outside the velvet ropes, just two bored doormen. She exited the car and strode forward, refusing to allow herself to be fearful. She was the mayor. Her security team knew where she was. No one would harm her. At least they wouldn’t get away with it if they did.

  The closer she came to the front door, the more familiar one of the doormen looked. “John?”

  He lifted his chin slightly. “Madam Mayor.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She supposed he had to work, but to take a job that blatantly flaunted the curfew cut her.

  “I was thinking the same thing about you.” He tipped his head to look around her. “You should have security with you.”

  “Do I have something to fear?”

  “You must. Otherwise there’d be no need for that curfew.”

  Touché. “I’m here to discuss that very thing with Dominic.”

  He unclipped the velvet rope separating them. “I’ll lead.”

  She gave him a little insincere half-smile. “How very kind of you.”

  He didn’t answer, just walked toward the doors, so she sailed after him with a confidence she didn’t feel. Inside she was greeted with a second set of red doors painted with gleaming gold dragons. John pushed one open, holding it behind him as he went. A wave of music hit her like a blast of hot air. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness. She’d never been in a club so dark, but then better-than-human night vision was part of being an othernatural, wasn’t it? That would be a nice perk.

  She shuffled her feet as she eased forward, trying not to run into John. As her inadequate vision adapted to the low light, she realized the club was essentially deserted. Servers milled aimlessly about while go-go dancers leaned against their cages or dangled from their swings. She squinted, trying to find John.

  Instead, her gaze hung up on the blond-haired, gold-tattooed men and women sitting around chatting with each other. Her heart clenched. Those were the comarré. Just like her daughter had been. Had any of them known Julia? Maybe she’d talk to a few of them, see if—

  “Humans aren’t allowed in here. Not without an othernatural.” A server with gray skin and six fingers blocked her path. “You here with someone?”

  “With me.” John stepped between them and took her arm. “Stay close.” He started off again, pulling her along.

  “I was trying to. It’s a little dark in here for human eyes.”

  He slowed but said nothing. They walked for quite a ways, diverting from the main floor to head through a series of impossibly descending concrete halls lit by phosphorescent paint. After a maze of turns, they stopped outside a door. John knocked. A voice called, “Si, come in.”

  John stuck his hand toward the door. “All you.” Then he walked away.

  She swallowed down the fear that had taken hold of her throat again. She could do this. His business was obviously suffering. He needed the curfew lifted much more than she did. Straightening herself, she opened the door and walked into Dominic’s office.

  Except Dominic wasn’t there.

  “Ciao, bella. What can I do for you?” If not for the fangs he proudly displayed, she wouldn’t have been sure the man who’d greeted her was actually a vampire. Something about him just didn’t read that way. He was lean and ropey like a long-distance runner, his dark complexion reminding her of Dominic, but with an edge. Despite their one encounter, Dominic had struck her as a smooth character, a man used to getting his way. “I’m looking for Dominic.”

  “Ah, I am so sorry, but Dominic is not available. I am his nephew, Luciano. And you are?”

  “I am the mayor of Paradise City, but you can call me Lola.”

  “Lola, cara mia, it is my great pleasure to meet you.” He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, brushing his cool lips across her knuckles. She shivered. “You are a very important mortal, no? Perhaps I can help you with something?”

  Being referred to as mortal, important or otherwise, reminded her of her mission. She eased her hand from his grasp as wheels in her head began to turn. She smiled at the plan forming in her thoughts. He smiled back and she had a good feeling this evening was going to go exactly the way she wanted it to. “You can help me. May I sit?”

  “Mi scusi! Si, come in, sit down.” He moved out of her way and held his hand toward a pair of beautiful antique chairs.

  “Thank you.” A wealth of antiques filled the office, but the centerpiece was an impressive marble-topped desk. Dominic had expensive taste. He had to be hurting. She took one of the chairs.

  Luciano sat across from her, not behind the desk as she’d expected. He pinched the knife-edge crease of his trousers to straighten it. When he looked at her, his eyes held one of the most calculating stares she’d ever seen. It was as though he were sizing her up, measuring how fast she could run, how quickly she’d react. How loud she’d scream. “My uncle tells me you are the one responsible for the curfew.”

  “Yes, I am. That’s why I’m here, actually.” How much had Dominic told him? Not too much, hopefully. “Your uncle and I had discussed the possibility of ending the curfew. Did he mention that to you?”

  “No, I am afraid not. You would be so kind as to fill me in?”

  Luciano blinked far too little for her liking. She swallowed and prayed that he was telling the truth and that her lies came off sincerely. She crossed her legs. His gaze drifted from her face to watch. The little black dress had been the right choice. “The matter is simple. I am willing to drop the curfew so that your uncle’s business may resume and the lives of all othernaturals will return to their normal routines. However—”

  “You want something in exchange.”

  She laughed, her nerves showing through more than she liked. “Isn’t that the way of the world?” She rested her elbow on the arm of the chair and stroked the underside of her jaw. Again, his gaze followed. “I would ask that men of power like your uncle and yourself urge the othernatural community to be patient with the mortal citizens of the city.”

  “That is not such a difficult thing.” He sucked his bottom lip between his tongue and teeth, his fangs scraping the skin almost audibly. Then he smiled and this time, it reached his eyes, lighting his entire face with a wickedness that sparked something deep in her belly. Did all vampires cause weakness in mortal women? He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “But that is not all you desire, is it, Lola?”

  Again, she swallowed, but this time it was to rid her mouth of the saliva pooling there, not to control her fear. If he was using some sort of power over her, it was working. Very well. “No,” she breathed. Her fingers traced the wide neckline of her dress. If he rejected her… “I want to be turned.”

  He sat back and squinted as if he didn’t understand. “Turned?”

  Her hands dropped to her lap and she twisted the gold and onyx ring on her pinkie. “I want to be made vampire.” She waited for him to laugh or yell or throw her out. When he did none of thos
e things, she glanced up.

  His intense stare met her. “Why?”

  There was no derision in his question, just honest curiosity. It emboldened her to tell him the truth. “My daughter was one of Dominic’s comarré, but she was murdered—maybe you heard about that?”

  He nodded ever so slightly.

  “Before she died, she had a baby with a vampire named Preacher.”

  “I have also heard of him. He is not like the rest of us.”

  “No, he isn’t.” Except that he wouldn’t turn her either. “The baby is half vampire. And while I have plenty of experience being human, I don’t think I can raise a child like that without personally understanding what it means to be a vampire.”

  He nodded. “That seems… reasonable.”

  “That’s not my only reason. I believe being vampire would enable me to be the best mayor possible for Paradise City. I could serve both the mortals and othernaturals equally well. Understand each side and their needs. And ultimately, by becoming a vampire, I would be siding with your kind should any difficulties with the varcolai or fae arise.” She smiled, hoping he saw the logic in her argument.

  He tapped his long fingers on his knee. “You would have no choice but to lift the curfew if you were vampire.”

  Light filled her vision. “That’s right.”

  “Being sired is painful. Frightening.” His voice became quieter, more serious. “Some do not survive.”

  “I know and I am prepared. Pain does not frighten me. I have lost a child. What greater pain can there be? And I know I will survive because I want it so badly.”

  He stood and held his hand out to her. “Come. This is not the place. And I have… requirements of you before we undertake this thing, yes?”

  She hesitated in taking his hand. “Are you saying you’ll turn me?”

  “I am, cara mia.” He laughed softly. “But not until I am satisfied.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The chartered jet was in the hangar just as planned when Mal and Chrysabelle arrived that evening. The plane wasn’t as large as Dominic’s but it would do. Mal had to hand it to Mortalis. When the fae said he’d do something, he did it. Jerem pulled Chrysabelle’s car inside and popped the trunk to unload their things while she and Mal got out.