Blood Rights (18 page)

Thankfully, Fi kept quiet. Maybe she sensed Chrysabelle’s struggle.

Chrysabelle went back to her place and sat down. The food barely registered on the scale of what she was used to. Comarré ate well. The best foods made for the best-tasting blood. But that was her old life, this was her new.

She spun the noodles around her fork and took a bite. Jarred sauce. No meat except what had been used to flavor it. Fi wolfed hers down like it was foie gras. ‘You really like spaghetti, huh?’

Fi swallowed her current mouthful. ‘I like everything. Ghosts don’t really get to eat, you know? Since I became alive again, I just want to eat everything. We had the best tuna melts yesterday.
Doc loves tuna. Guess it’s a cat thing.’ She stuffed another forkful in.

‘What do you mean, alive again?’

‘Since I got your blood. I don’t even have to think about staying corporeal, I just am. Used to be I had to work at it, think about it, you know?’ She shrugged. ‘I haven’t been in my spirit form since.’

Warning bells clanged in Chrysabelle’s brain. ‘Have you tried?’

Fi didn’t bother swallowing this time. ‘Nope.’

‘Could you try now?’

‘You’re a fat pain in the ectoplasm, you know that?’ Fi smirked, took a long drink of water, then closed her eyes. A moment later, she opened them. ‘Did I go fuzzy?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’ Fi’s eyes sparkled. ‘Wait, let me try again.’ Another interlude of eyes opening and closing. ‘Well?’

‘Not even a flicker.’

‘Wow! This is awesome. I really am alive again. I can’t wait to tell my parents!’ Her fingers strayed to the back of her right ear. ‘I wonder if my com cell still works.’

Chrysabelle leaned back slightly. ‘I don’t think telling your parents is such a hot idea and I wouldn’t let Mal know if your com cell does work. He might make you take it out.’

‘Why shouldn’t I tell them?’ Fi’s nose wrinkled. ‘And why would Mal make me—’

‘Tell who what? What about Mal?’ Doc walked in carrying Chrysabelle’s bag. He set it beside her chair, then retook his. ‘What did I miss?’

Chrysabelle pulled her bag onto her lap. ‘I was saying Fi shouldn’t tell her parents she’s alive again because it might not
be permanent, and if her com cell works, she probably shouldn’t mention it. You know how othernaturals are about that stuff.’ None of them, vampire, fae, or varcolai, used the devices. The tracking potential was too great.

Fi’s hand came away from her ear. ‘Doesn’t work anyway.’ She turned to Doc. ‘I’m not a ghost anymore.’

‘I know. I hung with your unghosty self all day yesterday.’ He gave her a wink and picked up his fork.

Chrysabelle pressed her thumb to the bag’s scanlock. It recognized her and clicked open. She checked through it. Everything was there.

Fi kept talking. ‘No, I mean like not at all. I’m completely alive again. I can’t become a ghost even if I try. Which I just did. Twice.’

Chrysabelle pulled out a fat velvet pouch and removed one of the jewels.

Doc put his fork down. ‘How? You sure?’

‘Totally sure.’ Fi tipped her head at Chrysabelle. ‘Her blood.’

His brows rose. ‘Wow. Cool.’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘Here you are.’ Chrysabelle slid the gem across the table to Doc. ‘Sell that for whatever you can get and then fill the larders. I’d love steak for dinner tomorrow. Get everything you like. Lots of produce, fresh vegetables, and meat. Lots of meat. Organic when you can. Game hens, steaks, lots of steaks – Kobe if you can get it, wild salmon – none of that cloned stuff either.’

Doc grimaced. ‘I agree, I hate that crap.’ He picked up the stone. ‘This what I think it is?’

Chrysabelle tied the pouch and tucked it away in her bag. ‘What do you think it is?’

‘Some fat pink ice.’ He turned the gem in his fingers, holding
it up to the light. Fi was blissfully silent, mesmerized by the sparkle.

‘You’re right. Fancy Intense Pink. Not quite two and a half carats. It was a gift from my patron. Cost him nearly two million almost seventy years ago. Get as much as you can.’

Fi’s mouth dropped open. ‘Two mil? He must have been filthy rich.’

Chrysabelle laughed joylessly. ‘That’s nothing compared to what he paid for my blood rights.’

Both Fi and Doc looked at her expectantly. She shook her head. ‘Please, I don’t wish to discuss him anymore.’

Doc rolled the diamond around on his palm. It glittered against his dark skin. ‘Why you trust me with this?’

‘Trust is earned, right? We have to start somewhere.’ She lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I’m not used to this life enough yet, I know that. I like to live well, but I guess that makes me soft. I just need time to adjust.’ She half-smiled and lifted a shoulder. ‘Buy whatever else you need with what’s left over, all right?’ She plucked at her borrowed T-shirt. ‘Although I could use some new clothes too.’

Fi stuck her hand up like schoolgirl. ‘I can buy those. I’m good at clothes.’

‘I thought you couldn’t get more than six blocks away from Mal?’

‘I have a feeling this permanent corporeal state will change that. If not, I’ll send Doc.’

Chrysabelle nodded. ‘Okay, that would be wonderful. I’ll have to measure myself, all I know are comarré sizes. I’ll make a list for you.’ White clothing shouldn’t be too hard to come by in this warm locale. ‘I think I’ll go for a walk around the deck, if that’s okay with both of you.’

‘No can do.’ Doc shook his head as he pocketed the gem. ‘Sorry, but you outside is a bad idea. Especially with Mal counting sheep.’

She sighed. ‘I really can take care of myself.’

‘Really?’ Doc raised a brow. ‘Then why’d you come to him in the first place?’

‘I meant physically.’ Chrysabelle pushed her plate away. ‘I’m done, thank you.’ She stood, testing her weight on her broken foot. Barely a twinge. She bent and picked up her bag. And realized she had nowhere to go. ‘It’s occurred to me I don’t actually have a room on the
Titanic
.’

Doc tried not to smile. ‘Shouldn’t have kicked that door down, GI Jane.’

‘Thanks for the reminder. I need to add shoes to the list. Something sturdy.’ She slung the bag over her shoulder and stared at him expectantly.

‘What?’ Doc asked.

‘Is there a room I can use or should I just pick one out? I’d like one without all the locks. On the outside. Inside locks I’m okay with.’

Doc dipped his napkin in his water and wiped his mouth with it, then stood. Chrysabelle chalked up the extra cleanliness to his feline bloodlines. ‘Follow me. There’s a bunch of empty cabins you can pick from.’

Fi jumped up. ‘I’m coming too. I don’t want her too close to ours in case she snores.’

‘I don’t snore but I’m happy to have a little space.’ Except maybe from Mal. Despite his contribution to her losing her blood rights, she couldn’t help but feel some comfort in the fact that he’d done what he thought best and taken care of her afterward.

The three of them walked down the hall, Doc in front, Fi behind. Chrysabelle decided to subtly test the waters.

‘So … what’s Mal’s story?’

‘What do you mean?’ Doc asked.

‘Where’s he from, what Family is he, that sort of thing.’

Fi snorted. ‘You mean how’d he get those names all over him?’

So much for subtle. ‘Yes, that too.’

Doc shook his head. ‘He’ll spill his info when he wants, if he wants.’

Which is exactly what Chrysabelle had assumed.

‘He’s anathema, you know,’ Fi added, like that was news. Chrysabelle looked over her shoulder and laughed. ‘You don’t say? Living here with you two? I thought perhaps he was preparing to ascend to Dominus any day now.’

Fi’s brow wrinkled. ‘Dominus?’

‘Big-time head vampire,’ Doc explained. Chrysabelle let it go. She was in no mood to give a primer in vampire politics. Instead, she changed the subject.

‘Why do you stay, shifter? Did your pride kick you out?’

‘As a matter of fact, they did. Plus Mal and Fi saved my life. You got a problem with varcolai?’

Obviously, he knew what nobles thought of his kind and must think she felt that way too. Which she didn’t. ‘Not at all, I was just wonder—’

Mal burst through a door ahead of them. One hand held a crossbow, the other a pair of mismatched swords. A leather strap of throwing stars crossed his chest. He tossed the crossbow to Doc. ‘We’ve got company.’

Doc tipped his head and listened for a second, then nodded. ‘Not sure how I missed that.’

Chrysabelle inhaled. The new vampire’s scent was faint but present. And somehow familiar. Nothos maybe, if it was covering its scent with something else. ‘We missed it by talking.’

Mal jerked his thumb down the hall behind him. ‘Fi, get to your room and lock the door. Stay there until Doc or I come for you.’

‘But I—’

‘But nothing. You’re mortal.’ Mal’s gaze went to Doc next. ‘Kill the lights, then come around the other way. Chrysabelle’s with me.’

‘Will do.’ He grabbed Fi’s arm and pulled her down the hall with him.

‘Good luck.’ Fi pouted on her way out.

Mal turned back to Chrysabelle. ‘You can handle a sword, I take it?’

She nodded. If this new vampire was here for her, this was no time to hide her abilities. Mal handed her a rusty dagger. Instead of taking it, she pointed to the long, curved sword in his hand. ‘You’re kidding, right? Give me the katana.’

‘You sure you – fine, here.’ In a flash, he turned the slender blade over to her. ‘I attack first. You stay back, understood?’

‘I want my dagger.’ She tossed her bag into his room for safekeeping.

‘No time. Follow me.’

A second later the lights went out. ‘Can you see?’ he whispered, creeping forward.

She followed close behind. ‘Perfectly.’ In truth, her night vision was starting to dim. Nearly a week without a true patron and without the bite – that life-prolonging, sense-enhancing input of vampire saliva into her system – her exceptional senses would diminish until she was as human as Fi. When would she
begin to age again? Maris looked remarkable for someone who’d been without a patron for nearly fifty years.

She ran into Mal’s outstretched arm. He put a finger to his lips, then gestured for her to stay while he went ahead. She nodded. He slipped around the bend. Fresh air filled the passage. They must be close to an outside door. She flattened against the wall, sword at the ready, wishing she was fully armed. Not having a backup weapon meant no second chances. Hand to hand with a Nothos wasn’t going to be fun.

A singing hiss broke the silence, followed by the clang of two swords biting into each other. She took a deep breath and eased forward as a blade sliced toward Mal’s neck. Suddenly, the new vampire’s familiar scent registered.

Not brimstone. Comarré blood.

M
al ducked and the intruder’s sword whistled by his ear. Chrysabelle shoved past, slicing her blade between them and pinning the other vampire to the door he’d just come through. His blade clattered to the ground while hers gleamed against his throat, just above the collar of a very expensive suit.

Mal lifted a brow. The comarré was fast, he’d give her that. Then his focus shifted to the vampire she’d pinned, and he scowled. Some vampires never changed. Dominic was one of those.

The other anathema held his hands up. ‘Watch the threads,
cara mia
. This just arrived from my tailor in Bangkok.’

Chrysabelle pressed the blade into his skin. ‘Like I care.’

The lights flickered on. To Chrysabelle’s credit, she didn’t falter when Doc strolled out from the opposite hall and cast a shadow on her and Dominic. Doc shouldered the crossbow and stared hard at the creature under Chrysabelle’s sword. The rancor in his eyes was unmistakable, but then Dominic was the reason Doc had been cursed. Bad drugs had a way of making people angry. And vengeful. Doc had just been the unfortunate delivery boy.

Doc’s finger caressed the crossbow’s trigger. ‘Looks like you got this under control. I’ll check the perimeter. Unless you need something staked. Then gimme a yell.’