Blood Rights (43 page)

She slipped out but stayed close to the gate. ‘Here, kitty, kitty. Come on, come to Fi. I’m good with cats, you’ll see.’ She took a step toward the little ball of fluff, prepared to scoop it up and dash back through the gate, but no one jumped out of the bushes. Nerves were making her silly. She laughed softly and bent to pick up the kitten. ‘There you are—’

A hand closed over her nose and mouth. The kitten vanished into curls of black smoke.

Her fingers flew up to pry the hand away but found nothing, no physical being. She whirled, still scrabbling at her mouth, trying to wedge it open to no avail. The air prickled with dark magic, but she was alone. The unseen force pressed down harder. Her lungs burned with the need for air. The need to scream.

She concentrated on going spectral and, for a moment, the force seemed to weaken. Then it lifted her free of the ground and the invisible hand clamped down harder. She screamed but the sound came out weak and muffled. A dark shape appeared out of the shadows, the creature’s hands outstretched toward her. Her head spun with sparks of light and the clawing ache to breathe.

She tried to scream again as her body floated through the air in the creature’s direction. Numbness spread through her like a fog, closing down her vision until the last pinpoint of light winked out.

A thousand questions tumbled through Chrysabelle’s mind. Had her aunt always been able to walk? Why would she hide such a thing? Had Dominic known?

‘She’s down here,’ a voice called out behind Maris.

Maris limped forward, almost stumbling. She turned her head in the voice’s direction, then back again. Panic filled her eyes.

‘We’ve got her,’ the voice called out again, this time followed by the sound of multiple sets of footsteps running down stairs.

Maris held Chrysabelle’s gaze and touched her fist to her heart, then shook her head sadly. In a smooth motion, she dropped her weapons and brought her arms up in front of her face with her fists and elbows together. Her sleeves slid back to reveal her signum. The opening between them vanished.

Maris had closed the portal.

Chrysabelle slammed her fist into the rock wall, barely containing the scream chafing her throat. They’d been so close. She punched the wall again, but her fist hit flesh.

Mal’s palm cushioned the space between her hand and the rock wall. She tore her hand away, anger pulsating in her veins. She’d been within yards of her aunt. A net of helplessness closed around her heart.

Mal motioned to the wall as if to say, ‘Just open it again.’

But she couldn’t. The wards had a built-in safety measure. Once a door had been opened and closed, it couldn’t be reopened for fifteen minutes. She shook her head at him. They’d have to go through a different one, one that wasn’t as conveniently located in the house.

She charged out, waving her hand for the others to follow. She didn’t care at this point if Doc and Dominic came along or not. Maris’s near escape would certainly cost her. Tatiana would have her punished. Maybe killed outright.

Those thoughts moved her quickly another thirty feet down the tunnel and into the next room. Mal, Doc, and Dominic were right behind her. This was not going to be pleasant. Especially if the room beyond had been used recently. She positioned herself in front of the correct wall according to the map in her head and put her arms together before her so the signum inscribed on her forearms lined up.
Please, holy mother,
she mouthed.

The portal opened.

The weak luminescence from the room they were in refused to penetrate the total darkness in the space beyond. She tipped her head, motioning the others through. Their vision would have to guide her because she would be blind in there. She entered behind Dominic, turned, and reactivated the ward, closing the portal.

‘We can talk now,’ she said, trying to breathe through her mouth. The musty reek of carrion and ash crawled down her
throat anyway. Things had died here. Not all of them human. ‘This area is completely silver-lined.’

‘Yes,’ Dominic answered from in front of her. ‘That’s the protocol for any dungeon built in a vampire estate.’ He laughed softly. ‘No one wants to hear the screaming.’

‘Or smell the stench,’ Doc choked out. The squeak of vermin echoed from the corners of the space.

‘Why did you shut the door?’ Mal was a few feet to her left.

She reached for him, hoping for his sleeve, but grazed his hard stomach instead. She curled her fingers away, ignoring the burst of sensation touching him aroused in her. ‘So we could talk. If we manage to make it out of this house alive, I’m thinking we’ll be able to get out the front door. If not, I can try to reopen this door or the one in the wine cellar, but there’s no guarantee. The wards get sticky with too much use. They’re mostly meant for one-way trips.’

Carefully avoiding her body armor, he guided her hand to his arm. ‘Is that why you didn’t reopen the one your aunt closed? I assume that was your aunt.’

‘Basically, and yes.’ She looked in what she thought was the direction of Dominic. ‘Did you know she could walk?’

‘No,’ he answered. The word was too bitter to be a lie, and the simplicity of the response confirmed his shock at seeing Maris ambulatory. How was he feeling about the woman he claimed to love? Betrayed? Deceived?

Chrysabelle felt a bit of that herself, but she had to focus on why they’d come. Maris might be willing to sacrifice herself for Chrysabelle, but Chrysabelle wasn’t okay with that. Maris was family. As real a family as a comarré could get. Chrysabelle needed that. Plus, Maris being able to walk made getting her out easier. Dominic could wallow on his own time. They had to
move. ‘I can’t see a thing, so one of you is going to have to find a way out of here.’

‘Be glad you can’t see,’ Doc said. ‘This joint ain’t pretty. Doesn’t look like it’s been used for a while though.’

‘I’m sure the dungeon is too lax a punishment for Tatiana’s enemies. She’s known to be a bit prickly about getting dirty.’ Chrysabelle glanced upward into the darkness, wondering where in the estate her aunt might be. ‘She’s probably got a nice clean holding cell up there somewhere.’

‘Then let’s find it.’ Mal moved forward. The muscle beneath her hand tightened. ‘Watch your step.’

Her foot sent something clattering across the floor. ‘What was that?’

‘A femur,’ Mal answered.

‘Great,’ she said. She squeezed Mal’s arm lightly. ‘This can’t be fun for you,’ she said softly.

He grunted.

She wasn’t sure how to take that. Did this dungeon remind him of the ruins where he’d been imprisoned? She hoped not. ‘How far are we from the door?’

‘We’re there. It’s locked. Is it guarded from the outside?’

‘If the dungeon is empty, probably not. Do you sense any life in here?’

‘Nothing more than a few rats,’ Dominic answered.

‘One of you is going to have to break the lock. As quietly as you can.’

‘What’s our plan when we get out of here?’ Doc asked. Chrysabelle took her hand from Mal’s arm and rubbed her chin. ‘We’re two levels down. The living areas in this estate are on the north side, so we’ll head that way once we hit the main floor. Tatiana’s had the estate modified somewhat since she
took it over, so we’ll start checking rooms once we get up there.’

‘Maris could be anywhere,’ Dominic said.

‘Yes,’ Chrysabelle answered, ‘but you can home in on her heartbeat, can’t you?’

Silence for a brief span. ‘I can still do that.’

‘Then that’s the plan. All right, break this door down and let’s go.’

‘Stand back,’ Mal said, taking her fingers in his hand and pulling her to the side.

She moved a few steps away and Mal dropped her hand. Something scurried over her foot. The suffocating blackness closed in. She refused to acknowledge the childish fear knotting her belly. Instead she stroked her fingers over the daggers at her wrists and concentrated on what lay ahead. The pressing dark receded enough for her to breathe.

‘Doc, take the top hinge, I’ll take the bottom,’ Mal said. ‘Dominic, grab the door as soon as you can slip your hands through the opening to keep it from falling. Ready?’ A brief pause. She assumed the other men nodded. ‘Now.’

The sharp hiss and acrid smell of silver-burned flesh filled the air. Dominic cursed in Italian, and Doc let out a feline spit.

‘Solid silver,’ Mal growled. ‘Bloody hell.’ ‘Watch out.’ She pulled her sacre free. The weapon hummed in her grasp, grateful to be free, eager to taste flesh. She pointed it at what she thought was the door.

Doc snorted. ‘What are you going to do with—’

‘Aim me toward the hinges and get out of the way.’

‘A little more left,’ Mal said. ‘Now forward. A little more.’

The tip of the blade scratched the door, catching the seam between door and frame.

‘Right there.’

‘Stand free,’ she cautioned them. When the sounds of their movement stopped, she rammed the blade halfway into the seam and jerked upward. The structure screeched in protest. A spray of sparks illuminated the line of warped silver left behind as she drove the blade higher, severing the hinges. Her shoulders ached with the effort. Sacres were designed to cut through any material, but flesh and bone were far easier than metal.

Finally, she tugged the weapon free. Fuchsia spots danced before her eyes as the sparks died and the darkness returned. She blinked to clear them.

‘So much for the element of surprise,’ Doc said.

‘Let’s hope Tatiana thinks it’s her staff.’ Chrysabelle sheathed her sacre, then kicked the door down. It crashed forward, sending curls of dust into the dimly lit stairwell beyond. Faint phosphorescence outlined a decrepit railing, warped stairs, and the trio surrounding her.

Doc wore his in between face, his eyes green-gold with full-blown pupils to combat the sheer darkness, his nose and cheekbones more pronounced. But it was the almost saber-tooth overhang of fangs that sent a shiver down her spine. Teeth that big would leave dime-size holes. Good to know the varcolai was on her side.

She went first, carefully picking her way up the steps. The second from the top gave beneath her foot. She grabbed the railing. Flakes of rust coated her hand. It grated loudly as the bolts stressed and the entire length bowed out into the air. Unbalanced and about to fall, she released it and struggled to right herself. Mal caught her wrist. His palm sizzled against the silver mesh, but he held on until she stood firm.

‘Thank you.’ She pulled her tunic back over the armor.

He flexed his twice-burned hand and shrugged. ‘Pain brings clarity.’

She nodded. ‘Then I think we’re all about to get really clear.’

F
i struggled against the vampire she recognized from Velimai’s replay as Mikkel, but her efforts were useless. He held her at arm’s length and the black magic hand that had clamped onto her at the cemetery still squeezed her into a state of numbness. No matter how many times she told herself to fight him, willed her legs to kick or her arms to strike out, her body stayed limp. Even trying to go ghostly had lost what little effect it had had.

She had only just become real again, and now she was going to die for the second time. At the hands of a freaking vampire. If she came back as a ghost again, she was going to make this one’s life truly miserable.

She just hoped dying wasn’t going to hurt as much as it had the first time. She shivered inside and wished for Doc.

Mikkel carried her through a set of double doors and dumped her on some fancy Oriental rug. She winced as she hit the floor. Momentum rolled her faceup, enabling her to see the back of another vampire, this one female.
Please don’t let it be—

The female turned.
It was.
Fi’s numbness turned to a bitter chill, and the niggling feeling that she knew these two beyond what Velimai had showed them at Maris’s house filled her again as it had that night. Where had she seen them? Even her mind felt numb.

‘Look what I brought you, my sweet,’ Mikkel said.

Tatiana wiped the blood off her knuckles with a towel. ‘I’m too busy to eat.’

That good news was tempered by what sat behind Tatiana. There, tied to a chair and looking like a bloody rag, was another comarré, her gilded face swollen and bruised, her clothing torn and dirty. Chrysabelle’s aunt? Fi almost hoped not. The woman looked half dead, but maybe she was just sedated.