Last Blood (10 page)

C
reek hung back at the scene of the murder, hiding in the cover of the small crowd drawn by the flashing lights and yellow tape cordoning off the area. From his spot against the wall, he listened with one ear to the detectives, his KM-enhanced hearing making eavesdropping simple. In his other ear was a wireless bud with the running feed from the police scanner app on his phone. Both told him that, as suspected, the police were going on the assumption the killer was a vampire.

He couldn’t imagine the mayor wouldn’t respond to this in some way, but how would the population take it now that they were being led by a vampire? The careful peace that had followed the curfew was in danger of being disrupted.

One of the detectives scribbled something on an e-tablet, then tapped the stylus on the edge as he spoke to his partner. “Could be retaliation for the mayor killing that vampire.”

His partner nodded. “Let’s hope that’s all it is, one and done. City’ll get ugly if we have a killer vampire on the loose.” He glanced at one of the uniformed officers
working crowd control. “They’re all over the place now. You know Janokoski in evidence is a vamp?” He shook his head. “Always thought that one was a little strange.”

The other detective laughed. “Explains why he’s so pale.”

Creek had heard enough. He walked back to where he’d parked his motorcycle. He climbed on and fired it up. The mayor wouldn’t welcome his visit, but it was his job as Paradise City’s assigned Kubai Mata to question all known vampires. Might as well start with the newest one.

He hadn’t expected to be let through the gates at her estate, but they opened for him after he showed his face to the security camera. He parked his bike outside the entrance of the house and walked up to the guard on duty. Fringe vampire, but not one Creek had met before.

The guard looked him up and down, probably assessing Creek’s tattoos and Mohawk with the same impression most did. Trouble. Which wasn’t far off if the guard didn’t let him in. “The mayor wants to know if you’ve come to make amends.”

“Sure, that’s what I’m here for.” If it got him in, who cared what she thought.

The guard went back to the intercom and relayed the message. There was no response, but a few minutes later, a maid opened the door. “Follow me.”

He did and the woman led him to the mayor’s office. Lola sat at her desk. Hector sat on the far couch, playing some kind of holographic handheld game. Creek nodded. “Mayor. This will be quick.”

“Take all the time you like. I enjoy listening to apologies.”

“I’m not here to apologize.”

She frowned. “Then you’d better be here because you’ve finally brought me the information on Chief Vernadetto
that I asked for.” Nothing about her demeanor was friendly. She didn’t even bother putting on her human face.

“No.” He’d gotten a file from the KM, but he had no intention of handing anything over to Lola. He’d hoped she’d forgotten about it actually. The chief had never been a problem for him or the KM and the way Creek saw it, the man already had enough trouble with Lola as the mayor. “You may have already heard, but there was a murder this evening.”

He watched her closely. If she had a pulse, it would have been much easier to use that as a gauge. “Victim was male, thirty-six years old. Died from puncture wounds on his neck and the lack of blood in his system.”

No reaction out of her. Hector muttered something in Spanish, but Creek was pretty sure it was directed at his game since his eyes had never left the action. Finally, she pursed her mouth. “A vampire. I get it. What do you want from me? I’m sure the police are doing everything they can.”

He leaned on her desk, closing the gap between them to a slim twelve inches. “Did you kill that man?”

“Now you have two things to apologize for.” Her eyes went hard silver. “Get the hell out of my office.”

He didn’t move. “Is that a no on the murder then?”

“Yes, that’s a no. Now get out.” She got up and he backed away. “Tell your people I’m done dealing with the Kubai Mata, you understand? They’ve brought nothing good to this city. Nothing.”

With a wave over his shoulder, he walked out. “You won’t have to see me again.” She wouldn’t need to. Not with Octavian in place.

Fi slipped into nice jeans, a funky off-the-shoulder sweater, and heels. Casual, but not the grungy casual she preferred. She left a message with Isaiah to let Doc know where she was, then took the elevator to the VIP level of Bar Nine.

Remo stood on the landing, waiting.

“Did you change your mind?” Even if he had decided to go out after all, she wasn’t going with him. She had boundaries, and that would be crossing a big one.

“No.” A mix of anger and disgust crossed his face. “They won’t let me into your booth. They don’t believe me.”

“Don’t feel so bad. They wouldn’t even let me in the building a few weeks ago.” She jerked her head toward the lounge. “Come on.”

The waitstaff stared openly as she walked in with Remo. She scowled at them. “I’m not sure why you denied entrance to one of your council members, but I’m going to assume it was an accident and won’t be repeated again.”

A round of nodding and mumbled agreements answered her. She walked past them to her reserved booth, sliding halfway around as Remo took the other side.

“Impressive,” he said.

She shrugged. “I don’t like that kind of nonsense.” She gazed at the patrons in the VIP section, watching them slant their eyes and sneak peeks at her and Remo. She had the sinking feeling this was going to start rumors. Great. More to deal with.

A server came to take their order. She chose bottled water. Remo ordered coffee. Interesting. She’d expected him to drink. They sat in silence until the drinks came, which was so quick, Fi knew the staff was trying to get back on her good side. The server opened her water and
poured it into a chilled glass for her. Oh yeah, definitely trying to make nice.

After adding an unnatural amount of sugar to his coffee, Remo stared out at the crowd, studying them just like she was. “What do you think they’re thinking about us sitting here together?”

“Nothing good,” Fi answered quickly. “Sorry. That came out too fast.”

He laughed a little. “No, I’m sure you’re right.”

A woman in zebra-striped heels and a red dress openly flirted with Remo. Fi tipped her glass toward the woman. “That one especially.”

“Do you know her?” He raised his coffee cup to the woman, who smiled brightly in response.

“Nope. I don’t really know many of the pride members.” Her hand strayed to the open neckline of her sweater. She hadn’t exactly tried to make friends, but part of that was not knowing whom to trust.

“What’s that?”

She peered into the crowd. “What?”

“No, that.” He pointed at her. “Around your neck.”

She looked at him and realized the cord holding the vial of sand was dangling from her hand. Without thinking about it, she’d wound the thin leather around her finger. She dropped it back beneath her sweater. “Nothing.”

“It can’t be nothing or you wouldn’t wear it.”

“It’s just a memento.”

“Of what?”

“Of nothing.”

“You wouldn’t need to be reminded of nothing.”

The phrase
dog with a bone
entered her head. She got a little angry. “It’s sand from the arena.”

“Sand from the…” The slackening of his mouth told her the moment he understood. The twist of anger and sorrow in his eyes upset her, but it left his gaze as quickly as it had entered, replaced by something much darker. He held his hand out. “I’d like to have that.”

“No.” She sat back in her seat. “It means a lot to me.”

“I bet it does.” He pushed his cup away. “I should go.”

“You asked,” Fi said, but he was already walking away. She sighed and bounced her head against the padded booth. Exactly what she hadn’t wanted to happen had just happened. She’d made a bad situation worse.

Y
ou sure about this?”

Chrysabelle met Jerem’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’m wearing my body armor, you’re coming with me, and I’m fully loaded.” Besides her two sacres, she had a set of short blades. The daggers Mal had given her right before they’d gone into the Dominus ball. “I need to see him.”

Jerem hadn’t been her driver long, but it was clear the bear varcolai took his job seriously. “You know the risk.”

“There shouldn’t be any. Dominic told me Mal would be incapacitated.”

He stared back at her. “And if he’s not?”

If Mal was awake and attacked her, she’d kill him. If it came to that. “Like I said, body armor, you’re coming with me, and I’m fully loaded.” Jerem shot her a look that said he didn’t believe she had it in her to take Mal down. Maybe she didn’t, but she wouldn’t know that until the situation arrived. Jerem also didn’t know she had a child to protect.

He nodded. “We should go on foot from here then. Luciano didn’t park any closer and he’s undetectable.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the freighter, communicating only with hand gestures and head nods. Chrysabelle’s pulse kicked up as they climbed the gangway. This probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but neither was falling in love with a vampire. Smart had long ago left the equation.

They stopped when they reached the main deck. Jerem put his hand up for her to wait, then tapped his ear to indicate he was listening for any sounds that might indicate Mal wasn’t passed out cold. She waited, knowing his varcolai hearing was better than hers since she hadn’t had the benefit of Mal’s kiss or bite in a while. At last he nodded, then pointed toward the spot where he’d wait for her.

As planned, she’d be going in alone. She gave him the thumbs-up sign, hoping he understood she was good with all this. Even though he undoubtedly heard her pounding pulse. One last look, that’s all she wanted.

One chance to say good-bye.

She twisted the latch, pushed the heavy metal door open, and stepped into the corridor. A faint coppery scent lingered. He’d definitely had blood recently. The solars gleamed, providing enough light to navigate the grungy passage. Now all she had to do was remember the direction Fi had taken her last time. Slowly, she picked her way through the labyrinth of the ship’s interior. Mal’s dark, spicy scent erased the blood smell the farther she went. She followed it until at last her surroundings looked familiar.

Mal’s room was just ahead.

She went very still and tried to listen over the staccato rhythm of her pulse. All quiet as best she could hear. A few deep breaths and she found a measure of calm, enough to move forward.

The door was open. Mal lay on his bed like he’d fallen there and hadn’t moved. Which was probably exactly what had happened. She stood at the threshold of his room, studying the figure of the man she’d once thought she’d have a future with. The solars penetrated the room’s dark only so far, but what light there was outlined the hard angles of his body so that he seemed carved in stone. Or maybe “trapped” was a better word.

Her hands cradled her stomach as her heart clenched. This was a man she’d forever be linked to, no matter what he did or how he ended up.

She stepped into the room and held her breath. But of course, he didn’t move. He was a light daysleeper, but this wasn’t daysleep; this was drugged oblivion. She exhaled. In the soft wash of the solars, he seemed almost… peaceful in repose. Not at all like a man tortured by the voices of his victims. Although maybe it wasn’t such torture now that he was giving into them. The thought made her heart ache anew. She bit the side of her cheek to quell her emotions. Had he given in? Or had Dominic sent the blood in time?

She prayed he hadn’t killed again. If he had, there’d be a new ghost, wouldn’t there? “Hello,” she whispered as she checked the room for the sudden appearance of a spectral being.

But none came. And although the lack of response wasn’t a promise of his innocence, she still took comfort in it. She moved closer, trailing her fingers over the bed. A bed he’d once tucked her into so she could recover from blood sickness and an injured ankle. She looked over her shoulder at the chair where he’d sat and watched her.

Amazing that those memories were now her happy ones. They raked through her, stirring up new pain.

She glanced back at him. He’d almost seem human if not for the unnatural stillness that held him. She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, one hand firmly gripping the hilt of one of the daggers at her waist. Her heartbeat was almost back to normal now, the steady thump of it gone from her ears. She inched her free hand forward until her knuckles touched his. He was warm, further proof of the blood he’d ingested. Human blood purposefully diluted with animal blood to make him weaker. Purposefully doped to keep him subdued. She knew how necessary both measures were and yet she frowned at how much they bothered her.

Because it spoke to how much she loved him. To how much she knew he’d sacrificed for her. His voices were right about her. She’d caused him a lot of trouble that he didn’t deserve. And now, because of that, he was going to miss out on his second chance at being a father.