Last Blood (29 page)

Dead silence for a heartbeat. “You are insane. How dare you visit her when you’re disavowed.”

Chrysabelle kept going. “She’s already tried to kill me.” She patted the hilt of one sacre standing over her shoulder. “But I’ve learned to anticipate.”

Rennata raced to join her. “You can’t do this. I won’t allow it.”

“Put your hands on me and you’ll regret it.” She stopped outside the carved double doors that guarded the house’s portal to the Aurelian. Every comarré house had one, but few comarré ever used it. They were taught to fear the Aurelian, to respect her for her age and wisdom and her part in the creation of the comarré, whatever that might be.

Chrysabelle put her hand on the door, then gave Rennata one last chance. “You coming? Why not let the Aurelian decide this?”

“I don’t take my orders from her.” Rennata’s angry words sliced through the hall’s quiet.

Chrysabelle shrugged. “If you’re not curious…” She pushed through the door.

Rennata followed. “I’m only coming to keep an eye on you.”

“Suit yourself.” As soon as the door swung shut, a flash of light flooded the space. Chrysabelle blinked. And met the Aurelian’s eyes.

“You.” Nadira rose from her chair. “I thought I killed you.”

Rennata glanced at Chrysabelle, then immediately dropped to her knees. “She barged past me. I couldn’t—”

“Quiet,” Nadira snapped. She walked out from behind her worktable, laden with scrolls, maps, books, and an assortment of objects, but kept her hand on the hilt of the massive sword resting atop the whole mess. “I said I thought I killed you.”

“You did,” Chrysabelle answered. She hooked her thumbs in her pockets, pushing back the sides of her leather jacket so the twin daggers at her waist could be seen. “But death doesn’t seem to stick to me ever since I melted down the ring of sorrows and used that gold to replace the signum Rennata stripped out of my back.”

Nadira’s mouth came open. She closed it slowly, swallowing. “You foolish child. No wonder you didn’t die.” Her fingers tightened around the sword’s hilt. “What do you want of me?”

Chrysabelle smiled. It was nice to hear a little bit of fear in the Aurelian’s voice. “I’m so happy you asked.”

Doc parked his car a few streets away, praying to Bast that the alarm system kept it from being jacked. In this part of town, there were no guarantees. He checked the address on his phone again, hoping the file on Fritz was up to date.

He climbed the four flights to apartment E. There were voices coming from inside—sounded like an argument—but the building wasn’t exactly built for privacy, meaning too many other conversations overlapped. Picking out more than a few words was impossible. He knocked twice, then waited.

A few moments later, Fritz came to the door. Behind
wire-rimmed glasses, his eyes widened. “Maddoc Mays.” He almost shouted Doc’s name. “What are you doing here?” Still too loud for normal conversation.

Weird, but then Fritz was an odd dude. “I’m not here to hurt you, if that’s what you think. No need to freak out. I just want to talk.”

Fritz didn’t budge. The door was only open about eight inches. He glanced to the side of the room Doc couldn’t see, his body language twitchy and nervous. “We can talk right here.”

The dude needed to calm down. “I’d like to come inside. I’ve already told you I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to—” The sound of breaking glass came from inside.

“Are you in trouble?” Doc didn’t wait for an answer. He shoved Fritz out of the way and ran inside. Every room was visible from the apartment’s tiny living room. The kitchen window had been broken.

Doc ran over and looked through the window. He caught the top of a head as someone made their way down the fire escape. The person wore a ball cap and was dressed in all black. The lack of streetlights made it impossible to make out more detail. He dashed back to the front door and past Fritz. “Call the cops. I’ll catch the intruder.”

He shifted into leopard form halfway down the first flight of steps. By the time he got out of the building and turned down toward the alley where the fire escapes ended, the intruder was disappearing out the other end.

Doc poured on the speed, pushing himself through the dark streets as fast as he could go. What few solars existed in this part of town were mostly broken. The runner smelled like varcolai, but that was all Doc could make
out. Finally, he got close enough to swipe one big paw across the intruder’s back, tearing through his jacket and shirt. Blood welled from the four thin slices.

The man glanced back. A bandana covered his nose and mouth. There was no way Doc could ID him from the sliver visible between the ball cap and fabric. When the man saw Doc, he leaped into the air, shifted into a jaguar, and blasted forward. Police cars barreled down the street ahead of them, screeching to a stop as they blocked the road. The jaguar sailed past the cops as they jumped out of their cars.

One stepped into Doc’s path, tranq gun pointed right between his eyes. “One move and I drop you.”

Doc shifted back to his human form, pointing after the intruder. “Damn it. That’s the one you want, not me.”

The cop took one hand off the tranq gun to click a receiver button on his collar. “Suspect has been apprehended.”

“Cripes. I had the cops called. I’m not the one you’re after,” Doc explained.

Both hands back on the gun, the cop ignored him. “Sir, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

“When are we going to meet her?” Lola paced the hangar. Being in Romania felt no different than being in New Florida. Not yet anyway.

Octavian scowled. “I told you, as soon as the sun sets and the car service can take us into the city. Your impatience won’t make that happen any faster.”

“I can’t take this waiting. I want to go get her now. She
could be in trouble, she could be hurt, she could be—” Lola stopped. “Do you think she senses I’m here?”

“Shut up,” Octavian snarled. “Your incessant talking is driving me mad.”

“How dare you speak to me that way? I’m still your employer, you—”

Eyes silver, he backhanded her, cracking her lip and knocking her back a few steps. “I told you to be quiet and if you haven’t figured out that you’re not the one in charge by now, then you’re dumber than you look.”

She put a hand to her face, but the pain there was nothing compared to the anger building in her heart. The coppery flavor of her own blood coated her tongue. “I should—”

“You should do nothing if you want your grandchild back.”

She nodded, fuming inside and planning his demise. Once she had Mariela.

His eyes gleamed with a determination she hadn’t seen before. “You will be quiet and do as you’re told. Understand?”

She nodded again. She understood that when she had Mariela safe in her arms and they were back in Paradise City, she would turn him over to Luciano. If she didn’t kill him herself. Octavian had to be the one who’d killed Katsumi. Clearly, he was capable of it. And now, here she was, trapped with him in this strange place. Only the thought of rescuing Mariela kept her from attacking him.

When the car arrived after sunset, she got in when Octavian told her to, sat where he said to, and kept her mouth shut. She hadn’t become mayor by being stupid but if that’s what he wanted to think, let him. Throughout her
political career, many men had underestimated her: opponents who had fallen short as the tallied votes came out in her favor, as her initiatives were passed and her ordinances put into action.

She watched Octavian, waiting for the first sign of weakness. Maybe she wouldn’t wait until they were back in Paradise City. Maybe all she’d turn over to Luciano was ashes.

A
report on Creek’s scanner app had led him to this section of town, but the soft
whuffs
of an animal in pain stopped him. He crept down the alley, almost to the end before he saw the creature. Behind a stack of trash cans and recycling bins lay an enormous spotted cat. It sprawled on its side, panting hard. Creek turned on his flashlight and scanned the animal’s body. Four narrow parallel gashes marked its back. The report about a burglary in progress lost its appeal.

The creature growled at him. Creek lifted the hand not holding the flashlight and backed up a step. “Easy there, not an enemy. You need help?”

The growling stopped, replaced with another
whuff
.

“I have no idea what that means. You want me to call an ambulance? Or a vet? I don’t know what you varcolai do in cases like this.” He flicked the light over the gashes again. They looked smaller.

He nodded. “I get it. You’re healing. You just want to be left alone, right?” He started to back out of the alley. “No worries. I was looking for someone else anyway.”

He cut out of there, but found a spot across the street to
park himself. The blood scent was bound to draw fringe; the least he could do was keep them off the shifter. Over the next few hours, a few drifted into the alley, but they retreated to the sounds of menacing snarls. The shifter obviously didn’t need his help. Creek was about to head out when a man limped out of the alley. Creek didn’t recognize him, but snapped a few pics on his phone anyway. In this town, sometimes things were exactly what they seemed, and sometimes they weren’t. He hung a while longer, hoping the lingering blood scent might even lure Octavian, but no such luck.

He resumed his patrol route. Might be time to pay Dominic a visit, let him know what had happened with Octavian. Creek had no desire to step foot into Seven, but Dominic wasn’t the kind of man to take a death like Katsumi’s easily. He probably already had his own people working on it. Damn it. That might mean Luciano.

Creek turned back toward his apartment and broke into a run. He needed his bike. He had to get to Seven fast. Better Dominic found out about Octavian from him than discover it on his own and take matters into his own hands.

A vampire set on revenge was a very dangerous thing.

“I’m here for a very good reason, Nadira.” Chrysabelle addressed the Aurelian like an old friend, something she definitely wasn’t, but Chrysabelle had learned from Mal that throwing people off guard was a great way to keep them guessing. Plus, it helped mask her fear. The Aurelian might not be able to kill her again, but that wouldn’t stop Nadira from trying. “The Castus have raised a monster that sets even the nobles on edge. I want the comarré
alerted so this new threat can be dealt with swiftly. The moment for them to rise up has come.”

Nadira relaxed, but only slightly. “What monster is this? I’ve heard nothing.”

“The vampire baby. They fed her their blood and grew her into some kind of super vampire.”

Nadira nodded, dropping her head for a moment. “I did not know they had brought her back into this world.”

“You knew about this?” Chrysabelle threw her hands up. “What’s being done?”

“Nothing,” Nadira answered. “We knew, but there was no sign they would bring her out of the Castus plane and back to the mortal one. You know this for sure, that she’s been seen?”

“She killed one of Tatiana’s soldiers.”

Nadira peered at her, uncertainty in her eyes. “How do you know this?”

“It came from Tatiana’s mouth. She told it to someone who wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Who is that person?”

This was going to go over big. “Malkolm.”

Nadira’s lip curled. “The vampire who twice dared breach my sanctuary.”

Chrysabelle jabbed a shaking finger at Nadira. “The second time it was to save my life. I should kill you myself for what you did.” She took a breath, forced herself to calm down. Yelling at the Aurelian wouldn’t accomplish the task at hand but it might start a fight. “And in case you’re wondering, I found Damian, no thanks to you.”

“It was not my place to help you. Those records are sealed for a reason.”

Stupid, worthless… she took another calming breath
since the first one hadn’t worked. “Are you going to raise the comarré forces?”

Nadira turned and pulled a large book off the shelf behind her, then sat and paged through it. At last, she looked up. “No. This is not the time.”

A muscle in Chrysabelle’s jaw spasmed in anger and she realized that the fear the Aurelian had once instilled in her was completely gone. With a quiet but determined voice, she spoke. “What good are you, Nadira? You offer me no help. You never have.” She slid one of her sacres from its sheath. Rennata inhaled loudly. “I would be well within my rights to consider you my enemy, wouldn’t you say? You are an obstacle in my path.” She leveled the sword at Nadira. “Do you know what I do to obstacles?”

The rise and fall of Nadira’s chest increased. “Rennata, curb your comarré.”

“She’s mine no longer.” Rennata’s voice quavered. “She’s been disavowed. As you know. As you commanded.”

The anger rising through Chrysabelle’s body found a level spot and an eerie calm settled over her. A sense of imperviousness came with it. Perhaps that was from the ring of sorrows sewn into her back. “You already know she can’t dictate what I do. No one can. That should make you very afraid, because there is nothing keeping me from killing you.” She lifted her sacre a little higher. “Unless you’d like to give me a reason not to.”