Last Blood (32 page)

No, not her granddaughter. A monster. The two didn’t mesh in her brain. The images of the infant she’d expected to find and the grown woman she’d seen were so diametrically opposed that there was no way she could reconcile the two.

That couldn’t be her Mariela. That… horrific creature was not the sweet, innocent baby Julia had given birth to. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t let it be her.”

She shuddered again, remembering the red eyes and vicious fangs. There was no way she wanted anything to do with that hell-born thing, even if it was her blood kin. Which it couldn’t be. No, this whole thing had to be some sort of… game. Octavian must have set her up. Or Malkolm had, to get his revenge on her. She huddled farther into the darkest corner of the plane. Despite the shades being drawn, she could feel the sun on the verge of rising.

Maybe Preacher would know what to do. Maybe she should confess her sins to him and tell him everything that had happened. Or maybe… she should keep this whole business a secret. One she’d take to her grave.

Covering up with the blanket, she let herself drift into daysleep. It was the only way she knew to forget.

“Bloody hell,” Mal growled. “No way you’re KM. That’s a lie to save your skin.”
Kill kill kill
. He shut the voices out enough to hear Kosmina’s response.

“No, it’s not. I swear.” She shook her head. “I can prove it.” She looked at Chrysabelle. “Your patron, Algernon, he was a KM agent. Did you know that?”

“Yes. That’s how he came to have the ring of sorrows.” Chrysabelle caught Mal’s gaze. “If she knows that…”

Mal shook his head. “If Algernon was KM, why didn’t they come after you? Wouldn’t they have thought you had something to do with his death?”

Kosmina shifted uncomfortably. “After a while, the KM knew Chrysabelle wasn’t responsible for that.”

“After a while?” Chrysabelle asked. “So you were watching me?”

Kosmina shrugged. “The KM has eyes everywhere. And as you know, Octavian belonged to them too. We worked together. He brought me in to replace him as head of staff when Tatiana turned him. I’m the reason Tatiana thought he was dead. I covered for him. Otherwise she would have flayed him alive.”

“How did you cover for him?” Chrysabelle asked.

“At the ball, after you two ran out of the suite—that was you two in disguise, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Mal said. Figuring that out didn’t take help from the KM. “Go on.”

“When Tatiana went after you, Octavian left through the servants’ quarters. I scattered ashes on the floor where he’d been and, when Tatiana returned, told her that he’d taken his own life out of fear of her.” She drew in a ragged breath. “She would have killed him. It was the only way to get him out safely.”

“What about the other female servant?” Chrysabelle asked.

“Oana? She was Lilith’s wet nurse. With Lilith out of the picture, Oana was no longer necessary. I paid her to go away.” Kosmina glanced at Malkolm. “And she knows I’d kill her myself if she ever spoke a word of what happened.”

Mal eased his grip on the double agent. She was telling them more than she had to. Enough that her story sounded genuine. “Why would Octavian come back here? He’d have to know Tatiana would kill him for what he’d done.”

Kosmina pulled out of his grasp entirely and tugged her uniform back into place. “Not long after he brought me in to replace him as head of staff, I started to see signs that his loyalties were drifting. He truly loved Tatiana. And the life she provided.” She shook her head. “It’s not the first time an agent has shifted sides.”

“More than once?” Chrysabelle asked. “How long have you been KM?”

Kosmina cast her eyes toward the door to the cellar. “All my life. My whole family is.”

“Son of a priest.” Mal’s brows shot up. How deep was the KM in Corvinestri? “And do they all work for nobles?”

She nodded and lifted her gaze toward Chrysabelle. “We do the job the comarré were meant for, but have fallen away from.”

“Don’t look at me,” Chrysabelle said. “I tried to raise a force to help us and got shot down. Also, I’m not comarré anymore.”

“I know,” Kosmina said. “We’re aware you were disavowed.” She started toward the exit. “I have to go. I have things to do before… I have things to do.”

Mal stepped into her path. He wasn’t done asking questions. “Why did you follow me down here?”

Kosmina’s expression shifted into one that was pure soldier. “To determine why you were suddenly on Tatiana’s side, and if necessary, kill you. Which reminds me…” She pulled a snuffbox out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Put a pinch of that under your tongue.”

“You? Kill me?” Mal laughed softly as he took the box and opened it. Fine white powder filled the small metal square. A citrusy aroma wafted up from it. “What is this?”

“The antidote to the
solis basium
currently coursing through your system.”

The voices stilled completely. They were trying to figure out if what she said was true. “What the hell is
solis basium
?”

Chrysabelle licked her bottom lip. “Means something like ‘sun kiss’ in Latin, doesn’t it?”

Kosmina nodded. “And without that antidote, you’d find yourself inexplicably drawn to walk outside and greet the dawn tomorrow morning.”

Mal snorted skeptically. “There’s nothing in my blood. I’d know if you drugged me.”
Sick sick sick
, the voices whined.
They
believed her.

“Would you?” Kosmina asked. “Because you drank the comarré’s blood without question.”

Chrysabelle looked at him. “What comarré?”

“The one Tatiana provided for Octavian,” Kosmina answered. “Tatiana offered her to Malkolm so he wouldn’t go hungry.”

“I didn’t drink
from
her,” Mal said. “You know I can’t do that. But I did let her fill a goblet for me.” He could tell this was bothering Chrysabelle. “I had no choice. I didn’t want Tatiana to get suspicious.”

She nodded, but said nothing.

He looked back at Kosmina. “You’re telling me her blood held the drug?”

“Like I said, put a pinch under your tongue and you’ll be fine.” Kosmina gave him a final glance before heading toward the door.

“Wait,” Chrysabelle called. “What about… what you heard?”

Kosmina stopped and met her gaze. “The plan to get Tatiana and the other one to the Garden of Eden? I’ll help in whatever way I can without blowing my cover, but my time here is short. You don’t have to worry about me getting in your way.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Chrysabelle said.

Kosmina shrugged. “That’s all I heard. Now I really must go.” She left, closing the door behind her.

Chrysabelle’s hands shook. “She knows about the baby. She’s going to report to whomever she reports to and the KM are going to come knocking again, expecting something from me.” Her hands went to her belly. “If they think they can use this child for their purposes, they are sorely mistaken.”

Mal nodded. “That’s for damn sure.” He tipped his head to touch hers. “No one is going to lay a hand on you or this child, understand? I won’t let it happen.”

She blew out a breath. “I know.” She smiled up at him. “I’m okay. Hormones, you know?” She laughed softly. “You should be used to my crazy by now.”

“Speaking of crazy, can you believe she drugged me?” He slipped his hand into Chrysabelle’s, glad the mood had lightened, but feeling like he owed her a little more explanation. “I know you’re not happy that I drank blood from another comarré, but I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“You’d better take that antidote.” Her mouth thinned, but she squeezed his arm. “And you’re right. I’m not happy about the other comarré, but I also understand. You did what you had to do.” She offered him a wisp of a smile. “It’s all for the end game, right?”

“Right.” The end game that would finally free them to live a peaceful life raising their child.

Her gaze shifted back to the exit. “When we get back to Paradise City, we need to have a long talk with Creek and come to some kind of understanding.”

Mal stuck a pinch of the white powder under his tongue. It tasted like sugar, not much like an antidote to anything. “The only understanding that matters is that they leave us alone. If someone has to die to make that happen, so be it.”

T
he knocking on Creek’s door fired up his internal alarm system. He wasn’t expecting anyone, Annika included. And with Octavian in the wind, there was no such thing as being too cautious. He snapped his crossbow into place, locked a bolt into it, and slid the door back half an inch. “Who is it?”

“Doc. Chrysabelle’s friend. The varcolai.”

Creek opened the door farther as he dropped the crossbow. “How do you know where I live?”

Doc gave him an odd look as he came in. “You know I’m the leader of the Paradise City pride now, right?”

“Yeah, I’d heard that.” Creek slid the door shut, then led Doc to the kitchen. “I take it you’re telling me you have access to the kind of people who can find people like me?”

“Actually, all I had to do was ask Chief Vernadetto.” Doc looked around the machine shop. “Interesting place to live.”

Creek removed the bolt from his crossbow, stored it, then collapsed the bow again so that it resembled a length of titanium pipe. Notching it back onto his holster, he leaned against the counter. “What can I do for you?”

Doc stopped checking out the makeshift apartment to look at Creek. “I need help finding someone and I thought you might have the resources. Mine don’t extend much beyond the city. I can call on other prides, but they tend to be territorial and keeping tabs on another pride’s business is frowned upon, you dig? Plus, I don’t really want to tip my hand that I’m looking for this cat.”

Creek nodded. “Sure. Who is this person?”

“Name’s Fritz Haber. He was one of Sinjin’s council members, but quit when I took over.”

“Didn’t like the new regime, huh?”

“Didn’t even give it a chance. Anyway, he may be connected to the death of Heaven, Sinjin’s wife.”

None of that made sense. Creek shook his head. “I thought Heaven was your wife. And didn’t Fi kill her? In that challenge battle?”

Doc pointed to one of the battered club chairs. “You mind?”

“No, go ahead. You want something to drink?” Creek was about to go out looking for Octavian again, but this was getting interesting.

“No, I’m cool, thanks.” Doc sat. “Fi won that fight, but as it turns out, Heaven died because someone laced silver dust into the arena’s sand. It got into Heaven’s system and…” He exhaled. “She couldn’t take it. Heart shut down. Silver does some pretty nasty stuff to varcolai.”

“I guess that’s thrown a wrench into the works.” Creek kicked his feet up onto the cable spool coffee table. “If it was silver, I guess you know it wasn’t a vampire or another shifter.”

“I wish that was true. Two of my council members, Barasa and Omur, are currently being held by police
because the messenger who delivered the silver dust will only say he delivered it to a council member, but says he can’t remember which one. He’s human and says we all look alike to him.”

“Idiot.” Creek rolled his eyes. “Where’s this Fritz fit in?”

“Cops found a box with traces of silver dust in his apartment.”

Creek nodded. “Then he’s the council member who ordered the stuff.”

Doc leaned back. “I don’t know. Fritz was Sinjin’s right-hand man. If he was going to do anything to fix that fight, he would have worked out a way to make Heaven the victor.”

Creek tapped his fingers on the chair’s arm. “You think that box was planted?”

Doc stared at his hands, nodding slowly. “Could be.” Suddenly he sat forward. “You know, I went to see Fritz, thought maybe I could talk to him shifter to shifter, ask him if he knew anyone who might have wanted to hurt Heaven. When I got to his place, he acted all freaked out, like he didn’t want to let me in for reasons beyond just who I was—and pride law dictates that if the pride leader requests your presence, you had best present yourself, so not speaking to me would have been a dumb move.”

“Dumber than quitting the council?”

“Quitting the council only removed him from his standing in the pride. Not speaking to me would have been considered a personal offense. I could have him removed from the pride altogether for that.”

Creek nodded. “Got it.”

Doc spread his hands. “I’m standing at his door, right, trying to get him to let me in and I hear glass breaking.
Fritz is already twitchy, so now I’m thinking someone’s in there, threatening him or who knows what. I bust through the door in time to catch somebody going down the fire escape. I chase the guy, but don’t catch him because on my way out, I tell Fritz to call the cops.” Doc rolled his eyes. “They show up and guess who gets tapped?”

“Damn,” Creek said. “Not your night.”

Doc sat back. “Dude vanishes. Me? I’m wearing bracelets and get to spend the night downtown. You know they can hold you for twenty-four hours without charging you?”

Creek shot him a look. “Yeah, I’m intimately acquainted with the penal system.”

“I guess you are.” Doc shook his head. “I almost had that guy too. Got a swipe in, but couldn’t hang on to him.”