Last Blood (39 page)

“My love?” Chrysabelle smirked. “Is that what you’re calling my fiancé these days?”

Mal’s mouth opened slightly and he stilled. Then a smile as bright as the sun he’d never see broke over his face. “Is that a yes?”

Chrysabelle winked at him. “We’ll talk about it.”

“Fiancé?” Tatiana whirled around. “What the hell is she talking about? Explain this, Malkolm, or I swear, I will kill you when I’m done with her.”

It was all the opening Chrysabelle needed. She tossed one sacre into the air, caught it in a reverse grip and drove it forward like a lance. The blade pierced Tatiana’s back and slid through her body like a needle stitching silk until the hilt met flesh. Chrysabelle leaned in to whisper in Tatiana’s ear. “That’s for Maris.” Then she grabbed the hilt with both hands and yanked up, slicing through
Tatiana’s rib cage before loosening her grip to shove Tatiana forward.

Tatiana fell flat on her face, but pushed to her knees, struggling to get a foot on the ground so she could get up. Chrysabelle danced around to face her. The first few inches of the sacre’s blade stuck out of Tatiana’s chest, dripping blood that turned to ashes as it fell. Chrysabelle shook her head. “Too bad you didn’t turn your back on my mother. Then she could have taken you out a long time ago.”

Anger gleamed in Tatiana’s eyes and blood trickled from her mouth. She lifted her sword hand to strike, but Chrysabelle stepped back from the wobbling figure. Tatiana took one step forward. “You stupid whore. You’ve ruined everythin—”

The sacre fell to the ground as Tatiana’s ashes floated down after it. They covered the weapon in a gray shroud.

It was
over
. A sob shook Chrysabelle in a hard rush of joy and the rising sense that she’d finally avenged her mother. “We’re free,” she whispered across the clearing to Mal. It seemed as if another person took over her body and began moving her feet, walking her toward him, and then something inside her clicked and she ran.

He set Lilith down and caught Chrysabelle up in his arms. “You did it.” He kissed her. “I knew you could.” He leaned back. “I didn’t know you were going to do it dressed like a dominatrix, but the look is growing on me.”

Laughing, she returned his kiss with tears streaming down her face. Tears of happiness and pain and redemption. Beside them, Lilith’s little hand patted Chrysabelle’s leg. She glanced down to see Lilith sucking her thumb. “What are we going to do with her? I’m not even sure what happened to her.”

Mal followed Chrysabelle’s gaze. “She’s got family in Paradise City. We take her back with us.”

Lilith lifted her arm to point at something behind Chrysabelle, her little face scrunching into a tearful mask. “No,” she shouted. “No!”

Chrysabelle and Mal looked where she was pointing. “Holy mother,” Chrysabelle whispered.

Mal uttered a curse, then shook his head. “You can say that again.”

“I’m pleased about Octavian.” Dominic lifted one hand and frowned. “Not as pleased as if I’d been able to kill him myself, but one can’t be too picky when it comes to things like this.”

“I get it,” Creek said. “If I’d had anything to do with it, I would have brought him back for you to deal with.” A lie, but one that would hopefully put the vampire in a giving mood. He shifted in his seat. Luciano hadn’t moved from the chair next to Creek’s other than to nod at whatever Dominic said. “There is something else I’d like to talk to you about.”

Dominic raised a brow. “The Kubai Mata has need of me?” He smiled indulgently. “This I must hear.”

“Not the KM, exactly.” Creek knew this was a bad idea and yet he couldn’t help but try. “I need your help. Me, personally.” He watched Dominic’s face but the vampire showed no reaction. Creek continued. “I have a chance to gain my freedom from the Kubai Mata, but it won’t be much of a chance unless I have some help.”

Dominic twirled a gold pen between his fingers. “What can I do? I am a vampire. Not exactly friends with the KM.”

“I’ve never done anything to harm you. In fact, I spared your nephew’s life.” Beside him, Luciano sniffed. Creek looked at him. “You sired the mayor for your own personal gain. I’d be surprised if the KM were the only ones who considered you a threat after that.”

Dominic held up his hand. “That transgression was Luciano’s doing alone. For sparing his life, I thank you.” He tapped the point of the pen on the desktop. “So you mean to collect on that debt?”

“That wasn’t my intention. Just to ask for your help. I have to fight a battle against a creature I’m no match for. I was hoping you might have some kind of spell—”

Dominic’s eyes flared silver. “I’m an alchemist, not a witch.”

“Got it.” Creek nodded. “And one of the most talented alchemists who ever came out of the House of St. Germain, from what I know.”

The silver in his eyes faded. “What is this creature you’re to fight?”

“A basilisk.”

Dominic raised his eyes to look Creek in the face. “A basilisk.” His tone reeked with disbelief. “Have you actually seen this beast?”

He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Seen her, talked to her, even had dinner with her at my grandmother’s house. She’s my KM sector chief.”

Luciano mumbled something in Italian and Dominic nodded. “My nephew says not only should such a creature not exist, but they are the last ones who should be in charge of protecting mankind.” He picked up the pen again. “And you know she is what she says? You’ve seen proof?”

Creek had prepared for this. He dug into his jacket,
pulled out the cockroach Annika had turned to stone and tossed it onto Dominic’s desk. “She is what she says. Without question.” He nodded at the insect. “I saw her make that.”

Dominic dropped the pen and picked up the bug, rubbing his thumb over the body. “She did this?”

Creek nodded.

Luciano cursed and panic colored his words. “This creature lives in Paradise City? What defense do we have against her? I have no desire to spend my eternity locked in a stone prison.”

“Full circle,” Dominic muttered, staring at the insect.

Creek leaned in, hoping for some kind of advice or secret he could use against Annika. “What does that mean?”

Dominic shook his head. “Nothing.” He dropped the cockroach. “Which is exactly the amount of help I can give you.”

Disappointment tightened Creek’s gut. “You realize if something happens to me, she’ll take over until they find a replacement. And she’s not as understanding as I am when it comes to the goings-on in this city.”

Dominic narrowed his eyes. “It’s not that I won’t help you. It’s that I
can’t
. There is nothing I can do against a basilisk without some kind of original material.” He tapped a finger on the stone bug. “This is not enough.”

Creek shrugged. “What the hell is original material?”

“Bones, blood, skin—”

“Scales?” Creek interrupted.

Dominic pursed his lips and nodded. “Scales would work well. Very well.”

Creek stood. “I’ll be back.”

“
Uno momento
.” Dominic raised a finger. “If I help you and you succeed, what does this benefit me?”

Creek stopped himself from scowling. Of course Dominic would want something in return. “Besides my not executing Luciano?”

Luciano sighed.

Dominic smiled gently. “I am a businessman, no? Surely you understand that my skills do not come cheap.”

“I don’t have any money. If I did, I’d be buying my way out, not risking my life in a fight.”

Dominic picked up the cockroach again, hefting it in his palm like he was weighing it. “Since losing Katsumi, I am short-handed here. If you are free from the KM, you will also be unemployed, yes? I assume you will need some source of income.”

A cold shiver went through Creek. “I will.” Desperately.

“I will help you and when you win your freedom, you will come to work for me. You will be fairly compensated, I assure you. Do you agree?”

“What do you get out of it?”

Dominic offered him a faint smile. “I am aware of your skills. I would much rather have you on my side than against me.”

He was getting out of bed with one master to get in bed with another. What choice did he have? Taking care of his family had always been his goal, but at what cost to his own life? To his sense of justice? “Can I give you an answer when I return?”

“
Si
.” Dominic tipped his head slightly, his fangs glinting white in the blackness of his mouth. “But we both know you’ll say yes.”

F
rom the pile of Tatiana’s ashes rose a ragged whirlwind. Even in the bright moonlight, the swirl of gray dust cast a sinister shadow on the grassy plain.

“What the hell—” Mal shoved Chrysabelle behind him. She’d done enough to protect him. Now it was his turn to get them home.
To die
.

“Doesn’t make sense,” Chrysabelle said. “There’s no wind.” She scooped Lilith up and the little girl clung to her.

“This isn’t wind; it’s something… else. Son of a priest.” The whirlwind took shape. Tatiana’s shape.

With a shiver, the ashes became flesh and blood again. Tatiana shook herself a second time, then stared at him, an unnaturally bright smile on her face. “Well, now, my dear faithless husband. You weren’t expecting that, were you?” She laughed and brushed at her sleeves. “I wasn’t either, but isn’t it a fun surprise?” She gestured at the tree. “Everlasting life on a grander scale than I could have imagined. I’m so glad you convinced me to eat one of those little black apples.”

The beast roared for release. Instead, Mal charged forward, caught Tatiana in his arms, and took her to the
ground. Her laughter rang in his ears as he yanked a knife from his belt. She rolled out of his grasp and got back to her feet.

She shook her finger at him like she was scolding a child. “What are you going to do? Kill me? Weren’t you watching? That doesn’t work on me anymore.”

He jumped to his feet and threw the blade. It sunk home just shy of her heart.

On the perimeter, Chrysabelle clutched Lilith a little tighter.

Shaking her head, Tatiana tugged it out and grimaced. “That hurt, Malkolm. Not as much as your betrayal, but then that’s all you’ve ever been good for, isn’t it? Causing me pain.” She flung the dagger back.

He caught the knife by the hilt, inches before it pierced his chest. “I saved your life.”

“Phft. That old song.” She walked to the tree, picked another black apple, and stuck it in her pocket. “Screw what that guard said. I’m taking a few of these home with me.”

“No,” Chrysabelle answered. “You’re not leaving here. This is where your reign of terror ends.”

Tatiana shifted her attention to Chrysabelle. “You do know that I’m going to kill you, don’t you? What chance do you have—”

Mal’s dagger drilled into Tatiana’s neck, cutting off her words. She dropped the apple and he attacked, taking her down and grabbing the dagger’s hilt. He wrenched the blade down, severing her spine. She went limp beneath him, then turned to ash a second time.

He stood, wiping the bloody blade on his pants. “There. It’s done.”

But before he could walk back to Chrysabelle’s side, the ashes lifted into the air, swirling just as they had before, taking on Tatiana’s shape once again.

The knife fell from his hands. “The Aurelian never mentioned this, did she?”

“No,” Chrysabelle said, her voice thick with hopelessness. “Nadira’s big on leaving out details.”

He nodded as Tatiana’s form became flesh and blood. “If we ever get out of here, I’m killing the Aurelian next.”

“Thanks for coming, Chief. I know it’s late.” Doc shook Vernadetto’s hand as he walked into the office. The man had done a lot for them and if this meeting went well, he’d be doing a lot more. Fi gave the man a hug. Amazing her effect on people. If anyone was cut out to be the pride leader’s wife, it was Fi.

She stepped back by his side. “Nice to see you on better circumstances, Pete.”

“You too, Fiona.” Vernadetto looked at Doc. “I can’t imagine what other information you have to give me about Heaven’s death. We found enough evidence in Remo’s apartment that the case is officially closed. But Fi said it was important, so—”

“It’s not about Heaven’s death but I didn’t want to say too much over the phone.” Doc gestured to the sitting area. “Come on in and we’ll talk.”

He shut the door as Fi and Vernadetto got comfortable on the couch, and then he sat across from them in one of the chairs. He leaned forward. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thanks.” Vernadetto grinned nervously. “Better keep my wits about me until I know what’s going on.”

Doc sat back. “But I’m guessing you have a pretty high tolerance for alcohol, don’t you?”

Vernadetto nodded, smiling sheepishly. “Runs in my family.”

“Most varcolai can outdrink a human three to one,” Fi said quietly.

The color drained out of Vernadetto’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before Doc could say anything, Fi grabbed the chief’s hand. “Don’t be mad at me, but I told Doc what we talked about at the cocktail party. What we’ve
been
talking about. I can’t keep secrets from Doc anymore. Not anything, not after what we’ve been through.” She glanced at Doc, then went on. “Did you know the mayor had Creek investigating you?”