Bad Blood (14 page)

He grabbed Fi’s hand and gave it a playful tug. “Let’s go, busybody.”

As they approached the front door, Chrysabelle opened it. Doc hadn’t seen her since she’d been injured. Which was right around the same time he’d regained his ability to shift into his leopard form. “Hey, you look good.” It wasn’t a total lie. She looked tired, but considering that she’d almost died, like, nine days ago, she looked great.

Her smile was thin. “Thanks. You too.” Her smile grew a little bigger. “And Fi. Nice to see you both under better circumstances.”

Fi gave a little wave. He nodded. “That’s for damn straight.” He frowned as the scent of blood reached his nose. “Everything okay? I smell blood.”

“Velimai just poured Mal a glass. Come in.” She led them through the foyer and into the living room. Mal and Creek were already there. Mal sat sipping a glass of dark red liquid, wearing the same clothes he’d had on when
they’d dropped him off the day before and looking like he could use a few hours of daysleep. Fi elbowed Doc in an I-told-you-so kind of way. Subtlety was not her strong suit.

“What’s up?” He nodded at Mal and gave the Kubai Mata a look. He still didn’t trust the man. Not the way he sniffed around Chrysabelle like she was a T-bone and he was a hungry stray.

Mal nodded back. “All kinds of things. What brings you here?”

“He’s got big news.” Fi strolled through the room and climbed into the chair near the back wall of sliding glass doors.

“Fi.” Doc raised his brows. He could do without the help.

She shrugged and picked up a fashion magazine from the nearby table, tapping the cover to animate the model on the front. Fi and clothes. They were her drug.

Mal swallowed and rested his glass on his leg. “What is it? I don’t know how much more news we can deal with right now.”

Chrysabelle took a seat on the couch near Mal. “He’s right. If this isn’t important, it’s going to have to wait.”

Exhaling hard, Doc shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s pretty big. Unless you don’t consider a vampire child news.”

Silence deafened the room. Mal broke it first. “There’s no such thing.”

“Yeah, there is. Saw it with my own eyes.” He glanced at Fi. She lowered the magazine to give him a reassuring smile. “It’s Preacher’s kid. His and one of Dominic’s comarré. I think her name’s Julia. She might be—”

“Dead,” Creek finished. “She is.”

Doc squinted at the man. “How you know that?”

“I found her. She died in my arms. Badly attacked.”

The man had a way of getting involved in all kinds of things he didn’t belong involved in. “When?”

“Last night. Are you sure she’s the mother of this child?”

Doc shrugged. “Pretty sure. Preacher asked me if I was the one who killed
his
Julia. I saw him with a comarré earlier, so I have to assume that’s her.”

“You were at Preacher’s?” Mal’s index finger tapped the glass of blood.

Doc sat on the far arm of Creek’s sofa and nodded.

“When?” Mal’s tone was less question, more demand.

“Last night.”

“That’s when you first saw this vampire child?”

“No. Before then.” Might as well come clean. “The night Fi and I used the spell Aliza gave me.”

“Wait.” Chrysabelle tipped her head. “What do you mean
you
and Fi used it? That was for Fi alone, to get her out of that death loop.”

Doc sighed a curse and closed his eyes. Any second now the lectures would start.

“It was my idea,” Fi said. “I made him go through the smoke.”

Doc opened his eyes, wondering if the gratitude he felt showed on his face. Still, he wasn’t going to let Fi take the fall for his actions. “It was my decision.”

Mal growled. “It was a stupid decision. You have no idea what kind of dark magic that old witch could have worked on you.”

Doc shrugged like he didn’t care. Like he wasn’t already thinking Aliza had gotten ahold of him through his dreams. “What’s done is done. Can’t change it now.”

“So… your curse?” Chrysabelle looked from him to Fi and back again. “Are you better? Can you shift?”

“Sure can.” He rubbed a hand over his scalp, dreading the next part. “Been having nightmares, though. That’s how I ended up at Preacher’s last night. Had to see for myself that what I dreamed wasn’t real. But now I know it was.” He moved off the sofa arm onto the cushion, then raised his head to stare directly at Creek. “You said she was badly attacked, but it was more than that, wasn’t it? She was torn up, wasn’t she? Shredded.”

“The comarré?” Creek nodded. “Yes. Like someone tried to strip the gold from her skin. Almost did it, too.”

“Exactly the way I saw it.” Doc dropped his head into his hands. The nightmare replayed itself like news footage.

“You didn’t do it, Doc.” Chrysabelle scooted forward. “You can’t hurt people in a dream.”

Creek shifted. “He should come with us to the mayor’s. She’s going to want to hear this.”

Doc narrowed his eyes. “What’s the mayor got to do with this?”

Creek stared at him for a long second. “The dead comarré was her daughter.”

“That’s just flippin’ great.” Doc muttered a curse that got him a raised brow from Chrysabelle. “You going to tell her about her grandchild?”

Creek, Mal, and Chrysabelle looked at each other. Chrysabelle spoke first. “I don’t think we should. Not yet anyway. That’s a lot of information to process in one lump.”

Mal nodded.

“Agreed,” Creek said before turning back to Doc. “And just because that’s not enough to deal with, there’s an ancient one in town.”

Doc leaned back. “An ancient one?”

“A Castus.” Chrysabelle’s eyes held a dark light. “Like what we were up against at Tatiana’s in Corvinestri.”

Doc swore again. “This day just gets better, doesn’t it? What else? Tatiana here yet? Ronan suddenly come back from the dead?”

Mal shook his head. “Creek’s going to work on finding out about Tatiana, but Ronan’s not even worth talking about. No vampire could come back after what that gator must have done to him.”

“Also…” Chrysabelle raised her hands. “Mal, Creek, Mortalis, and I are going to see Dominic tonight after we talk to the mayor. We plan on borrowing his plane because I have to go to New Orleans to see the fae elektos about getting the ring back.”

Mal’s face darkened, his eyes glinting with silvery displeasure. “She’s getting her signum put back on so she can see the Aurelian one last time.”

Doc wasn’t in any position to tell someone what was safe and what wasn’t, so he just nodded. Nor did he need to know how the elektos had come by the ring in the first place. “NOLA isn’t a very friendly place for vampires. Hasn’t been for years. They know you’re coming?” he asked Mal.

“No, but we’ll work it out.” He downed the rest of the blood in his glass and set it on the side table.

Chrysabelle nodded. “Mortalis will be with us, too. The thing is, I’d like you to stay here while we’re gone.
You and Fi both. With the two new comarré on the property—”

“What’s up with that?” Fi interjected.

“Favor to Dominic,” Chrysabelle answered before continuing. “It would just be nice if you could be here, provide an extra set of eyes.” She exhaled slowly. “And I think, considering the circumstances, the visiting comarré should stay in the house, too. Regardless of the new security measure I’ve had installed, it’s too dangerous with a Castus on the loose. I may not want them here, but neither do I want them dead.”

“Sure,” Doc said. “Be happy to.” And in truth he was. Time away from the freighter and the nightmares he’d been having there would be a good thing. Maybe sleeping in a new bed would give him the first peaceful sleep he’d had since walking through Aliza’s smoke. And maybe it wouldn’t. But Mephisto Island was a long ways from the abandoned shipyard and rusted-out freighter he’d called home for the last few years.

Change could be a good thing.

“You go through weapons like a child goes through sweets,” Argent said, dropping the new halm and crossbow Creek had requested on the workbench he used as a kitchen table. The halm rolled to a stop beside Creek’s motorcycle helmet.

Not exactly that fast, Creek thought, but held his tongue. You didn’t argue with the sector chief. Not a sector chief who was also a dragon varcolai. He picked up the weapons, tested their weight. They seemed identical to the ones he’d lost. “It’s all in the line of duty.” He turned
as Argent did, unwilling to let the dragon-shifter get out of his peripheral range.

“Try not to lose this, too.” Argent tossed something his way.

Creek dropped the halm and caught the sleek black rectangle just in time. It was no bigger than his palm, but weighty enough to be more than just the slab of glass it seemed to be. “What is it?”

“Tap the front.”

Creek did. It lit up. “I thought phones were a security issue?” Not to mention crazy expensive since the supplies of rare earth were so tightly controlled.

“This one is completely secure. And for KM use only.” The sector chief stopped and blinked the inner membrane over his unnerving green eyes. “All the numbers you need are programmed in.”

“How very full service.” Creek tucked the device into his front pocket. Now the KM could find him wherever he was. Hell. Nothing like being monitored 24-7. He’d had enough of that in prison.

Argent rested against one of the steel support poles holding up the sleeping loft. “This thing that attacked you. You’re sure the creature was one of the ancient ones?”

“Positive.” He picked the weapons back up and slid them into place on his chest holster, comforted by their presence against his body. “What else would light up like that from biting me?”

Argent lifted a brow. “Any vampire. The brands you wear ensure that level of protection.”

Creek stilled the urge to comment on a level of protection that required being bitten to kick in. But then
considering those brands had been burned into his skin in the first place… He took a few steps back to lean against the sink. He’d kill for a beer, but he needed a clear head for tonight. “This wasn’t a vampire. I’ve been bitten before; there was never this much fire or this much pain. Trust me.” Not that the KM really trusted its grunts. Not from what he’d seen so far. He was just a tiny cog in what he suspected was a very large machine.

Argent eyed Creek’s V-Rod just like he always did. The lure of chrome was too much for him. Dragons might have a high heat tolerance, but they had a serious weakness for shine, which was why Creek kept the thing polished as best he could. Any distraction with Argent was a welcome one. The varcolai took a few steps toward the bike. “Where are you with getting the ring back?”

Lying by omission was still lying, but it didn’t exactly feel like oath-breaking either. “I’m progressing. I know it’s not in the comarré’s possession, but I’m working on finding out who has it.” A little truth, a little half-truth. And now a change of subject. “Something new has come up. One of Seven’s manufactured comarré was murdered. Turned out to be the mayor’s daughter. Mayor thinks I know something since I’m the one who found the body, but I’ve offered to educate her a little on what’s happening in exchange for removing me from the investigation’s focus.”

Argent’s gaze stayed fixed on the machine. “The KM supersedes the mayor’s power. You don’t need to do anything for her.”

“If I’m to live and work in this city, I do.” He checked his watch. He had to do it soon, too. He’d promised to be back at Chrysabelle’s by dusk. That gave him thirty minutes to get out of here and to her house. “Getting on her
bad side will only make my job harder. If she feels indebted to me, I can use that down the road.”

Argent shrugged as he strolled slowly around the motorcycle. He trailed a finger over the handlebars. “Suit yourself. But we need that ring back. Samhain is tomorrow night.”

“What do you think could happen?”

Argent stilled and looked at him. “That ring has the power to raise and command an army of undead souls. With the covenant broken, the wrong person gets hold of that ring and even the KM may not be able to save the world from the hell that’s unleashed.”

Damn. “Thanks for the info.” Creek studied the varcolai, thankful Argent couldn’t read his mind. If he, Mal, and Chrysabelle couldn’t get things taken care of in New Orleans and be back before tomorrow night, the KM wasn’t going to be happy. Hell, they weren’t happy with him now. Wait until they found out he’d voluntarily let Chrysabelle have the ring and that she planned on melting it down and embedding it into her skin.

Could the ring’s power transfer into her? Did she even know what the ring’s power was? Not that it mattered. Chrysabelle wasn’t exactly the world-domination type. Which reminded him of a woman who was. “I could use a little intel.”

“On?” The sector chief’s nostrils flared like he was trying to smell the chrome.

“Tatiana. I know we had a source in Corvinestri. Did we get a replacement after Algernon’s death? Because I need to know Tatiana’s status from them.” He moved away from the sink and grabbed his jacket from the hook by the stairs, hoping Argent would take the hint.

Argent’s head whipped back around. “KM deep-ops are above your pay grade.”