Bad Blood (34 page)

“You ever think she had no friends because no one made the effort?”

Damian nodded. “I see what you’re saying. Maybe. She was always sort of this ideal. When she ran… no one expected that. Even with what her aunt had done claiming libertas.”

“Mother.”

Damian twisted around. “What’s that?”

“Maris was her mother, not her aunt.”

His face went blank, his mouth opening slightly. “How did she find that out?”

“Maris told her as she lay dying in Chrysabelle’s arms.”

“That’s…” Damian disappeared into thought, coming back a few minutes later. “I can’t imagine finding out who your parents are.”

“Didn’t you ever think about it?”

“Sure, I guess. It’s not like we can do anything about finding out, though, so I never wasted much time on it.”

Creek dropped the subject. Damian seemed content with that as they traveled in silence the rest of the way. At last the grouping of coven houses appeared. Except there was an extra building. “That’s a new one.”

“New what?” Damian asked.

“House.” Creek pointed to the sleek steel and glass
structure sitting adjacent to Aliza’s. How the hell had they put up a house that fast? It sure looked brand-new. He turned the motor off and let the boat glide forward on the remaining momentum. Any element of surprise they could gain would be a good thing. Damian seemed to get that.

“I’ll go in first,” Creek whispered. They were twenty feet from the dock now. No sign of the old witch, but her boat was parked in its usual spot beneath the house. “You stay outside, but be ready.”

Damian nodded.

Creek would have much rather had Mortalis by his side, but he got that the fae wanted to protect Chrysabelle. Couldn’t fault him for that.

An angry shriek rang out across the glades. A cormorant perched on Aliza’s dock took off. The sound was high and loud, and two seconds after it started, the windows in Aliza’s house shattered, shards falling like glitter into the water below.

Damian glanced at Creek, his eyes wide and voice low. “I didn’t know witches could do that.”

“They can’t.” Creek unholstered his crossbow. “We need a plan. Here’s what I’m thinking…”

F
i hung close behind Big John, as she’d started mentally referring to the wolf varcolai, and together they went to answer the front door. He swore it was just his brother and the mayor of Paradise City, so Velimai had given the okay to the guard shack and opened the house gate, but Fi kept a tight grip on her appropriated chef’s knife anyway. Better safe than sorry. Plus, she was kind of in a stabby mood with Doc being under Aliza’s spell and all. Of course, if things really went south, she was going ghost and heading downstairs until she hit the wine cellar. Possessed Doc was still safer than most of the crazies running around this town lately.

John opened the door. “Luke, everything all right?”

“No.” A varcolai who looked like John’s twin ushered the mayor into the house, pulling the door out of John’s hand to shut it. “It’s already started.”

The mayor looked like, well, like she’d seen a ghost. Except there was no way she knew Fi was one, did she? Fi slid the chef’s knife into a drawer of some fancy table in the foyer. “You’re the mayor, huh?”

“Yes,” the mayor said with a little half smile, like she
was happy to be occupied with something besides being a stranger in someone’s home. A home Fi was starting to feel pretty possessive about considering it wasn’t hers. Chrysabelle would probably freak if she knew all these people were here, traipsing in and out of her secured estate like it was Grand Central Station. The mayor held out her hand. “And you are?”

“Fiona.” She shook the mayor’s hand. “Sorry about your daughter.”

“Thank you, very kind of you.”

“My parents lost a child.” Fi knew she shouldn’t do what she was about to do, but she was angry about Doc, angry about Mal not being here, angry about Mortalis ditching them the minute John had arrived.

The mayor tipped her head. “I’m sorry for them, and you. A brother?”

“No, not a brother.” Fi paused, a true student of dramatic effect. “It was me. Courtesy of Mal.” She sliced her finger across her throat and made a cutting sound. “You met him, right?” She flickered once on purpose, just to see the mayor’s eyes round, then turned without waiting for an answer and walked into the living room where she took her usual seat. Doc wouldn’t have liked what she’d just done. Just knowing that made her feel guilty, but not enough to apologize.

She grabbed a magazine and used it as a cover to watch as John, Luke, and the mayor came in and took seats.

“Where’re Creek and the others?” Luke asked. He sat in the chair next to Fi. He smelled like fall, smoky and outdoorsy.

“Creek and Damian went after a witch who lives in the Glades. She’s got Doc—” She looked at Luke. “He’s a
leopard varcolai—under some kind of possession spell. Until they get her to break the spell, he’s locked up in the wine cellar to keep him safe.” The mayor listened intently, a sort of blankness filling her eyes. Fi continued. “Mal and Chrysabelle are in New Orleans taking care of some business. They’ll be back when they’re through. Which won’t be tonight.”

Velimai glided in just then, giving the mayor a new reason to tense up. Fi had to admit, the mayor looked a lot better in person than she did in 3-D. Not that holo-vision made her look bad; she just seemed prettier and younger in person. But also sad. Which was to be expected considering her daughter’s murder.

The mayor watched Velimai settle onto the sofa opposite where she and John sat. She cleared her throat and inched forward, her knees aimed at the fae woman. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be forward, but I know what vampires and comarrés and varcolai are now, but I am not familiar with your kind. May I be so bold as to ask what you are?”

Velimai signed a response. John began to translate, causing her to sign more as he spoke. “Her name is Velimai. She’s a wysper fae and, she wants you to know, a very dangerous woman.”

At that Velimai laughed, the sound coming out as soft puffs of breath.

“Is she deaf?” the mayor asked.

“No,” Fi answered. “Just mute. But not entirely. Wyspers have a scream that can kill vampires.”

That perked up the mayor’s ears. “Really? How useful.” She smiled and settled back into the sofa a little more. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Velimai. You can call me Lola.”

Luke leaned his elbows on his knees. “Now that we’re all assembled, you need to know the change in the city has already begun. A goblin tried to attack the mayor. I’m sure it started out as a costumed trick-or-treater.”

John narrowed his eyes. “I thought you canceled all Halloween events.”

“I did,” the mayor said, her fingers knotting together. “But these children were already out. The stores downtown give free candy to any child in a costume.” She turned to John. “I think it’s best we stay here, at least until Creek gets back. The city is going to be locked down, and with the patrols going on, it might be best to stay out of their way. Hunker down, settle in, and ride out the storm.” She quickly glanced at Fi and Velimai. “That is, if it’s all right with you? I don’t know who’s in charge with Chrysabelle not being here.”

Fi looked at Velimai. She signed that it was okay with her. Fi signed back that Chrysabelle probably wouldn’t like it. With a smile, Velimai nodded but slowly spelled out it would do the mayor well to owe Chrysabelle a favor. Crafty wysper. “Sure,” Fi said. “You and the wolfies can stay.” She hopped off her chair. “I’m going to check on Doc. Rest of you might as well make yourselves at home. Vel, maybe you could see what’s available for dinner? Mayor—”

“Lola, please,” the mayor corrected her.

“Lola, if you’re handy in the kitchen, feel free to jump in.” Maybe putting the mayor to work peeling potatoes wasn’t the most appropriate thing, but the woman looked like she might implode with nothing to do, and Fi was still feeling guilty about showing off her murdered side.

Lola nodded and stood, taking off her jacket. “We’re
in this for the long haul and I’d be happy to help. Is there a computer I could use first? I’d like to check some e-mails I sent out earlier.”

“Sure, there’s an e-tablet in the kitchen. Velimai can show you.” Fi shot her a quick smile, then headed for Doc. The freakin’ mayor. Too bad she couldn’t tell him without Aliza finding out. Well, she’d tell him if Creek got him free.
When
. Fi couldn’t accept any other outcome.

Just because he didn’t eat didn’t mean Mal didn’t derive great pleasure from watching Chrysabelle chow down on the food Amery had brought back. She’d changed out of the robe and back into her clothes, which was a good thing, because Amery’s curiosity about her signum had meant wandering eyes over the vee of skin exposed at her chest. Those wandering eyes had raised serious amounts of jealousy in Mal. Jealousy he almost felt okay with. Even now, sitting beside her at the table, the oddest sensation of happiness filled him. Happiness. In him. With her.
Sap. Fool. Idiot.
He shook his head and sighed.

She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin and swallowed. “Something wrong?”

“Not a thing.”
Except you still want to drain her. And you’re not worthy of her.

“Good,” Mortalis said as he walked in from the other room. “Because we need to get moving.”

Mal didn’t have to check a watch to know the fae had been gone longer than an hour. “What’s wrong at home?”

Mortalis shook his head like he didn’t want to discuss it. So not the answer Mal was looking for. He motioned for Chrysabelle to keep eating. She scooped more dirty
rice onto her plate and grabbed another piece of fried catfish.

Mal leaned back in his chair. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell us what you found out at home.”

Mortalis cracked his neck, rolling his head from side to side. “Aliza’s taken over Doc with some kind of possession spell, but Creek and Damian have gone out to the Glades to deal with her. They have Doc secured in the wine cellar at Chrysabelle’s so no harm will come to him. I’m sure it will be fine.”

“It better be, if you didn’t stay to help.”

“Mal.” Chrysabelle put her hand on his, her touch drawing every bit of his attention. “Mortalis’s priorities lie here with us. Creek can take care of things, especially with Damian. He’s had the same training I have. He knows how to handle himself.” She grabbed her glass of sweet tea, downed the rest of it, and stood. “Let’s go. I’m ready as soon as I grab my coat and sacres. Mortalis, you’re driving. Amery stays here. No argument. This is my neck on the line. We’re playing it my way.”

Mal wanted to smile but didn’t. When Chrysabelle got forceful with someone else besides him, it was rather entertaining to watch. Mortalis hesitated, maybe thinking about arguing. Whatever he decided, it wasn’t that. “Fine.”

Twenty minutes later, they were parked half a block away from the home of the current guardian, again in the Garden District, but this house wasn’t quite so grand. Very nice, but not the in-your-face grandness of Loudreux’s. A light rain had begun to fall, graying out the last of the sun’s afternoon rays.

“Mortalis, Mal and I are doing this alone,” Chrysa
belle said, her hand on the door handle. “I think you going in might only complicate things more.”

Surprisingly, Mortalis nodded from the driver’s seat. “I don’t like it, but I agree. Especially if you kill him.”

She sighed loudly. “No one’s killing anyone. Not me, not Mal, so stop saying that.”

“Chrysabelle, you don’t—”

“Enough, Mortalis. I don’t want to hear it. Mal, let’s go.” She jumped out of the car.

“Right behind you.” Mal joined her on the sidewalk.

Together they went through the gate and walked up to the front door. “As planned,” she whispered.

“As planned,” he answered.

She rang the bell. Seconds ticked by, then they heard footsteps. The door opened and a smokesinger fae, this one with horns as black as soot, greeted them. He gave Chrysabelle a quick once-over, but his gaze lingered on Mal, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you doing on my porch?”

Chrysabelle stepped into his line of sight. “You’re Sklar? The city’s guardian?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

She smiled in the same charming, blinding way Mal had only seen once before. “We need your help.”