Bad Blood (37 page)

He put his arm around her. “Livie, I adore you, but that’s Mortalis out there. You remember what happened last time he and I talked.” She nodded. “And see beside him? That’s a vampire.”

She squinted past Chrysabelle. “Hmm. So I see.” She ducked under his arm and started back down the hall. “Better get the bourbon.”

Creek wasn’t halfway out of Chrysabelle’s borrowed car when Doc and Fi ran out the front door to greet him. Well, Fi ran. Doc sauntered, showing no signs of what he’d been through. In fact, the lopsided grin on his face looked like it belonged on someone who’d had a few shots too many.

Creek shut the car door and a second later, Fi collided into him with a hug. “Thank you, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He glanced at Damian as he came around the side of the car. “Thank the comar—he played bait.”

“Yes,” Damian said. “And got scorched for it.” He pulled at the burned sleeve of his shirt, revealing a patch of blistering skin.

“Oh no!” Fi went to him and took his hand. “Let’s get you inside and fix that up.” She pulled him toward the house, leaving Doc and Creek on the driveway.

Doc stuck his hand out. “Thanks, man. You did me a solid. I don’t forget that kinda stuff.”

Creek shook his hand, then started walking with the shifter back to the house. “You been celebrating? You smell like a still.”

“Hey,” Doc laughed, “that’s Chrysabelle’s best bubbly you’re talking about. I drank myself into a coma to keep Aliza’s urges from taking over.” He shrugged. “Probably going to have a headache tomorrow, but it worked, so I’m cool.” He stopped before Creek’s hand reached the knob. “Speaking of the old witch, what happened?”

“She was a vampire.”

Doc’s mouth dropped open. “You kidding me? Guess Preacher didn’t do such a hot job of killing her after all. Wow, wonder how that went down.”

“Don’t know, but she’s ash now. I set fire to the house, too, just to be sure.”

“That explains why you smell like smoke.”

Creek eyed Doc, looking him up and down. “You feel all right? Other than the alcohol?”

“Yeah, I feel fine. Why you looking at me like you’re expecting to see a third eye?”

“Aliza said if we killed her, you’d never be free. I figured she was lying, but also figured I’d better ask.”

Doc rapped his knuckles against his head. “Just me up there.”

“Good to hear. What’s happening inside?”

“Dinner, in case you can’t smell that.” Doc grabbed the door handle and went in.

Creek followed, inhaling the best thing he’d smelled in a long time. “What’s cooking?” he asked, heading into the kitchen.

The mayor turned around from a steaming pot at the stove, a spoon in one hand.
“Arroz con pollo.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” He leaned against the fridge, giving a nod to Velimai, who glided through the space with fae efficiency.

“I was attacked by a goblin—previously a costumed child—as we were leaving the press briefing where I canceled all Halloween activities.” Lola turned back to the pot. “Coming here seemed like the right thing to do.”

“You okay?”

She shrugged and stirred. “My daughter is dead. As are two more girls. My city is being overrun by God only knows what, not to mention finding out vampires, varcolai, and fae have been living among us for who knows how long…” She sighed. “No, I’m not okay. But I’m dealing.” She set the spoon down and faced him again. “What are
you
exactly?”

“Just a man.”

She crossed her arms. “Lie to me again and I swear to the Virgin Mary, I will punch you.”

Not that that presented such a threat, but it probably was time to tell her. “I’m Kubai Mata.”

“And that is?”

“The KM is an ancient organization designed to be activated at times like this. Our main goal is to protect and preserve human civilization against othernatural intrusion.”

“So you’re not human?”

“No, I’m human. I’m just… enhanced. And totally here to help you. And by
you
, I mean the city.” And that was all he was going to say about that. “Any news from any other parts of the state or country?”

“I put out word on the mayor’s loop and sent an e-mail to the governor. Heard back from a few who think I’m crazy and a few who thanked me for putting the pieces together. Those are the ones who’ve canceled events in their cities. The rest… who knows. I can’t do more than warn them.” She stared at the floor. “Should probably check in with Chief Vernadetto, see what’s going on.”

“After dinner.” He looked at the clock on the oven. “It’s only seven, there’s time.”

She shook her head. “Then why do I feel like this might be my last meal?”

M
al took a chair outside the more intimate circle of Chrysabelle, Augustine, and Mortalis. When Olivia returned with a bottle of bourbon, he got up and took the bottle from her. “Let me help.”

“Merci.”
She looked him over with what could only be described as a sinful gaze. “Take that bourbon to the bar.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He stifled a grin. He hadn’t been inspected that thoroughly since the time on the freighter when Chrysabelle had been blood drunk and high as a cloud.

Olivia followed him, hoisting herself into one of the high chairs in front of the mahogany bar top. “I like mine neat.”

He set the bottle down, then surveyed the bottles already on the shelves. “You want me to pour this bourbon that’s already open?”

“
Cher
,” she said, her bright amber eyes as sharp as jewels. “If I wanted that bourbon, I wouldn’t have brought out the reserve. That rotgut is for visitors I don’t like.”

Smiling now, he opened the new bottle and poured a few fingers’ worth into one of the crystal glasses stacked near the sink. “Here you are.”

She let the glass sit on the bar. “I don’t like to drink alone. Actually, I don’t mind it, but it’s more fun to drink with someone. Pour yourself a glass, vampire. I’m waiting.”

“How do you know I can even drink bourbon? Maybe I only drink blood.”

“Oh, shut your mouth. You vampires drink like fish.” She hurried him along with a wave of her hand. “
Allons
, I’m thirsty.”

He poured a glass for himself. “And you know this how?” He clinked his tumbler against hers, then lifted it. “Cheers.”

She raised hers, then took a taste. “Had a vampire lover right after I moved back here.”

Mal choked on the liquid, swallowing the smoky-sweet alcohol just in time to keep from spewing it all over her.

“Don’t look so surprised.” She sipped her bourbon. “If you weren’t so enamored of that one over there”—she nodded toward Chrysabelle—“I might take a go at you.”

“How do you know I’m enamored of her?” The old woman was a live one, that much was certain. No wonder Augustine lived here. Maybe he was paying his rent horizontally. Didn’t seem like Olivia would be against such a thing.

“I know a lot of things. Like you live under a darkness.”

Darkness didn’t begin to describe it, although the voices were just a low hum at the moment. “How…”

She tapped a frosted nail near one eye. “You think this color comes from human bloodlines? My mother was a quarter fae. Haerbinger, if my
grandmere
was to be
believed. We Goodwin women have always had a touch of the sight.” She twisted in her seat to look at Augustine. “Just like I know he’s going to say no to whatever your friend is offering.”

“Guardianship,” Mal offered.

She turned back around. “Of the city? Never happen. Mortalis tried once before. Augie isn’t made for that kind of work.” She smiled, sipped her bourbon. “Plus he’s watching over me.”

“Is that why he lives here?”

“I like the company. Plus I’m a poor, defenseless old woman.” Her smile turned wistful. “I need him.”

Mal swirled the liquid in his glass. “I better see how it’s going.” He’d been half listening to the conversation and could tell it wasn’t going in Chrysabelle’s direction. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Olivia nodded, now engrossed in the other conversation herself, if the faraway look on her face was an indication.

He sat beside Chrysabelle, who didn’t pause to acknowledge him.

“I understand this job is a big responsibility, but I’m offering you enough money that you could have a house like this of your very own.”

Augustine leaned forward. “I don’t want a house like this of my very own. The space I have here is plenty.”

“You live in the attic,” Mortalis said. “Like a squirrel.”

Augustine scowled. “This conversation has come to an end.”

“Please.” Chrysabelle shifted to the edge of the sofa cushion. “You could just take the job for a week, then resign. I don’t care.”

Sitting back, Augustine raised one brow, then looked at his brother. “You should really educate your friends better.”

Chrysabelle shot Mortalis a glance. “What does he mean?”

“I tried to tell you this earlier but you stopped me. The guardian is a lifetime position.”

“Until someone resigns.” She glanced at Mal. “Just like Sklar will have done by now.”

“Then he’s already dead.” Mortalis shook his head. “A guardian either dies in the job or chooses
fin’denablo
.”

“The final honor,” Augustine translated. “Any fae who resigns from the position of guardian is basically asking to be killed. Mortalis is right—as much as it pains me to speak those words. If Sklar resigned, he’s already been dispatched. The elektos take those kinds of pronouncements very seriously.”

“Loudreux said he was the Prime’s son. Surely that carries some weight….” The color drained from Chrysabelle’s face and she went very still, very silent.

Augustine shook his head. “The Prime may have killed Sklar himself to save face.”

She inhaled a ragged breath and dropped her head, closing her eyes for a moment. “Holy mother,” she whispered. “I hate this.”

Mal covered her hand with his. Her skin was like ice. “I’ll kill Loudreux if you want.”

“Blu might have something to say about that.” Augustine gave a little smirk. His gaze went to Mortalis. “Is she even talking to you? Considering the company you’re keeping.”

“No,” Chrysabelle answered Mal, pulling her hand out
from under his. “No killing. There’s already been enough of that.” A little spark came back to her eyes, and she finally made eye contact with him. “But Loudreux has just made my enemies list. I will not be used as a pawn.” She turned away to speak to Mortalis. “I apologize for not listening to you. My stubbornness gets in my way sometimes.”

For the first time since they’d arrived in New Orleans, Mal saw a hint of softness in Mortalis’s eyes. “You didn’t know,” the fae said. “I’m sorry Loudreux took advantage of you. It’s what he does. But that’s no excuse. I should have tried harder to explain things to you.”

Augustine nodded. “Yes, you should have.” He turned to Chrysabelle. “So you see why I have no desire to take the job.”

She nodded. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his face suddenly lighting up. “Listen, you ever need anything in New Orleans? Call me. Any enemy of Loudreux is a friend of mine. Be happy just to take you out and show you what a great city this really is.”

Mal eyed the fae with a look that unfortunately couldn’t kill.

“Hear, hear,” Olivia said, raising her glass to Chrysabelle but winking at Mal. “Of course, that goes for your boyfriend, too.”

“My wha—Oh, you mean Mal,” Chrysabelle said.

At least she hadn’t corrected Olivia. Mal smiled at the old woman for her indelicate way of letting Augustine know that Chrysabelle was spoken for. Sort of. Chrysabelle stood. “Thank you.” Her thumb worried the hidden
blade ring on her right hand. “Mortalis, we’re through unless—”

He was out of his chair as well. “No, we’re through.”

“Typical,” Augustine said.

Mortalis didn’t respond to his brother, only screwed his face into an angry glower and headed for the door. “I’ll be in the car.”

Shaking his head, Augustine got up and joined Olivia at the bar. He took a glass down and set it on the counter, then grabbed the bourbon. “Where to next?”