Bad Blood (48 page)

He leaped off the fold-out couch in the small interior room that otherwise served as a hurricane shelter, blinking as he stumbled into the hall and a bright shaft of sun. Before his skin could crisp, he hugged the wall, staying in the shadows until he made it upstairs. After he’d gotten
her into the house, he’d closed all the curtains on this floor so that nothing would disturb her ability to rest and recover. It was also the reason he’d yet to explain his suspicions about what had happened at the signumist’s. There’d be plenty of time for that when she was healed.

He went to open her door quietly, but the knob wouldn’t turn. He had no idea what went into recovering from such a procedure. Maybe Velimai was in there, washing Chrysabelle’s back. That might explain the smell of fresh blood. Or if Velimai had accidently touched her. He tipped his head toward the door and listened. Running water. Maybe that was exactly what was—

Velimai appeared at the end of the hall. She held her hands up as if asking what was wrong.

Hell. “A lot if you’re not in there. Door’s locked.”

Her eyes widened and she sped to where he was. She made shoving motions with her hands like she wanted to push the door in.

“Knock it down? Don’t you have a key?”

Yes and no
, she signed. She thrust her hands at the door a second time as if telling him to hurry.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the door handle again and wrenched it, tearing the metal free from the wood. Velimai pushed past him. Her elbow brushed the top of his hand, leaving a line of raw skin behind. Ignoring the already closing wound, he followed.

The room was empty, the bed disheveled. Blood scent hung humid in the air. The door to the bathroom—the location of the running water—was shut. “If she’s taking a shower—”

With the coldest expression, Velimai held up a hand, shook her head, and pointed back to the bed.

Mal scanned it again. “What?”

Night something
, Velimai signed.

“Night? Night what?” His gaze caught on the nightstand. Nothing out of place, nothing missing. He went deadly still. Nothing missing but the red leather pouch Atticus had given her. He’d seen that pouch before. He knew what it contained. “Son of a priest,” he whispered. “She’s trying to open the portal.”

He flashed past Velimai. Chrysabelle was way too weak to attempt something like this now. Stubborn, stubborn woman. His fist hit the door. “Chrysabelle, I know you’re in there and I know what you’re doing. Let me in or I swear to hades, I will knock this door down.”

No answer, just the shush of the water.

Velimai motioned for him to break in. He heaved his shoulder into the door, cracking the door frame and flinging it wide.

Nothing in the bathroom, except for the gold pipette and circle of blood on the floor.
Blood blood blood
… Chrysabelle was already gone. Mal slumped to his knees beside the puddle. The beast within him strained its bonds at so much blood, but the weight of helplessness pressed Mal into a dark place where ignoring the voices became a very easy thing. He slammed his fist onto the marble tile, leaving a small crack. The rage building in him tested his power of control. It was the kind of rage that fed the beast. “We’re too late.”

Velimai pointed at the circle, then at Mal, then back at the circle.

“No. I’m not going after her. Creek and I did that last time and almost got her killed. The Aurelian is not a patient woman. She’ll punish Chrysabelle if that happens
again, and I won’t be the reason for that.” A shimmer of gold rippled over the blood. The portal was definitely open. “We’ll just have to wait for her to return.”

If she returns.

He closed his eyes. She would. She had to. Because if she didn’t, he would let the beast free. There was no reason not to if she was gone.

C
hrysabelle went to her knees the moment her feet hit stone. She kept her head bowed, her mind filling in the details of the room based on what she’d seen the last time. Books and scrolls overflowing the shelves lining the walls, and before her, a massive table, also piled high with more scrolls, charts, and star maps. Seated behind it, the tall, slender Persian she’d come to see.

The Aurelian.

A chair scraped the stone floor. “You are a determined soul, aren’t you, comarré?”

Chrysabelle lifted her head. “Yes, my lady.”

The Aurelian gestured for her to rise. “You don’t belong here, not anymore. You’ve been disavowed by your house.” She laughed, a not altogether pleasant sound. “At least you didn’t bring the vampire and the Kubai Mata with you this time.”

As she got to her feet, Chrysabelle wanted to remind the Aurelian that she hadn’t actually brought them with her the last time. They’d come after her by accident, according to their side of the story. But she kept her mouth shut and let the Aurelian guide the conversation.

“What do you want, comarré? What has driven you to return to me?” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You should not even be fully healed from Rennata’s efforts.”

Rennata’s
efforts
? Is that what the Aurelian called having two strips of flesh cut from her body? “I have always been a fast healer.” The Persian had once invited Chrysabelle to call her by her name, Nadira. Doing so now could either soften the Aurelian or anger her. Chrysabelle decided to take the chance. “I am here, Nadira, because I am desperate for an answer to a question, and as every comarré knows, you are all-wise and all-knowing. The key to the past and the future lies with you.” It was almost word for word what she’d been taught about the Aurelian in school, but it was also flattering and that worked with certain types of women.

Nadira’s smile extended into her coal-black eyes. “That is so.” Her fingers traced the hilt of the massive sword resting across the front of the table. “But first you will answer some for me. Where did you find a skilled signumist willing to work on you?”

“Who said he was willing?” Atticus had been kind to her. She would do nothing to cause him harm. If that meant protecting him with a lie, so be it.

Nadira crossed her arms. “Where did you acquire the sacred gold?”

“For the right price, anything can be had.”

Nadira’s smile vanished. “You try me. You expect answers but give me none?”

“My lady, I simply seek to protect those whose part in this is inconsequential.”

Nadira went still for a long moment. “I will accept that. What is it you wish to know?”

A shiver of excitement shook Chrysabelle. At last. “I come seeking my brother’s name.”

“You ask a question I can’t answer.”

The shiver of excitement turned into a tremor of anger. “Are you saying there is something you
don’t
know?”

Nadira’s gaze darkened. “I’m saying you’ve been disavowed by your house. That information belongs to the Primoris Domus. A house you can no longer claim.”

“Last time you told me I would know him by his signum. You have to give me more than that, please. That means nothing to me.”

“You’ve wasted your energy, comarré.” She walked back behind the desk and sat. “Return to your home. Forget the way here, because I will not allow a third visit.”

Chrysabelle began to seethe. This woman would stand on propriety now? “Do you know what I have endured to return here?” Chrysabelle thrust her arm out, pointing to the shelves behind the Aurelian. “The books behind you are marked Primoris Domus. Get the right one down and read his name to me.”

Nadira burst to her feet. “How dare you speak to me that way. Get out. Now.”

“Not until I have his name. That information is nothing to you, and Rennata never needs to know. Give it to me and I will leave, never to return.”

The Aurelian planted her fists on the table. “You should not even know you have a brother.”

“But I do.” Chrysabelle wished she’d taken the time to change into something besides her robe. Something she could fight in. Something she could fight
better
in. “Can you tell me anything about him? Anything at all? Is he even alive?”

“He lives.”

“Then you do know about him.” Chrysabelle began to tremble, from rage or some other emotion, she couldn’t tell. “His name.
Please
.”

“No.”

Then she would get the name herself. Fueled by anger and the reckless knowledge that Rennata had already renounced her, Chrysabelle leaped forward, vaulting onto Nadira’s desk and reaching for the Primoris Domus register.

With a cry, Nadira swung her massive sword up. The metal flashed in the glow of the candelabras lighting the room.

The tip caught Chrysabelle beneath the rib cage. Heat and pain followed the sword’s path into her body. She staggered a step to the side, her hand inches from the book. She lowered her gaze. Blood spilled down the sword’s blade and wicked through the robe’s thin fabric.

Nadira’s face held no remorse.

Time slowed. Chrysabelle took hold of the blade and yanked it out, slicing her palms and fingers open but feeling little. Water pooled in her mouth as the edges of her vision tunneled in. Each breath became a struggle, her lungs taking in less air with each inhale. The sword had penetrated deeper than she’d guessed.

The Aurelian mouthed a name, but the ringing in Chrysabelle’s ears deafened her. That name… She fell backward, hitting the stone floor hard enough that bones cracked. But there was no more room in her body for pain.

Just darkness.

And death.

Velimai slapped Mal hard across the back of the head. She signed something, her fingers blurring, then pointed to the portal again before opening her mouth and tapping a finger against her throat.

He jumped to his feet. “Go ahead and threaten me. I’m not going. What part of
I’m not willing to endanger Chrysabelle
don’t you understand?”

With a frustrated grunt, Velimai went to the bathroom counter, yanked open a drawer, and took out a makeup pencil. She started scrawling on the wall-to-wall mirror.
She’s already disavowed. No worse trouble. Plus the portal is open for you to come back through.
She underlined
come back
then stabbed the pencil against the glass for punctuation.

Mal stared at the words, trying to avoid seeing the image of his true face reflected behind them.

What if something happens?
she added.
C could be in trouble.

“And if she isn’t? And my arrival makes that crazy Aurelian even crazier?”

Take the chance
, Velimai wrote. She caught his gaze in the mirror and mouthed the words again.
Take the chance.

He turned away from the mirror and back at the portal. “Guard this with your life. If Chrysabelle has to go back through the Primoris Domus, Rennata will kill her this time.”

The wysper nodded solemnly, sketching a cross over her heart. She pointed at the shimmering puddle once again.

Mal nodded. “I get it. I’m going.” He stepped into the portal.

And found himself standing in the Aurelian’s chambers.

Chrysabelle lay sprawled like a rag doll in front of the enormous table. Her eyes stared unblinking at the ceiling. Blood drenched the stomach of her robe. Not a heartbeat or an inhale. The chains that held the beast snapped. “What have you done to her?” he roared.

The Aurelian sat behind the table, cleaning blood off her mammoth sword. She flinched and clutched her sword a little tighter. “Get out. Or I’ll kill you, too.”

The blackness of the beast crept over him, the names unfurling to cover his skin and drown the shreds of humanity that otherwise kept him sane. He fought to retain his sanity long enough to deal with the Aurelian. “All she wanted was her brother’s name. Was that such a trespass you killed her?”

The Aurelian stood, hefting her weapon. “Get out, demon spawn.”

“Answer me.” A chorus of voices filled the room as the souls trapped inside him came to life as the beast.

Fear trickled into her eyes. “She attacked me.”

“So you didn’t tell her.” The darkness spread almost faster than he could control it now, winding around his bones and seeping into his muscles like a fever. “Then you will tell me.” He flashed to her, pinning her against the bookshelves behind her and rendering her sword useless. “What is her brother’s name?”