Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) (18 page)

The elevator swooshed open, a wood-paneled, sculpted-carpet coffin. Mortalis held the door while Mal and Chrysabelle got on. The fae looked at him expectantly.

Doc followed, his reluctance increasing with each step. He hadn’t seen Dominic since the trip to Corvinestri, and that was fine with him. Now he had to ask for help from the very man who’d caused his curse in the first place.

Nothing sucked more than needing your enemy’s assistance.

Mortalis moved his hand out of the way, and the doors closed with a soft
ping
. The lift shot up, smooth as old cognac. Which Dominic probably drank by the bucket. Doc flicked a claw out on his pointer finger and gouged a scratch into the mahogany paneling. Petty and childish, but then leopard-shifters weren’t known for their personal growth.

‘Remember,’ Mortalis said. ‘I go first.’

‘Yeah, thanks, I’d forgotten the other hundred times you told us.’ Doc blew out a breath. Tension crackled along his nerves. This was not going to end well, he could feel it. But whatever it took, he’d help Fi. Or die trying. Maybe he could come back as a ghost, too? Then he’d haunt Dominic. And Aliza. And maybe Mal just for funsies.

The doors opened onto Dominic’s private foyer. Un-freaking-believable. Even Mal whistled. The ceiling was a mural of some gods and goddesses getting their chow on. Gilding covered everything that wasn’t stone or polished wood. Doc snorted. ‘Lemme guess, this is from the early Mafia period of history?’

Chrysabelle glanced at him. ‘Actually, that ceiling is a copy of
The Feast of the Gods
by Bellini.’

‘Feast, huh? Figures.’ Perfect for a vampire who devoured life like it was his personal porterhouse.

Mortalis hit the HOLD button on the elevator, then stepped out and approached the penthouse. Doc wondered if he’d be able to restrain the urge to
accidentally
break something once he got inside. Mortalis rapped the lion’s-head door knocker hanging off the set of bronze double doors. Once, twice, a pause, then a third time.

The door opened, revealing a slender, lavender-eyed female in a clingy black dress. Everything about her looked human, except for the lack of life in her unnaturally colored gaze and plasticky smooth skin. ‘Welcome.’ Her voice was an automated purr. ‘How may I help you?’

Chrysabelle leaned over to Doc and whispered, ‘What is that?’

‘That,’ Doc answered, not bothering to lower his voice, ‘is a symbot.’ When he’d still been in the business, he’d seen them at
some of the homes of his wealthier clientele, but he hadn’t known Dominic had one. Made sense though. A lifeless android was the perfect companion for a lifeless vampire.

Mortalis cleared his throat. ‘Isabelle, I need to see Dominic.’

‘Of course.’ She smiled blankly and pivoted, extending her arm toward the room beyond. ‘Please come in.’

‘I need you to bring him here.’

‘One moment, please.’ Like the well-oiled machine she was, Isabelle disappeared into the apartment.

Mortalis glanced back.

‘We know,’ Doc said. ‘Let you do the talking.’

Chrysabelle reached out toward the fae but let her hand drop without touching him. ‘Mortalis, if Dominic fires you, you can come work for me.’

‘It’s not being fired I’m worried about.’

Footsteps interrupted them. Dominic. They heard his voice first.

‘Buonasera,’
he called out to Mortalis. ‘Why didn’t you come in?’ He came into view, Isabelle behind him. His expression went cold when he saw Doc. His gaze shifted to Chrysabelle, then to Mal, then back to Mortalis. ‘Why did you bring them here?’ He held a tense hand out toward Chrysabelle. ‘No offense,
cara mia
, but you must understand my need for protection.’

She stepped forward. ‘Of course, Dominic. That’s exactly why we came. Forgive Mortalis. I threatened him with harm if he didn’t bring us to you immediately.’

A strange light entered Dominic’s eyes. ‘You threatened him? With what?’

Mortalis cleared his throat. ‘It was nothing.’

Mal stepped out of the elevator. ‘She threatened to chop his horns off and shove them into a body cavity.’

Chrysabelle glared at Mal. ‘I never used the word
shove
.’

Dominic’s laughter interrupted them. ‘Bravo,
bella
. You are most assuredly your mother’s child.’ He sobered a bit. ‘If you needed to speak to me, why is it necessary for all of you to be here? Couldn’t you deliver the information to Mortalis and have him bring it to me?’

Chrysabelle shook her head. ‘Someone stole blood from me in your name, and Ronan ended up with it. That needs a face-to-face explanation.’

Doc wondered how Dominic managed not to react to that news. On the way over, she’d explained to the rest of them what had happened, and the severity of the situation had registered immediately. Had Dominic somehow already known? Maybe he’d given the blood to Ronan after all. Mal looked like he’d come to the same conclusion, judging by the cords tightening in his neck.

‘There are other, more private matters I need to speak to you about as well,’ she added. ‘Doc also has news you should hear.’

Yeah, and a small request for a vial or two of blood. Nothing major.

With obvious reluctance, Dominic stepped out of the way. ‘Come in, then, but if I find any of you have shared this location with anyone, you will see a side of me you do not like.’

Doc held back the response burning his tongue.

Many minutes later, when they were seated in Dominic’s surprisingly sleek living room, and Chrysabelle and Mal had finished explaining everything that had happened, Dominic finally looked shocked. ‘I would never ask you for blood. I know too well what is and what is not appropriate when it comes to comarré.’ He looked up for a moment as Isabelle refilled his wine. ‘Mortalis, you must find Leo and ask him for the details
of the night he went to Chrysabelle’s. Who gave him the letter? Where did he deliver the blood?’

‘On it.’ Mortalis nodded. ‘What about Ronan and Katsumi?’

‘We can’t assume anything until we know more. I’ll talk to Katsumi first, then Ronan.’

Mal leaned back in an angular leather chair. ‘Both of them lie. How can you believe anything either of them says?’

Dominic waved a hand through the air. ‘I have ways.’

‘You mean drugs,’ Doc muttered. Dammit. That wasn’t going to help his case.

Dominic’s gaze arrowed in on him. ‘Perhaps now would be a good time for us to speak.’ He stood, palming the bowl of his wineglass. ‘Let’s go to the library, shall we?’ He lifted his glass toward Chrysabelle. ‘If you’ll excuse us.’ Without waiting for an answer, he headed out of the room.

Doc went after him, staying back until Dominic stopped and twisted the matte steel lever on a black lacquered door.

‘After you.’

Books – real books, not just digital copies – filled the floor-to-ceiling brushed steel bookshelves. Was there anything the man didn’t spend money on? Doc stood in the middle of the room and ignored the chairs. This was not a conversation you sat down for.

Dominic closed the door. ‘Well? What is so important that after all these years you come to me this way? Or have you finally realized that the blame for your curse rests elsewhere? Have you decided to come back to work? I can always use good help.’

Like that would ever happen. Doc unclenched his jaw and blew out the breath he’d been holding. ‘Someone’s killing off fringe vamps. A few streets away from Seven, there must be
eight or nine piles of ash. I thought you should know, given that they’re your club’s bread and butter.’

Dominic’s brows lifted for a moment. ‘I appreciate the information. I will have someone investigate further. But that’s not what you really came to discuss, is it?’

‘No.’ Here went nothing. ‘I’m here for Fi’s sake.’

‘Malkolm’s ghost? I don’t understand.’

Doc explained what had been happening, ending with an abbreviated version of his trip to see Aliza. ‘There’s one thing she needs to bring her daughter back.’

Dominic swallowed a sip of wine. ‘My blood.’

Doc checked his surprise. ‘Yes, but how did you know that?’

‘Aliza’s been trying to get it for years.’ He swirled the wine in the glass. ‘If I haven’t given it to her, what makes you think I’m going to give it to you?’

For a moment, Doc was stunned, but he quickly remembered this was Dominic he was dealing with. The man did nothing unless he stood to gain. ‘We’re talking about restoring the lives of two women.’ Then Doc remembered something Chrysabelle had quoted from her mother’s journals. Some thing Maris had attributed to Dominic. ‘Sometimes love is worth the risk.’

Dominic’s eyes burned silver for a brief second, but that was all the acknowledgment he gave the words. ‘And sometimes it is not. I’m sorry for Fiona, but Aliza’s daughter is another story. Her greed got her where she is, the abuse of that which she purchased from me. Not what I sold her, but how it was used. She has reaped what she sowed.’ He wandered to a bookcase and leisurely perused the spines, his back to Doc. ‘Tell Chrysabelle to come in, would you?’

Just like that, the conversation was over. The flame of hope in Doc’s chest went out, replaced by a darker fire. One that blazed hotter. One that burned away the fine line between right and wrong.

One that didn’t care who it reduced to ashes.

M
al leaned his forehead against the wall of glass that made up the north side of Dominic’s ultramodern penthouse. Mortalis had already left to follow up with the driver and Chrysabelle had been talking to Dominic in the library since Doc came out looking like murder incarnate. Whatever he and Dominic had discussed, it hadn’t gone well.

From this height, the city beyond the bay seemed like a glittering jewel of tranquility. Precious electricity flowed into this part of town without interruption. Couldn’t have the inhabitants of Venetian Island being reminded what a dump the rest of Paradise City was. The condo buildings on this secluded haven were well maintained, no signs of vandalism or even the acid rain corrosion that marred most other areas. The streets had an abundance of trees. Mostly palms, but still. No wonder this small island employed their own harbor police to patrol the borders.

It reminded him of where Chrysabelle lived, of the luxury her mother had left for her, and, once again, of how great a delta existed between Chrysabelle’s world and his.
And how little you deserve her.

He rapped his head softly on the glass, the lights beyond blurring, and stared at his reflection. ‘Why do you torture yourself thinking about a future with her?’
Because you’re a fool.
‘Once she helps you, she’ll be gone.’
Good, good, good.
They would go back to their separate lives. Her in her castle. Him in his slowly sinking rust bucket.

He closed his eyes and shut out the scowl on his face. ‘She only sends you blood because that’s what a good comarré does for their patron. It’s an obligation.’
Blood, blood, blood.
And since his curse meant he couldn’t drink from her veins anyway, why shouldn’t she keep her distance and send it to him? Why not drain her?
Drain her, drain her.
He rolled his forehead against the cool glass, trying to flatten the voices. Those miserable plastic containers of blood lacked her warmth and her smell and the sweet symphony of her breath and her heartbeat and— Enough. He would deal with it, just like he’d dealt with every other wretched aspect of his life.

Mal opened his eyes, the glittering scene in front of him coming into focus. Something about the next island over seemed familiar. No, not the island, but something about it. He looked harder. Big boat. Pool that overlooked the water. Nothing about that unusual for these man-made islands. They’d been created to keep the wealthy a healthy distance from reality.

But the design in the bottom of the pool … what was that? It looked like a swirl. Or a starburst. It reminded him of the phoebus signum Chrysabelle had told him all comarré wore on the backs of their necks. It was the same as the logo Maris had used for her cosmetics company. The design Chrysabelle had engraved into Maris’s headstone.

His jaw loosened a bit.

That was Maris’s pool. Chrysabelle’s now. How about that.
Had Maris known? Mal straightened and glanced back to where Doc sat staring daggers into the air. Mal tucked the info away for future reference as he walked over and sat beside the shifter.