Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) (36 page)

Ronan and Dominic thrust their bared wrists out to the other, then Dominic spoke. ‘This blood oath is between Ronan and myself. I vow to give him aid in uncovering whoever is killing fringe vampires in Paradise City.’

Ronan took his turn. ‘This blood oath is between Dominic and myself. I vow to give him aid in finding Tatiana and the unspoken request he has yet to reveal.’

Mortalis nodded. ‘Seal the oath.’

Each man grabbed the other’s wrist, brought it to his mouth, and bit. Dominic swallowed a mouthful of Ronan’s blood as Ronan did the same with his. Finished, they disengaged.

‘This blood oath is sealed and witnessed,’ Mortalis said.

‘Sealed and witnessed,’ Katsumi added.

‘Anything else?’ the shadeux asked.

‘No.’ Dominic unrolled his shirtsleeve. ‘Escort Katsumi to her suite. Ronan and I require privacy.’

Katsumi kissed his cheek. ‘Come to me when you’re through?’

‘Perhaps.’ Depending on how things went with Ronan, Dominic thought it best not to promise anything.

She left with Mortalis, then Ronan retook his seat. Dominic returned to the bar for his wine.

‘So, Dominic, what’s this great unspoken wrong that’s been leveled against you?’ Ronan’s tone made it clear he expected some minor insult.

Wine in hand, Dominic returned to the couch. ‘My blood has been stolen.’

‘How?’ Ronan’s curt expression disappeared. ‘By who?’

‘The how is not important. The who is Maddoc, but I don’t know if he still has it. If he doesn’t, it’s already in the hands of the witches.’

‘Aliza? I assume this is about that whole cock-up where her daughter got turned to stone. She must have promised to undo Doc’s curse.’ Ronan scrubbed a hand over his face. ‘The dark power she could conjure with your blood … ’ He swallowed and looked at Dominic. ‘But, then, you know that.’

‘I do.’ Dominic nodded, sipped his wine. ‘Which is why I want it back. No matter the cost.’

‘Collateral damage acceptable?’

‘By any means.’ Dominic leaned forward. ‘Just keep Maddoc alive. I want to kill him myself.’

Chrysabelle settled onto the chaise beside Mal. Creek sat across from them. A KM slayer, an anathema noble, and a comarré. It was like the start of a bad fringe joke.

‘What do you want to talk about?’ Creek asked.

‘The blood ritual Chrysabelle is going to perform,’ Mal said. ‘If it’s as dangerous as she says, you should know about it. In case.’

Creek nodded. ‘I agree.’

‘What exactly do you think is going to happen?’ Chrysabelle asked. It wasn’t like either of them was going to be present during the ritual.

Mal looked at her. ‘I don’t know. Maybe you should explain just how dangerous this ritual is going to be.’

Ignoring the oddity of the sudden cooperation of the two men, she answered. ‘I said it was
potentially
dangerous. Mostly because of the amount of blood that must be spilled. It will weaken me temporarily.’ She stood, walked to the edge of the pool, and turned her back on the water she and Creek had just been sharing. The skin across her stomach felt tight where it was healing. ‘I will not discuss the details of the ritual with either of you. All I have to do is perform it, get the answers Mal needs, and I’m done.’ Done with her bargain with Mal. And ready to begin finding her brother. And hunting down Tatiana.

‘What answers does he need that this ritual will provide?’ Creek asked.

She held her hand up before Mal could respond. ‘I’m going to see the Aurelian. To find a way to release Mal from Tatiana’s curse. It’s my end of a deal, and I need to uphold it.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Mal said. ‘It sounds like you intend to do this alone.’

‘Of course I do.’

He shook his head. ‘No. Not alone.’

Creek sat straighter. ‘Yeah, from what I understand, the Aurelian can be moody.’

She laughed, because it was better than screaming. ‘As though either of you has a say. This ritual is a primal comarré secret. That you know it exists means I’ve already said too much. What makes you think I should share it with either of you?’ Even though Maris had shared it with Dominic.

Creek crossed his arms. ‘We’re all on the same side. There’s no harm in sharing comarré knowledge with us.’

Mal rolled his eyes at her. ‘I could fill a book with the comarré
secrets you’ve told me. What’s one more?’ He pushed off the chaise and came to stand by her. ‘Besides, you’re doing this for me. I should be there to protect you.’

‘I can protect myself.’ Not that those words ever penetrated his brain.

‘Then to provide backup. Either way, you’re not going alone.’

Creek stretched out on the chaise and folded his arms behind his head. ‘I’m not leaving until you agree.’

Mal looked at the slayer, then back at her and nodded. ‘I’m not leaving either.’

Her nails bit into her palm from clenching her fist. How were they suddenly teamed against her? ‘Then I won’t do it.’

Mal’s irises silvered around the edges. ‘You’ll do it. Because you owe me.’

He was right about that. Having that debt over her head bothered her immensely, plus there was no way she was going to pass up a chance to find out about her brother. ‘Fine. You can both watch the ritual and remain by the portal after I open it. But you cannot come through with me. No one may enter the presence of the Aurelian but a comarré, and even then I may not be exactly welcome.’

‘Why?’ Mal asked.

Her fingers worried the edge of her silk tunic. ‘After the way I disobeyed Madame Rennata in Corvinestri? I led vampires through secret comarré passageways. I used my fighting skills in front of noncomarré. I defied her order to let Maris become a sacrifice for the greater comarré good. I am sure she is not pleased with me. I’d be surprised if she ever granted me entrance into the Primoris Domus again.’

Mal glanced over at Creek, then back at her. ‘So this ritual might be the only way you could access the Aurelian?’

‘Safely? Now, yes.’ Safe was really more of a guess. Blood rituals were never sure things. Although Maris had survived this one. The thought boosted Chrysabelle’s mood.

‘When will this happen?’ Creek asked.

That was the question, wasn’t it? She took a breath. ‘I need a little time, but I can be ready by tomorrow night.’

Mal nodded. ‘Good. What do you need to prepare?’

‘Nothing you have to worry about. Be here within a half hour after sundown. I’m starting whether you’re here or not, got it?’

He frowned. ‘I’ll be here.’

Creek hopped off the chaise. ‘Me too. Might even come early. Bring some takeout.’

She brushed past Mal, stopping in front of Creek. ‘This ritual isn’t a game. It’s deadly serious. You of all people should know that.’

He nodded, repentance in his eyes, and put his hand on her arm. ‘I do know. Just trying to lighten the mood. I’m sorry.’

She sighed and massaged the back of her neck. ‘It’s all right. I’m just anxious about the whole thing.’ She’d never been to the Aurelian. It was a daunting thought, a face-to-face with the woman who knew the entire comarré history, who knew answers to questions comarré had not yet even thought to ask. It was said she was as old as time and that age had made her capricious, prone to whims as variant as the breeze.

Chrysabelle wanted to read Maris’s journal entry again. ‘I’m going in. I need to start my preparations.’

The sliding doors opened and Doc stuck his head out. Behind him, Velimai vibrated like an oncoming hurricane. ‘We got trouble.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Mal asked.

Doc shook his head. ‘Another time.’

‘What’s the matter?’ Chrysabelle rushed toward him, Creek and Mal on her heels.

Doc shifted to his half-form and sniffed the air. ‘Nothos.’

Mal shook his head. ‘I don’t smell anything.’

‘Wait till the wind shifts.’ Doc jerked his thumb toward the front of the house. ‘I went out to check the gate was secure and I smelled brimstone. They’re definitely in the area, if they’re not jumping the gate yet.’

‘Son of a priest.’ Mal’s hand went to the small of Chrysabelle’s back. ‘Get inside. It’s you they want.’

Creek whipped out his crossbow. ‘He’s right. Stay inside.’

‘It’s not me Tatiana really wants.’ Chrysabelle shook her head. ‘It’s the ring. She knows I have it.’

Mal pointed to Doc. ‘You and Creek take the front. Velimai can guard the house. I’m going to get Chrysabelle out of here.’

‘You got it,’ Doc answered. ‘You,’ he said to Creek. ‘This way.’

Chrysabelle looked at Mal. ‘How are you going to get me out of here?’

He glanced back at the
Heliotrope
, unmoved from its moorings since before Maris’s death. ‘Can you pilot that thing?’

‘No way.’

He cursed again. ‘Then I’m driving.’ He grabbed her hand. ‘Let’s go.’

F
rom his perch atop the estate’s stucco security wall, Doc watched a pack of Nothos lope down the street toward the house. He pointed toward them and whispered, ‘There.’

The man, Creek, had an air about him Doc didn’t like. Or maybe his distrust came from seeing Creek all up in Chrysabelle’s business out in the pool. The man was overstepping. That girl was meant for Mal, whether she or Mal knew it or wanted to acknowledge it. Not that Mal showed it, acting the fool like he had. Dumb bloodsucker.

‘I see them. My eyesight’s as good as yours, varcolai.’ Creek leveled his crossbow and took aim.

Doc’s weapons were limited to a few knives. Once again, his inability to shift handicapped him. A noise from the other side of the street caught his attention. He inhaled. Over the stench of sulfur, the faint scent of vampire came through. He glanced back toward the house. Mal was nowhere in sight.

He chalked the noise up to nerves and refocused on the problem at hand. The Nothos were close enough now that the glow of their yellow eyes shone through the darkness. The
smell of brimstone gagged Doc. Damn, those things were ripe.

Creek pulled the trigger. The bolt whistled home, thunking into the shoulder of one of the beasts. It screeched, causing the group to turn. A crapload of yellow eyes gazed up at Doc and Creek. Jaws unhinged, dripping saliva. Doc’s stomach rolled. Nasty. A few of the creatures sniffed the air, whining softly. Their elongated heads bobbed and they shuffled back and forth restlessly. A few of them trembled with what seemed like excitement.

Suddenly, one Nothos lurched forward, scrabbling up the wall toward them.

Doc whipped out a blade and Creek lined up his bow, but before either of them could react, a second Nothos lunged, grabbed hold of its brother, and yanked him off the wall. Words Doc didn’t understand were exchanged, then with a round of snarls and hisses, the Nothos retreated and headed back the way they’d come.

‘We scared them off,’ Creek said, shouldering his weapon.

Doc snorted. ‘You don’t scare Nothos off. Fear isn’t something they understand, it’s what they create. Something’s up.’ He jumped down to the grass shoulder. ‘I’m going after them.’

‘On foot?’

Doc shot Creek a look. ‘What? You can’t hang?’

‘I can hang as long as you can.’ Creek dropped onto the grass beside him. ‘Don’t you want to shift?’

Doc almost laughed. ‘I’d love to shift.’

‘Then do it. Won’t bother me.’

Like upsetting him was even a concern. ‘I can’t shift. Not fully.’ He morphed to his half-form. ‘This is as far as I can go.’

‘What’s up with that?’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Doc took off in a long, easy stride after the Nothos. Creek kept up without much effort. When they got too close, they slowed until the distance between them and the Nothos stayed safe and unnoticeable. Every once in a while, Doc glanced over his shoulder. His hackles were up, but he couldn’t figure out why. If there was a Nothos behind them, it was doing a killer job of staying hidden.

Over the Mephisto Island bridge and into Paradise City, then across another causeway and into a different neighborhood. Nice, but not as primo as Mephisto. They’d traveled almost an hour. Creek showed no signs of tiring. Doc reassessed the man beside him. ‘Chrysabelle says you’re a slayer.’