Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) (40 page)

The voices began to chant for the man to shoot.

Chrysabelle put her hands out and stepped squarely in front of the rifle. If Mal had breath to hold, he would have. Instead he stepped out of the way. She would not be his shield. Suddenly she smiled at Slim Jim like Mal had never seen before. Her entire face seemed lit from within, and her signum sparkled and shimmered like a coating of diamond dust. He’d never believed the comarré had magic until now.

‘Hello.’ Her voice was a soft, breathy purr. She reached one delicate hand toward Slim Jim. ‘I’m Chrysabelle.’

Slim Jim’s mouth hung open. Mal felt a little slack jawed himself. Slim Jim let go of the rifle and took her hand. ‘James Chiles. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss.’

She held his hand and came closer, her smile never wavering. ‘Mr. Chiles, our friend is in horrible danger.’ She closed her other hand around his, capturing his old weathered paw between her palms. A twinge of jealousy rose up in Mal that she would embrace the old man that way, but he knew she was doing it for Doc and for that, the jealousy gave way to pride. ‘I would consider it a great personal favor if you could help us.’

Five minutes later, they were in an airboat and headed after Doc.

T
atiana watched the boat carrying Malkolm and the comarré shrink into the distance. Something buzzed near her ear. She swatted at it. From the small side road where they’d pulled off, the kine’s cabin was visible. Another of the boats with the big fans on the back sat parked along his dock. They’d stuck the car behind some sort of three-sided shed. Octavian had called it a hunting blind.

He came jogging back down the path that led from the kine’s cabin. ‘There aren’t any more boats.’ He stopped beside her. ‘The kine who rents them out is smarter than he looks. His cabin is circled in salt, silver, and iron filings. He’s obviously done business with othernaturals before.’

She didn’t care one iota about the kine and what he knew or didn’t know. She needed a boat to go after the comarré. ‘I can see a boat from here.’

‘The motor’s missing out of it.’

She pounded her fist on the car hood. ‘Bloody hell,’ she snarled.

The car rocked. A bleary-eyed Ivan opened the door and nearly fell out. ‘Where are we?’

‘Everglades,’ Octavian answered.

‘And we’re wasting time,’ Tatiana said. She clenched her fists, wishing she had something more to pummel.

‘We’ll have to go back to the comarré’s house and wait for her to return.’ Octavian shrugged.

‘No,’ she hissed. ‘We’re going after them. I am tired of waiting. Tired of being so close I could reach out and grab her gaudy little neck and yet, she still escapes me.’

‘How will we follow them with no boat?’

She loathed leaving Octavian behind, but he might not be able to follow. ‘We’ll scatter and go after them that way.’

Ivan perked up from where he’d slumped against the car. ‘Who are we following again?’

She sighed. Babysitting a Dominus was ridiculous. ‘The comarré, Lord Ivan.’

He climbed to his feet and stretched. ‘It smells like sewage out here. I’d be happy to scatter if it means not smelling this swamp anymore.’

Tatiana didn’t bother explaining that they’d be heading deeper into it.

Octavian frowned. ‘I guess I’ll stay with the car.’

She went to his side. ‘You should try to scatter. You come from a line of vampires who hold the power in great abundance. I scattered the very day Lord Ivan resired me.’

Octavian sniffed. ‘But you’d been a vampire for years already.’

‘Makes no difference. Try.’

Octavian shook his head. ‘I don’t know how.’

Tatiana turned to her inebriated sire. ‘Lord Ivan, would you scatter and show your grandchild how easy it is?’

Lord Ivan puffed up like a bloated pigeon. ‘Quite.’ He took a few paces away from the car, stopped, and stood very still. A
moment later his body dissolved into a swarming mass of black flies. They held his shape for a second, then buzzed into a low, undulating cloud hovering near the car.

‘See?’ Tatiana asked. ‘Easy. Just imagine you can and you will.’ She hoped. Not all vampires could, and lineage was no assurance. Just like she’d never been able to duplicate Malkolm’s talent. None had. She’d always thought it was some kind of abomination due to him killing his sire.

Octavian nodded and stepped back. He squeezed his eyes shut and looked like he was holding the breath he no longer required.

Not surprisingly, nothing happened.

‘You’re trying too hard,’ she told him. ‘Just imagine yourself lifting off the ground, as light as the air around you but … part of it.’ Describing the ability to scatter was harder than doing it. She reached out and squeezed his hand. If he didn’t get it this time, he would have to stay behind. Time was running out. ‘Relax.’

He shook himself, loosening up, and kept his eyes open. ‘Light as air,’ he whispered.

And gasped as he broke apart into a shining cluster of clicking metal scarabs. The tiny gunmetal wings whirred around her with what she imagined was Octavian’s joy at achieving what he’d wanted so badly. But metal scarabs? She glanced at her artificial hand. How much of Zafir’s magic had spilled into her when he’d attached her hand?

Something to think about later. Right now, she had a comarré to capture. She scattered into a cloud of wasps and joined Octavian’s scarabs in the night sky. With Ivan’s fat, buzzing flies lagging behind, they started out over the water.

The comarré would never know they’d followed her until it was too late.

*

‘Slow down,’ Dominic directed Maddoc. Having the varcolai drive the airboat was probably not the best idea, but he was the only one who knew how. Not that it seemed so difficult now. ‘Any unnecessary noise and I’ll feed you to Chewie.’ Dominic didn’t want to alert Aliza to their presence until the last possible moment. Fortunately, the boat slipped silently across the water’s surface.

Maddoc grunted in response. Ronan adjusted the shotgun across his lap. The bullets might not slow a vampire, but they’d do a good job of stopping a witch.

The stilt houses loomed ahead. A few lights twinkled through the windows, but for the most part they seemed quiet. Still, he expected Aliza would be up. She’d kept odd hours since he’d known her, which was far too long for his liking.

Her dock came into view, her horrid guard alligator, Chewie, sprawled near the base of the stairs leading to the living quarters. That creature would be better off as shoes. Dominic reached into his pocket, feeling the tops of the stashed vials to be sure he had the right one. Satisfied with his selection, he pulled two out, keeping his pinky and ring finger curled around one while he tossed the other toward the creature. It fell with enough force to shatter against the boards. Thin wisps of green vapor seeped out of the vial’s remains.

The gator lifted its head, but before it could hiss in warning, it went limp. The sleeping gas had done its job.

The boat bumped the dock and Dominic glared at Maddoc. The varcolai shrugged like it had been an accident, but Dominic doubted it. He motioned for Ronan to tie the boat up, then he went to work shackling Maddoc’s hands behind his back and muffling him with a gag. The varcolai reeked of blood, but there’d been no point in letting him change after Ronan had
recaptured him. He was going to die. He didn’t need clean clothes for that.

Ronan stepped onto the dock, keeping a safe distance from Chewie. He kept his shotgun aimed in the creature’s direction while Dominic got Maddoc out of the boat. The gator never moved as Dominic marched Maddoc over Chewie and up the stairs. Ronan stayed behind to watch Dominic’s back as they’d discussed. Ronan wouldn’t be able to enter Aliza’s anyway without an invitation, something that Dominic didn’t have to worry about.

Anyone who used his products automatically provided him with entrance into their homes. Granted, none of them knew his products carried this implied consent, but he’d never felt the need to label his goods that way. Building in fail-safes was the sign of a smart alchemist. Dominic hadn’t gotten to where he was by being a fool.

He kept Maddoc in front of him as they approached the front door. ‘Try anything and I’ll toss you over the side,’ he whispered as he leaned past to rap on the door.

More lights came on and a slightly built older man answered the door. He took one look at Maddoc, then his gaze skipped to Dominic. ‘Aliza, I think you better come here.’

Dominic shoved Maddoc forward, crossing the threshold with ease. ‘Yes, she’d better. She’s got something that belongs to me, and if it isn’t returned, I am going to lose my temper.’

Aliza came rushing into the room. She skidded to a stop when she saw Dominic. ‘How did you get in? You don’t have an invitation.’

He glanced at the stone figure of Evie. ‘Your daughter gave me one years ago.’

Aliza’s breath hitched. ‘Get out of my house, vampire. You’re not welcome here.’

Still holding tight to Maddoc’s shackles, he advanced. ‘But my blood is, isn’t it? I’m not leaving until you return the blood this creature’ – he shoved Maddoc to the floor – ‘stole from me.’

The man who’d opened the door charged. Dominic tossed the second vial he’d secured in his hand. It smashed to the floor and the man couldn’t stop in time to avoid the cloud of chemicals rising up from it. He tripped through them, coughing as he emerged. He dropped to his knees and passed out.

Aliza’s gray eyes darkened in anger. ‘You’re not the only one with power, leech.’ She raised her hands. They glowed with the luminescence of witch magic.

Dominic laughed. ‘But I am the only one who can bring your daughter back.’

M
al had half expected Creek to try something, like veering the boat sharply to one side in an attempt to pitch him off, but Creek did nothing of the kind.
Too bad.
Most likely because such a move would have affected Chrysabelle as well. The spell she’d cast – because what she’d done back there was nothing short of magic – hadn’t only affected the old man. Creek had clearly been swayed by it, going quiet and moony-eyed like a lovesick schoolboy.
Like you.

Mal stared at the boat’s wake, losing himself in the curl of white against the black water. If Dominic killed Doc, everything would change. Mal would not let the shifter’s death go unavenged.
Yes, kill, kill, kill.
Doc had saved Mal’s hide more than once. He was the closest thing to a friend Mal had. But more than that, Mal understood why he’d stolen Dominic’s blood, and Dominic should, too. If saving Maris had meant taking Doc’s blood, Dominic wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Mal would do it for Chrysabelle, too.
She wouldn’t do it for you.

Dominic had always been a cruel, concise man. Things with him were black and white, with few shades of gray. Although
Mal had no idea how Dominic justified giving Katsumi navitas after all she’d done. He straightened a little as the plan for Doc’s defense began to solidify in his head.

If Dominic refused to see reason and let Doc go, Mal would claim the right to take Katsumi’s life as equal justice for her stealing Chrysabelle’s blood. It was the same thing, except Katsumi’s reasoning had nothing to do with saving the life of someone she loved and everything to do with greed.