Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) (5 page)

Maris had won, but the ritual had left her crippled, unable to walk until years of secret rehabilitation enabled her to regain some mobility. It had also freed her from her patron and allowed her and Dominic, her vampire lover, to leave the noble realm and live a somewhat normal life. At least until Maris had left Dominic. Why she’d done that, Chrysabelle had yet to uncover.

Maris had been exceptional at keeping secrets. Even Dominic hadn’t known that she’d regained her ability to walk over the years. In the end, that secret had made it possible for her to kill Chrysabelle’s patron and escape without detection, all in an effort to free Chrysabelle so she might live a life beyond the servitude of the comarré world, something Chrysabelle had long wanted.

Maris had gotten her wish. But at what price? Even Dominic had paid highly. His noble family, the house of St. Germain, had declared him anathema for loving the comarré of one of his peers and causing that comarré to claim libertas, during which her patron had been killed. The council had blamed him for the patron’s death. And although killing another vampire was an unforgivable sin, he had escaped with his life because he had only been the cause and hadn’t actually dealt the killing blow. Not that Dominic was suffering now.

His nightclub, Seven, seemed to be doing very well. The man wore expensive suits, had his own plane. Once a week, he laid
a blanket of white roses on Maris’s grave. And he might indulge in some things that were not exactly above board, but Chrysabelle couldn’t help but feel some affection for the man who still obviously loved her mother.

She returned to the journal but had read only a few pages when the intercom chimed twice, indicating the guard at the main gates was calling.

Velimai came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She threw it over her shoulder and signed,
Are you expecting someone?

‘No, but that’s okay. I’ll get it.’ Chrysabelle got up to answer the intercom. ‘Yes?’

‘Ms. Lapointe, there is a visitor here, but they’re not on your list. Should I let them in?’

‘Who is it?’

After a brief pause, the guard responded. ‘He says he works for Mr. Scarnato and has a message from him.’

She chewed her bottom lip. If someone meant her harm, why would they bother stopping at the guard shack? Why not find another way in? Although using Dominic’s name was a pretty good ruse. ‘He’s alone?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Let him through.’

‘Very good, ma’am.’

She checked the closed-circuit monitor that showed the gates into the property. Those gates had to be opened manually, which would give her time to react if whoever was in that vehicle was up to something. Instinctively, she felt for her wrist blades, but she wasn’t in the habit of rearming herself once she’d gotten ready for bed. Perhaps that would have to change. She turned. ‘Velimai, could you get my—’

Velimai stood behind her, Chrysabelle’s sacre in her upraised hands.

‘Sword.’ Smiling, Chrysabelle took the weapon, careful not to touch the wysper’s sandpaper skin. ‘Thanks.’

Should I get Maris’s sacre as well?
she signed.

‘No. I plan on keeping her rule of no vampires in the house, so whoever this is won’t be coming in.’ She slipped her arm through the red leather strap on the sheath and hung the sacre over her shoulder. ‘Assuming it’s a vamp.’

Good,
Velimai signed.
I’ll be in the kitchen. Call if you need me.

‘Will do.’

As Velimai headed into the other room, Chrysabelle turned back to the monitor. A sleek black car stopped outside the gates. The window tinting prevented seeing into the vehicle, but the driver put the window down and leaned out, presumably to let her get a good look at him. She recognized him as one of the fringe vamps who had piloted Dominic’s plane to Corvinestri on the trip to save Maris. What was his name? Leo? Yes, that was it.

He pressed the intercom button. ‘Evening, Ms. Lapointe. I’m alone.’

She leaned on the wall and pushed the button to be heard. ‘Good evening, Leo. Get out of the car and walk in. I’ll buzz the pedestrian gate.’

He gave a thumbs-up, got out of the car, and walked to the left where a smaller gate allowed pedestrians to come and go.

She punched the buzzer. He pushed through and headed toward the house. She kept tabs on him via the monitor on his way to the front door. She opened it before he could knock.

‘Here you are.’ Leo handed her a sealed envelope.

She took it. ‘Be right back.’

‘I’ll just stay here.’ He backed away but stayed within the pale glow cast by the entrance lights.

Yes,
she thought,
you will
. She shut the door and ran her nail beneath the seal. It occurred to her as she read the note within that she had no way of knowing if the handwriting belonged to Dominic or not.

Buonasera, dearest Chrysabelle,

I am sorry to approach you this way, but I find the events of the past few weeks have weakened me more than I anticipated. My heart seems incapable of healing, and my body has followed suit. Please, bella, it shames me to ask, but if you could provide me with the nourishment to return to my full strength, I would consider it a great boon and be indebted to you for my eternity. I know well the value of what you can provide, so if you are not so inclined, I understand and hold no ill will.

Ciao,

Dominic Scarnato

She stared at the note. Then read it again. It meant exactly what she thought it did. Dominic wanted blood. Her blood. Well, what he wanted was comarré blood. She couldn’t blame him. Comarré blood meant power and strength unlike anything human blood could provide. Dominic had been through so much and had done so much for her. After they’d returned from Corvinestri, he’d sent his cypher fae, Solomon, to the house to prepare a special ward to erase the house’s location from
Tatiana’s memory. How he’d done that exactly, she didn’t know, but Dominic’s alchemy was strong. He was a good man at heart. She would give him the blood. After all, Malkolm didn’t want it. Maybe she could even get Dominic to go with her to fight Tatiana. No doubt he wanted her dead as much as Chrysabelle.

The sacre no longer necessary, she unhooked the sword from her shoulder and rested it against one of the large Oriental vases flanking the foyer entrance. She opened the door. ‘I’ll be right back with a package for Dominic.’

The fringe nodded. ‘Very good.’

She went to the kitchen and placed two containers of blood from the fridge into the cryopack she’d previously used to send blood to Mal. He’d sent the pack back empty, but she knew full well he hadn’t drunk the blood. Fine. He could be a child. She wasn’t going to allow herself to revisit the hurt she’d felt over his rejection. Wasn’t going to dwell on the fact that comarré rule held such a rejection to be akin to human divorce. Now Dominic would benefit from what she had to offer. Better than it going to waste. Of course, if Mal did still hold her blood rights, giving blood to another vampire was … very wrong, to put it plainly. She shoved down the proper comarré thoughts and did her best to ignore the nagging urges of her past.

Part of her – the small, feminine, rebellious part of her that had begun to strengthen these last few weeks – even hoped Mal found out. Maybe it would spur him to action.

She returned and handed the cooler to Leo. ‘Tell Dominic I hope he’s well, and I’ll speak to him soon.’

‘Will do.’ The fringe nodded, fidgeting a bit, then walked back toward the car.

She shut the door and returned to the journal she’d set aside. An hour into reading, her gaze caught on a sentence.

And so, I had found a way to the Aurelian outside ordinary means.

Chrysabelle read the sentence again. And again. Then she read further, devouring the information. To think, all this time …

Journal in hand, she ran upstairs to her suite, skidding down the marble-tiled halls. Before her angled dressing room mirrors, she dropped her robe, turned halfway, and lifted her hair to study the gold markings covering her back. Her signum shone like living stars, glittering and moving with each breath she took.

Holy mother, if what Maris said was true, there was no need to return to Corvinestri to get to the comarré historian.

At last she could tell Mal she was ready to pay her share of the debt and take him to the Aurelian, the one person who might know how to break his curse. The way was written on her skin.

Doc shivered in the freighter’s murky hold. Not because of the dark or because of the need to change coursing through his body on this second night of the full moon, but because of the fear that Fiona wouldn’t show again. And that if she did, he wouldn’t be able to help her.

Of all the hard realizations of his life, the most recent had come to him last night as he lay in bed replaying over and over the ethereal scene he’d witnessed.

He loved Fiona. He’d never said it out loud, but it was the straight-up truth. No one had ever got him the way she had. So what if she was human? Or a ghost. He didn’t care. He just wanted her back.

And so he fought the change that had bested him last night, because he needed to speak to her, and holding on to that ability meant holding on to his human shape. If he had to stand here all night, dripping sweat and shaking with the effort, he would.

He didn’t have to.

A soft flicker of white broke the darkness up ahead. Doc strained to see, his varcolai eyes catching every stray mote of light. A shape emerged. A girl with a flashlight and a backpack and the most beautiful face Doc had ever seen.

He positioned himself in the beam of light. ‘Fiona, it’s me, Doc. Can you hear me?’

She faltered, her translucent brows furrowing. She glanced over her shoulder.

Doc waved his arms. ‘Right here, Fi. I’m right here.’

She spun her flashlight around. ‘Is there someone here?’

‘Yeah, me. Doc. Maddoc.’ He moved closer. She had to hear him. Then maybe she could tell him how to help her.

Her gaze hesitated on him. Then her eyes widened in what he could only hope was recognition. ‘I know you.’

Relief swept through him so quickly he almost shifted right then. ‘Yeah, baby, it’s me … Doc. The leopard-shifter. I live here’ – he spread his arms wide to indicate the freighter – ‘with you and Mal, the vampire. Or you used to live here, until … ’ Maybe he shouldn’t tell her she’d died a second time.

She laughed. ‘Leopard-shifter? Vampire? That’s silly. There are no such things as vamp—’

A thin, dark shape lunged up out of the tangible blackness surrounding her and grabbed hold.

Mal. The scene from last night was repeating itself.

Her mouth opened in a piercing scream. The flashlight tumbled from her hand and landed with the beam pointed at her.

‘No!’ Doc shouted. He reached for her, but his hand passed through her like she was nothing more than a dream.

Not a dream. A nightmare. Last night’s gruesome scene replayed in hellish detail.

Mal was almost a skeleton. Just bones with a little skin stretched over them. He clung to Fi and sank his fangs into her throat, tearing the flesh like paper. Blood gushed down the front of her college sweatshirt. He gorged himself as the fight drained out of her body. Her fists flew against him, their pummeling turning into weak flutters. Her feet twitched on the stone floor of the nightmare’s ruins.

Helplessness made Doc’s hands tremble. Mal raised his head and stared through him with hazy eyes. A remnant of flesh hung from Mal’s emaciated jaw. Once again, Fi lay dead at his feet.

Doc dropped to his knees and tried vainly to reach her a second time. Her image flickered around his hand and then she and Mal were gone.

Exhausted by the effort of holding off the change, Doc slumped forward and shifted instantly.

In cat form, he panted, grieving, until sleep crept over him.

A woman’s voice calling his name woke him up. Fi? He wasn’t sure. He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a meow. The change was too fully seated for him to shift back to human now. He must have been asleep for only an hour or two. He shook himself and ran toward the voice.

Again, the female voice called out for him. Then for Mal.

It wasn’t Fi. It was Chrysabelle.

He bounded up the stairs as she continued to call out. He ran down the passageway toward her, but the hatch ahead of him was shut. There was no way he could open it without hands. He cried loudly and scratched at the door.

‘Doc? Is that you?’

He meowed in answer.

The door opened and Chrysabelle walked through. ‘Why are you locked in here? Where’s Mal?’

He rubbed against her legs, unable to help himself. She kneeled down and scratched behind his ears. Man, that felt good. A soft grumbling vibrated from his chest.

The scratching stopped when she stood up. ‘Can you take human form? This is very important. I need to talk to Mal.’

Yes and no questions he could handle. And if he was locked in, he assumed Mal had done that because he’d gone out. Doc sat on his haunches and shook his head slowly.