Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) (8 page)

She looked past him. ‘Where’s your sister?’ Unlike Pasha, Satima had no qualms about drinking whatever blood she could get.

He stared at her, his overlarge eyes unblinking. ‘Satima’s telling fortunes in Pride.’

Telling lies was more like it. ‘Good place for her.’ Each of Seven’s rooms was devoted to one of the seven deadly sins. Pride suited Satima. Especially since there wasn’t a room for Crazy. ‘I need to see Dominic. Can you take me to his office without leading me through the club? I don’t want to deal with security right now.’ Based on her last visit, she knew Ronan, the head of security, wouldn’t be too happy to see her.

Wicked light sparkled in his eyes. ‘Yes, but you will owe me a favor.’

‘No, she won’t. I’ll take her.’ Now,
this
was a fae she didn’t mind running into. Behind Pasha, the shadeux fae Mortalis materialized out of the dark hall and gave the haerbinger a hostile look. Light glinted off the silver filigree caps on Mortalis’s pointed ears and the tips of his horns. They curled from his forehead to his jawline. Even capped, the horns’ points were razor-sharp. ‘You get back to work.’

Pasha scowled and disappeared into the dark, leaving behind a cloud of patchouli.

Mortalis pulled the door open and gestured for her to enter. The barbs along his forearms lay flat against his skin, a sign he
didn’t consider her a threat. ‘Are you here about … the package?’

‘No,’ she said as she slid past the charcoal-blue fae. ‘It’s best where it is.’ Mortalis had been part of the rescue effort in Corvinestri and had proved himself a worthy ally. She wouldn’t have asked him to help her hide the ring otherwise. ‘No one knows, right?’

‘No one.’

‘Good. How have you been?’

‘Well, and you?’ He started walking. She fell into step beside him.

‘All right. Still trying to wrap my head around my aunt actually being my mother and the fact that she’s gone.’ She sighed. ‘How’s Nyssa? Is she completely healed?’ Chrysabelle felt some responsibility toward the girl. Under torture, Maris had given Nyssa’s name to Tatiana, and as a result, the remnant girl had almost died at Tatiana’s hands. Fortunately, most remnants were fairly resilient. Nyssa, with her wysper and shadeux bloodlines, was no exception. Noble vampires were foolish to consider remnants an untouchable class of being.

An uncommon smile lit Mortalis’s face. ‘She is … beautifully recovered.’

‘And?’ Chrysabelle smiled back. She had reason to believe the two had moved well past the acquaintance stage since Mortalis had insisted Nyssa convalesce at his home.

‘And learning to sign with two extra fingers is like trying to teach a fish to ride a bicycle.’

‘I’m sure she’s making it worth your while.’

Mortalis rested one six-fingered hand on his stomach. ‘Feeding me like a king.’

‘Well, you still have the waistline of a prince.’ She suppressed
the urge to chuckle. Laughing at a creature better armed than you was never a good idea. The twin hilts of a matched set of fae thinblades rose above his shoulders, but the weapons she couldn’t see beneath his dark green leathers definitely outnumbered her hidden ones. ‘I’m happy for the two of you. You should come over to the house sometime. Velimai would probably like some fae company.’

‘I’ll talk to Nyssa.’ He dropped his arm back to his side, the barbs along his forearm still flat to his skin. ‘You’re here to see Dominic?’ His voice held a hint of surprise.

‘Yes. I need to talk to him about my mother.’ They rounded a corner. The floor sloped downward, taking them into the underground levels of the building. ‘If anyone would have answers about her, it would be him.’

Mortalis nodded. ‘Yes. I’m not sure he’s here, however. Since your mother’s death, he’s been scarce around the club.’

‘His private quarters are here, aren’t they?’

‘Yes.’ There was hesitation in Mortalis’s voice and a frown on his face.

‘But? I’m practically his stepdaughter. Whatever it is, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you telling me.’ Stepdaughter? Had she really claimed that?

The fae sighed. ‘He keeps a penthouse on Venetian Island.’

‘I didn’t know that.’ But of course Mortalis would. He was Dominic’s personal bodyguard.

‘No one does, which is why I’m still here – to create the illusion that Dominic is as well.’ Mortalis glanced at her. ‘I trust you’ll keep that information to yourself. I’d hate to have to kill you.’

‘And I you.’

Mortalis grinned and a rush of crowd noise greeted them as
they started down a flight of stairs. Dominic’s office overlooked the Pits. They must be close. She never wanted to see that place again if she could help it. She’d killed her first fringe there in self-defense, and the act had happened with an ease that had both startled and amazed her. ‘Busy night?’

He rolled his stormy sea eyes. ‘Some special secret fight Katsumi arranged. Invite only, high rollers. She’s got Ronan tied up in it, too.’

‘Good. I don’t really want to see him again. What’s he doing for her?’

He held his hands up, fingers splayed. ‘I don’t know and I don’t care. Dominic put her in charge while he’s away, so any mess she makes is hers to clean up.’

‘You don’t like her much.’

He snorted. ‘She’s too ambitious. Among other things.’

‘I know all about that.’ She rolled her eyes. Another Tatiana in the making. Chrysabelle trailed her fingers along the concrete. Special luminescent paint gave the walls a soft glow. ‘What does Dominic see in her?’

‘Not as much as she thinks.’ Mortalis shrugged, his hidden weapons giving off a sound like a pocketful of change being rattled. ‘But she does get things done.’

He stopped before a door, little more than an outline in the concrete. It swung inward at the push of his hand. Down another short hall, then through a second door that Mortalis unlocked with a key he tucked back into his leathers, and they were inside Dominic’s office.

Mortalis turned on a few lights. Electric, of course. Dominic could afford just about anything he wanted.

The fae turned to go, then stopped. ‘You need anything? Nyssa says I should work on my hospitality skills.’

‘No, I’m fine.’ Chrysabelle adjusted her sacres before settling into one of the burgundy silk armchairs across from Dominic’s massive antique Renaissance-style desk. His office was a tribute to all things excessive. Marble, gilding, silk, antiques. Any human seeing this room would immediately believe every vampire myth Hollywood had ever perpetuated.

‘I’ll be back as soon as I find him. If he’s here. If not … I’ll be back sooner.’

He left, and she lolled her head back against the chair, closed her eyes, and listened to the braying crowds down in the Pits. Something had them wild. Behind her, a set of gilded French doors led to a balcony that overlooked the arena. Not that she had any desire to see what was going on down there. A mix of anger and sympathy washed through her just remembering what Mal had told her about having to fight there to earn the means to survive. As if he hadn’t survived enough in his life already.

And because of her, he had to survive a little longer.

She was a terrible person for not talking to him. She’d promised to help him, then gone silent. He’d had enough betrayal and false promises from Tatiana, he didn’t need them from her, too. She would go to him, explain, make him listen by force if need be. She had to let him know that she had every intention of helping him – especially now that she thought she’d figured out how to get to the Aurelian. There were parts of Mal she really liked. She wanted to at least be able to call him a friend. She almost laughed. A vampire for a friend. That was a step in putting her comarré life behind her.

The noise level surged. Someone was winning. Which meant someone was dying.

‘What are you doing in here?’

Chrysabelle’s eyes snapped open as her head came up and her
hands went to her wrist blades. She’d been so consumed in thought she hadn’t heard the door open. Katsumi stood on the other side of the office near a second entrance.

‘Waiting for Dominic.’

‘He’s in his quarters and he’s not to be disturbed.’

‘Mortalis went to check.’ Chrysabelle sank back in the chair and pretended to relax. Her hands stayed poised on her blades. Neither Mal nor Mortalis liked Katsumi. That was good enough for her.

Katsumi glided across the floor, her full-length silk coat fluttering out behind her. The tassels at the end of her hair sticks quivered. Chrysabelle would bet good money those doubled as weapons. ‘He’s not to be disturbed. Tell me what message you would like to leave for him, then you may stop wasting your time.’

‘Trying to get rid of me?’ Chrysabelle stood. She was at least seven or eight inches taller than Katsumi. With that advantage in reach, her sacre could turn Katsumi into ash without much effort.

‘This is no place for you.’

Sometimes playing dumb was fun. ‘There are plenty of women here.’

‘I mean because of what you are, comarré.’

‘Dominic has comarré working here. None like me, obviously, but I’m sure I’m perfectly safe, even if the head of security is still recuperating.’ She lifted her brows. ‘Or are you the one I should be wary of?’

‘No, of course not.’ The ice in Katsumi’s gaze belied the calm mask she’d molded her face into. ‘And Ronan is fine. Completely healed, despite your efforts.’

‘If I’d made an effort, he’d be dead.’

Katsumi sniffed. ‘Threats have little effect on me, comarré.’

‘I wasn’t making a threat. Just stating the truth.’ The crowd was chanting now. Sounded like the word
kill
. Chrysabelle glanced toward the French doors.

A small strangled noise left Katsumi’s throat.

Needing no more impetus, Chrysabelle walked toward the doors.

Mortalis returned. ‘I can’t find Dominic. He must be—’

‘Go home,’ Katsumi scolded. ‘Go home!’

Chrysabelle threw the doors open and stepped out onto the balcony. The crowd was frenzied, chanting, fists hammering the air. In the ring, one man lay prone on the concrete floor, blood spattered around him like confetti. His opponent crouched over him, his fists a blur as they pounded the prone man’s face into pulp. Rage seemed to pour off the upright vampire in swirling black lines.

The thump of her heartbeat overtook all other sound. She knew what she was seeing –
who
she was seeing – but her brain stalled, trying to spare her the inevitable. Trembling, she grabbed the balcony’s glass railing to steady herself.

She inhaled and the familiar sweetness wafting up from the bloody battle below coated her throat. The trembling wound up from her fingers and worked its way into her bones, caging her body in anger.

The prone man was Ronan.

The man covered in black ink was Malkolm.

And at least one of them had her blood running through his veins. Maybe both.

The railing shattered in her grip and sliced her palm. She dropped the shards of glass and backed away, trying to quell her anger. She clutched her hand to her chest. Blood dripped onto her white tunic, matching the straps of her sacre sheaths.

‘Wait.’ Mortalis held out his hand. Katsumi was already gone.

‘No.’ She ran past him, out of the office and through the club toward the main entrance, not caring who saw her or her weapons. She was leaving. Now.

A few seconds after she entered the club’s main floor, a fringe vamp stepped into her path. ‘Hello, fair comarré. Would you care to—’

Her bloody fist shut him up and knocked him out of the way. She was in no mood to be trifled with. By anyone.

Mortalis caught her in the foyer that served as the club’s final security threshold. ‘Wait a damn minute, will you?’

‘No.’ But she stopped. ‘I’m too angry to be here right now.’

‘Why do you care if Mal fights?’

‘I don’t. What he does is his business. But one of those two in that ring has my blood in them. I smelled it on them. Maybe both of them. If it wasn’t Mal, I want to know how Ronan got it. And if it was Mal, then why is he telling me he’s not drinking it? He can drink my blood but he can’t talk to me?’ Anger brought her hands up. ‘Just let me go. I need to think.’

‘You’re bleeding. At least let me wrap that for you.’

‘I’m fine.’ She turned and strode toward the exit. ‘This club has had enough of my blood for one night.’