Out for Blood (49 page)

She stopped suddenly and leaned a hand on the wall to steady herself. “That damned comarré. That’s how he did it.”

“What’s that, my lady?” One of the fringe guards who’d been escorting her stopped as well.

“He didn’t die,” she mumbled. “He went to smoke. Somehow, he found safety from the sun.” She shook her head, staring at the swirls of brown and gold and cream in the marble beneath her feet. “Because of that blood whore.”

“We need to get her back to her room.” The guard cupped her elbow. “Almost home now, Lady Tatiana.”

She yanked her arm away from him. “Don’t touch me.” Instead, she wrapped her arms around her body. Empty arms. Arms that should be holding her child. With a stifled sob, she marched forward.

One of the guards ran ahead and opened the door for her. She walked through and stopped, her arms falling away from her sides. “What… what happened?”

Just beyond the sitting room, Kosmina and Oana stood over an irregular pile of ashes. Kosmina had a dagger in her hand. She turned swiftly. “I tried to stop him, my lady. He was going on about betraying you and—”

“Who was? Who did you try to stop?”

Kosmina’s gaze shifted to the ashes. “Lord Octavian.”

Tatiana shook her head. “Who did he kill?”

Oana inhaled sharply. Kosmina swallowed and backed up a step. “My lady, I—”

“Who?” Tatiana demanded. “If someone was betraying me, I want a name. Now.”

Kosmina’s fingers tightened around the dagger’s hilt. “Lord Octavian, my lady.”

Darkness crept in at the edges of Tatiana’s field of vision. “I don’t understand. Who did he kill? Tell me.”

“My lady, I am trying to.” Kosmina stared her squarely in the eyes. “These ashes are Lord Octavian’s. He killed himself.”

Tatiana’s knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor. “No,” she whispered. “No, that can’t be.” Then the darkness swept in and mercifully took her with it.

Chapter Forty-Seven

C
hrysabelle kept her head down and her eyes closed and let Mortalis handle the situation. Despite the seriousness of their circumstances, she almost laughed thinking about how Mal really had become a dark cloud above her. She tugged the coat up a little higher to cover more of her face.

The knock on the window came a few seconds later. Then the whirr of the motor bringing the glass down.

“What’s the issue?” Mortalis asked.

“We need to inspect the vehicle.”

“What for?”

“Looking for someone. You and everyone inside, out. Now.”

“It’s just me and my master’s comarré. You can look behind me if you like, she’s the only one in the car. She’s passed out sick. Some kind of blood poisoning, they think. Anyway, I need to get her to the plane before she vomits again.”

“Put the back window down.”

More whirring and a little cool air kissed her ankles. She tensed, feeling eyes on her. Mal wouldn’t get sucked out the window, would he? She imagined not. He seemed to be able to control his smoke form well enough.

The guard yelled to someone, “She’s alone. What do you want to do?”

Chrysabelle moaned softly for effect. If the guards pulled her out of the car, they’d have no option but to fight and even with Mal and Mortalis, the odds weren’t good.

Mal’s coat muffled the guards’ distant conversation, so she couldn’t quite make out the words. “What’s happening?” she whispered.

Mortalis stayed quiet. It must not be safe for him to speak. She heard a soft tapping and opened her eyes a slit. He’d dropped one hand behind the seat and was rapping a finger on the leather upholstery.

“What?” she whispered.

He started signing.
Guards trying to decide what to do. Not sure the outcome yet.
He stopped signing but left his hand where it was.
They’re coming back.
He pulled his hand away and she closed her eyes again.

“Are we done?” he asked.

“We’re sending a guard with you. You won’t be able to return for your master without him. Unlock the back door.”

At the snick of the lock, Chrysabelle held back a groan, but the guard’s fate was sealed. Whoever got in the car with them was about to die.

The door was opened and she felt the movement across from her as the guard settled in. Fringe by the smell of him. The door slammed shut and a gruff voice said, “Move it, fae.”

The car rolled forward. Chrysabelle kept her eyes closed. Something—a finger, the muzzle of a gun—poked her in the leg. She didn’t move.

“So what’s this comarré got?”

“Blood poisoning. Had to get her out of the crowd before she infected any of the others.”

“Others? Other vampires? Is she contagious?” The gruffness turned to fear.

“Maybe. Don’t know.” Mortalis was clearly enjoying this.

“She better not be.”

“I’d stay as far to that other side of the car as you can,” Mortalis responded. “In case she throws up again.”

For effect, Chrysabelle made a little gagging sound.

The guard swore. “Hurry up and get to the hangars.”

“We’re through the gates. I guess there’s no reason I can’t go a little faster.” Mortalis stomped on the gas. The guard lurched into her legs and scrambled to get off her, pulling the coat off her in the process.

“What the hell? You’re the comarré they’re looking for!”

She opened her eyes to the barrel of a gun.

The guard kept it leveled at her but spoke to Mortalis. “Turn this car around right now.”

A curtain of smoke formed between her and the guard. Moments later, Mal reappeared. He shook his head. “This car isn’t going anywhere. And neither are you.” He grabbed the gun out of the shocked guard’s hands and tossed it into the front seat with Mortalis.

The guard tried to crawl after it, but Mal held on to him. “Chrysabelle, blade.”

She pulled a dagger from her skirts and shoved it through the guard’s chest.

His shocked expression disappeared in a cloud of ash. She sneezed. Mortalis buzzed the back windows down and the ash flew out into the night.

He glanced in the rearview, his mouth a firm line but an odd spark in his eyes. “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

Mal slid back in the seat beside Chrysabelle, knocking the last of the ash from his hands. “We’re not home yet.”

Chrysabelle relaxed as they pulled through the hangar doors without further incident. Just as she’d hoped, the second plane was gone. Only Amery and the hostages remained in the building. He approached as they got out of the car.

“The laudanum’s still got the vamps knocked out. Dominic took the comarré with them. She wanted to go. Damian was pretty insistent about it.”

Chrysabelle shook a little ash off her skirt. “That’s fine. I was going to speak to her about returning with us before we left anyway.” What was one more comarré in Paradise City? Maybe this one would prove a decent ally. Chrysabelle tipped her head toward the vampires slumped against the far wall. “How long before they wake up?”

“A few more hours at least. They’ll probably be stuck in here until the sun goes down again.”

“All the better,” Mal said. “We’re ready to go if you are.”

Amery scanned them. “Aren’t you supposed to have a baby with you?”

“Didn’t work out,” Chrysabelle said. And at this point, she didn’t really care. She just wanted to be done with Tatiana and the whole sordid mess. She’d deal with the KM when the time came.

Mortalis went to the hangar door, chucked the car keys into the night, and walked back. “Let’s go.”

Chrysabelle got on the plane first. The sooner she could ditch this bloody dress, the better. She headed straight for her bag and the clothes she’d worn in.

Mortalis stopped her from opening the closet, his six fingers splayed out on the sleek ivory exterior. “I know you want to change, but wait until we’re airborne. We need to get out of here as soon as we can, and Amery won’t take off until you’re in your seat. He’s a stickler like that.”

“Okay.” She sat down and buckled in as Mortalis joined Amery in the cockpit.

Mal sat beside her and took her hand. “I know things didn’t go as planned, but we got your brother out and didn’t lose anyone. Could have been much worse.”

She nodded. The plane started rolling forward. “Octavian claimed to be the one who took the pictures of Damian after Tatiana had him beaten. I would have never guessed he was KM.”

“That explains how you got the child from him and his reluctance to attack you.” Mal was quiet for a moment. “She’ll kill him if she suspects.”

She sighed and stared at their interwoven fingers. “I suppose he knew the risks going in. He let her turn him.” She looked at Mal, into those dark, comforting eyes that hadn’t changed despite Dominic’s disguise. “He might have been drifting toward the other side.” She shrugged. “The noble life has its perks.”

The forces of takeoff shoved them back. Mal brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Tatiana claimed him as consort. That’s as close to being married as most vampires get.”

She broke eye contact, shifting her gaze to her lap. And what was left of her mother’s wedding dress.

He let her hand go. “Dress is kind of ruined.”

She nodded. “I don’t think Maris would mind. It was a good cause.”

“Do you ever think about… marriage?”

She laughed before she realized he was serious. “That’s not part of the comarré plan. Ever.”

“You’re not comarré anymore. Haven’t been for a while, really.”

She inhaled deeply. “Your disguise is starting to fade. I can see your face coming through underneath.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

The strands of something bright and frightening worked through her belly. “I…” Her ability to breathe had been compromised by the thoughts he’d put into her head. “Is there a reason you want to know?”

Silver sparkled in his gaze. “I’m not getting any younger.”

“You’re not really getting any older, either.”

“Chrysabelle, you know what I mean. I love you. You love me. Why shouldn’t we make things more permanent?”

“Permanent is a long time.”

“Something we both understand very well.”

“Maris and Dominic didn’t work. Why would you and I be any different?”

“Because we would be. We’re not them. There aren’t any secrets between us.” He laid his hand over hers. “You’re trembling and your heart rate is going at the same speed as this plane. I didn’t mean to scare you, so I’ll just drop it.” He settled back into his seat and closed his eyes, but even she could tell he was disappointed.

“You really do love me, don’t you?”

He answered without opening his eyes. “Enough that it frightens me, too.”

His being scared made it a little easier to take. Like they were both on the same side of things, which they were, but his words just solidified how true that was. She loved him. She did. She wasn’t comarré anymore and shouldn’t be bound by any of those rules or standards. Didn’t want to be, really. What she wanted was a life of her own, where the decisions she made came from her heart and not a head full of rules. Fingers shaking, she unbuckled her seat belt and stood.

He looked up at her, the last vestiges of his disguise slipping off his skin. “Leaving?”

“I need to get out of this dress.” She held her quivering hand out to him and tried to keep her heart from exploding and her voice from cracking. “Maybe… maybe you could help me?”

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He licked his bottom lip and blinked slowly. “Are you asking me—”

“Yes.”

He was out of his seat a split second later and pulling her into his arms. “It’s been a really long time since I… helped a woman out of her dress.”

“Well, it’s been never for me.” She smiled at the absurdity of her nerves. “We’ll figure it out, though, right?”

Eyes shining silver, he kissed the corners of her smile and she realized she wasn’t the only one trembling. “Hell, yes.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

B
ehind the closed door of the plane’s bedroom, with Chrysabelle in his arms, the throb of her life in his veins and the full impact of what they’d just done, there was no way Mal wasn’t asking her again. So he did, inciting the voices to levels that would have been unbearable if not for the fresh blood in his system. “Marry me.”
Fool fool fool.