Forbidden Blood: A House of Comarré Novella Read online

  Forbidden Blood

  A HOUSE OF COMARRÉ NOVELLA

  Kristen Painter

  www.orbitbooks.net

  www.orbitshortfiction.com

  Begin Reading

  Meet the Author

  Bonus Material

  About Orbit Short Fiction

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  For Laura, who always knows what happens next.

  Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Welcome Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Meet the Author

  Also by Kristen Painter

  Bonus Material

  About Orbit Short Fiction

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Corvinestri, Romania, 2042

  With a wary eye on the vampire across from him, Dominic raised his glass of Brunello. “You didn’t call me all the way from Tesoro just to share a bottle of wine, Arnaud.” The trip from the House of St. Germain’s hidden city in Italy had not been so long or so tiring. But not knowing what such a powerful member of the Tepes family wanted of him? That set Dominic on edge.

  Arnaud smiled and lifted his goblet as well. “Enough small talk, then.” He took a sip of the dark wine before putting the glass aside and leaning into the depths of the sofa cushions. With one ankle crossed over his knee, he began. “I have a project for you.”

  Dominic relaxed slightly. The nobility often called upon him for his skills, some for very serious reasons, some for simple tasks. He doubted Arnaud’s would be one of the latter. “What can I do for you?”

  Arnaud’s smile took on an unpleasantness that brought the tension back into Dominic’s body. “You have turned your gift of alchemy into something much greater than many of your house. How is that so?”

  Dominic shrugged. “I study. I practice. I take my work very seriously.” And he was willing to use ingredients that others might consider questionable. “I do not merely rest on my inherent abilities. I strive to improve them.”

  “Which is exactly why I knew you’d be the right man for this job.” Arnaud picked up his glass and strode to the bar. He waved the servants away. “Leave us.” As they filed out, he refilled his glass, then held the bottle toward Dominic.

  “No, grazie.” All he wanted was to know more about this job.

  Arnaud returned to his seat. “This task is not an easy one, I’m sure. Otherwise, someone else would have already asked you to accomplish such a thing, but I’ve heard you don’t shrink from the difficult.”

  Dominic raised one brow. “So much buildup.” He swirled the wine in his glass, the thoughts of his past work doing the same in his head. “What is this task?”

  Arnaud hesitated, his jaw shifting as his eyes flickered silver for a moment. Whatever this was, he wanted it badly. He cleared his throat. “I wish to be able to see the sun again.”

  Relief flooded Dominic. He smiled and nodded. “That is not so hard.”

  But Arnaud didn’t seem to share Dominic’s opinion. “I wish to be able to see it whenever I desire.”

  “I understand. I can do this.” And he could have done it without Arnaud’s demand for a face-to-face meeting. He stood, buttoning his suit coat. “I will return home immediately and begin work. A few weeks, no more, and I will have something for—”

  “Sit.” Silver rimmed Arnaud’s eyes. “I am not merely looking for a potion to drink or an unguent to spread over my skin. I want something more permanent. More…available.”

  Dominic unbuttoned his jacket and sat back down, a sense of dread rising in his belly. “I cannot make you a daywalker permanently.”

  Sitting back slightly, Arnaud splayed his fingers outward. “Of course. I understand that. We are vampires, after all.” He pinched the pleat of his trousers, straightening it. “I just want you to transform the blood of my comarré so that when I drink from her, I have twenty-four hours of immunity.” He tipped his head and his sly, crooked smile returned. “That is all.”

  A slow, simmering anger wormed through Dominic’s veins. “That is all,” he repeated, not caring that his tone was less than respectful. “Hah. Such a small thing you ask.” He stood and paced to the far side of the library. His temper could ruin him—he knew that—so he struggled to control the urge to lash out at Arnaud’s unreasonable desires. “It is not possible.”

  Arnaud laughed. “Oh, I think it is, my dear friend.”

  They were not friends. Acquaintances, yes, but not friends. Not now. “You’re asking me to change the physiology of a living being. Permanently. So that she can act as…as…some kind of a miracle dispenser.”

  The silver in Arnaud’s gaze tarnished. “This is a comarré we are speaking of. Their sole purpose is to provide us with blood. They exist for this. I am only asking you to enhance that blood.”

  “You understand nothing of the ways of alchemy.” Dominic shook his head, Arnaud’s superiority so typical of Tepes nobles. “It’s not a matter of pointing a finger and muttering a word. This isn’t the dark arts of the House of Bathory; this is alchemy, an unpredictable science at best. I cannot take a frog and make it forever a sparrow. Temporarily, with the right experimentation, I could transform it for a few hours, but it would always remain a frog beneath its feathers. To take a human and make them something else…the experimentation, the testing, the possibility that something could go irrevocably wrong… No.” He threw his hands up. “I will not do this. There is no amount of money.”

  Again, laughter. “You are both right and wrong. No, there is no amount of money because this job is going to be your gift to me. And, yes, you are most definitely going to do this.”

  Dominic narrowed his eyes. “I think not.”

  Arnaud casually walked back to the bar for another glass of wine. “And I think you will because you value your life.”

  “You’re threatening to kill me if I do not agree?” The Tepes house was known for its bloodthirstiness, but he’d not expected his life to be in danger over a job.

  “Not kill you, no. Not directly anyway. Merely expose you.”

  A chill settled into Dominic’s bones. Surely Arnaud did not know enough to accomplish that. “Expose me how?”

  “The special services you offer? I’m sure the Council of Dominus would be very interested to hear about those. How many have you turned to ash over the years? Ten? Twenty? More?” He drained the last drops of red into his glass and discarded the empty bottle. “I have evidence of only three, but the precision with which you work, the confidence with which you enable your clients to move so gracefully into their end, well, that speaks of practice, doesn’t it? And you did say that’s how you’ve become so good at your trade.”

  Dumbstruck, Dominic stared at him.

  “You should not trust the kine to keep the secrets of their masters.” Arnaud tapped the side of his temple. �
��So easy to persuade.”

  “I helped them.” It was the best he could come up with in the moment.

  “I have no doubt of that. But you know as well as I that killing another vampire is the one unbreakable rule among our kind. Doesn’t matter if they ask you to kill them. Or even if they pay you. It is still a crime punishable by death.”

  Dominic stood very still. His “special services,” as Arnaud referred to them, had paved the way to his fortune. So many vampires grew tired of eternity, tired of the endless nights, the repetition of hours with little more to do than struggle for something to occupy their time. He provided them a painless way out of the life they no longer desired.

  He straightened, smoothed his jacket, and lifted his chin slightly. He had no wish to follow after the clients he’d helped. “So the comarré has agreed to this?”

  Arnaud shrugged. “She will do as she’s told.”

  “And if something goes wrong? What then?”

  Arnaud pursed his mouth. “Do you expect something to go wrong?”

  “No. But it is a possibility.” Dominic tried to appeal to the man’s pocketbook. “Surely you won’t expect me to reimburse you for her blood rights?”

  Arnaud snorted. “No. She’s a good comarré—from the Corvinestri Primoris Domus—but her blood rights cost half what they should. Seems she’d caused some trouble for the headmistress and the woman was willing to let her go cheaply under the condition I would not return her.”

  Dominic’s curiosity rose. What kind of trouble could a comarré cause? His had some attitude problems, but nothing he’d really call trouble. “You expect me to explain things to her?”

  Arnaud yanked a bellpull near the door. “Do what you need to. You’ll take her home with you for two weeks. After that time, you’ll both return here and I’ll expect her transformed.”

  “Two weeks? That’s hardly enough time to—”

  A servant entered. “You rang, my lord?”

  Arnaud nodded. “Send her in.”

  “Very good, my lord.” The servant disappeared.

  Dominic tried again. “Two weeks is insufficient for what you ask. I need two months at minimum.”

  “A month. Not a day longer.”

  A knock this time.

  “Come in,” Arnaud called.

  The door opened and his comarré entered, head down, her golden glow suffusing the room with the warmth it had been lacking. The sweet aroma of burnt sugar followed closely behind. Dominic’s gums ached as the perfume invaded his senses.

  She nodded at Arnaud. “Master.”

  Arnaud ignored her to speak to Dominic. “Is there anything you need of her before you leave?”

  Dominic began to shake his head, his gaze still lingering on the blond creature before him. She was no different in coloring than his own comarré, Catarina, but he spent little time with her due to his work and her increasingly poor attitude. She usually sent him blood so that he never had to leave his laboratory, an arrangement that worked well for both of them. Seeing this one up close reminded him what extraordinarily beautiful beings they were, and the part of him that still clutched the last shreds of his humanity stirred with longing. “No, I can’t think of anything—Wait, yes. I need to know her name.”

  She lifted her head and her crystal-blue eyes pierced him to the bone. “I am Marissa.”

  Chapter Two

  Marissa knew whatever lay ahead of her would not be pleasant, but the thought of escaping Arnaud’s estate for a month filled her with such joy she didn’t care. She glanced across the aisle of the plane to where her new temporary patron sat. Dominic Falconetti. He was rumored to be one of the most skilled alchemists the House of St. Germain had ever produced. What that meant for her she couldn’t imagine. She worried the ring on her finger, flicking the tiny, hidden blade in and out. How was this was all going to go? She prayed to the holy mother he was not as difficult as Arnaud. He was certainly easier to look at than Arnaud.

  Dominic glanced up, his mossy green eyes flickering briefly with silver that did nothing to diminish the kindness they held. Kindness she could not comprehend. “Si, bella, what can I do for you?”

  He could start by not calling her beautiful or treating her like she mattered. It wasn’t the way Arnaud acted and it unsettled her. She turned her gaze back to her ring. Too bad the little curved blade wasn’t large enough to do more than pierce a vein. “Nothing, thank you, my lord.”

  Out of her peripheral vision, she saw his eyes stayed on her. “I am not your lord, nor am I your patron. No, you must treat me more like…your equal, capsice?”

  Her head jerked up. “Your equal? My lord, I cannot do that. You shouldn’t even speak it.”

  He laughed. “Perchè? Who is going to hear me? The pilot? He works for me and he is tucked away in the cockpit.”

  She relaxed, knowing he was right but shaking her head nonetheless. “Yes, but we are not equals.” No matter what she felt deep in her heart. “Why would you say such a thing?” The question was bold, but he didn’t seem the type to care.

  He sighed. “I am as much in the service of Arnaud as you are.” He rolled his eyes and muttered something derogatory in Italian that sounded like a comparison between Arnaud’s private parts and a festering corpse.

  She laughed, stopping abruptly when she realized the sound came out of her. “Forgive me.”

  “For what, cara mia?” He slipped across the aisle to sit in the seat opposite her.

  She scooted back to keep their knees from touching. “For laughing at my patron. It was improper.”

  “I like the sound of your laugh. I shall endeavor to bring it out of you again.”

  She studied him for a long moment, suddenly very aware that her preconceived notions about this vampire, this man, were wrong. Just how wrong, she wasn’t sure. “You don’t care much for…propriety, do you?”

  “Rules and respect have their place.” He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button on his crisp white shirt, revealing a triangle of olive skin. “But some rules are foolish and some people do not deserve respect.”

  “Like Lord Arnaud.” She clapped her hand over her mouth, but the words had already slipped out.

  He reached over, his cool fingers pulling her hand down. “Exactly like Arnaud. He is a bully. You know this to be true.”

  She tried not to react to his touch, but her pulse betrayed her. Contact outside of feeding was such a rare thing. Beneath her clothing, her skin pebbled with the sensation. She crooked her head toward the window and stared into the blackness beyond. Answering him would mean exposing herself more than she already had. What if this was a test? What if Dominic and Arnaud were good friends? Her belly coiled at the thought that her every move might be reported upon.

  Dominic’s thumb brushed her ring. “Pretty.”

  She turned but didn’t make eye contact. “Thank you. It was a gift from Lord Arnaud.” The only thing he’d ever given her.

  “You were playing with it. I heard it clicking. What does it do?” He lifted her hand, studying the ring.

  “This.” She caught the tiny indentation disguised in the ring’s filigree and notched the hidden blade out. “All comarré wear one so we may drain excess blood in an emergency. Too much in our systems makes us sick.”

  His forehead crinkled. “Arnaud gave this to you? How do all comarré wear one, then?”

  “We are all issued one, but the one I had previously wasn’t as nice as this one, although this one is a bit larger.” She’d initially worn Arnaud’s gift because not wearing it would have created more trouble than it was worth. Now she’d grown used to it.

  He let go of her hand, leaving her oddly bereft at the loss of his touch, and sat back. His appraising gaze seemed to peer into her soul. “I did not mean to upset you, bella. I just want you to know that while you are with me, you needn’t be afraid or walk on eggshells. I am not Arnaud. You are human, as I once was. Given different circumstances, our positions could be reversed, could they no
t?”

  They could, but for him to acknowledge that? It scared her that he could be so aware. She turned back to the window and tried to ignore the scared woman staring back at her. “I would like to sleep a little.”

  “Rest, Marissa. I will bother you no more this trip.” He went back across the aisle.

  What had she gotten herself into? Already she felt his words sinking into her like a balm of hope. If he really meant what he said… She squeezed her hands into fists. She always wanted too much. Rennata had told her so and she knew it to be true, but she couldn’t stop the desire for something more than this life. To give up that hope would be to die.

  She closed her eyes, the reckless thoughts of the last few days heavy on her mind. Holy mother, if you want me to pursue this, give me a sign. Show me a path. Show me a way out.

  Chapter Three

  Dominic called out directives for his staff as soon as he and Marissa entered his palazzo. The trip had tired him only slightly, so no doubt she would be feeling it more. What he was feeling was sunrise, only minutes away now. If not for the potion he’d taken, the pull of daysleep would have been impossible to overcome. “Prepare the guest bedroom near the laboratory, and get some food together. Whatever you make for Catarina.” He turned to Marissa. “You must be hungry, si?”

  “Yes, I am. Thank you. Catarina is…”

  “My comarré. You’ll meet her soon. I’m sure she’s asleep—”

  “No, I’m not.” Catarina walked into the foyer, her slippers almost soundless on the intricate mosaic floor.

  With a few nods, the staff dispersed to do as he’d asked. “Catarina, this is Marissa. She’s going to be staying here for a few weeks.”

  Catarina’s brows arched in judgment. “If you think you’re replacing me—”

  “I’m not. Marissa belongs to another. She is here on her patron’s bequest. And you will make her welcome.”

  Beside him, Marissa stepped forward, the sternness of her expression something new. “What house are you from? I’m curious, as speaking to one’s patron so boldly was considered a punishable behavior at the Primoris Domus in Corvinestri.”