Out for Blood hoc-4 Read online

  “Well, believe it. You’re the pride leader’s mate fair and square.” He didn’t look at her while he spoke, just kept his eyes fixed to his work.

  “How did I do it, though? I barely touched her.” Fi closed her eyes to help her brain work and started tilting backward.

  “Whoa, there.” Barasa righted her. “You need to sleep for a while, let your body heal.”

  “I told you, I can go ghost and do that.”

  He caught her gaze and shook his head. “How can your physical body heal while you’re a ghost? I don’t think it works that way.”

  “What do you know about ghosts?” The urge to sleep was pretty freaking strong. Maybe she’d just lie down right here. “What kind of a cat are you?”

  “I know about ghosts because—I’m a tiger. I did a year of residency at a hospital that specialized in othernatural patients and—”

  “A tiger? That’s so cool. Lemme see.”

  A knock interrupted them and the door opened. Doc stuck his head in. “How’s my girl?”

  “Pretty looped on pain meds,” Barasa answered.

  Fi heard a squeal, then realized the noise had come out of her. “Hiya, baby! Hey, did you know Barasa’s a tiger?”

  Doc laughed. “Yeah, I know that.” He looked at Barasa again. “She going to be okay?”

  “A hundred percent. Just get her into bed and make her stay there for a few days. She’ll be sore and bruised for at least a week. Her ribs are only cracked, not broken, but they’ll take a good four to six weeks to heal completely.” He smiled sheepishly. “So no unnecessary activity.”

  “He means no sex,” Fi whispered loudly.

  “Yeah,” Doc said. “I knew that, too.”

  Fi pointed at him and kept whispering. “You should tell Barasa about your fire problem. He worked at a ghost hospital. He might know how to fix that.”

  Doc’s expression froze; then he covered with a laugh. “Cripes, those drugs sure are doing a number on her, huh? Better get her to bed. I’ll just—”

  “So it’s true?” Barasa asked.

  Doc’s eyes glittered gold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Barasa put his hands up. “You think you can’t trust me? I’ve been on your side since you got here. I helped train Fiona.” He muttered something else Fi couldn’t make out.

  “What?” Fi asked, but the two men didn’t seem to be paying attention to her anymore. “What did you say?” she asked again. Maybe he’d said something about Heaven. Wait, Heaven was dead. How exactly had a human defeated a varcolai? Fi couldn’t make it work in her head.

  Doc’s jaw popped to one side. “Yes, it’s true. But as long as I keep a small dose of K in my system, it seems to hold the flames at bay.”

  “K?” Barasa’s mouth dropped. “Ketamine is one of the most dangerous things our kind can ingest.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” Doc said. “One bad experience with it was enough, but I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially not Fi. Who was I going to turn to for help? The witch responsible is dead.”

  Barasa leaned against the exam table. Fi leaned over and sniffed him. He slanted his eyes at her, one brow raised in question.

  “I just wanted to see if you smelled like a tiger.”

  With a shake of his head, Barasa turned back to Doc. “The witch is dead, but the power of her spell remains? When’s the last time you saw the fire?”

  “The night Sinjin died.”

  Fi leaned over again, resting against Barasa’s shoulder. “He went up like a marshmallow on a camp fire.”

  “Fi.” Doc shot her a look she knew well. It meant zip it.

  “The men in my family tend to be shamans. I took it a little further, but I can tell you there’s a good chance her spell’s worn off and you aren’t even aware of it. Stop taking the ketamine immediately. Then let’s see—”

  Fi yawned loudly. Any minute now she was going to pass out; she could feel it. She sat up and tapped Barasa on the shoulder. “Will you turn into a tiger now? I really need to go to sleep.”

  Barasa sighed and handed Doc a prescription bottle. “For pain, if she needs them. By the time she wakes up, the ketamine should be out of your system. Both of you come back then.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Creek wasn’t sure what surprised him more—Annika’s willingness to sit with his grandmother or his willingness to let her. Martin was there, too, not that the old man was any protection against the basilisk’s power. Creek should have pushed harder for Mawmaw to see a doctor, but she’d insisted that was a waste of money over a few bruises. She could take care of herself.

  Stubborn woman.

  Well, he’d be done with his errand soon enough and then Annika could go back to KM headquarters or wherever it was she lived, and the rest of them could get on with their lives. And he could shower. And sleep. His body ached in a thousand different spots from Yahla pecking at him, but at least he’d been able to change into a clean, undamaged T-shirt at Mawmaw’s.

  Couldn’t exactly visit the mayor in a holey shirt covered in blood. He rolled the V-Rod up to her gate. Especially when she was probably still in bed. He knew the mayor wasn’t a late sleeper, but the sun had only been up a few minutes. Even Lola probably didn’t start her day that early.

  He killed the engine, pulled his helmet off, and stood where the security camera could see him. The intercom crackled to life. “What’s your business?”

  “I’m Thomas Creek, special advisor to the mayor. I have an urgent, private matter to speak to her about.” Like how he’d been possessed by a mythological woman and how the curfew was a really bad idea. The intercom went silent and he dropped his head. How was he going to explain to Chrysabelle that he was partially responsible for Mal’s death? If she’d even see him. After his last visit there, he couldn’t blame her if she never spoke to him again.

  He had to find a way to end his service to the KM. Annika wasn’t such a bad boss, but she only delivered his directives. Whoever was making the orders was also making his life hell. And he was about damn done with that.

  The gates swung open. He hopped on the bike, started it up, and drove through. Maybe the mayor was awake after all. He parked in the drive in front of her house and walked to the door. He didn’t recognize the security guard. “Thomas Creek to see the mayor.”

  The security guard tapped the radio at his hip. “They cleared you.” He knocked on the front door and a staff member opened it.

  “Good morning, Mr. Creek.”

  “Hilda. You’re up early.”

  “So are you. The mayor isn’t awake yet, but I’ll get her. I’ve already told the kitchen staff to set breakfast out early. They’ll have coffee in the dining room if you want to wait in there.”

  “Coffee sounds exactly like where I want to wait. Thank you.”

  She pointed. “You know the way. I’ll have her in soon.”

  He kept going as Hilda veered toward the mayor’s private wing. Lola might not be happy about being woken up early, but she really wasn’t going to be happy when he resigned and told her exactly what had happened. That curfew had to end.

  He’d had one sip of coffee when Hilda came running in. “Help me, Mr. Creek. Something’s wrong with the mayor.” Her face crumpled. “I think she’s dead.”

  “What?” He jumped out of his chair and ran down the hall to Lola’s bedroom. Her bed was empty. “Where is she?”

  Hilda ran in behind him. “In the bathtub. I couldn’t wake her.”

  He found her there in silk pajamas and wrapped in a comforter. She looked… different. Like she’d had a makeover. His fingers went to her throat. Ice cold and no pulse. “Damn it.” He leaned down and listened but even his heightened senses detected no breathing.

  Hilda crossed herself and moaned. “Is she dead?”

  Creek pushed one of Lola’s lids up. Her eye was silver. “Son of a—”

  “What’s going on?”

&
nbsp; Creek dropped her lid and stood to see who was talking. A young man in white pajama pants had wandered in behind Hilda. A few gold tattoos marked his skin and his blond hair showed dark roots. Double hell.

  “Please, Mr. Creek. Is she dead?”

  He frowned at the comar, then nodded at Hilda. “Yes. She is.”

  Dominic handed them each a small metal plunger, then tapped the side of his neck. “Right into the aorta. The change will be fairly rapid and somewhat painful.”

  “How painful is somewhat?” Mal asked. He didn’t care personally, but he wanted to know how much Chrysabelle would have to endure. Sucker.

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  Was she reading his mind now?

  “Let’s go,” Katsumi said. “We can’t leave the hangar until we’ve transformed.”

  “She’s right.” Dominic stuck the plunger to his neck and pushed the button on the end. It made a small whooshing sound. He grimaced a second later but the expression didn’t last long. “There. How do I look?”

  “The same damn way.” Mal frowned. “If this doesn’t work—”

  “Look.” Chrysabelle pointed.

  Dominic’s face began to shift as they watched. He looked like he was underwater. The strangeness passed, leaving behind the blended characteristics of both Dominic and the vampire he’d taken blood from.

  Katsumi stuck the plunger to her neck. Within a minute, she, too, was transformed.

  Mal pressed his plunger against his skin as Chrysabelle did the same. He watched as her familiar beauty faded into something much more pedestrian. Her gaze skimmed his face. “How do I look?” he asked.

  Katsumi snorted indelicately. “I’d say it’s an improvement.”

  “You look fine,” Chrysabelle said. “Tatiana will never know it’s you.”

  “Unless she hears you speaking too much,” Dominic corrected. “If you talk to her, modulate your voice. And be careful that neither of you shows affection to each other. You are patron and comarré, not… whatever it is you have become.”

  The words angered Mal for some reason. He knew Dominic wasn’t belittling his relationship with Chrysabelle, just warning them, but it still rankled. “We understand that.”

  “Bene.” Dominic rapped his knuckles on the limo’s partition. “Let’s go.”

  The fringe driver waved his hand, then gave a thumbs-up to Amery, who rolled the hangar doors back so both cars could head out. Solomon was in their car, but he sat up front with the driver. The cypher was as quiet as Mal remembered him. How Dominic had the fae in his employ was a mystery, just like how Mortalis had come to work for the vampire.

  Chrysabelle squeezed his hand and Mal smiled at her, forgetting his insignificant concerns. They had enough to worry about as it was. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “We mingle, locate Damian and the baby. I talk to Damian and let him know his part. Then we regroup, make sure the plan still works, and revise as needed. Right now, Katsumi will be taking Damian out disguised as her comar.” She pointed at Katsumi and Dominic. “In theory, you three will be able to walk out the front door. You’ll fly out as soon as you return to the hangar. Mortalis will wait for us at the end of the tunnels.” She smiled. “Then he and Amery will fly us home.”

  It sounded so easy. He knew it wouldn’t be.

  Katsumi stared out the window into the night. Or maybe she was studying her new face. “How long will these disguises last?”

  “Five hours. A little more, a little less.” Dominic tipped his hand back and forth like a scale. “Longer if you don’t drink any blood.”

  “Not a problem.” Chrysabelle laughed. “You have the vial for Damian?”

  Dominic patted his suit coat. “In my pocket. Hopefully your blood is similar enough to his that it works.” Lines framed his mouth. “You might be his sister, but you and the other comarré are female. I’m not entirely sure what he’ll end up looking like.”

  Chrysabelle nodded. “I thought about that, too, but all you have to do is get him out the door and into the car.”

  “We will,” Dominic assured her.

  After that they settled into a tense silence. At last, they approached the gates. The driver stopped the car and Solomon got out, held the wards open long enough for both cars to get through, and then they were in the city.

  It wasn’t so different from Corvinestri. Narrow cobblestone streets, buildings that looked like they’d been new a couple hundred centuries ago—some still bearing gas lamps—human inhabitants bent over by the fear of serving creatures that could kill them in the blink of an eye. And just like in Corvinestri, the landscape changed as they broke away from the human village and into the vampire estates. Open space was abundant, the well-lit buildings glimpsed behind high masonry walls and gated entrances were in pristine condition, the grounds impeccable.

  The car slowed and drove through an enormous gate, already open, the word BATHORY scrolled in iron at the top. At the end of the long drive, they joined a line of cars waiting to be attended to.

  Dominic watched as liveried servants came toward the limo. He turned back to them, lifted his chin, and said, “In bocca al lupo.”

  “Exactly,” Mal replied. He knew Dominic meant to wish them good luck, but the words’ literal translation settled over him like a dark shroud. They were indeed about to be in the mouth of the wolf.

  “No, no.” Dominic shook his head. “You must respond crepi lupo.” His brows arched and his gaze slanted toward the house. “For the wolf is about to die.”

  Before Mal could say anything further, the doors were opened. The four of them got out and, with Dominic and Katsumi leading, made their way with a few other nobles to the mansion’s entrance.

  A fringe vampire checked their invitation. Dominic had duplicated the one Creek had given to Chrysabelle so that each pair had one. The fringe scanned the invites and nodded. “Welcome to the House of Bathory’s Dominus ball. Enjoy your evening.”

  And just like that, they were in.

  From here on, he was Lord Moreau and Chrysabelle was Carissa. Dominic was Lord Santoro and Katsumi was Lady Kobayashi. Once they were through the main doors, they were directed through the house to the ballroom. The space was enormous, and in typical noble fashion, it was disgustingly overdone. Apparently the theme was the Garden of Eden. Mal tried not to roll his eyes, but it was hard.

  Dominic stopped them near an enormous gilded cage filled with brilliantly colored macaws, most likely cloned. “Lord Moreau, if you’ll excuse Lady Kobayashi and me, there’s someone on the other side I must speak with.”

  Mal nodded and tucked himself a little deeper into the surrounding jungle of potted palms and overwhelmingly fragrant tropical flowers. “Smells like a whorehouse in here.”

  Beside and slightly behind him, Chrysabelle whispered, “And you would know that how?”

  He ducked his head and forced himself not to smile. “Jealous already?”

  “Just remember, I’m the only one of us adequately armed.”

  That much was true. Dominic had a narrow blade hidden in his cane, and Katsumi’s hair was held up with a double-pronged six-inch kanzashi that looked like nothing more than an elaborate hairpin. All Mal had was a good length of garrote wire sewn into the lining of his coat. Chrysabelle’s pair of blades made her twice as armed as the rest of them. “Duly noted.”

  They stood in silence for a while, observing, trying to determine where either of their targets might be.

  “Maybe you should get a glass of blood,” Chrysabelle said. “Most of the nobles have one.”

  “Dominic said drinking blood would shorten the life span of the injection.”

  “Don’t drink it. Just hold it for effect.”

  He nodded. “Fine, but not yet. This is a good spot.”

  “I can get it for you. That would be my job anyway as your comarré.”

  He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “How does it feel to be back here? You miss any of this?”

 
“Not in the slightest.” He felt her eyes on him. “Have I ever given you the impression that I had?”

  “No. Not lately anyway. Maybe in the first few days after you’d left.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her give a tiny shake of her head. “When this is over”—her voice lowered—“I will put this life behind me once and for all.”

  He tipped his head to see her better. The face wasn’t hers, but the expressions rang true and the look in her eyes held the strength of will he’d come to love about her. “You have plans?”

  She smiled slightly and looked up from beneath her lashes at him. “Oh yes.” Her smile broadened for just a second. “And they include you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  With Lilith cradled in her arms, Tatiana stood beside Octavian and Daciana outside the closed ballroom doors. She turned to take one last look and make sure everything was as it should be. Their comarré, Damian, Saraphina, and the newly purchased Jonah stood a few feet behind them. Since Damian had been here at Lord Syler’s, his spirit seemed broken. Like he’d resigned himself to his position once again. Or maybe it was the sedatives she’d put into his food. She’d have to determine if he was worth keeping soon. She couldn’t very well drink his blood while he was doped up.

  The doors opened a sliver and Lord Syler joined them. “It’s time to announce you. The ball has been under way for nearly two hours. Lady Tatiana, you’ll be pleased to know Lord Grigor is not in attendance.”

  “That does please me.”

  Lord Syler held his hand out toward the ballroom. “Are you ready for the nobility to meet Lilith and greet the newest member of the House of Tepes?”

  She kissed Lilith’s head, now crowned with the diamond and amethyst band that perfectly complemented Tatiana’s gown. “I am.”