Last Blood Read online

  A satisfied smile curled Mal’s lips. About time Dominic started giving him what he was due.

  He wrenched the top of the container off. Inside sat four bags of blood, still warm thanks to the container’s insulation. He grabbed them and with one final look around, headed back inside. These would be just enough to fuel him for an evening of hunting. The deer he’d had at Chrysabelle’s had barely scratched the surface of his need.

  Squeezing one of the bags to tighten it up, he sank his fangs in and drank. The blood was definitely human, probably from Dominic’s comarré, but a little flat tasting. Maybe because nothing compared to drinking straight from Chrysabelle’s vein, something he’d do again, very soon. Yes, the voices urged. Soon.

  Swallowing the last of the bag’s contents, he tossed it away and started downing another. Halfway through it, his feet got harder to lift, his body less responsive. Still the voices urged him to drink more. Blood, blood, blood.

  He struggled to keep his head up. The remaining two bags slipped out of his grasp. The one he’d just about emptied followed after, falling with a soft plop onto the metal flooring. Stooping to retrieve it made everything go sideways. He put his hands out to steady himself, but ran into the wall anyway. He dragged his feet over the threshold of his room. The light from the solars dimmed like they were running out of juice. Was dawn coming? He couldn’t feel the sun approaching. No, definitely night. The sun had just set. The voices went quiet.

  He lifted a hand to rub his eyes and missed. His lids drifted down, heavy as though he’d had no daysleep at all. Maybe he’d rest a little before he went hunting. Before he went back to Chrysabelle’s and…

  He stumbled onto his bed, closed his eyes, and passed out.

  Luciano jumped down from the upper deck. All sounds of movement had ceased several minutes ago and judging by the way Malkolm had torn into the first bag of blood, he’d ingested enough of the drug for it to have taken effect. Luciano’s lip curled at the rust and decay surrounding him. How could any noble vampire live this way?

  He picked up the container’s lid and tucked it into the empty vessel, then ducked inside to collect the blood bags. Considering that he’d gone from vampire assassin to vampire babysitter, perhaps he should be less critical, but this ship reeked of rats and rot.

  One blood bag was empty, another still had a few ounces in it, and two were untouched. He picked them all up, then went a little farther down the hall to confirm Malkolm was safely out for the evening.

  He was. Sprawled on his bed, arms akimbo, one foot still on the floor. Luciano smirked. When Dominic said he’d do something, he did it.

  With a shake of his head, Luciano headed out. He stuffed the bags into the container, then tucked the whole lot under his arm and jogged back to where he’d hidden his car. Dominic’s car, actually. Since he’d run from his noble life, he’d had little opportunity to take anything with him.

  If not for Dominic, he would probably be in Malkolm’s straits. For the hundredth time, he cursed himself for siring the mayor and angering his uncle and thought again about ways he could rectify the situation. He opened the trunk as a seabird flew overhead, shattering the quiet with its screech.

  His skills lay in ending life, not creating it. He should have stuck to what he knew. After putting the container away, he closed the trunk and got in the car. Destroying the child he’d sired would be difficult, but nothing was as difficult as the reason he’d come to Paradise City in the first place.

  He felt for the bottle of pills in his coat pocket before he started the car. He didn’t have the alchemist skills of his uncle, but he’d learned enough over the years and Dominic’s laboratory was a storehouse of supplies. What he’d put together should do the trick. All he had to do was convince Hector, which shouldn’t take much. The comar would still be servicing fringe females at Seven if Luciano hadn’t brought him in to supply the mayor with blood after her turning. He drove toward Lola’s house. Starting tonight, he would begin to make things right, because there was no way he was going to ruin his chances of staying here.

  Tatiana’s new comar, Aaron, staggered from the room. She’d drunk from him until the ashen hint of death had tinged his blood, taking all he had to offer and then some. Daciana raised a concerned brow, but said nothing. Tatiana tipped her head against the back of her office chair and stared at the ceiling as her heart began to beat. “I know I took—” She gasped as the power of Aaron’s blood gripped her. Icy hot pain coursed through her body. She tensed, bowing up off the chair with the sensation, teeth clenched, muscles contracted. Another gasp and it began to mellow into pleasure. A soft mew of contentment left her mouth. “Amazing. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this good.”

  She pulled herself upright, almost panting with the life inside her. “I started to say I know I took more than I should have. I won’t do it again. I just needed to renew myself.” Heat suffused her being. “And judging by the power rushing through me, I have.”

  “You feel well, then? Enough to call the ancients?” Lines of apprehension snared Daciana’s mouth.

  “Yes, but you needn’t be here. I know they are unsettling.” Daci had done so much for her, there was no reason to put her in harm’s way unnecessarily.

  “No, I want to be here. I am your Elder.” Daci stood a little straighter. “It’s my duty to be at your side.”

  “Fair warning, then.”

  “I know what the ancients are like.” Daci nodded. “Call him. I’m ready if you are.”

  Tatiana moved out from behind the desk to stand in the office’s open space. Every fiber of her being thrummed with energy. If there was ever a time to call the ancients, this was it. She lifted her hands and called him by name. “Samael, my lord, my maker, please grant me your presence.”

  She teetered toward disappointment, expecting him to ignore her again.

  Then shadows began to form, leaking out from the corners of her office. They coalesced into a dark, spiraling storm in the room’s center. Lightning flashed over the whirling mass, shattering the blackness with bursts of heat and fire. The musty sourness of brimstone and unwashed flesh rose to an almost unbearable level. With a final crack of thunder, the storm split to reveal Samael in all his squalid resplendence. He wore his usual skirt of undulating shadows, the faces and hands of his victims visible as they failed to escape him over and over. From the waist up, his naked body was the burnished red of a flayed carcass left to dry in the sun.

  But unlike the previous times he’d come to her, he was not alone. Another figure stood behind him, this one completely cloaked in shadows so that Tatiana was unable to determine anything except that the second being was closer to her size. A secondary Castus, perhaps? There were legions of them, but Samael was the only one she’d met face to face. The idea of what might lay in store for her with two of them made her stomach turn.

  She immediately dropped her gaze and bowed, as overjoyed that he’d come to her as she was terrified. Time spent with him in the past had rarely been pain free. “My liege, thank you for coming to me.”

  “I know why you’ve called me,” he growled.

  To her side, Daciana was almost prone to the floor she was so low. Tatiana kept her head down but her gaze locked onto the razor-edged hooves visible beneath his shadowy covering. Respect was one thing; carelessness was another. She knew enough to stay quiet and let him speak, so she just nodded.

  “You want to know about the child.” A distant, eerie laugh followed his words. The second Castus?

  “Yes, my lord.” She lifted her chin a bit, her gaze still averted. As best she could tell, the figure behind him hadn’t moved.

  “Tell her,” a high, feminine voice whispered. Definitely not Daci, as it carried traces of power unlike anything Tatiana had heard. Goose bumps rose on her arms.

  Her gut reaction was to look up and see who’d spoken. When she did, she found herself staring at Samael. He’d gone oddly still and his eyes were slanted downward as if he was listenin
g to the creature behind him.

  Curiosity swept Tatiana like a wildfire. “Please, my liege. I promise I am fit to raise her now. My enemies are behind me. No harm will come to her. I swear it. I need Lilith back. I need—”

  More laughter.

  Samael regained his stern countenance. “You don’t know what you ask.”

  Tatiana stood her ground, making eye contact with a boldness that belied the nerves rocking her core. “Yes, I do. You gave her to me to raise and I let you down. I want to prove to you that I am not a failure. That I am worthy of the power you’ve bestowed upon me.”

  Samael was quiet a moment, his gleaming red eyes piercing her in a way that almost made her feel like he pitied her. “You take responsibility for her?”

  “Of course.” She straightened. “That is a mother’s duty. That is the duty I accepted when you gave her to me.”

  Something like relief flickered over his face. He stepped aside and the being behind him moved forward.

  The shadows surrounding the creature were actually a dark cloak. Slender hands reached up and pushed the hood back, revealing a young woman of such cruel beauty that Tatiana instantly felt lacking. Her eyes were the same blood red as Samael’s, her skin so pale that blue veins etched the surface. She smiled at Tatiana, showing off a set of double fangs as wicked as the aura surrounding her. “Hello, Mother.”

  Chapter Ten

  Creek hung back at the scene of the murder, hiding in the cover of the small crowd drawn by the flashing lights and yellow tape cordoning off the area. From his spot against the wall, he listened with one ear to the detectives, his KM-enhanced hearing making eavesdropping simple. In his other ear was a wireless bud with the running feed from the police scanner app on his phone. Both told him that, as suspected, the police were going on the assumption the killer was a vampire.

  He couldn’t imagine the mayor wouldn’t respond to this in some way, but how would the population take it now that they were being led by a vampire? The careful peace that had followed the curfew was in danger of being disrupted.

  One of the detectives scribbled something on an e-tablet, then tapped the stylus on the edge as he spoke to his partner. “Could be retaliation for the mayor killing that vampire.”

  His partner nodded. “Let’s hope that’s all it is, one and done. City’ll get ugly if we have a killer vampire on the loose.” He glanced at one of the uniformed officers working crowd control. “They’re all over the place now. You know Janokoski in evidence is a vamp?” He shook his head. “Always thought that one was a little strange.”

  The other detective laughed. “Explains why he’s so pale.”

  Creek had heard enough. He walked back to where he’d parked his motorcycle. He climbed on and fired it up. The mayor wouldn’t welcome his visit, but it was his job as Paradise City’s assigned Kubai Mata to question all known vampires. Might as well start with the newest one.

  He hadn’t expected to be let through the gates at her estate, but they opened for him after he showed his face to the security camera. He parked his bike outside the entrance of the house and walked up to the guard on duty. Fringe vampire, but not one Creek had met before.

  The guard looked him up and down, probably assessing Creek’s tattoos and Mohawk with the same impression most did. Trouble. Which wasn’t far off if the guard didn’t let him in. “The mayor wants to know if you’ve come to make amends.”

  “Sure, that’s what I’m here for.” If it got him in, who cared what she thought.

  The guard went back to the intercom and relayed the message. There was no response, but a few minutes later, a maid opened the door. “Follow me.”

  He did and the woman led him to the mayor’s office. Lola sat at her desk. Hector sat on the far couch, playing some kind of holographic handheld game. Creek nodded. “Mayor. This will be quick.”

  “Take all the time you like. I enjoy listening to apologies.”

  “I’m not here to apologize.”

  She frowned. “Then you’d better be here because you’ve finally brought me the information on Chief Vernadetto that I asked for.” Nothing about her demeanor was friendly. She didn’t even bother putting on her human face.

  “No.” He’d gotten a file from the KM, but he had no intention of handing anything over to Lola. He’d hoped she’d forgotten about it actually. The chief had never been a problem for him or the KM and the way Creek saw it, the man already had enough trouble with Lola as the mayor. “You may have already heard, but there was a murder this evening.”

  He watched her closely. If she had a pulse, it would have been much easier to use that as a gauge. “Victim was male, thirty-six years old. Died from puncture wounds on his neck and the lack of blood in his system.”

  No reaction out of her. Hector muttered something in Spanish, but Creek was pretty sure it was directed at his game since his eyes had never left the action. Finally, she pursed her mouth. “A vampire. I get it. What do you want from me? I’m sure the police are doing everything they can.”

  He leaned on her desk, closing the gap between them to a slim twelve inches. “Did you kill that man?”

  “Now you have two things to apologize for.” Her eyes went hard silver. “Get the hell out of my office.”

  He didn’t move. “Is that a no on the murder then?”

  “Yes, that’s a no. Now get out.” She got up and he backed away. “Tell your people I’m done dealing with the Kubai Mata, you understand? They’ve brought nothing good to this city. Nothing.”

  With a wave over his shoulder, he walked out. “You won’t have to see me again.” She wouldn’t need to. Not with Octavian in place.

  Fi slipped into nice jeans, a funky off-the-shoulder sweater, and heels. Casual, but not the grungy casual she preferred. She left a message with Isaiah to let Doc know where she was, then took the elevator to the VIP level of Bar Nine.

  Remo stood on the landing, waiting.

  “Did you change your mind?” Even if he had decided to go out after all, she wasn’t going with him. She had boundaries, and that would be crossing a big one.

  “No.” A mix of anger and disgust crossed his face. “They won’t let me into your booth. They don’t believe me.”

  “Don’t feel so bad. They wouldn’t even let me in the building a few weeks ago.” She jerked her head toward the lounge. “Come on.”

  The waitstaff stared openly as she walked in with Remo. She scowled at them. “I’m not sure why you denied entrance to one of your council members, but I’m going to assume it was an accident and won’t be repeated again.”

  A round of nodding and mumbled agreements answered her. She walked past them to her reserved booth, sliding halfway around as Remo took the other side.

  “Impressive,” he said.

  She shrugged. “I don’t like that kind of nonsense.” She gazed at the patrons in the VIP section, watching them slant their eyes and sneak peeks at her and Remo. She had the sinking feeling this was going to start rumors. Great. More to deal with.

  A server came to take their order. She chose bottled water. Remo ordered coffee. Interesting. She’d expected him to drink. They sat in silence until the drinks came, which was so quick, Fi knew the staff was trying to get back on her good side. The server opened her water and poured it into a chilled glass for her. Oh yeah, definitely trying to make nice.

  After adding an unnatural amount of sugar to his coffee, Remo stared out at the crowd, studying them just like she was. “What do you think they’re thinking about us sitting here together?”

  “Nothing good,” Fi answered quickly. “Sorry. That came out too fast.”

  He laughed a little. “No, I’m sure you’re right.”

  A woman in zebra-striped heels and a red dress openly flirted with Remo. Fi tipped her glass toward the woman. “That one especially.”

  “Do you know her?” He raised his coffee cup to the woman, who smiled brightly in response.

  “Nope. I don’t really know many of the
pride members.” Her hand strayed to the open neckline of her sweater. She hadn’t exactly tried to make friends, but part of that was not knowing whom to trust.

  “What’s that?”

  She peered into the crowd. “What?”

  “No, that.” He pointed at her. “Around your neck.”

  She looked at him and realized the cord holding the vial of sand was dangling from her hand. Without thinking about it, she’d wound the thin leather around her finger. She dropped it back beneath her sweater. “Nothing.”

  “It can’t be nothing or you wouldn’t wear it.”

  “It’s just a memento.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of nothing.”

  “You wouldn’t need to be reminded of nothing.”

  The phrase dog with a bone entered her head. She got a little angry. “It’s sand from the arena.”

  “Sand from the…” The slackening of his mouth told her the moment he understood. The twist of anger and sorrow in his eyes upset her, but it left his gaze as quickly as it had entered, replaced by something much darker. He held his hand out. “I’d like to have that.”

  “No.” She sat back in her seat. “It means a lot to me.”

  “I bet it does.” He pushed his cup away. “I should go.”

  “You asked,” Fi said, but he was already walking away. She sighed and bounced her head against the padded booth. Exactly what she hadn’t wanted to happen had just happened. She’d made a bad situation worse.

  Chapter Eleven

  You sure about this?”

  Chrysabelle met Jerem’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’m wearing my body armor, you’re coming with me, and I’m fully loaded.” Besides her two sacres, she had a set of short blades. The daggers Mal had given her right before they’d gone into the Dominus ball. “I need to see him.”