House of Comarré Omnibus, page 109
part #0.50 of House of Comarré Series
She wished Velimai would just sign something. Anything to break the stoniness that had settled over the house since she’d thrown Mal out. Velimai sat, intent on her dinner. Chrysabelle cut a bite of steak and stuffed it into her mouth, but all she tasted was anger. Enough. She swallowed and set her fork down. “I didn’t mean for things to go that way with Mal. He just has a way of… pushing my buttons.”
Velimai looked up from her meal, putting her silverware aside to free her hands. How did you mean for things to go?
“I don’t know.” She slid her plate away. “Why do I do that? Why does everything with him have to be a battle? Why does he always find a way to do exactly what I don’t want him to do?” She lifted her gaze toward the ceiling for a second. “Why do I even care?”
You two are very much alike. You need each other. Both seeking something that can’t be found alone.
Chrysabelle pursed her mouth. “Riddles don’t help.”
Velimai shrugged and went back to eating.
Chrysabelle’s appetite was gone, Velimai’s words ringing soundlessly in her head. “I should get Jerem to take me out to the freighter and apologize. Plus I owe Mal blood.” And she could fill him in on what the KM was up to. She stood, dropping her napkin onto her plate. “Will you tell Jerem I need the car? I’m going to shower first, but then I want to go out to Mal’s.”
Velimai nodded.
Chrysabelle turned away and almost ran across the living room and up the stairs. What did Velimai think she and Mal were seeking? Freedom? That was true. But did they really need each other? The thought of being without him upset her. Did that mean she cared for him? If she did, why did she fight with him this way? Why did he always set her off so easily? She would not travel the same path as her mother. Falling in love with a vampire had gotten her mother nothing but years of misery. And ultimately, death. Not that Dominic was so awful, but something had gone wrong between them. Enough that Maris had ultimately chosen to live alone rather than with him.
Chrysabelle pushed through the doors to her suite and didn’t stop until she was naked under the pulsing jets of her shower. She would visit Mal, apologize, and give him blood. Then she might as well talk to Damian and see what she could find out. Mal had said the comar was at the freighter. Why, she couldn’t imagine, but if Mal had done it to keep the comar out of her hair while she recovered, then she owed him one. The floral scent of her shampoo did nothing to soothe her. If Damian was with Mal, where was Saraphina, the comarré who had run away with him?
She rinsed the soap from her hair and skin. Maybe Mal had her, too. If so, Chrysabelle might be off the hook for giving him blood. In fact, if Saraphina stayed with him, Mal wouldn’t need Chrysabelle’s blood at all.
The bittersweetness of that thought brought an unexpected ache to her soul. She leaned her head against the slick marble wall, closed her eyes, and let the water beat down onto her.
Holy mother. Maybe Velimai was right. Maybe she did need him. She shook herself and shoved those thoughts away. There was too much to deal with right now to worry about something as insignificant as feelings. Like finding her brother.
Nothing pressed on her so much as finding him and fulfilling her mother’s wish. After everything Maris had done for her, getting her brother home was the least Chrysabelle could do. To know that she had family, real family—not just the preordained brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles of the comarré life—made her long to know him with a yearning that sprang from her soul. She would find him. No matter what it took.
An hour later, she walked up the gangway to Mal’s abandoned freighter, wearing both sacres, a pair of wrist blades, and a new attitude. She would not let Mal upset her. If he wanted to talk about what had happened at Atticus’s, she would politely steer the conversation in a new direction until such time as she felt comfortable dealing with whatever Mal thought was going on.
The ship, as always, was dark and deserted, lit only by the weak solars that dotted the never-ending labyrinth of passageways. “Mal? It’s Chrysabelle.” As if he wouldn’t know.
She had a general idea of which way to go. Her heightened sense of smell helped a bit, too. Mal’s dark spice pervaded the ship’s space, but it was stronger in some directions than others. She followed the path she remembered in her head, taking a flight of stairs that seemed familiar and taking a turn that looked right, passing corridors and doors that, one after another, seemed to blend together.
Frustration building, she called for him again. “Mal! Hello? Anyone?”
A shimmering image burst through the wall ahead of her and turned into Fi. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Fi, I’m so glad someone’s here. I’m trying to find Mal. I think I got a little turned around.”
The ghost girl frowned. “Last I saw him, he was at your house. Did he leave without telling you?”
Chrysabelle sighed. “I may have thrown him out.”
Fi’s face was blank for a moment, then she laughed. The laughter faded fast. “Men suck.”
Chrysabelle’s brows lifted. “Something going on with you and Doc?”
“I take it Mal hasn’t filled you in on what’s been going on?”
“No.” Not that she’d given him a chance.
“Walk with me to the galley.” Fi’s feet hit the floor a second after she became corporeal. She turned down the closest corridor. “Long story, but the short version is he’s the new Paradise City pride leader, and that job comes with a wife.”
Chrysabelle easily matched the shorter girl’s stride. “And you don’t want to fill the position?” She’d thought the varcolai and Fi were crazy about each other, but maybe she’d been wrong.
Fi shook her head. “The position’s already been filled by the previous leader’s wife. When Doc killed Sinjin—who was the one killing off Dominic’s comarrés, in case you hadn’t heard…”
“I hadn’t. Go on.”
“Anyway, when Doc killed him, he inherited everything that had been Sinjin’s. Including the guy’s wife.”
“What?” Chrysabelle stared in disbelief. “That’s rather archaic.”
“That’s pride law. The same set of rules that kicked Doc out of the pride have now put him in charge of it.”
“Wow.” Chrysabelle took a moment to process. What else had happened in the last few days that she didn’t know about?
“Wow is right. Freaking sucks is more like it.” Emotion thickened Fi’s voice. “Where does that leave me?”
“Well, you still love him, right?”
“Yes.”
“And he still loves you, right?”
“I suppose.”
“Fi, come on.”
She blew out a long, hard breath. “Yes, he still loves me.”
“So why can’t you and Doc just explain things to this woman? I’m sure she’ll understand. She probably doesn’t want to be married to Doc any more than you want her to be.”
“Hmph. I wouldn’t count on that. Pride marriages among the ruling class are pretty old school from what Doc’s explained to me. Sinjin didn’t marry for love. He married for alliance. This woman’s father is the leader of one of the biggest prides in existence. Riling her up would be a very bad thing.”
Chrysabelle looped her arm around Fi’s shoulders. “There has to be a way to work this out.”
Fi shrugged, conveying about as much positive energy as a burned out match. “Whatever.” She glanced up at Chrysabelle. “So what’s going on with you? Doc and I came by to see you, but you were out cold and Mal didn’t want to hear about anything. All he could do was focus on you. He’s into you pretty hard. Like you don’t know that.” Suddenly her face brightened. “Did he tell you how he feels? Is that why you kicked him out?”
“No, that’s not why. I kicked him out because he wanted to talk about something I didn’t. But now I know he was probably right, even if his timing sucked.”
Fi nodded as she stopped and opened a door. “You want a cup of tea?” She stepped over the threshold and flipped on the solars, illuminating the galley.
“Sure. Might as well hang out and wait for Mal.” The last time she’d been in this kitchen, she hadn’t even really known who Mal was. That felt like years ago.
“You can always go relieve Damian for a bit if you want. I’m sure he’d appreciate the break.”
“Mal told me he was here. Relieve him from what?”
Fi filled the teakettle. “He’s guarding that vampiress who defected from Tatiana. Darciana or Dulciana or something.”
A chill settled in Chrysabelle’s gut as she took a seat. “Daciana?”
“Yeah, I think that’s her name. We’ve got her locked up in one of the storage containers in the far hold.” Fi lit a Sterno pot and set the kettle over it. “You know her?”
“Yes, but her husband is the one you have to watch out for. He’s very ambitious. Like a male version of Tatiana.”
Fi leaned against the counter. “According to Daciana, Tatiana killed her husband. That’s one of the reasons she wants asylum.”
Chrysabelle narrowed her eyes. “I don’t buy it.”
“Me neither.” The ghost girl smiled. “You want to go talk to her?”
“I don’t think—”
“You know, she showed up on your doorstep.” Fi waggled her brows. “Wanted us to let her into your house.”
Chrysabelle’s fingers stroked the leather crisscross of her sacre straps. “Did she now.” Annoyance pushed her to her feet. “Couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions, could it?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Fi capped the Sterno. “What if she refuses to answer you straight up?”
Chrysabelle flicked one wrist blade out. “I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be.”
Chapter Five
The rabble split with appropriate respect as Mal shoved his way through the crowd outside Seven. Fools. Wearing his noble face no doubt helped, but the crowd’s respect meant nothing. He was on a mission. Finding a new blood source was the first step in distancing himself from Chrysabelle. Blood blood blood. Loosening her hold on his hunger would make it easier to need her less. Might even help him forget what being next to her in bed had felt like. He hoped.
The fringe working the velvet ropes outside the door held a hand up. “Cover’s a buck fifty.”
“A hundred and fifty dollars? Dominic’s lost his mind.”
The fringe shrugged. “It’s Friday, my brother. All the freaks wanna play, and for that, you gotta pay.”
“I am not your brother.” One of the two hulking varcolai bouncers behind the fringe snickered. Mal glanced up, wishing for the old days when Seven’s entrance was a dimly lit doorway with easy-to-glamour guards. Easy for him anyway. No other Tepes vampire he knew could use their persuasion power on varcolai or fae.
“Not technically, but we are both vampires—”
“Whatever.” Mal pushed past. “Dominic owes me. You want my cover charge, get it from him.” Dominic did owe him, although Dominic might not see it that way. Mal’s blood had taken the place of Dominic’s with the witches. That had to be worth something. Or nothing. Just like you.
Wisely, the varcolai bouncers let him pass. Maybe they knew who he was or maybe they knew Mal’s relationship to Doc. Either way, he entered without further obstruction. Once inside, he quickly found Katsumi. He would have rather found Mortalis, but the shadeux fae didn’t seem to be around.
She arched a brow at him. “Please tell me you’ve come to take on a few new opponents in the Pits.”
“Like hell. Where’s Dominic? I need to talk to him.”
“In his office.” She sidled closer, her jasmine scent creeping over him. “But maybe I can help you.” One black polished fingernail glided down his arm. “What do you need?”
Blood. “For you to back off.” He walked away, shaking his head. Maybe the side effects of navitas had begun to set in. Being resired was known to cause insanity. Tatiana was proof of that. Katsumi seemed to be sliding in that direction.
Someone grabbed his sleeve. He spun, instantly defensive. “I told you—”
A petite blonde, one of Dominic’s comarré, dropped her hand from his arm and bent her head. “I’m sorry to upset you, master. I saw you talking with Ms. Tanaka. I thought you wanted company.”
“Don’t call me master,” he snapped.
The girl cringed and backed away. Her signum, such as they were, gleamed dully in the club’s low lights. “My apologies for—”
“Stop.” Mal sighed. Bloody hell, he was a monster. Yes, you are. “I didn’t mean to… When you first grabbed my arm, I thought you were Katsumi.”
The girl lifted her head. She wasn’t unattractive, but she was no Chrysabelle. “You’re a friend of Ms. Tanaka’s? I see that you’re noble like her.”
He exhaled derisively. “I was noble before her grandparents were born.”
“Of course, sir.” She nodded, her long blonde curls swaying. “Are you in need of blood?”
Yessss… drink drink drink. “Yes, but I need to speak to Dominic first.”
Her eyes widened slightly. They weren’t as blue as Chrysabelle’s. “I can take you to Mr. Scarnato, if you’d like.”
“I can find my own way there.”
Her head dropped again. “As you wish. Have a pleasant evening.” She curtseyed and began to leave.
The voices whined at the loss of the blood, cursing him in every language they spoke. “What’s your name?”
She looked up, hope brightening her face. “Alice.”
He bent slightly, peered into her eyes, and added a touch of persuasion to his voice. “Go home, Alice. Forget this place exists. Go back to school and do something meaningful with your life.”
Her pretty face contorted with insolence. “Don’t use your powers on me, vampire. We’re warded against that. You think Dominic’s stupid?” With a snort, she twisted on her heel and stormed off, her previous coyness gone.
Well. That was interesting. Made sense Dominic would protect his comarré from vampire influence. Wouldn’t want any of them being persuaded to become someone’s pet for free. But fringe didn’t have the same powers nobles did, so who was he protecting them against? Tatiana’s return? Or the newly resired Katsumi? Either way, Dominic was smart. Shady. But smart.
Mal made his way to Dominic’s office. He sensed Dominic was alone. Good. He didn’t want an audience for the conversation he was about to have. He knocked and a few seconds later, Dominic bid him enter. Mal did and saw that he’d been wrong about Dominic being alone. Seated in front of Dominic’s desk was a leanly muscled, dark-haired vampire Mal didn’t recognize.
“Am I interrupting something?” He glanced at the other vampire. Definitely noble, not quite Dominic’s age but not a vampling either. How had Mal not sensed him?
“No, no,” Dominic assured him. “This is Luciano, my nephew. He’s come to help me run things here. Every night, Seven gets busier. It’s good to have family you can trust.”
“Luciano.” Mal nodded at the other vampire. “Are you St. Germain like your uncle?”
“No.” Luciano grinned. “I am House of Paole.”
That explained not being able to sense him. Paole vampires were undetectable to other vampires. Sneaky bastards.
Dominic leaned back in his desk chair. “Luciano is a caedo.”
A chill skittered down Mal’s spine at the word. He tensed, instantly on guard. He’d been hunted by caedo many years ago. Unsuccessfully, but hunted nonetheless.
Luciano threw his hands up. “Zio, per favore. Why would you tell him that?”
Dominic waved Luciano’s concerns away. “Malkolm is anathema. Like us. You worry for nothing.” He stood and walked out from behind his desk and laid his hand on Mal’s. “This man sacrificed his blood for mine. That is a debt I have not yet repaid. He will say nothing, will you, Malkolm?”
“No.” He kept his eyes on Luciano, who didn’t look quite convinced yet. “So long as you’re not here for me.”
Luciano frowned. “Why would I be here for you? I’m here because my uncle needs me. And because I grew tired of life as the nobility’s errand boy.”
Errand boy? How about killer? Like you. The caedo were an elite force of vampire assassins. They did the dirty work other nobles didn’t want to soil their hands with but were willing to empty their accounts to pay for. “Dominic said you were anathema like us. What did you do?”
Luciano’s eyes sparked silver. “I quit.”
No one quit the caedo. Except by death. That explained Luciano’s reluctance to have his profession revealed.
Dominic gestured toward a chair. “Sit, my friend. Let us share some wine to celebrate Luciano’s arrival.”
“Wine isn’t what I need.” Nor did he need to carry the weight of any more of Dominic’s family secrets.
“Ah, I see. There is something else I can help you with?”
“I need blood. From one of your comarrés.” Damnation, it pained him to say those words.
Dominic went back behind his desk and sat. “I would be happy to do this for you, except…” He stared at Mal expectantly, and when Mal didn’t say anything, he finished, “What about Chrysabelle?”
And there it was. The question he’d known would be asked. Mal sat, buying a little time to form an answer. “She’s still recovering. I don’t want to bother her.”
Dominic lifted his brows. “That hasn’t stopped you—or her—from the exchange in the past.” He shrugged and lifted his hands. “I don’t want to do something that might upset her. You know she’s like family to me.” He leaned toward Luciano. “She’s Maris’s daughter, the comarré I spoke of earlier.”
“Marissa? Si.” Luciano nodded.
What Mal knew was that Dominic wasn’t going to let it drop until he got a better answer. “I need to put some distance between us. Her wishes.”
“Ah.” Dominic absently tapped his fingers on the desk. “She is just like her mother, that one.” His hand went still. “Any time you need blood, you have only to come to me. As I’m sure you would extend yourself to me, should I need anything.”
So a favor for a favor. Fine. He should have known Dominic wouldn’t give without getting something in exchange. Mal had no desire to return to pig’s blood. “Haven’t I proven that in the past?”
Velimai looked up from her meal, putting her silverware aside to free her hands. How did you mean for things to go?
“I don’t know.” She slid her plate away. “Why do I do that? Why does everything with him have to be a battle? Why does he always find a way to do exactly what I don’t want him to do?” She lifted her gaze toward the ceiling for a second. “Why do I even care?”
You two are very much alike. You need each other. Both seeking something that can’t be found alone.
Chrysabelle pursed her mouth. “Riddles don’t help.”
Velimai shrugged and went back to eating.
Chrysabelle’s appetite was gone, Velimai’s words ringing soundlessly in her head. “I should get Jerem to take me out to the freighter and apologize. Plus I owe Mal blood.” And she could fill him in on what the KM was up to. She stood, dropping her napkin onto her plate. “Will you tell Jerem I need the car? I’m going to shower first, but then I want to go out to Mal’s.”
Velimai nodded.
Chrysabelle turned away and almost ran across the living room and up the stairs. What did Velimai think she and Mal were seeking? Freedom? That was true. But did they really need each other? The thought of being without him upset her. Did that mean she cared for him? If she did, why did she fight with him this way? Why did he always set her off so easily? She would not travel the same path as her mother. Falling in love with a vampire had gotten her mother nothing but years of misery. And ultimately, death. Not that Dominic was so awful, but something had gone wrong between them. Enough that Maris had ultimately chosen to live alone rather than with him.
Chrysabelle pushed through the doors to her suite and didn’t stop until she was naked under the pulsing jets of her shower. She would visit Mal, apologize, and give him blood. Then she might as well talk to Damian and see what she could find out. Mal had said the comar was at the freighter. Why, she couldn’t imagine, but if Mal had done it to keep the comar out of her hair while she recovered, then she owed him one. The floral scent of her shampoo did nothing to soothe her. If Damian was with Mal, where was Saraphina, the comarré who had run away with him?
She rinsed the soap from her hair and skin. Maybe Mal had her, too. If so, Chrysabelle might be off the hook for giving him blood. In fact, if Saraphina stayed with him, Mal wouldn’t need Chrysabelle’s blood at all.
The bittersweetness of that thought brought an unexpected ache to her soul. She leaned her head against the slick marble wall, closed her eyes, and let the water beat down onto her.
Holy mother. Maybe Velimai was right. Maybe she did need him. She shook herself and shoved those thoughts away. There was too much to deal with right now to worry about something as insignificant as feelings. Like finding her brother.
Nothing pressed on her so much as finding him and fulfilling her mother’s wish. After everything Maris had done for her, getting her brother home was the least Chrysabelle could do. To know that she had family, real family—not just the preordained brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles of the comarré life—made her long to know him with a yearning that sprang from her soul. She would find him. No matter what it took.
An hour later, she walked up the gangway to Mal’s abandoned freighter, wearing both sacres, a pair of wrist blades, and a new attitude. She would not let Mal upset her. If he wanted to talk about what had happened at Atticus’s, she would politely steer the conversation in a new direction until such time as she felt comfortable dealing with whatever Mal thought was going on.
The ship, as always, was dark and deserted, lit only by the weak solars that dotted the never-ending labyrinth of passageways. “Mal? It’s Chrysabelle.” As if he wouldn’t know.
She had a general idea of which way to go. Her heightened sense of smell helped a bit, too. Mal’s dark spice pervaded the ship’s space, but it was stronger in some directions than others. She followed the path she remembered in her head, taking a flight of stairs that seemed familiar and taking a turn that looked right, passing corridors and doors that, one after another, seemed to blend together.
Frustration building, she called for him again. “Mal! Hello? Anyone?”
A shimmering image burst through the wall ahead of her and turned into Fi. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Fi, I’m so glad someone’s here. I’m trying to find Mal. I think I got a little turned around.”
The ghost girl frowned. “Last I saw him, he was at your house. Did he leave without telling you?”
Chrysabelle sighed. “I may have thrown him out.”
Fi’s face was blank for a moment, then she laughed. The laughter faded fast. “Men suck.”
Chrysabelle’s brows lifted. “Something going on with you and Doc?”
“I take it Mal hasn’t filled you in on what’s been going on?”
“No.” Not that she’d given him a chance.
“Walk with me to the galley.” Fi’s feet hit the floor a second after she became corporeal. She turned down the closest corridor. “Long story, but the short version is he’s the new Paradise City pride leader, and that job comes with a wife.”
Chrysabelle easily matched the shorter girl’s stride. “And you don’t want to fill the position?” She’d thought the varcolai and Fi were crazy about each other, but maybe she’d been wrong.
Fi shook her head. “The position’s already been filled by the previous leader’s wife. When Doc killed Sinjin—who was the one killing off Dominic’s comarrés, in case you hadn’t heard…”
“I hadn’t. Go on.”
“Anyway, when Doc killed him, he inherited everything that had been Sinjin’s. Including the guy’s wife.”
“What?” Chrysabelle stared in disbelief. “That’s rather archaic.”
“That’s pride law. The same set of rules that kicked Doc out of the pride have now put him in charge of it.”
“Wow.” Chrysabelle took a moment to process. What else had happened in the last few days that she didn’t know about?
“Wow is right. Freaking sucks is more like it.” Emotion thickened Fi’s voice. “Where does that leave me?”
“Well, you still love him, right?”
“Yes.”
“And he still loves you, right?”
“I suppose.”
“Fi, come on.”
She blew out a long, hard breath. “Yes, he still loves me.”
“So why can’t you and Doc just explain things to this woman? I’m sure she’ll understand. She probably doesn’t want to be married to Doc any more than you want her to be.”
“Hmph. I wouldn’t count on that. Pride marriages among the ruling class are pretty old school from what Doc’s explained to me. Sinjin didn’t marry for love. He married for alliance. This woman’s father is the leader of one of the biggest prides in existence. Riling her up would be a very bad thing.”
Chrysabelle looped her arm around Fi’s shoulders. “There has to be a way to work this out.”
Fi shrugged, conveying about as much positive energy as a burned out match. “Whatever.” She glanced up at Chrysabelle. “So what’s going on with you? Doc and I came by to see you, but you were out cold and Mal didn’t want to hear about anything. All he could do was focus on you. He’s into you pretty hard. Like you don’t know that.” Suddenly her face brightened. “Did he tell you how he feels? Is that why you kicked him out?”
“No, that’s not why. I kicked him out because he wanted to talk about something I didn’t. But now I know he was probably right, even if his timing sucked.”
Fi nodded as she stopped and opened a door. “You want a cup of tea?” She stepped over the threshold and flipped on the solars, illuminating the galley.
“Sure. Might as well hang out and wait for Mal.” The last time she’d been in this kitchen, she hadn’t even really known who Mal was. That felt like years ago.
“You can always go relieve Damian for a bit if you want. I’m sure he’d appreciate the break.”
“Mal told me he was here. Relieve him from what?”
Fi filled the teakettle. “He’s guarding that vampiress who defected from Tatiana. Darciana or Dulciana or something.”
A chill settled in Chrysabelle’s gut as she took a seat. “Daciana?”
“Yeah, I think that’s her name. We’ve got her locked up in one of the storage containers in the far hold.” Fi lit a Sterno pot and set the kettle over it. “You know her?”
“Yes, but her husband is the one you have to watch out for. He’s very ambitious. Like a male version of Tatiana.”
Fi leaned against the counter. “According to Daciana, Tatiana killed her husband. That’s one of the reasons she wants asylum.”
Chrysabelle narrowed her eyes. “I don’t buy it.”
“Me neither.” The ghost girl smiled. “You want to go talk to her?”
“I don’t think—”
“You know, she showed up on your doorstep.” Fi waggled her brows. “Wanted us to let her into your house.”
Chrysabelle’s fingers stroked the leather crisscross of her sacre straps. “Did she now.” Annoyance pushed her to her feet. “Couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions, could it?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Fi capped the Sterno. “What if she refuses to answer you straight up?”
Chrysabelle flicked one wrist blade out. “I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be.”
Chapter Five
The rabble split with appropriate respect as Mal shoved his way through the crowd outside Seven. Fools. Wearing his noble face no doubt helped, but the crowd’s respect meant nothing. He was on a mission. Finding a new blood source was the first step in distancing himself from Chrysabelle. Blood blood blood. Loosening her hold on his hunger would make it easier to need her less. Might even help him forget what being next to her in bed had felt like. He hoped.
The fringe working the velvet ropes outside the door held a hand up. “Cover’s a buck fifty.”
“A hundred and fifty dollars? Dominic’s lost his mind.”
The fringe shrugged. “It’s Friday, my brother. All the freaks wanna play, and for that, you gotta pay.”
“I am not your brother.” One of the two hulking varcolai bouncers behind the fringe snickered. Mal glanced up, wishing for the old days when Seven’s entrance was a dimly lit doorway with easy-to-glamour guards. Easy for him anyway. No other Tepes vampire he knew could use their persuasion power on varcolai or fae.
“Not technically, but we are both vampires—”
“Whatever.” Mal pushed past. “Dominic owes me. You want my cover charge, get it from him.” Dominic did owe him, although Dominic might not see it that way. Mal’s blood had taken the place of Dominic’s with the witches. That had to be worth something. Or nothing. Just like you.
Wisely, the varcolai bouncers let him pass. Maybe they knew who he was or maybe they knew Mal’s relationship to Doc. Either way, he entered without further obstruction. Once inside, he quickly found Katsumi. He would have rather found Mortalis, but the shadeux fae didn’t seem to be around.
She arched a brow at him. “Please tell me you’ve come to take on a few new opponents in the Pits.”
“Like hell. Where’s Dominic? I need to talk to him.”
“In his office.” She sidled closer, her jasmine scent creeping over him. “But maybe I can help you.” One black polished fingernail glided down his arm. “What do you need?”
Blood. “For you to back off.” He walked away, shaking his head. Maybe the side effects of navitas had begun to set in. Being resired was known to cause insanity. Tatiana was proof of that. Katsumi seemed to be sliding in that direction.
Someone grabbed his sleeve. He spun, instantly defensive. “I told you—”
A petite blonde, one of Dominic’s comarré, dropped her hand from his arm and bent her head. “I’m sorry to upset you, master. I saw you talking with Ms. Tanaka. I thought you wanted company.”
“Don’t call me master,” he snapped.
The girl cringed and backed away. Her signum, such as they were, gleamed dully in the club’s low lights. “My apologies for—”
“Stop.” Mal sighed. Bloody hell, he was a monster. Yes, you are. “I didn’t mean to… When you first grabbed my arm, I thought you were Katsumi.”
The girl lifted her head. She wasn’t unattractive, but she was no Chrysabelle. “You’re a friend of Ms. Tanaka’s? I see that you’re noble like her.”
He exhaled derisively. “I was noble before her grandparents were born.”
“Of course, sir.” She nodded, her long blonde curls swaying. “Are you in need of blood?”
Yessss… drink drink drink. “Yes, but I need to speak to Dominic first.”
Her eyes widened slightly. They weren’t as blue as Chrysabelle’s. “I can take you to Mr. Scarnato, if you’d like.”
“I can find my own way there.”
Her head dropped again. “As you wish. Have a pleasant evening.” She curtseyed and began to leave.
The voices whined at the loss of the blood, cursing him in every language they spoke. “What’s your name?”
She looked up, hope brightening her face. “Alice.”
He bent slightly, peered into her eyes, and added a touch of persuasion to his voice. “Go home, Alice. Forget this place exists. Go back to school and do something meaningful with your life.”
Her pretty face contorted with insolence. “Don’t use your powers on me, vampire. We’re warded against that. You think Dominic’s stupid?” With a snort, she twisted on her heel and stormed off, her previous coyness gone.
Well. That was interesting. Made sense Dominic would protect his comarré from vampire influence. Wouldn’t want any of them being persuaded to become someone’s pet for free. But fringe didn’t have the same powers nobles did, so who was he protecting them against? Tatiana’s return? Or the newly resired Katsumi? Either way, Dominic was smart. Shady. But smart.
Mal made his way to Dominic’s office. He sensed Dominic was alone. Good. He didn’t want an audience for the conversation he was about to have. He knocked and a few seconds later, Dominic bid him enter. Mal did and saw that he’d been wrong about Dominic being alone. Seated in front of Dominic’s desk was a leanly muscled, dark-haired vampire Mal didn’t recognize.
“Am I interrupting something?” He glanced at the other vampire. Definitely noble, not quite Dominic’s age but not a vampling either. How had Mal not sensed him?
“No, no,” Dominic assured him. “This is Luciano, my nephew. He’s come to help me run things here. Every night, Seven gets busier. It’s good to have family you can trust.”
“Luciano.” Mal nodded at the other vampire. “Are you St. Germain like your uncle?”
“No.” Luciano grinned. “I am House of Paole.”
That explained not being able to sense him. Paole vampires were undetectable to other vampires. Sneaky bastards.
Dominic leaned back in his desk chair. “Luciano is a caedo.”
A chill skittered down Mal’s spine at the word. He tensed, instantly on guard. He’d been hunted by caedo many years ago. Unsuccessfully, but hunted nonetheless.
Luciano threw his hands up. “Zio, per favore. Why would you tell him that?”
Dominic waved Luciano’s concerns away. “Malkolm is anathema. Like us. You worry for nothing.” He stood and walked out from behind his desk and laid his hand on Mal’s. “This man sacrificed his blood for mine. That is a debt I have not yet repaid. He will say nothing, will you, Malkolm?”
“No.” He kept his eyes on Luciano, who didn’t look quite convinced yet. “So long as you’re not here for me.”
Luciano frowned. “Why would I be here for you? I’m here because my uncle needs me. And because I grew tired of life as the nobility’s errand boy.”
Errand boy? How about killer? Like you. The caedo were an elite force of vampire assassins. They did the dirty work other nobles didn’t want to soil their hands with but were willing to empty their accounts to pay for. “Dominic said you were anathema like us. What did you do?”
Luciano’s eyes sparked silver. “I quit.”
No one quit the caedo. Except by death. That explained Luciano’s reluctance to have his profession revealed.
Dominic gestured toward a chair. “Sit, my friend. Let us share some wine to celebrate Luciano’s arrival.”
“Wine isn’t what I need.” Nor did he need to carry the weight of any more of Dominic’s family secrets.
“Ah, I see. There is something else I can help you with?”
“I need blood. From one of your comarrés.” Damnation, it pained him to say those words.
Dominic went back behind his desk and sat. “I would be happy to do this for you, except…” He stared at Mal expectantly, and when Mal didn’t say anything, he finished, “What about Chrysabelle?”
And there it was. The question he’d known would be asked. Mal sat, buying a little time to form an answer. “She’s still recovering. I don’t want to bother her.”
Dominic lifted his brows. “That hasn’t stopped you—or her—from the exchange in the past.” He shrugged and lifted his hands. “I don’t want to do something that might upset her. You know she’s like family to me.” He leaned toward Luciano. “She’s Maris’s daughter, the comarré I spoke of earlier.”
“Marissa? Si.” Luciano nodded.
What Mal knew was that Dominic wasn’t going to let it drop until he got a better answer. “I need to put some distance between us. Her wishes.”
“Ah.” Dominic absently tapped his fingers on the desk. “She is just like her mother, that one.” His hand went still. “Any time you need blood, you have only to come to me. As I’m sure you would extend yourself to me, should I need anything.”
So a favor for a favor. Fine. He should have known Dominic wouldn’t give without getting something in exchange. Mal had no desire to return to pig’s blood. “Haven’t I proven that in the past?”
