Bad Blood

A shudder ran through him. The voices rejoiced. He shook his head. “No, you’re not. Don’t say that. Don’t think that.”

“You’re not dying, comarré.” Atticus squeezed the cloth over the bowl. The water ran scarlet. “You’re having a reaction to the ring’s power. I’m sure this will pass when it settles into your body.”

She shivered as if cold and reached her hands out. Mal took them in his, but there was no strength in her grip. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He couldn’t answer. Instead, he nodded. Then a hard tremor racked her body. She cried out. Her body tensed, the outline of her muscles stark beneath her glowing skin. A second later, the glow was gone and she lay limp on the table.

“Is she…” Atticus shook his head.

“No,” Mal answered, relief flooding him. “I can hear her heart beating.” Too bad.

“She will need much rest.” Atticus emptied the bowl into the sink. “Days of it.”

Then, as if nothing had happened, she lifted her head. “Holy mother,” Chrysabelle breathed out. “I’d forgotten how much that hurts.” She leaned up gingerly on her elbows, gathering the fabric around her front and looking over her shoulder. Her eyes were their usual blue, not a fleck of gold to be seen. “Am I sealed? Can I get dressed?”

Atticus’s mouth came open, but he said nothing.

Mal stared at her. “You just told me you were dying, now you’re ready to go home?”

“What? I never said that.” Her eyes were heavy-lidded and on the verge of closing. “I’ve been tranced out since Atticus said he was ready.”

“No,” Atticus corrected her. “You haven’t been.”

Afraid she’d realize she’d had a reaction based on the presence of his blood, Mal changed the subject. “I can explain to her on the way home. Is she really ready to get dressed?”

“This is most unusual,” Atticus muttered. “She may dress. Right now she feels little pain because the sealant in the washing water contains a variety of natural anesthetics, but when that wears off, the pain will return. It will be intense. She’ll probably fall asleep soon, but you should get her to wherever she’s going to convalesce, and quickly.” He picked up a small red pouch off his tray and handed it to Mal. “She’ll want this when she’s ready.”

He had a feeling he knew what was in that pouch, but he tucked it into a pocket without looking at it then grabbed the robe she’d discarded and held it out to her, closing his eyes. “Get this on and let’s get you home.” And somehow, during the car ride to her house, he’d figure out a way to explain that more than just gold had gotten under her skin.

“H-how long are you going to leave me here?” Daciana asked.

Fi hovered a few feet off the ground in her ghost form. Being corporeal made her feel vulnerable around the bloodsucker, especially after her experience with Tatiana. “You’re a vampire, you can’t be afraid of the dark.”

“Just get in,” Doc said. “You’re lucky we haven’t ashed you yet. Once we find out if what you told us is true, we’ll come get you. If it’s not true, then you’re in serious trouble.” He pointed toward the shipping container’s interior.

Damian had his sacre out and resting on his shoulder. “I’ll be out here the whole time, too.”

“To keep me safe?” Daciana asked.

He shook his head. “To make sure you don’t try to escape.”

Fi had never seen a vampire cry. Daciana looked like she was about to change that. “Oh, get in already. We have things to do.”

Slowly, Daciana walked into the container. She stood in the center, her hands folded primly in front of her, eyes round and slightly weepy. “Please don’t take long.”

Doc and Damian shut the doors, then locked them and linked a thick length of chain through and padlocked that. Damian tucked his sacre back into its sheath. “See you when you get back.”

Doc tugged on the padlock. “You going to be all right here?”

The comar tipped his head toward the cooler of food Velimai had insisted he take. “I’ll be fine. I couldn’t eat all that in a week.”

“We won’t be gone that long,” Doc said. “As soon as we find Creek and get some confirmation, we’ll be back. After that, Fi and I will be here until Mal and Chrysabelle make the final decision as to what to do with her.”

“I’m good till whenever.”

“All right, bro. See you later.”

Fi waved. “Bye, Damian. Back soon.”

He returned her wave and sat down on the cooler, his back to the container’s doors, his body silhouetted by the LED lamp at his feet.

Fi floated alongside Doc as they headed back to the main deck and the car where Mortalis waited. “So spill.”

“Spill what?”

She moved in front of him, blocking his path through the corridor. “Don’t act like you don’t know. What’s going on? You told me something was up and that you’d tell me when we were alone. Well, we’re alone now.”

He sighed and rolled his head around like he needed a massage. Tough. She wasn’t laying a finger on him until he came clean. “Creek killed Aliza to break the hold her spell had on me.”

“I know that part.”

“I don’t know if it’s because Preacher turned her into a vampire—and you know he’s not exactly a normal vampire to begin with—or because her power is just that strong, or even if it’s because the spell had to be broken some other way, but I think some of her power attached itself to me.”