Flesh and Blood

‘You will know him by his signum.’ She paused. ‘Are you not intersted in your father?’

‘By his signum? How? My father?’ Chrysabelle almost staggered backward with the weight of the unknown. ‘Yes, of course, if you are willing to tell—’

Nadira waved her hand dismissively. ‘You have asked too many questions already. I am done answering. Leave me.’

‘Please, my brother’s name.’ Chrysabelle wrung her hands together. A name would make things so much easier.

Nadira pointed over Chrysabelle’s shoulder.

She turned as the columns of light surrounding Mal and Creek disappeared. They stumbled forward, blinking. Behind them was a massive bronze door. Chrysabelle shook her head. ‘Please, we must return through the portal by which we came. Where is it?’

Nadira didn’t bother to look up. ‘That portal was destroyed from the other side not long after you arrived.’

‘Tatiana,’ Mal snarled.

‘Leave now or your companions die,’ Nadira said.

‘Do as she says.’ Chrysabelle shoved them both toward the door. She refused to come this far only to lose them. Together, they burst through and left the Aurelian behind. The room they entered was stunningly bright compared to the dim confines of Nadira’s realm. Slowly, it came into focus.

‘Where are we?’ Creek asked.

‘Bloody hell,’ Mal growled.

Dread almost brought Chrysabelle to her knees. They were in the Primoris Domus.

Tatiana stared past her reflection in the plane’s window and into the comfort of the night sky, her hand closed around her locket. Soon she would be home. And soon after that, on the doorstep of the Primoris Domus. She would get what she’d come for, too, because Madame Rennata had much to atone for. Tatiana’s level of displeasure had reached a new high upon discovering her comar and the comarré recently purchased for Nasir had fled the estate. Tatiana had had no choice but to leave them behind in Paradise City.

Octavian settled into the seat beside her and handed her a goblet of blood. She took the unexpected offering. ‘Where did you get this?’

He smiled. ‘Was I not the most proficient head of staff you ever had?’

She nodded, her mood lightening. ‘You were that in spades.’

‘I’ve always kept your plane stocked with blood.’ He clinked his glass to hers. ‘We must be sure your next head of staff does the same.’

‘Replacing you will be difficult.’ If not impossible.

He smiled and sipped his blood. ‘Not as warm as you like it, but better than nothing.’ He frowned. ‘I recognize that look. You’re thinking about the lost comarré, aren’t you?’

She swallowed. ‘How dare those simpering little cows run away?’ She growled in frustration. ‘Do you know how much money I have invested in them? Mark my words, Madame Rennata is going to hear about this. One more reason to head home as soon as we can.’

‘We’ll be in Corvinestri soon. Is there anything I can do for you until then?’ The silver in his eyes gave his intent away.

‘You can promise me I never have to return to Paradise City again. I loathe that place.’ She shuddered. ‘And I hate living without servants.’

His mouth wrinkled in a poorly suppressed grin. ‘You’ll enjoy knowing that I turned the Nothos loose before we left.’

For the first time in many hours, she laughed. ‘Bravo! I adore you.’ She kissed his bloody mouth. ‘Maybe there is something you can do for me after all.’

He kissed her back, taking her free hand and pulling her to her feet. He walked them backward toward the bedroom. ‘I’ve always wanted to join the mile-high club. I just didn’t think I’d do it when I was dead.’

Chapter Thirty-nine

Madame Rennata walked toward them, the same sour old bag Mal remembered from his last trip here. Except then she’d had a marked limp and a cane. Ignoring the heady, swirling scent of comarré blood, he stepped in front of Chrysabelle. ‘We were just leaving.’

She ignored him. ‘Chrysabelle.’ Her tone held a malice that raised the small hairs on Mal’s neck. Laughter rippled through the voices. ‘You have violated several laws. You were warned about bringing this creature into our home, and yet you’ve done it again.’ She glared at Creek. ‘And now another—’

‘He’s Kubai Mata,’ Chrysabelle interjected.

‘I don’t care if he’s the pope. A violation is a violation.’ She narrowed her gaze. ‘Worse yet, you took them into the Aurelian’s sanctuary.’

Mal glanced behind them. The door they’d come through was gone. Comarré tricks made his skin crawl.

Comars gathered behind Rennata. Big, burly males that looked like they’d be more at home in the Pits than at the beck and call of some vampiress. ‘I hereby renounce you, Chrysabelle Lapointe. You are disavowed. No longer comarré.’

‘What?’ Chrysabelle’s entire being shuddered. ‘You cannot—’

‘I can. And I have.’ Rennata snapped her fingers. ‘Seize her.’

‘Touch her and I’ll kill you.’ Mal grabbed Chrysabelle first, Creek a second after him. Together they put her between them and faced the comars.

Rennata’s nostrils flared. ‘If anyone is to be killed, vampire, it will be you.’

‘You want her?’ Mal snarled. ‘You’ll have to go through me.’ Drain them. Kill them.