Flesh and Blood

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long. Mortalis came in, Katsumi trailing him. ‘Mia isn’t here.’

Katsumi looked around the room as if she were seeing new faces. ‘I sent her home. She wasn’t feeling well.’ Her gaze hung on Doc for a moment, then moved to Dominic. She studied him with an odd intensity. ‘Don’t let me interrupt whatever is going on.’

‘No, that settles it.’ Dominic stood. ‘This can all wait until tonight. I’m turning in.’ He slipped a key into the desk lock and turned it. ‘Katsumi, go home. You’ve been here long enough, too.’

She twisted her hands together, then forcibly stilled them. ‘I … I can’t. The sun is up.’

‘You know you have the use of my car.’ Dominic tucked the key into his pocket. ‘Mortalis will drive you.’

‘Of course.’ She smiled strangely. ‘Long night. Busy. So much on my mind.’ She waved her hands around her head like she was stirring up the crazy. Talk about a fringe struggling with daysleep. She sounded like she was tripping.

Doc stood, stretching to his full height. ‘I still need to talk to you, Dominic.’

‘No. I’m done for the night. Whatever it is can wait.’

‘No, it can’t.’ This was Fi’s life. ‘Just a few minutes, man—’

‘No,’ Dominic barked, silver lighting his eyes. ‘Enough. Malkolm is in the Donatello suite. You can stay there or go home, but either way, I will not talk to you until I have had some rest.’

Mal was here? Interesting, but his presence didn’t stop the rage worming through Doc’s spine. He swaggered forward, throwing his hands up. ‘You’re a cold piece of work, Dominic Scarnato. What if Maris’s life were at stake? What then?’

‘You leave Maris out of this.’

Mortalis’s hand went to the dagger tucked in his belt.

Think of Fi, think of Fi, think of Fi. Doc backed off. ‘Can’t. Fi’s been in touch with her.’ Dominic’s mouth hung open as Doc twisted to leave. ‘See you when I see you.’

‘Wait,’ Dominic called. ‘Stay. Explain. Everyone else out. Mortalis, take Katsumi home, then come back here immediately.’

Doc smiled, then blanked his face and turned back to the group. A very sulky pair of haerbinger fae skulked out of the office first.

‘If it’s all right with you, Dominic, I will just stay here. I am exhausted.’ Katsumi sighed as if to illustrate her weariness.

‘Fine.’ Dominic waved a hand. ‘You may take your usual suite.’

‘The … which one was that again?’ She smiled sweetly and made the swirling motions by her head again. ‘So tired.’

‘Mortalis, escort Katsumi to the Dante suite, please?’

‘On it, boss.’ Mortalis took Katsumi’s elbow and steered her toward the door.

Katsumi went very slowly. ‘I would love to hear how this Fi contacted the comarré? Perhaps I could wait until—’

Dominic pointed to the exit. ‘Mortalis, now.’

The fae removed the sour-faced Katsumi with impressive efficiency. When the door closed behind them, Dominic took his chair again and motioned for Doc to sit, too. He did, and with the same fervency he’d once used to talk his customers into trying some of the most dangerous drugs on the face of the earth, he began to spin the yarn that was Fi’s greatest hope for survival.

Creek gently maneuvered his Harley through the streets, keeping to the smoothest part of the road as best he could. The comarré, still passed out, sat behind him, strapped to him with a couple of bungees. It had taken some maneuvering, but he’d buttoned her into his jacket with her limbs at her sides, then anchored her to him at the waist and upper back with the cords. She rested against his back, her head on his shoulder.

He checked his mirrors for fanged company, then reminded himself it was morning. At this hour, vampires were as good as dead. Even the blood-covered comarré couldn’t compete with dawn’s pale, deadly light.

Good for Chrysabelle, because her wound required immediate attention. The hellhound’s claws had sliced through her skin and the top surface of silvery-white tissue, exposing the bright red muscle beneath. She would need some serious stitches, but if she could handle getting all those signum, she could handle stitches without anesthesia. Didn’t mean he wasn’t already regretting the pain he would have to inflict on her. He’d deal with the throbbing gash on his leg after she was taken care of.

Killing the engine, he parked the bike and unhooked the bungees, leaning forward to keep her weight on him. He eased upright, holding her arm as he got off the bike, then scooped her into his arms, and opened the door. He took her upstairs to his bed. She moaned softly when he set her down.

‘Shhh,’ he whispered, fixing the pillow beneath her head. ‘You’re safe. I’ll be right back.’ He hurried to walk the bike in and secure the door. The old metal looked rusted, but he’d reinforced it on the inside. Nothing was getting in here without him knowing about it. He grabbed his med kit and returned to her side.

Working quickly, he cut away her blood-soaked clothes, then carried them to the loft railing and tossed them onto the concrete floor of the old machine shop. They’d need to be burned before sundown or he might as well hang a neon arrow by his front door.

He turned around and paused at the sight of the woman on his bed. He was a man and he was weak, that much was starkly clear. He should not be feeling desire for an injured ally, but seeing all that blonde hair spilling across his pillow, her sculpted body in those small white underthings, her skin shining with gold …