Flesh and Blood

‘Got it.’ The tape was melded to the woman’s clothing, but he dug his fingers between the sticky layers. Together, he and Mortalis worked the tape loose.

‘Mother Bast,’ Doc whispered.

Mal looked up the same time Mortalis did.

Beneath the cocoon of duct tape lay a frightened and shivering Katsumi. Tear tracks streaked her eye makeup down the sides of her face and into her hair.

Mal shook his head. ‘That’s impossible. Katsumi was just in my bed.’

‘What?’ Doc and Mortalis both whipped around to look at him.

‘Not what you think.’ Mal grimaced. ‘And obviously it wasn’t Katsumi.’

She shook her head, forehead wrinkling in distress.

‘Then who? And why?’ Mortalis finished unwrapping the trembling fringe and helped her sit.

She clung to him, gripping his arm until her knuckles whitened. She swallowed and tried to speak, but nothing came out. Her hand went to her throat.

‘Raw from screaming?’ Mortalis asked.

She nodded.

‘I’ll get you some tea.’ He looked at Mal. ‘Who was in your room?’

With a burning cold certainty, Mal knew how the woman in his bed had known just how to touch him to get the response she had, and how she had understood what the tease of fangs would do to him. Why he’d seen a flicker of silver in her eyes.

The name bit the tip of his tongue with a serpent’s venom, so he spat it out.

‘Tatiana.’

Chapter Nineteen

Weak knocking roused Dominic. He’d been half awake anyway. He glanced at the clock. Six hours of daysleep. Hardly enough, but these days one took what one could get. He slipped out of bed, pulled a cashmere robe over his silk pajamas, and walked out to the sitting room. ‘Si.’

His manservant, Vertuccio, entered and bowed. ‘My lord, Ms. Tanaka is here to see you.’

‘Si, si. Send her in.’ Too bad Katsumi needed to be questioned. He was definitely arrapato – in the mood – but curse his libido, he had to find out about the letter sent to Chrysabelle and where the blood thusly attained had gone. If Katsumi was guilty, she’d have to be dealt with.

She walked in and all desire drained from his body. ‘Porca vacca, what has happened to you?’

A wreck of a woman stood before him. Katsumi’s makeup was tear-streaked. Her hair, always so sleekly bound, fell to her waist in a disheveled mess. And oddly enough, her skin and clothes bore a random pattern of thin lines of some kind of sticky residue. ‘What has happened? Are you all right?’

‘No.’ Her voice was terribly hoarse. He could have sworn she sniffed. Or perhaps that sound was a sob. Out of Katsumi?

He called Vertuccio back. ‘Bring tea and one of the better comars. Ask Jacqueline if you’re not sure.’

‘Very good, sir.’ Vertuccio went off to do as Dominic had commanded, shutting the sitting room door behind him.

Dominic took the large wingback chair across from the electric fireplace. He missed the smell and sound of a real fire, but for a vampire, real fire could also mean death. He contented himself with the artificial smoke smell and synthesized crackling. ‘So. Explain what has occurred.’

She relayed how she’d been overpowered, bound and gagged with duct tape, and left in the storage room. About the strange metallic limb that had transformed into a noose. How she’d screamed until she’d tasted her own blood. How she’d been sure of her death until Mortalis had found her. She wept softly and Dominic couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen Katsumi cry. Ever.

He nodded as she continued, going on to describe her captor. ‘Malkolm believes it was Tatiana.’

‘As do I.’ In fact, he’d expected it. Tatiana hadn’t seemed like the type to forgive and forget. ‘Chrysabelle sliced Tatiana’s hand off during the battle in Corvinestri, but she must have found someone from St. Germain to build her a new one. An adaptable metal hand such as you described could only be the work of an alchemist.’ But to have Maris’s killer here, in his club, in his home … The thought of Tatiana’s presence eroded his nerves until they felt raw and exposed. The killing urge rose up in him, as did a new understanding of what Katsumi had been through. She was fortunate to be alive. ‘I am deeply sorry you were subjected to this.’

A knock on the door interrupted them.

‘Enter.’

Vertuccio came in bearing a tea service on an antique sterling tray. Behind Vertuccio followed one of Seven’s best comars. Vertuccio set the exquisite tray down on the center table and gave a short bow. ‘Anything else, sir?’

‘Yes. I assume Mortalis is already searching the premises for Tatiana. I want a report from him as soon as possible.’

‘Very good, sir.’ Vertuccio backed out, closing the door as he went.

Dominic gestured to the comar. ‘You, sit beside Katsumi.’ Then he waved his hand from Katsumi to the comar. ‘Go on. Feed. You must fortify yourself. Regain your strength.’

She nodded as the comar offered up his wrist. She accepted it, her fangs descended, and with great delicacy, pierced his skin and drank. The comar shuddered with obvious pleasure.

Dominic helped himself to a glass of Brunello while he waited. He would feed soon enough, but until then, the rich, dark red wine was a close substitute for blood. He stared into the fire as he sipped, letting memories of life with Maris wash over him. They had been so happy, so full of joy, even if it had only been for a short season. He ached for her. The chance to see her, to speak to her once more … He sighed into his glass. He could not pass that up.