Flesh and Blood

No wonder Doc hadn’t wanted to tell her what was going on when he’d come to her house. And no wonder he’d wanted to stay with her. Where else could he have gone that would be vampire-free? He knew she’d adhered to her mother’s policy of not giving invitations.

Mal’s eyes were almost completely silver and the muscle in his jaw ticked. ‘And you were just going to let them take him out there without telling me?’ He lunged forward, his voice menacing. ‘You know they’re going to kill him.’

A sharp pain pierced Chrysabelle’s heart. She grabbed Mal’s arm. ‘We’ll go after him.’

‘Yes, we will,’ Mal said, still looking to Mortalis.

‘You have no idea what I’m dealing with here. I have more reports of dead fringe than I can follow up on.’ The shadeux held his ground. ‘Look, I was about to head out to tell you, but … ’ Mortalis looked away, his eyes darkening. ‘Mia’s body was found dumped at the employee entrance. Her throat was slit.’

Mal’s mouth dropped. The tension visibly drained from his body. ‘Mia as in Doc’s old girlfriend? She worked here as a bartender, right?’

Chrysabelle’s hand went to her mouth. This was the first she’d heard about Mia or had a glimpse of Doc’s past.

Mortalis nodded. ‘Doc found her when he tried to escape. Ronan recaptured him in the alley. Doc had her in his arms.’ Mortalis cleared his throat. ‘You should go. There’s time to catch them.’

Mal shook his head. ‘I don’t know how to get to Aliza’s. You’ll have to come with us.’

‘I can’t. Not with Katsumi watching me like a hawk.’

Creek stepped forward. ‘Her coven lives in those stilt houses out in the Glades, right?’

‘Yes,’ Mortalis answered.

‘I can guide you,’ Creek said. ‘I know that area. My grandmother lives out there.’

‘Great,’ Chrysabelle said. ‘Let’s get moving.’ All that mattered was saving Doc’s life.

Mal had been cautious about letting Creek drive, but it had been easier than trying to follow the KM’s directions through the Glades’ maze of dirt roads while the voices attempted to throw Mal off track.

Creek parked the car and looked over at him. ‘Let me do the talking.’

‘Your turf, your show.’ Mal popped the car door and slid out. The water here smelled a lot cleaner than that surrounding the freighter. Chrysabelle followed from the backseat, staying near Mal.

‘Okay.’ Creek nodded. ‘Stay here until I call.’

Mal leaned against the car, still ready to move at a split second’s notice. ‘I’ll be watching. And listening.’

‘I get it. You don’t trust me yet. The feeling’s mutual.’ Creek glanced at Chrysabelle but she didn’t say anything. ‘I didn’t sign on to the KM with the thought that I’d be traipsing through the Glades trying to rescue a shifter who’d done one of the stupidest things I can think of, so cut me some slack.’

‘He’s right.’ Chrysabelle put her hand on Mal’s arm. ‘We’ll be fine here.’

‘Shouldn’t take long.’ Creek approached the cabin up ahead cautiously. The place was dark. Maybe whoever owned it wasn’t home. Or didn’t like Creek. Or hates vampires.

Mal leaned down to Chrysabelle. ‘Maybe I should have gone.’

‘I can hear you,’ Creek muttered. Chrysabelle nudged Mal with her elbow and gave him a disapproving but slightly amused look. Mal shut out the droning voices and listened as Creek walked onto the cabin’s porch.

Creek knocked and stood back to wait. Footsteps shuffled inside. The porch light came on and the door opened. The barrel of a Bushmaster assault rifle greeted him. Mal nodded. He’d been right about the owner not liking him.

Creek held up his hands. ‘Slim Jim, it’s Creek.’

Slim Jim stepped out onto the porch wearing overalls and a Florida Gators ball cap. The man was almost as short as he was wide with more gray than rust in his beard. He grinned, showing off a missing tooth. Slim Jim tipped the Bushmaster back onto his shoulder and chuckled. ‘Well, I’ll be. Little Tommie Creek.’

Tommie? Mal’s chagrin at being wrong was salved with that new slip of info.

Slim Jim scratched underneath his cap. ‘How are you, son? Last I heard you were doing a stretch at FSP.’

‘Yes, sir. I’m on parole now.’

Too bad he hadn’t stayed there.

Slim Jim clucked his tongue. ‘Damn shame, that business. Shoulda shot the cuss myself.’ He squinted, making his tiny eyes almost disappear. ‘What brings you round here so late? You in trouble?’

‘You might say that.’

‘Lot of that going around. I just rented a boat to another fella seemed like he was in a fix.’

Creek held his hand about six inches above his head. ‘Tall, skin like midnight?’

Slim Jim nodded. ‘You know Doc?’

‘A little. I’m more surprised you know him.’

So was Mal, but then, Doc’s drug-delivery service must have taken him out here many times.

Slim Jim continued. ‘I been rentin’ him boats for years. I know what he does, running the devil’s candy out to those witches, but times are hard. Little extra comes in handy.’

Creek nodded. ‘Yes, sir, it does. Was there anyone else with him?’