Flesh and Blood

Mal had half expected Creek to try something, like veering the boat sharply to one side in an attempt to pitch him off, but Creek did nothing of the kind. Too bad. Most likely because such a move would have affected Chrysabelle as well. The spell she’d cast – because what she’d done back there was nothing short of magic – hadn’t only affected the old man. Creek had clearly been swayed by it, going quiet and moony-eyed like a lovesick schoolboy. Like you.

Mal stared at the boat’s wake, losing himself in the curl of white against the black water. If Dominic killed Doc, everything would change. Mal would not let the shifter’s death go unavenged. Yes, kill, kill, kill. Doc had saved Mal’s hide more than once. He was the closest thing to a friend Mal had. But more than that, Mal understood why he’d stolen Dominic’s blood, and Dominic should, too. If saving Maris had meant taking Doc’s blood, Dominic wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Mal would do it for Chrysabelle, too. She wouldn’t do it for you.

Dominic had always been a cruel, concise man. Things with him were black and white, with few shades of gray. Although Mal had no idea how Dominic justified giving Katsumi navitas after all she’d done. He straightened a little as the plan for Doc’s defense began to solidify in his head.

If Dominic refused to see reason and let Doc go, Mal would claim the right to take Katsumi’s life as equal justice for her stealing Chrysabelle’s blood. It was the same thing, except Katsumi’s reasoning had nothing to do with saving the life of someone she loved and everything to do with greed.

That woman deserved navitas the way Tatiana deserved the ring of sorrows. Maybe Katsumi would go insane just like Tatiana had. Dominic would then be forced to deal with what he’d done.

The boat slowed and Mal looked up to see a cluster of stilt houses looming ahead. Lights blazed in the first one. Ronan stood on the dock opposite a large alligator-shaped lump. Through the front windows, a stone statue faced the water. Then Dominic moved into view. A second later, Doc staggered to his feet. Ronan spotted them and lifted a shotgun.

Mal forced himself in front of Chrysabelle. ‘Creek, fringe with a shotgun on the dock. Dominic and Doc are inside.’

‘I see them.’

‘Ronan,’ Mal called out as the boat neared the dock. ‘Shoot and you’re dead.’ He leaped the last ten feet from the boat to the dock, landing close enough to grab Ronan’s shotgun, wrestle it away, and toss it into the water. The alligator-shaped lump wasn’t just alligator-shaped. As the fringe swung, Mal grabbed Ronan’s fist and yanked him around to face the beast while Creek tied the boat up. ‘That thing alive?’

‘Why don’t you get close and find out?’ Ronan snarled. ‘Get your hands off me, you knacker. I’m king of the fringe now. Screw with me and I’ll bring the whole bloody lot down on your head.’

‘King of the fringe? And you’re still doing Dominic’s dirty work?’

‘Sod off.’ Ronan twisted, trying to break Mal’s grasp.

Mal kicked Ronan’s legs out from under him and drove him to the boards with a knee in his back. The resounding crunch satisfied Mal greatly.

Creek helped Chrysabelle out of the boat, then joined her. Mal nodded toward the stairs. ‘You two go. I’ll be up as soon as I take care of this a little more permanently.’ He didn’t actually know how he’d get in without an invite, but Dominic had managed it. Maybe the witches were some kind of vampire loophole. Or maybe they’ll kill you.

He looked around for something to restrain Ronan with but found nothing. Nothing but fifteen feet of Jurassic lizard. He dragged Ronan to the gator, planted his knee into Ronan’s back again, then pried the beast’s mouth open. The smell was best described as ripe.

Above him, all hell broke loose. Shouting, cursing, the sound of weapons being drawn, and something shattering told him it was time to move. Fight, fight, fight.

In as few motions as he could manage, he shoved Ronan headfirst into the gator’s mouth, then clamped the jaws back down. That should keep Ronan busy for a few minutes. ‘I wouldn’t squirm too much if I were you. I’m pretty sure he just blinked in a very hungry way.’ The creature seemed to be passed out, but judging by Ronan’s original distance from it on the dock, it probably wasn’t dead. Maybe Mal would get lucky and it would awaken in the next few minutes. A distant buzzing filtered through the other sounds of the Glades. He leaped off the dead-still fringe and took the steps two at a time until he made the front door. It was open.

Chrysabelle’s swords and Creek’s crossbow were aimed at Dominic. Dominic had a blade to Doc’s throat, and the albino woman who must be Aliza stood over the body of an unknown man. Her hands were lit with the strange incandescent glow of witch magic and were pointed at Dominic. The remnants of a pottery lamp lay at her feet.

‘How dare you, Dominic,’ Mal growled from the door. The buzzing sound grew louder, competing with the drone in his head. ‘Let Doc go.’

‘Stay out of this, Malkolm. The varcolai must die for what he’s done.’

Mal braced his hands on the door frame. He could go inside, but he had no idea how long he’d last until the lack of invitation took its toll. Try it. Long enough to get Doc out? Or just a few steps in? ‘If you kill him, I will exact the same vengeance on Katsumi.’

A moment of confusion crossed Dominic’s face. ‘She’s done nothing to you.’

‘She stole blood from Chrysabelle, and not because she was trying to save someone she cared for, but out of greed. You kill him and I will serve her the same justice.’