Flesh and Blood

At the word, a flash of anger lit his eyes. He sneered. ‘Not under the pain of a second death will I acknowledge that title.’

She jerked her arm around the comarré’s neck, causing the girl to wheeze. ‘How about under the pain I could inflict on your little comarré whore?’ She laughed. ‘Or should I say the pain I will be inflicting?’ She smiled at the girl. ‘You’ll be coming with me when this game is over.’

‘No, Tatiana,’ the comarré rasped. ‘I won’t. When this is over, you’ll be a pile of ash.’

‘How dare you speak to her that way,’ Octavian snarled.

Tatiana gave him a reassuring look. ‘You may take your upset out on her later. Her threats are empty. I am in control of what happens now.’

The witch returned, ending the discussion. In her hands, a collection of vials and jars. She hurried toward the stone statue of her daughter and began mumbling words of little consequence. Witch magic was weak compared to the power the noble houses wielded.

As the witch began circling the statue with powders and earth and such, Tatiana nodded toward the other anathema, the one holding a knife to the varcolai’s throat, but directed her words to her faithful companion. ‘Octavian, procure that knife.’

Octavian took it from him with no small struggle and returned to her. The varcolai got up but didn’t move any farther. The anathema glared at Tatiana. ‘If Malkolm or Chrysabelle don’t kill you, I will.’

She ignored him and shoved the comarré toward Octavian. ‘Guard her.’

The girl flew out of her arms, flipping bone blades into her hands. Tatiana grabbed her around the neck again, making a metal collar with her hand as she’d done to the female fringe in the club, and lifted the comarré off the ground. ‘Drop the weapons.’

‘Not a chance.’ The girl kicked and slashed. One blade splintered against the metal.

‘You bore me.’ Tatiana shook the girl hard. Her head snapped back and the second blade dropped from her hand. A little more shaking and the girl went limp. Tatiana opened the collar. The girl fell to the ground in a boneless heap. ‘Octavian, take her into the other room and search her for the ring. Restrain her any way you see fit.’

Malkolm growled, watching as Octavian grabbed the comarré by the arm and dragged her back into the kitchen.

That accomplished, Tatiana strolled toward Malkolm. She could almost see the wisps of anger curling off him. She stood before him, enjoying the heat of his gaze, letting his fury fuel her pleasure. ‘You realize if she’d given me the ring, none of this would be happening.’

‘You’ll never get it. And if you hurt her—’

‘It touches me that you care for the girl, but your affections are foolishly spent on a servant.’

His jaw was so tightly clenched, his words came out in a gravelly slur. ‘I will kill you.’

She laughed as she turned to face the witch, still preparing her craft. ‘Tell me exactly what this spell of yours will do.’

Bent over her work, the witch answered, ‘The spell I am going to perform will loose the magic holding my daughter, but not dissolve it.’ She finished the circle of earth she’d drawn around the stone statue and started adding crystals at measured intervals. ‘The magic is too powerful. It must be given a new place to rest instead.’

‘And that new home is to be?’ Tatiana leaned forward in an attempt to encourage the witch to explain things more fully.

‘The one who caused this.’ The witch stopped work on a second earth circle, sat back on her haunches, and pointed at the anathema who’d been holding the varcolai hostage. ‘Dominic.’

‘Maronna! You cannot mean for me to take your daughter’s place,’ Dominic said.

‘Why not?’ the witch asked. She shook her head, the beads and shells sewn into her white dreadlocks rattling. ‘It’s what you deserve.’

Dominic’s face contorted. ‘The only one who deserved retribution was your daughter, for perverting my goods. I will not take her place.’

‘No, you won’t,’ Tatiana interrupted. What a serendipitous opportunity. ‘Malkolm will.’ She nodded to the witch, gesturing with her metal fingers to her errant husband. ‘Use the other anathema.’

‘Like hell,’ Malkolm snarled. ‘I had nothing to do with this.’

The witch shook her head. ‘No, he didn’t. My beef is with Dominic. He did this to my Evie.’

Dominic began to mutter in Italian again. Tatiana stomped her foot. ‘Witch, you will do what I say.’ She charged toward Malkolm. ‘And you will do what I tell you or your whore will die. Octavian, bring me the girl.’

He came out from the kitchen with the comarré over his shoulder. The girl had regained consciousness, but he’d used electrical cords to bind her upper arms against her body while her legs were secured at the calves and thighs. Once again, Octavian proved his usefulness. He deposited the girl at Tatiana’s feet.

‘Did she have the ring?’

‘Not on her.’

Chrysabelle spat at Tatiana. ‘You’ll never get it. I’ll die before that happens.’

‘Yes, you will.’ Tatiana held her hand in the air and formed it into a thin, sharp blade. It gleamed in the light.

Malkolm stilled. ‘Don’t touch her. I’ll take Dominic’s place if you leave her alone.’