Flesh and Blood

‘One of Dominic’s potions,’ Chrysabelle said as she entered the house.

Velimai peered at him, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled. She shook her head like something about him confused her.

Mal stayed on the porch. ‘I’ll wait here, but leave the door open in case I need you.’ The plan was for Creek to join them as soon as he’d patched up his injuries; then he, Mal, and Chrysabelle would board the Heliotrope, where she would perform the rite necessary to get to the Aurelian.

‘It might be a while. I have to clean my sacres, get the smell of the swamp water off my body, and then dress according to the tenets of the ritual. You can wait on the boat, if you like, get a shower, whatever you want. The windows are helioglazed.’ She smiled. ‘I guess that doesn’t matter at the moment.’

‘I’ll be fine. Do what you have to do.’ He hung back until she and Velimai left. Oddly, he couldn’t hear them or sense Chrysabelle as he might have just a few hours prior. It only made him more impatient to test his theory.

When he’d given them enough time to get upstairs to Chrysabelle’s suite, he positioned himself on the edge of the threshold, took a breath, and extended his hand toward the line of invitation.

His hand passed over the threshold with ease. A shiver tripped through him. He exhaled hard and stepped through the doorway. He stood in her foyer, almost trembling with the realization of what his entrance meant.

One more test. He slipped the knife from his belt and pulled back the sleeve of his jacket. He dropped the knife at the sight of his bare skin. His mouth hung open. Not a swirl of black, not a dot of ink, not a single name. As blank as the day he’d been born. His heart raced as he ripped off his jacket and shirt, grabbed up the knife, and ran for the mirror on the living room wall. Watching his reflection, he ran the knife’s edge across his palm.

Behind the fresh line of pain, blood welled. The wound stayed open.

Dominic’s potion hadn’t just made him immune to sunlight.

It had made him mortal.

Chapter Thirty-five

Something clattered on the floor downstairs. Chrysabelle looked at Velimai, who shrugged and signed, Stupid vampire.

‘I’ll check it out.’ Wishing Velimai would cut Mal some slack, Chrysabelle ran back down to see what the noise was. She skidded to a stop on the marble tile of her foyer. Mal stood in her living room. Bleeding. And half naked. Literally. Not a spot of ink decorated his body.

‘What are you doing? What happened? Where are your names?’ The words tumbled out of her mouth faster than she could make sense of him. ‘How are you in here?’

Bewilderment rounded his eyes as he continued to stare at himself in the mirror. He shook his head, dazed. ‘I’m mortal.’

Two words. Two impossible words. She stumbled toward him. ‘No. It’s just Dominic’s potion. You can’t be mortal.’

‘But I am. I’m in your house, uninvited. My cut hasn’t healed. The names and voices are gone. My senses are dulled. I can’t hear or smell or—’ He turned toward her. A flash of pain flickered in his gaze. He swallowed. ‘You don’t glow anymore.’

‘Dominic said you only turned mortal if you ate something.’ Mortal. Her insides twisted with the impact of what that meant. But that was foolishness, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t stay that way. Couldn’t. The aging was a death sentence. She shook her head. ‘Whatever this is, it’s only temporary. Dominic said it would wear off in twenty-four hours.’

He laughed. The sound chilled her with its recklessness. ‘Not if I eat.’ He spun, scanning the room. A bowl of apples gleamed red on the kitchen table.

‘Mal, don’t.’ Panic closed her throat. The thought of life without him – of watching him die – staggered her. ‘The aging will kill you in a few weeks. Maybe less.’

‘You don’t get it. I’ve lived long enough. The chance to be human again … ’ Liquid rimmed his lids. ‘Without these voices, this constant desire to kill.’ He threw his head back and exhaled. ‘Already I feel so clean. Reborn.’

Her hands clenched in useless fists. ‘Dominic knew you’d feel this way. This is his way of getting back at Doc. Don’t you see? By taking you away, he can go after Doc without your interference.’

‘Then Dominic wins.’ Mal shrugged and met her gaze once more. ‘You’ll be free, too. Free to do whatever you want with your life.’

He launched toward the apples, but his vampire speed was gone. She beat him easily, tackling him to the hard tile floor and pinning the warm length of him there. Every ounce of her being screamed for him to stay. ‘I don’t want to be free of you.’

He struggled to get up, but she outmuscled him now. He got one hand on the table leg. ‘Let me go, Chrysabelle.’

‘No.’ She tried to pry his grip loose, but her sweat-slicked fingers slipped. ‘I need you.’

‘No one needs the monster I am.’ He jerked the table. The bowl tipped, showering them in apples.

She batted one away. ‘I do. And I can free you of that monster. I’m going to the Aurelian tonight. You’ll have your answer.’

‘And what if she can’t help?’

‘She will. I know she will.’ Her cheeks were wet, her hands were trembling, and her heart was crying for her to do whatever she had to do to keep him from killing himself.

His hand closed around a single sphere of murderous red. ‘Let. Me. Go.’