Out for Blood

He shut the door behind him and headed down the hall and into the kitchen. Velimai, the wysper fae who’d been Chrysabelle’s mother’s assistant, sat at the table with a cup of tea, scanning her e-reader. It was good she’d stayed on after Maris’s death. He didn’t like Chrysabelle being alone in this huge house, and with Velimai’s vampire-killing voice, the fae offered good protection should Tatiana come calling.

Velimai looked up when he came in. She signed something he didn’t understand, then pointed toward the upstairs.

“Yes,” he answered, guessing at what she’d asked. “She’s awake. And hungry. And a little cranky.” Who wouldn’t be around you?

The wysper offered him a wry smile, set her reader down, and headed for the refrigerator. She pulled out a few things, then gave him a questioning look and a nod toward Chrysabelle’s rooms as she went to the counter.

He pulled out a chair and sat, his back to the wall. “She’s in the shower. Should be down shortly.”

Velimai stopped seasoning a steak to give him a good, long look. She slowly mouthed, “You look tired.”

“I am.” Tired of always being at odds with Chrysabelle’s stubbornness. “And frustrated. She doesn’t want to talk about what happened.” He tilted his head back until it touched the wall, then closed his eyes. “Or what’s still happening. Or going to happen, depending on how you look at it.”

Two soft clinks on the tabletop brought his head back down and opened his eyes. Velimai tapped the top of the whiskey bottle she’d put there with a squat glass, then glided back to the range where the grill was heating.

“Thanks.” What he really needed was blood, but that could wait. No, now. He’d had enough practice in delaying his own gratification. Another hour or so meant nothing. He poured a couple centimeters of whiskey into the tumbler and tossed them back. The burn felt good. Substantial. Something he could quantify. Unlike Chrysabelle, who continued to bewilder him. “We’ll have to discuss it sooner or later.”

Velimai nodded. The steak sizzled as she laid it over the grill, the scents of searing, bloody flesh reminding Mal of his human days. A muted whir filled the room as the vent kicked on to suck up the smoke. She put down the tongs she’d been using, came back to the table, scrawled something on an e-tablet, then held it out to him.

She’ll talk when she’s ready. You & I know it’s the ring in her system. Maybe your blood too. But what can you do until she’s ready? Fight with her? No use.

Mal set the e-tablet down and leaned back. “No use is right. I just can’t help but wonder what the final cost of all this is going to be.”

Velimai sighed and went back to the steak.

“The final cost of what is going to be?” Chrysabelle cinched her robe a little tighter as she entered. Her hair was dry. Maybe she’d changed her mind about showering. The look in her eyes said she understood perfectly well what they were talking about.

He didn’t want to fight with her. Do it. But neither did he want to ignore something so critical. Velimai glanced at him, her expression plainly asking him to drop it. But he couldn’t. This was too important. This was Chrysabelle’s life. Her future. “The final cost of what’s going on with you. With the ring’s power in your system.”

“The ring’s power was destroyed when Atticus melted it down. I told you I’m fine. If you can’t accept that, maybe you should go.”

He canted his head to one side, trying to quell his building frustration. “Chrysabelle, don’t be—”

“It’s my house,” she said quietly. “I’ll be whatever I want to be, understood?”

He rose, thankful there was no sun in the sky to keep him captive here. “Let me know when you’re ready to be someone who wants to face reality, because if you think the ring’s power and my blood in your system aren’t somehow responsible for you still being alive, you’re wrong. And we need to figure out what else it means before something new happens. Tatiana’s still out there. The first sign of weakness in you and she’ll exploit it. You think she won’t?”

Her face went slightly ashen. “You don’t want me to have a moment’s peace, do you?”

“Of course I do.” He tried not to growl in frustration but failed. “I just want to figure this out. To help you.” Help yourself. Bite her. Drain her.

She crossed her arms like a shield against him. “Yes, I know how you help. Like the time you followed me to the Aurelian. And the time you put your blood into me to save my life. Your help is never really that helpful, is it?”

He came closer, staring down at her maddening glow. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”

“Yes. And I’m tired of the air smelling like vampire.” She turned away. “Go home, Mal. When I’m ready, I’ll come find you.”

Every cell in his body ached to fire back, but he stayed silent despite the voices trying to pry his jaws open. He stalked out of the house and slammed the door behind him. The voices raged like drunken carnival revelers.

Maybe the voices were right. Maybe it was time to let Chrysabelle go. Let her deal with her life on her own.

If only he could get his heart to agree.

Chapter Two

Corvinestri, Romania, 2067

She is the most remarkable child, isn’t she?” Tatiana gazed into the perfect face of her daughter, Lilith.