That melting would irrevocably disperse the dark power whatever twisted being had laid into the sacred metal. She shuddered at the thought of a being powerful enough to meld the sacred with the profane and prayed the melting would be enough to keep her safe. There was no way the ring could hold its power through that, was there? Because if something that dark was laid into her skin and it reacted with Mal’s blood now coursing through her veins… She shuddered. Pain skittered down her spine and she inhaled, the plane’s air conditioning icy in her lungs. She closed her eyes and concentrated on a long slow exhale to flush the pain out.

Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Mostly it didn’t.

Movement jostled the seat beside her, sending tiny shards of pain into her back and opening her eyes. “You okay?”

She nodded at Mal as he settled into the seat. Mortalis must still be sitting near the cockpit. He and Mal had left her alone during the flight so she could sleep and gather her strength. Not that she’d told them that’s why she needed to sleep, but Mal had a way of figuring things out, and chances were good he knew she was still in some pain. She should have let him kiss her after she’d given him that last draught of blood at the house, but she wasn’t even sure how effective days’ old, cold blood was in strengthening him. Still, any power from the transfer would have helped. Her back throbbed. “Great. You?”

“Fine.” He cocked a brow. “Any reason I shouldn’t be?”

“We are about to enter a city off-limits to vampires.”

“Only recently off-limits.” He settled back while the plane continued to taxi. “But New Orleans has always been a tricky city for vampires. Every time I’ve been here, I’ve had to watch my step. But once you understand the place, its draw is hard to deny. It’s like a beautiful woman.” He looked at her, his eyes slightly hooded and flashing small sparks of silver. “Difficult, but worth the effort.”

She pursed her lips. “Are you saying I’m difficult?” She ignored that he’d also called her beautiful.

He sighed and went back to staring straight ahead. “Yes.”

“When were you here?”

“Been coming here since the city was founded in the early 1800s, but my last trip was in the 1920s, right before the ban went into place. After that I returned to Europe.”

And Tatiana, Chrysabelle thought. “What makes it tricky?”

“Besides the varcolai and witches, the city is rife with churches and cemeteries. Many of the estates even have their own chapels. That’s a lot of enemies and hallowed ground to deal with. Plus there’s the heavy fae population—although it wasn’t a haven city when I was there. That happened while I was in the ruins.”

“So now that it’s officially off-limits to you, how are we going to get you in?”

“I’m your personal escort and bodyguard. They have to let me in.”

Mortalis walked toward them, his jaw tense and his gaze distant. “No, they don’t. And chances are zero they will. Even if I vouch for you.”

Chrysabelle sat up a little. “But you’re willing to vouch for him?”

Mortalis sat across from them, his six-fingered hands folding over his kneecaps. His eyes lost their faraway glaze to penetrate in Mal’s direction. “I don’t know what weight it will carry, but yes.” He scratched one horn. “You need to know that there are some here who care very little for me and my family.”

Chrysabelle tried to hide her surprise. It was the first she’d heard of Mortalis having family. Not that his past was any of her business, but she’d always thought of him as such a solitary being. “You mean like parents or—”

The plane came to a stop and he stood. “Gather your things. It’s time to get going.”

So much for that conversation. Easing to her feet, she pulled on the long white leather coat she’d found packed away in the depths of her mother’s closet. She’d found her mother’s silver body armor and a few other comarré things as well.

A light drizzle greeted them as they exited the plane. Mortalis had a car waiting for them, a sleek navy SUV. A driver, a young shadeux fae with budding horns and the requisite six fingers, got out from behind the wheel and popped open a large black umbrella. He met Chrysabelle as she stepped onto the tarmac. “Ma’am. I’m Amery, your driver. Do you have baggage?”

“No,” Chrysabelle answered. She wasn’t staying that long.

Amery pointed toward the sacres in her hand. “Would you like me to put those in the back?”

She hadn’t bothered strapping them on beneath her coat since she was getting into the car anyway and they made sitting uncomfortable for any length of time. She glanced at the fae thinblade at his hip. “No. They stay with me.”

“Very good. To the car, then.” He walked beside her to the vehicle and opened the rear passenger door, holding the umbrella until she was in.

Mal climbed in from the other side, taking the captain’s chair opposite hers as he shut the door. Mortalis settled into the front passenger’s seat. Amery dropped the umbrella through the back hatch, closed it, and got back behind the wheel.

He looked at Mortalis expectantly. “I can’t bypass the checkpoint.”

Mortalis stared straight ahead. “I know. I’m willing to vouch for him.”

“That will just get you banned, too.” The driver glanced briefly back at Mal. “He could… go around.”