The raptor shuffled between the fae, his ankles and wrists shackled. Slick skin the same murky gray-green as sewer sludge covered his monstrous frame. The shape and carriage of the thing reminded Mal of the Nothos, but instead of piercing yellow eyes, this creature had no eyes at all, just a sloping forehead that curved back from his wide, slit nostrils. And there was no stench of brimstone. Instead he smelled like… Mal inhaled again. Bleach.

“Mmm… gold. Sacred, dirty gold.” The raptor opened his mouth, and a three-pronged tongue flicked out from between multiple rows of teeth that curved back toward his throat. He tasted the air. “And chocolate.”

Mortalis lifted the stick with the lighted end. “You’ll get the chocolate after you read the comarré’s gold.”

The big head moved and Mal realized the raptor was nodding.

He raised his shackled arms and curled his long slender fingers inward. “Bring her to me.”

Mortalis nodded to Chrysabelle. She pulled up the back of her loose tunic, bringing it over her head and tucking it under her chin so only her back was exposed; then she stood before the raptor and turned.

The raptor leaned in and sniffed her. “Must touch.”

Chrysabelle stood so still Mal could barely see the rise and fall of her breathing. Her hands were clenched in the fabric of her tunic, her eyes closed in what might have been prayer.

The raptor did nothing.

“He’s waiting for your permission,” Mortalis said quietly.

“Oh.” She swallowed. “Yes, you may touch me. No,” she added hastily, remembering what Mortalis had told her about being specific. “You may touch the metal on either side of my spine. Only.”

Amery let out a soft sigh that sounded like relief.

The raptor opened his mouth and the black tongue came out again. This time it flicked against her skin. She inhaled at the touch but after a brief flinch, held still.

Again and again, the raptor’s tongue made contact with her flesh, each time raising Mal’s ire. After what had transpired between them on the plane, seeing another creature, especially this abomination, touch her so intimately pushed him toward a level of jealousy and protection he’d never known with any woman.

He growled in the depths of his throat and the raptor stopped, tipped his head toward Mal, then snapped his tongue back into his mouth.

The raptor straightened to his full height, which put him half a meter from the ceiling. “I need blood to read deeper. A drop.”

“Ridiculous.” Now the creature traveled a bridge too far.

Mortalis put a hand up. “It’s not uncommon.”

Chrysabelle nodded, flipped out the tiny blade on her ring, and pricked her finger. She held it up, the tiny ruby bead on the tip like a beacon Mal couldn’t look away from.

The raptor inhaled as he bent toward her, his tongue reappearing. She lifted her hand, grimacing slightly. The tongue’s three segments delicately wrapped her finger, found the blood, and retreated.

The creature was quiet for a moment. “You are comarré?”

“Yes,” Chrysabelle answered.

He shook his head. “Your blood is dirty. This confuses me.”

“What the hell do you mean, her blood is dirty?” Mal took a step toward the fae. “Her blood is as pure as it gets.”

The raptor tipped his head toward Mal. “Vampire?”

“Yes.”

The raptor mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, “Darkness, all darkness”; then he inhaled in Mal’s direction. “Your blood is in her?”

“Yes.” Mal looked at Chrysabelle. He had no idea how the creature had picked that up.

With a small nod, the raptor continued. “I must taste your blood as well.”

Chrysabelle’s hand latched on to Mal’s wrist before he could protest, the pleading look on her face making it impossible for him to object. He held out his hand and she used her ring to prick his finger as well.

“Here.” Mal shoved his hand toward the raptor and the creature licked up the offered drop.

After a few long seconds, the creature went down onto his haunches and began to speak. “The gold is ancient. Sacred. Imbued with holy magic tainted by another for dark purposes. This gold was a ring, its circular shape a symbol of how unending, how indestructible its power. But this power is what concerns you. This power is what now flows within you. This power has become part of you, greater than you.”

Mal clenched his hands into fists. “What the hell is the power?”

The raptor took a breath. “In its unadulterated form, the ring held the power to raise the undead and bring them under the sway of whoever wore the ring.”

“A zombie army,” Amery whispered.

“No longer,” the raptor said. “Now the power is joined with the comarré’s blood. Now it will raise the comarré every time she dies.”

Chrysabelle nodded. “That’s already happened.”

The raptor held up his shackled hands. “Because you are joined with the vampire through his blood, every time you are resurrected, the power uses one of the souls trapped with him instead of a random soul.”

“The names.” Chrysabelle turned to Mal, her eyes wide and her breath ragged.

He nodded. “Now we know why they’re disappearing.” He faced the raptor. “So as long as I have names to spare, Chrysabelle will come back to life?”

The raptor stood. “No more questions. I will be paid.”