Bad Blood

Mortalis’s jaw tensed. “No, he’s not.”

She was definitely going to punch something. Maybe the fae in front of her. “Can’t fae transport through glass or something like that?”

“Silver-backed mirrors, yes.”

“So take me that way.”

“I can’t. Only fae can travel that way.”

“I have a driver. How long of a trip are we talking?”

“By car?” He winced. “Thirteen, maybe fourteen hours.”

“Unacceptable. Get Dominic’s plane.”

“I can’t just take his plane.”

She poked her finger into the chest of one of the world’s deadliest creatures. “You can and you will.”

“I can’t and I won’t. You want his plane, you ask him.” His expression hardened.

“You two planning on going somewhere?” Creek materialized out of the kitchen to lean against the wall. She knew he expected her to talk to the mayor.

“I was just about to ask that same question.” Mal’s voice sounded from the gloomy recesses of the hall behind them. He’d lobbied for them to talk to Dominic first about the dead comarré.

Looked like one of them would get their wish early. Chrysabelle forced herself to unclench her fists and maintain a civil tone. “Yes. We’re going to see Dominic—”

Mortalis glanced toward the wall of windows at the far end of the living room. “Now? You’re going to wake him from daysleep to ask him for a favor?”

She tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling, taking a deep, cleansing breath before she brought it back down again and looked at Creek. “We’re going to see the mayor.” She turned to Mal. “Then we’re going back to see Dominic.” And finally Mortalis again. “Then we’re getting on a plane and going to New Orleans.”

Mal growled softly. “Vampires aren’t allowed in New Orleans.”

Mortalis nodded. “Not since the late 1920s.”

“I know,” Mal said. “I found that out the hard way when I first came to the States.” His mouth settled into a hard line. “They won’t let me in.”

“We’ll get you in,” Chrysabelle said. She turned to Mortalis. “He’s coming. And so is Creek. Your fae friend wants to see me, he sees me on my terms. Otherwise, I’ll have Creek tell his boss where the missing ring of sorrows is and let the KM deal with it themselves.”

Would it have hurt Mother Nature to make the day cloudy? Aliza squashed her ball cap down over her dreads a little harder. Damn sunlight was hell on albino eyes, and her cheapie sunglasses weren’t cutting it. She ducked into a doorway, content to rest a minute in the shadows while she got her bearings according to what she’d seen through the varcolai’s eyes. Things looked different in the daylight.

How hard could it be to find the old church? She stared down the street, looking for something familiar, but the slummy buildings and dirty stucco blended into each other block after block.

She started down the street again, skirting a pair of old men squatting on a stoop. Two steps past them and she stopped. “You know of an old abandoned Catholic church around here?”

“Si, si,” one said, smoking a fat cigar. He pointed down the street. “Is not far, maybe four, five blocks more.”

The other one smiled, revealing yellow teeth. “You going to pray, mami?” He grabbed his crotch. “You can kneel right here if you’d like.” Both men started laughing.

She pulled down her sunglasses, showing them her nearly colorless gray eyes. “You’re the one who should pray, amigo.”

“Ai! Fantasma,” the man cried, crossing himself.

The other one spat at her, then threw his hand up, making the sign of horns. “Fuera! Go away!”

Laughing, she shoved her sunglasses back into place and took off. Sometimes being albino had its uses. Two blocks down and the church’s steeple came into view. She kept walking until the building was just across the street. From there, she took her time, studying the dilapidated structure for a way in that wouldn’t make too much noise or arouse too much suspicion.

Not that she cared about the vampire inside. He’d be knocked out with daysleep. It was like a coma, almost impossible to wake them from, and it left them massively sluggish. She would grab the kid and be out of there before the vamp knew what had happened. And if he did wake… she slid her hand into the messenger bag strung across her body and wrapped her fingers around the wooden stake in the bottom. The bag was empty otherwise. Just enough room for a baby.

She chose a side door shielded by a small porch and tried the knob. Locked. She placed her fingers against the keyhole and shot a small burst of freeing magic into it. Tumblers clicked. She tried it again. This time it turned.

Smiling to herself, she quickly checked the street in both directions. Assured she wasn’t being watched, she opened the door and slipped inside.

She took off her sunglasses as she entered the sanctuary. Incense hung in the air and light streamed through the broken and boarded stained glass, picking up heavy swarms of dust motes and speckling the remaining pews with colored splotches. Everything held a thick layer of grime except for a spot on the kneeling bench in front of the altar and on the altar itself. The bench was shiny with use, and across the way, votive candles flickered in a tiered holder, casting small shadows on the dingy plaster walls. She didn’t get how a vampire could live here, but the idea that he might actually worship in this space was weirder still. Her brows lifted and she shook her head. All that mattered was that he’d fathered a child. A half-vampire child.