Bad Blood

“It’s more than that,” Amery continued. “The spell prevents vandalism by creating in the viewer a desire to protect. In this neighborhood, even small things like littering have been virtually wiped out.”

“Leave it to the fae,” Mal said, shaking his head.

Mortalis shot a smile back at Chrysabelle. “We always have been the brains of the othernatural realm.”

Amery turned down a side street off of St. Charles and drove another block or two, then turned again and parked. “We’re here.”

“Which house?” Chrysabelle asked.

“This one.” He jerked a thumb toward the house on the driver’s side.

For a house painted entirely in shades of gray and black, the ornate Victorian should have seemed dull, but there was something both welcoming and serious about it. As if you’d better have business when you stepped onto its front porch, but so long as you did, come on in.

Mal leaned across to look out her window. “A high-ranking fae lives in a house with this much ironwork?”

Amery shook his head. “It’s not iron—it’s painted aluminum. Maintains the historical integrity without the nasty itch.” He pointed to a few houses across the street. “They’re almost all aluminum these days.”

Mortalis shifted to look at Mal and Chrysabelle. “The chances that Hugo will invite you in, Mal, are nil. He’s one of the elektos. Giving a vampire access to his home isn’t even up for debate. You might as well stay in the car.”

“Absolutely not,” Chrysabelle said. “He comes. This Hugo might be one of your leaders, but he’s not mine and he’s got something that belongs to me. Besides, Mal might be the only thing that keeps me from killing this idiot outright.” Her body tensed as her anger grew, sending a quick jolt of pain down her spine. “If Hugo won’t let him in, I’ll burn his house down.”

“Chrysabelle…” Mortalis tipped his head as if he were dealing with an unreasonable child.

“Don’t, Mortalis. You have no place to speak. Mal comes.” She opened her door and got out, tired of waiting, tired of discussing, ready to do. She slid her sacres on over her long coat, happy to have their slight weight back on her body.

Except for Amery, the others got out behind her. She stood in front of the chest-high gate, studying the house. A curtain in one of the upstairs windows swayed as though it had been dropped back into place. Being watched was no surprise. Nor was whoever had been at the window feeling no need to hide their inspection. Clearly, she and her group were to understand that they were no longer on their home turf. What Hugo failed to comprehend was that she hadn’t been on her home turf in a long time. Every day was filled with lessons in adaptation, and if this Hugo thought he was going to have some sort of advantage because this was his city, his house, his rules… he was wrong.

Mortalis pushed a button concealed in one of the flowers decorating the elaborate metal fence surrounding the property. A buzzer sounded and he pushed through the gate.

She followed with Mal behind her. They waited on the porch while Mortalis rang the bell. The leaded glass on the double doors was mottled in such a way that only shapes were visible through it. The one coming toward them wore black.

The door opened and a doughy butler, who looked very human, addressed them. “Good afternoon.” He stepped aside, holding the door wide. “Do come in. Mr. Loudreux is waiting.”

Mal glanced at Chrysabelle. She understood that the butler wasn’t the home owner, so his invitation meant nothing to Mal. She stayed put, squaring her shoulders in preparation for the anticipated battle. “We need a more personal invitation. From Hugo himself.”

The butler lowered his hairy brows and squinted at her. His gaze moved to Mal, where it stopped, and his brows resumed their normal height. “Ah, yes, I suppose you would.” He frowned and shook his head at Mal. “I should call the guardian, but what good would that do? Mr. Loudreux is not going to be happy about this.”

“I don’t care if he cries like a little girl. Go get him,” Mal said. “We need an invite.”

“Hmph.” The butler shut the door as he turned on his heels. His penguin shape disappeared back into the foyer.

Mortalis sighed and stared at the blue painted porch ceiling. “This isn’t going to happen. I’m telling you.”

“So noted.” She gently pushed him aside to stand in front of the door. A minute or two later, two shapes came toward them, the penguin and a tall, slim figure.

Mr. Loudreux opened the door this time. He stood a head taller than any in their party, his slim build, narrow face, and freckles giving him away as a cypher. Nothing about his expression read as kindness. “I understand you expect me to grant a vampire entrance into my home.”

Chrysabelle lifted her chin. “I do.”

“No. If the rest of you want to come in, you may, but I suggest you do so quickly, as my patience tends to be nonexistent.”

She stepped forward, putting herself in his personal space and halfway into his house. “And I understand you wanted to see me before returning my property. Seeing me includes those in my company. If that doesn’t meet with your approval, then give me back my ring and we’re gone.”

He smiled. “I accepted the ring for safekeeping. The circumstances for its return were not discussed.”

Meaning Mortalis had handed it over quickly and without properly wording the details of the agreement. She knew how fae could be. Everything was open to interpretation. She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice, moving quickly to slip one of her wrist blades into her hand. “Then you’ll understand if I use whatever means necessary to recover it.”