Bad Blood

Steam coated the glass door and wall. She shut her eyes and tried to empty her head of the chaos to find a quiet, pain-free place. The deep, concentrated breathing taught to all comarré helped some, but didn’t remove the pain altogether. She tried not to think about what that meant for getting the new signum inlaid.

“Chrysabelle?”

She jolted upright, the movement sending a fresh burst of pain zipping along her spine. “Mal?” She rubbed a little spot in the steamed-up glass. The door was open a crack but he was still on the other side of it.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Your heartbeat says otherwise.”

She frowned. Lying to a vampire who could hear your pulse was like trying to beat a lie detector. “Just startled me is all.”

The door opened a little farther. “I wanted to let you know Mortalis will be back in an hour.”

So he had gone to deliver her message after all. Good. “Thanks. I’ll be right out.” Or Mal could get in. She had no doubts his big hands on her back could work miracles. Maybe she could blindfold him. Or just grow up and let him see her naked.

“Take your time.” The door shut, leaving her more alone than she’d wanted to be when they’d first gotten here.

Water beaded off the peephole she’d made, trickling down the glass and leaving lines behind. Why had he said take your time? Did he know she was in pain? Maybe she should just tell him. But then she ran the risk of him handling her like glass, something she despised. She turned the water off, got out, and slipped into one of the lush robes the hotel provided, then shook her hair free.

Water ran down the small of her back, the subtle sensation like fingers trailing over her skin. She stared at the door he’d just been on the other side of. His blood ran in her veins. For that reason alone, she should want nothing to do with him. Instead, being near him made her body ache and her heart beat faster, just like the scars marking her skin. Pain and pleasure. Two sides, one coin.

She reached for the doorknob, knowing that she balanced on the thin edge of recklessness. Knowing that Mal was everything necessary to push her over that edge. Not caring that this wasn’t the time or the place.

Holy mother. What was she about to do? She glanced at herself in the mirror, but the steam-covered glass reflected a hazy image.

“Not the time or place,” she whispered. That wasn’t too much to remember, was it? She hoped not, especially when it came time for him to kiss her after he fed. His mouth on hers. A shiver ran through her, a remnant of the memory of the last kiss they’d shared.

Remembering that wasn’t going to help at all.

Chapter Twenty-five

Fi ran into the living room, glad the rest of them were still there. “Doc needs help.”

“I gathered that,” Creek answered. “What’s going on?”

“Aliza’s got ahold of him again.”

Velimai signed something.

Fi nodded. “Preacher said he killed her, but he must not have. Now she’s worked up that spell that lets her into Doc’s brain. She can see whatever he sees—that’s why he wouldn’t open his eyes. We’ve got to stop her. She’ll do everything she can to get Doc to her house so she can kill him. If she can’t do that, she’ll get him to tell her where he is, then she’ll come here and kill him and maybe us, too.”

Creek shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

“The only way to break a spell created with blood magic is for the witch who cast it to break it. Voluntarily or otherwise,” Damian said.

Fi looked at Damian. “I know comarré study all kinds of things, but how do you know so much about witches?”

“Not long after Tatiana became my patron, I realized she was pretty interested in the dark arts. Her library is filled with books on the subject.” He shrugged. “I had a lot of time to read.”

“So if the witch dies, that would be the otherwise part?”

He nodded. Fi turned to Creek. “You know how to get to her house.”

Creek got up from his seat near the window. “I know exactly where she lives, but I don’t like leaving you and Velimai here alone.”

A small noise from the foyer made Creek look past Fi. She turned to see what had pulled his attention. Mortalis stood on the landing. He tucked something round and shiny into one of the many pockets in his leather gear.

Fi’s mouth opened in surprise. “I thought you were in New Orleans with Mal and Chrysabelle.”

He nodded. “I am. Was. They still are and I’m going back as soon as I let you know we’re probably not going to make it back in time for whatever happens tonight. You need to stay in this house and be on constant alert.”

“No can do,” Creek said. “The witch Aliza has got her hooks in Doc’s head. She’s got some spell on him, trying to make him come to her house so she can kill him. That or she’ll find him and kill him here.”

“Where is he now?” Mortalis asked.

“Locked in the wine cellar,” Fi answered.

Creek walked up to join her and Mortalis at the front of the living room. He jerked his chin at the fae. “Now that you’re here, you can come with me to Aliza’s, that way Damian can stay at the house. We need to get in quick and strike fast.”

“No, I can’t stay. Chrysabelle’s waiting for me to get back so she can do what needs to be done and return home herself.”