Last Blood

Augustine’s tone was cool and clipped. “I’m part smokesinger fae.”

“Never heard of that kind,” Fi said. “What else can smokesingers do?”

“Done,” he said to Chrysabelle. She turned as he pointed to Fi. “You’re up.”

Fi took Chrysabelle’s place. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Fi,” Chrysabelle admonished. “Augustine’s a little busy.” And clearly didn’t want to answer anyway.

She sighed. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious? I’ve never met a smokesinger before. Especially not one as interesting as Augie.”

Augustine smiled as he blew smoke over Fi. When he finished, he said, “Let me take care of this, and then I’ll show you something.”

“Cool.” Fi looked at Chrysabelle. “See? Never hurts to ask.”

With a shake of her head, Chrysabelle went back into the suite to strap on her sacres. As she left the bedroom, Jerem called out from the kitchen where he was washing up from dinner.

“Hey. You sure you don’t want me to go with you? I will. Gladly. Just say the word.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that, but your coming to help with transportation was enough. Besides, according to Augustine someone needs to stay here to guard the mirror in case the elektos figure out what’s going on and try to do something.” She leaned against the counter. “Not to mention I don’t want to endanger anyone else if I can avoid it.”

He racked a wet plate to dry. “Understood. No one will touch that mirror, I promise.” He lifted his chin toward the balcony. “I don’t think Augustine’s as much of a slacker as he makes himself out to be. Covering you with that smoke? He knows what he’s doing.”

She looked out where Augustine and Fi were finishing up. Jerem’s assessment made her feel a little better. “Too bad I don’t.”

“Just remember why you’re doing this.” Jerem drained the sink. “When I was in the military, focusing on my reasons for being there was what always got me through. You’re strong and capable and you’ve faced tougher obstacles.” A flicker of his inner bear danced golden in his eyes. “If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

She smiled. “You give a good pep talk.”

The balcony door slid open and Fi and Augustine came back inside. Fi was almost bouncing with excitement. “Okay, let’s see your trick.”

“It’s not a trick,” he said. Still, he waited until Chrysabelle and Jerem came over. “I’m doing this only once.”

Fi nodded, almost gleeful. “Do we need to stand back?”

“No. Just watch.” He put his hands together, fingertip to fingertip, then slowly drew them apart. Tiny gray threads spun out between them. Then Chrysabelle realized it wasn’t thread, but wisps of smoke.

“Holy crap, that’s cool.” Fi leaned in.

The lines of smoke began to twist and curl between Augustine’s fingers until the shape became recognizable.

“A rose,” Fi breathed in awe.

The form solidified further, and then Augustine flicked his wrist, breaking the connection. With that free hand, he grasped the stem. The moment he touched it, the stem went green and deep lavender filled its petals. He handed it to Fi. “Now you know something a smokesinger can do.”

While she sniffed it, he looked at Chrysabelle. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He pulled a mirror off the wall and set it on the floor in front of them. “All right.” He held a hand out to her and Fi. “Take my hands.”

They did. Chrysabelle was surprised at how rough his skin was for someone who supposedly did nothing.

“Here we go.” He stepped onto the mirror and pulled them through.

Chapter Twenty-three

Tatiana paced. Back and forth, back and forth, across the Persian carpet of her sitting room until she saw nothing but the problem in front of her. Mal should have been here by now, shouldn’t he? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he wasn’t coming at all. That meant she’d have to find a way to kill Lilith on her own. Was that even possible? The only ones who might know were the Castus, but would they tell her?

There was only one way to find out.

“Samael, my liege,” she whispered. “If you can hear me, come to me alone. Please.” Just saying the word grated her nerves, but fear overruled all else. She sank to the floor, her hands clasped in her lap, and spoke the words again. “Please, Samael, I need you and only you.”

The room darkened with encroaching shadows and filled with the stench of brimstone. Never before had something so vile filled her with such relief.

He appeared before her, smaller than she’d ever seen him. More like the height of a man than the lord of darkness. His horrible visage, once a mask of terror, seemed… aged somehow. Tired. “What?” he snapped.

“Thank you for coming, my lord. Are you alone?” She looked behind him. There was no sign of Lilith, but that might not mean anything.

“Yes. Briefly. What do you want?” The skirt of shadows that draped him from the waist down bore none of the usual faces or reaching hands.

“It’s about—”

“Don’t say her name.” He reached a hand out and placed it on Tatiana’s head, weighing her down like a lead weight. I know of whom you speak.

His words echoed in her head. She stared at him. I can hear you. In my head.