Out for Blood

Still smiling, she stood, brushed the dust off her backside, and walked to his V-Rod. “Yes, I know. Dinner at your grandmother’s.”

“I’d ask how you know, but sector chiefs seem to know just about everything.” He grabbed his helmet and joined her on the other side of the bike.

She took the helmet out of his hands. “I know because she invited me, too.” She plopped the helmet on over her spiky black hair. “You’re driving.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

With Mal at her side, Chrysabelle leaned against the back wall of a small mirrored room in Mortalis’s home. No more than six by eight, the space had probably been a closet before Mortalis moved in. She wasn’t sure what was stranger—the mirrored room or the fact that Mortalis lived one floor below Dominic’s secret penthouse in the same luxury building. Made sense, though. Dominic had good reasons to keep his personal bodyguard close.

Amery shifted nervously across from them while Mortalis closed the door, completing the illusion that they were in the midst of a vast, strange crowd. The fae turned, his reflection as tense as the rest of him.

“Once we bring him in, there is no turning back. He will demand payment, whether or not he answers a question for you. If he isn’t paid, he’ll let it be known we brought him here without approval. And for his kind, there is no approval.”

“Where exactly are you getting him from?” Chrysabelle asked. She couldn’t help but wonder where such a dangerous fae lived.

“The Claustrum,” Amery answered.

Mortalis shot him a glare that shut him up.

“What’s that?” She really needed to study fae culture a little more.

“Fae prison,” Amery told her, with a look to Mortalis that said he was done speaking.

“Oh.” Her brows shot up. That was interesting, but Creek had spent time in prison, too, and he wasn’t exactly a bad guy. “What did he do?”

“You don’t want or need to know.” Mortalis scowled at Amery once more. “He can’t escape this room, unless you open the door, so don’t—”

“Don’t open it,” Chrysabelle finished. “We won’t.”

“You might want to,” Amery said. “This room is going to feel even smaller with a raptor in it.”

“I don’t like this,” Mal muttered.

His comment didn’t surprise her. She was starting not to like it either, but her desire to understand what the ring had done to her was greater. “How exactly is this creature going to be able to help me?”

Mortalis’s hands roved over his body, doing a weapons check. They slid from the hilts of the crossed thinblades at his back to a set of daggers at his wrists. “Like I told you, he can read metal. It’s more than that really, but that’s the best way to describe what he does.”

Mal snorted softly. “What kind of payment is he going to want?”

Amery opened his mouth, looked at Mortalis, then shut it. Mortalis shook his head. “We don’t know exactly, but raptors thrive on emotion.” He slanted his eyes at Mal. “He’ll want you, we’re almost sure of it.”

“I’m not giving him a choice,” Mal said. “Chrysabelle’s been through enough.”

Amery laughed. “With all the crazy in your head, the raptor probably won’t even notice her.”

“Amery.” Chrysabelle gave the young fae a disapproving glare. Mal might be a little borderline, but talking about it like that wasn’t polite.

“Sorry.” Amery dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Anyway,” Mortalis said, “what the raptor wants is different every time, but he’s a thief by nature, so”—he tipped his head at Amery—“give him the stuff.”

Amery pulled out two large chocolate bars from his jacket, then held them out to Mal.

“Chocolate? Really?”

Amery’s cheeks went a deeper shade of gray. “Beignets didn’t invent themselves. Sugar is a big fae weakness. Could be, he’ll take these and leave you alone. At the very least, these will put him in a good mood.”

“And if he doesn’t take those and leave Mal alone?” Doubts crept into Chrysabelle’s head. Worries about what might happen to Mal.

“I can handle it. That thing gets one whiff of the beast that lives inside me and he’ll figure out pretty quick the chocolate is the best deal.” He took the candy bars and stuck them into his back pocket, then winked at her. “Or maybe he’ll take a few of the voices with him. Seems like a win-win to me. You get your info and my head gets lighter.”

She nodded, unconvinced. “I guess.”

Mortalis pulled a thin rod from a holster on his hip and snapped it outward. It doubled in length and the end glowed with an easy blue light. He nodded to Amery. “Let’s go.”

They turned in unison and just like that, walked through the mirrored wall behind them.

“Wow,” Chrysabelle whispered. “I knew fae could travel that way, but I’ve never seen it.”

“Me neither.” He managed a half-smile. “This is all going to work out. You’ll see.”

She squeezed his forearm, his skin warm from the blood he’d had on the plane. “I’m sure you’re right.” She wasn’t, but for both of their sakes, she prayed it was true.

When Mortalis and Amery stepped back through the wall, Mal sensed Chrysabelle tensing before he heard her deep intake of breath and the whispered, “Holy mother,” that slipped out of her. Even the voices cringed.