Blood Rights

by Painter, Kristen

  All eyes shifted upward to a private balcony that overlooked the arena. Dominic’s hands gripped the glass rail, knuckles white. Mal had seen the tumultuous look on his face a few times before. It didn’t bode well.

  ‘You and you.’ Dominic’s gaze pressed heavy on Mal and Chrysabelle. ‘My office, now.’ With a forced smile, he addressed the rest of the crowd. ‘Please accept my apologies for this incident. Your accounts have all been credited with a thousand dollars in additional funds.’

  A new cheer arose, and the double doors opened, ushering in a slew of servers carrying trays laden with pints of blood, shots of alcohol, and tabs of the various alchemical drugs Dominic made his living from. Chrysabelle blew the remaining ash off her sword before returning it to its scabbard.

  Mal glanced at Dominic. Dominic stared back. Hard. Chrys -abelle grabbed Mal’s arm, turning her face away from Dominic and keeping her voice low. Her eyes held none of the distance they had when she’d pinned the fringe. ‘Am I in trouble?’

  The question disarmed Mal. An instant ago she’d been an avenging angel blithely decimating her attacker, now her brows bent in uncertainty, yet he sensed no duplicity in her. He shook his head. ‘Dominic can’t hurt you.’

  Mal wouldn’t let him. As much as Chrysabelle had disrupted Mal’s life, as much as he wanted to be rid of her, he wouldn’t let Dominic prostitute her like the rest of his homemade comarré. Chrysabelle was too good for that. What else might become of her, Mal couldn’t say. He handed her the bone dagger. ‘Sheath that and follow me.’

  The blade vanished up her sleeve. ‘I told you I could protect myself.’

  He nodded, feeling the weight of truth upon him like a blanket of fresh snow, cold and clean. ‘So you did.’ Now was not the time to explain that stabbing a wounded fringe in no way compared to taking on a full-powered noble vampire with a few hundred years of age on him.

  She’d find that out for herself when they walked into Dominic’s office.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  On the inside, Chrysabelle’s nerves buzzed against her skin like a swarm of bees trying to escape a burning hive. She’d killed fringe before, but always in practice sessions, never in a situation where her life was clearly in danger. The feelings unsettled her – she was at once proud of her ability to protect herself so well and yet stunned by how easily she’d ended a life. She’d never felt that way in training, but maybe the steps she’d been taking away from her comarré life were changing her in more ways than she was aware.

  She shook off the strangeness as best she could. Time to focus on getting Dominic’s help, something that might be a little harder now that she’d offed one of his customers.

  Beside her, Mal walked with purpose. He knew where he was going because he’d been here before. Been in those Pits before. She cringed inwardly. The idea of him there made an unused part of her ache. She glanced at Mal. His eyes stayed straight ahead. ‘I’m guessing it doesn’t always end in death.’

  ‘What doesn’t?’ He turned, obviously caught off guard.

  ‘What happens in the Pits.’

  ‘No. Death, a draw, or one combatant admits defeat.’

  Or, she was guessing, one combatant kept the other alive so he could be defeated and humiliated repeatedly. ‘Did you ever beat Ronan?’

  A brief silence. ‘No.’

  ‘You could now.’

  He stopped, narrowing his eyes, then turned, and for a moment she thought he was going to argue. Instead, he pushed his hand against the wall behind him. A door opened under the pressure of his touch.

  ‘After you.’

  She went through, bracing herself. Dominic had not reacted well to what she’d done to one of his paying customers. No telling what he would do in the privacy of his office. The door only led to another passage and, farther down, another door. Just as she was about to question Mal, the door swung open.

  Dominic glared at them, moving aside enough to allow them entrance. He wore his true face like a king wore a crown. How he must despise Mal for being another displaced noble, a possible usurper to his throne. To the fringe, they were equally grand.

  Another thought occurred. Had Dominic had a hand in Mal’s subjugation? Certainly Dominic and his harem of fake comarré could have supplied Mal with an endless supply of human blood. Why hadn’t he?

  Head full of new suspicions, she stared back as she made her way forward, glad for Mal’s presence at her back. Dominic said nothing as she brushed past. Leather and silk upholstery decorated the expanse beyond him, mixing with marble floors and honey wood-paneled walls. Near the right-hand wall and diagonal to a set of gilded French doors – presumably the ones that led to the balcony over the Pits – an antique Renaissance-style desk held court, its slick marble surface like vanilla ice cream swirled with caramel. Behind it, a chair of thronelike proportions. She took a seat in one of the burgundy silk armchairs opposite the desk, adjusting her sacre so its point canted to the side.

  Mal was not yet seated when Dominic slammed the door and twisted to face them. The menace in his eyes lifted the small hairs on the back of her neck.

  ‘Porca vacca! How dare you come into my home and execute—’

  Mal snarled, body tensing. ‘We were attacked in your home—’

  ‘None of that matters.’ Chrysabelle leaped to her feet. ‘They’ve taken—’

  ‘Of course it matters,’ Dominic raged, approaching them. ‘My word is law, and you’ve broken that law. Brought weapons into my club—’

  ‘They’ve taken Maris.’ Chrysabelle waited a moment for that news to sink in. ‘Do you still think a dead fringe matters?’

  Dominic’s mouth hung open midsentence, and he paled, an incredible feat for a vampire who’d not seen the sun in his many years. ‘When?’

  ‘A few hours ago. Velimai showed us. It was a vampire named Tatiana and one other noble, Mikkel.’

  He stumbled toward the desk, groping for the tall chair behind it like he’d suddenly lost his sight. Collapsing onto the stocky gilt frame, he stared vacantly at the space behind Chrysabelle, finally blinking and returning his gaze to her. ‘Why didn’t you come sooner?’

  His accusatory tone set her nerves on edge. ‘We came as soon as we could.’

  Beside her, Mal sprawled in the seat like he hadn’t a care in the world. ‘Your staff did their best to keep us from getting here at all.’

  Dominic, face now wiped of all trace of shock, lifted one brow. ‘As well they should, considering what I pay them.’

  Chrysabelle wanted to smack the pompousness out of his voice. How dare he act so cavalier when her aunt’s life was at stake?

  Mal tugged her hand, motioning for her to sit. ‘We found the remains of two fringe and a Nothos on the perimeter.’

  ‘The fringe were mine. I sent them to protect her.’

  ‘They did a wretched job of it,’ Chrysabelle said, settling into the chair and adjusting her sacre again.

  Dominic steepled his fingers. ‘They took down a Nothos. Not an easy task.’

  She blew out through her nostrils. ‘My aunt is still gone.’

  He peered over his hands. ‘What else do you know that might be of use?’

  ‘Tatiana is House of Tepes. The vampire with her was Bathory. He tried to use black magic on Velimai, but without an invitation his power couldn’t penetrate the house.’

  ‘How did Tatiana get in?’

  Chrysabelle shook her head. ‘Apparently, she can mimic appearances.’

  Dominic’s brow wrinkled. ‘No vampire has that power.’

  ‘Think harder.’ Chrysabelle stroked the silk covering the chair’s padded arm. The burgundy fabric was shot through with green and gold. ‘Higher up.’ She lifted her face then so she could watch his.

  His eyes widened for the briefest of moments. ‘You think she’s aligned herself with … she wouldn’t.’

  ‘To get the power she wants? Of course she would. You don’t know her like I do.’

  Dominic flexed his ha
nds into fists, then gripped the arms of his chair. ‘This is your fault. If not for you and that ring—’

  ‘This is not her fault.’ Suddenly, Mal’s casual sprawl took on a predatory tension. He bent his head, gaze arrowed in on Dominic. ‘She could not have predicted what has happened. If you’re not going to help, say so. The sun will be up any minute.’

  Dominic laughed with the prickly air of superiority. ‘The sun’s been up for half an hour. I pump certain things into the air system to suppress the internal clock.’

  ‘Vampires don’t breathe,’ Mal said.

  ‘It gets in through the skin.’ Dominic looked at Chrysabelle. ‘Why not just give Tatiana this ring?’

  ‘That’s the plan right now. Although … ’

  Mal nodded. ‘Tell him.’

  ‘Tatiana wants to break the covenant. If this ring has anything to do with that … ’ Chrysabelle shook her head. ‘I don’t want to stand idly by and let her have her way either.’

  If the news shocked Dominic, he didn’t show it. ‘She won’t break the covenant.’ He threw his hands up. ‘Maronna, the chaos it would unleash.’

  ‘She will, and you’re an idiot if you think otherwise.’ Chrysabelle rose and paced to the French doors. Anger flooded her veins, tightened her jaw and neck and shoulders. She forced a modicum of calm into her body before speaking again. ‘We’re wasting time. Maris is out there and needs our help.’

  Dominic stood, shoving the ornate throne back across the floor with a loud scrape. Mal tensed, but Dominic’s attention belonged to Chrysabelle. ‘You will not talk to me that way.’

  Mal unfolded to a standing position and slowly rolled his shoulders, a move that held a remarkable amount of menace. ‘She’ll talk to you any damn way she pleases. She knows these nobles and what they’re capable of better than either one of us. Are you going to help or not?’

  Dominic pressed a button on his desk and spoke into a receiver. ‘Send Mortalis in.’ Then he answered Mal. ‘I will help in whatever way I can. Your comarré may not know this, but I loved her aunt very much. For Marissa I willingly turned my back on the House of St. Germain and became anathema, leaving with her after she won libertas.’

  Chrysabelle saw Dominic with new eyes. ‘You’re the one Maris went through libertas for?’

  ‘Yes. I nursed her back to health, made money whatever way I could to provide for her. I did what I had to do, because I loved her. I still do.’

  Chrysabelle snorted. ‘You’ve got a strange way of showing it.’

  Dominic’s gaze steeled. ‘Ogni moneta ha due facce. Every coin has two faces. Perhaps you should ask your aunt what happened between us before you judge me.’

  ‘I’ll do that. If I ever see her again.’

  A knock sounded, but not in the direction of the door they’d come through.

  ‘Come,’ Dominic called.

  From the opposite side of the room, a new door opened. Mortalis strolled through and stopped beside Dominic’s desk. He nodded at Mal, then gave his attention over to Dominic.

  ‘Two noble vampires kidnapped Maris. They may have Nothos with them; we know they had at least one. We need to find them and get Maris back.’

  ‘I’ll start with the known safe houses, work from there.’ An unsettling smile broke over Mortalis’s face. He stroked one horn. ‘A Nothos, eh? Now that’s the kind of fight I like.’

  What did Dominic have on the shadeux to get him to obey so readily? Chrysabelle looped her fingers through the sacre’s strap. ‘I thought you said the sun was up?’

  ‘It is,’ Dominic said.

  She tipped her chin at Mortalis. ‘Then what good is he?’

  Mortalis strummed his fingers over the hilt of a black-handled blade tucked into his belt. ‘The common belief that shadeux cannot abide sunlight is false. We cannot be seen when the sun rules the sky, but we may certainly travel beneath its rays.’ His six fingers stopped strumming and gripped the hilt. ‘You’d be wise to keep that knowledge to yourself.’

  She filed the nugget of info away. ‘You don’t scare me, shadeux. You don’t instill trust in me either. I’m going with you.’

  Mal grabbed her arm. ‘No, you’re not. That’s exactly what these vampires want is to draw you out. You’ll stay here until Mortalis gets back. Based on what he finds, we’ll reassess.’

  Dominic kept quiet, but Mortalis laughed softly. ‘Well done, vampire. You may learn to control her yet.’

  She opened her mouth, but Mal spun her around to face him before she could respond to the fae. She glared at Mal. ‘My aunt needs me.’

  ‘She needs you alive.’ Something in his eyes and the tone of his voice softened her temper. But that was foolish, wasn’t it? That look in his eyes was nothing more than the need for sleep, exacerbated by the sun’s rise and too little rest over the past few days. One draught of her blood did not a whole vampire make. Nor, without question, had it created any sort of empathy in him for her.

  She jerked her arm away. ‘Fine.’ She looked at Dominic. ‘I want a report the instant he gets back.’

  Mortalis ignored her and spoke to Dominic. ‘I will return as soon as I can.’

  As the shadeux left, Dominic came around from behind the desk. ‘You might as well sleep until he returns, Malkolm. There is nothing else you can do. Come. I have a room you may use. It’s safe. We’re several stories underground on this level.’

  ‘Fine.’ Mal held out his arm, indicating Chrysabelle should go ahead of him. So lack of sleep made him more human? Or was he putting on a show for Dominic?

  They followed Dominic out of the office by the door through which Mortalis had entered, then down a long hall. Finally, Dominic stopped at a door near the middle of the corridor. He twisted a brass key in the lock, then opened the door. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as Mortalis has returned. Chrysabelle, I’ll have food brought up for you shortly.’

  She crossed her arms. ‘I’m not staying in there with him.’

  Already inside, Mal looked around the room but not back at her. ‘Yes, you are. It’s not safe for you in the club alone.’

  Dominic nodded. ‘He’s right. It might not be safe for my guests either.’ He glanced at the red strap crossing her chest. ‘That’s Marissa’s sacre, is it not?’

  ‘Yes,’ Chrysabelle whispered. What memories swirled in that brain of his?

  If his eyes seemed oddly liquid, it was only for a moment. ‘I will find her and I will punish those responsible for taking her. Marissa earned her freedom once. She will not do it alone again.’ He tipped his head toward the door. ‘In. Please, cara mia.’

  ‘I’m not Maris. Your pretty words mean nothing to me.’ She curled her lip at him as she reluctantly stepped over the threshold. ‘If he eats me, it’s on your head.’

  Dominic pursed his lips. ‘My head? His skin, you mean.’ Dominic winked and shut the door firmly. A second later, a small snick followed.

  Chrysabelle tried the knob. ‘He locked us in. That pompous old—’

  ‘What did you expect? You snuffed one of his patrons.’ Mal’s voice held a shade of humor.

  She whirled. ‘Are you serious? You think he locked us in because of me? You’re the one they all want to fight. I was protecting you.’

  ‘Protecting me?’ The humor disappeared. ‘Bloody hell. You’re not just annoying, you’re also delusional.’ He threw his hands up and walked away to sit on the king-size four-poster bed. He bounced a few times, testing the mattress, then pushed back, swung his legs up, and lay down. He crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. ‘I’m not one of those vampires that sleeps like I’m dead.’

  ‘And I care how you sleep because?’

  He opened one eye. ‘Because I tend to wake up in attack mode.’

  ‘Whatever.’ She shivered, clasping her wrists to feel the blades secured there. ‘Just so you don’t wake up hungry.’

  Both eyes stayed shut. ‘I always wake up hungry.’

  Chapter Twenty-four

  A flick
er of sensation darted through the blackness cradling Tatiana. She shifted, and it was gone.

  Another flicker. Stronger. Pounding. A voice. ‘Mistress.’

  She struggled to shed the coma of daysleep, but it clamped down on her like a drug. She waded through the thick morass masquerading as her brain and found enough energy to mumble, ‘What?’

  Then the stench of brimstone hit her.

  The Nothos.

  ‘Shall I return later?’

  ‘No.’ With new determination, she fought through the fog and pulled herself upright. The wall clock showed she’d been down barely two hours. Not enough, but it would have to do. Grabbing the headboard, she lurched to her feet. Mikkel remained motionless, as deep in daysleep as a corpse in death. She stumbled toward the door until she leaned against it, fighting the urge to close her eyes.

  ‘What is it?’ Bloodlust cramped her muscles. The kine last night had done little to assuage the heightened thirst that had accompanied her new power. She should have brought her comar along, but the fewer who knew of this trip, the better.

  ‘Mistress, I have the remnant.’

  ‘Is the plane secure?’ She snatched her robe and hastily tied it on. Not the best attire for what was sure to be another bloody interrogation, but this shouldn’t take long.

  ‘Yes.’

  Tatiana retrieved a set of earplugs and fitted them in before easing the door open. The Nothos stood in the center of the cabin, slightly bent to keep its head from touching the ceiling. The dim lighting made a cartoon of its grotesque form. The remnant dangled from its fist, her six-fingered hands secured at the wrists with iron shackles to bind her powers. Suddenly, Tatiana felt very awake. She pulled the earplugs free.

  ‘Drop her and strip her silver.’

  The Nothos released her and the girl collapsed in a heap upon the carpet. It reached down, hooked its claws beneath the glittering chains skirting her neck, and yanked the links free. Wisps of smoke trailed off its skin. It growled softly but kept on until the remnant’s ears, wrists, fingers, and navel were decontaminated. Lastly, it removed the two etched bands circling the ends of her horns. After depositing the offensive metal into a bin, the Nothos bowed slightly, lacerated palms up, then walked backward until it exited the plane.