Last Blood hoc-5

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Last Blood hoc-5 Page 12

by Kristen Painter


  Octavian was working out beautifully, even better than Lola had anticipated. He seemed to know what she needed before she knew herself.

  He looked up from typing the last of her notes into his tablet. “Anything else, Madam Mayor?”

  “No, that’s it. What else is on my agenda?”

  “There’s a report from the police chief about a couple of murders, but I took the liberty of skimming it and there’s no new information, so I filed it. I hope that was all right.” He looked at her, waiting for her approval.

  She nodded. “That’s fine.” She checked her watch. “Seems we’re done early.”

  He smiled. “I strive to be efficient. Would you like to see if any new e-mails have come in?”

  “Not in the slightest.” What she wanted was to loosen him up with a few drinks, and then see what she could find out about the ancient ones that might help her recover her granddaughter. So far, he’d been vague about what he knew of them. Almost scared to talk about them. “There are a few hours left before the sun comes up. How about we take the rest of the night off and have some fun?”

  “Like what?”

  She winked and said, “Follow me.”

  Half an hour later, the two of them and Luke Havoc stood in front of Seven. She leaned toward Octavian. “I’ve been here once before, but I was human then and didn’t get to enjoy it. I have a feeling it’ll be a very different experience now.”

  He seemed curious about the surrounding crowd. “This place is pretty popular, I take it.”

  “The taxes alone pay city hall’s electric bill.”

  A bouncer opened the rope for them and welcomed them in. “Good evening, Madam Mayor. Have a good time.”

  Inside, they entered through a gorgeous pair of red double doors painted with crouching gold dragons. Through those doors and they were in the thick of the club.

  A server came up to them almost immediately. She did a kind of half-curtsy that Lola found amusing. “What’s your pleasure this evening? Which of our sins would you like to enjoy?”

  Lola glanced at the doorways stationed along the perimeter of the club. Through the crowd of dancers, servers, and comarré, she could make out the words Vanity, Envy, Sloth, Wrath, Lust, Gluttony, and Greed above each door. She looked to Octavian. “Which one should we try?”

  He pointed toward Greed. “What goes on in there?”

  The server glanced back to see where he was pointing, then smiled. “Games of chance, sir.”

  He laughed and spoke to the mayor. “What do you say to a little gambling?”

  She hooked her arm through his. Whatever he wanted to do was fine with her. She wanted him happy. “Let’s break the house.”

  As she soon discovered, Octavian’s talents extended past his office skills. In just a few hands of Baccarat, he’d won a tidy sum. His celebratory mood helped him down nearly a bottle and a half of the club’s best champagne. Lola had done her best to sip hers and keep her head, but even with her vampire tolerance she was starting to feel a buzz. It was almost like the alcohol served at Seven was stronger.

  She pointed at the growing pile of chips at Octavian’s side. “You know what you should do with those?”

  “What?” He leaned into her as he turned, booze sweet on his breath.

  “You should buy yourself one of those.” She gestured to a passing comarré. “I got Hector here, you know.”

  “That,” he said heavily, “is a great idea.” He stood a little straighter. “Where do we buy one? Whom do we talk to?”

  Their server came up to them. “Do you need something, sir?”

  “Yes. I want to buy a comarré.”

  “Very good, sir. The croupier will hold your chips until you’re ready to play again or cash them out for you.”

  “Cash them out. I want to spend the money on a comarré.”

  “Excellent. If you’ll just follow me.” She led them through the gilded chain-mail curtain of Envy, then through another set of doors that were entirely gold-leafed.

  The room inside was done in white with touches of gold and red. The heavy thump of the club’s music filtered through, but it was so muted it seemed very distant. Luke stood just inside the door. He looked enormously bored with the whole evening. The server rang a small crystal bell, then turned to them. “Would you like another bottle of champagne while you wait?”

  “Absolutely,” Octavian answered.

  Good, Lola thought. More champagne and a quiet place to talk. Just the setup she’d hoped for. “Luke, would you give us a few minutes alone?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be outside.” He held the door for the server, then left after her.

  Octavian settled onto a white silk sofa. He leaned into it, spreading his arms over the back. “This is quite the place.”

  She sat beside him. “Yes, it is. Did you have anything like this where you came from?”

  “Not really. Most nobles like to entertain in their homes.” He drained his glass. “Fantastic parties.” He sighed wistfully. “You can’t imagine.”

  “Did the ancients ever come to those parties?”

  The longing left his face quickly. “What?”

  Soft, shushing footsteps interrupted them and a beautiful Japanese woman entered the room. Her face bore the hard angles of a noble vampire. She bowed before she spoke. “I am Katsumi Tanaka. I run the comarré operations here at Seven.” She nodded at Lola. “Madam Mayor, welcome. I don’t believe I’ve met your friend.”

  “This is my assistant, Octavian Petrescu.”

  Katsumi’s smile faltered for a moment and her gaze widened on Octavian like she knew him, and then she blinked it away and smiled. “Another noble. How wonderful. Welcome, Octavian. Are you new to the city?”

  “Yes.” He crossed his arms. “Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all.” Katsumi dipped her head. “We are always happy to welcome new customers. I understand you’re interested in purchasing a comarré.”

  His mood seemed to grow worse by the moment. “Yes, where are they? Bring them out.”

  Katsumi stiffened a little As though Octavian had insulted her. “We need to be sure our clients have the means necessary to purchase a comarré first.” She held a palm-sized tablet out to him. “Would you please access your credit statement so I may verify you?”

  “I have the money in cash.” Octavian scowled and turned to Lola. “See what’s taking that server so long with my money, will you?”

  She gave him an ugly look. If she didn’t need so much from him, she’d cut him down on the spot, but keeping him happy and helpful was her main goal until she got the information she needed. She forced a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

  Luke was on the other side of the door. “Everything okay?”

  “No. That fool thinks I’m his errand girl. And he’s yet to give me any information about the ones holding Mariela.” With every night that passed, the chances of getting her granddaughter back seemed to fade.

  Luke shrugged. “Then teach him a lesson. Leave him here.”

  “Luke, I don’t think…” She paused. Maybe leaving him would be a good reminder of her power for Octavian. Maybe then he’d be willing to answer her questions. She needed him, that much was true, but she also needed to keep the upper hand. “Let’s get the car.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Katsumi knew the vampire with the mayor was familiar, but until she’d said his name, Katsumi couldn’t place him. Then it all came back to her—the Dominus Ball. Octavian belonged to Tatiana. What was he doing here? Did the mayor know his past? His being in Paradise City was certainly information Dominic needed to know. And might even reward her for. She held her composure until the mayor left.

  Unfortunately, the server returned with the champagne. Katsumi waited while the girl opened the bottle, poured Octavian another glass, then left them alone again.

  Octavian sipped his bubbly. “The mayor will be right back with my money, so why don’t you bring the comarré out for me to see?”r />
  “I would be happy to, but we actually have a viewing room.” They didn’t, but she wanted an uninterrupted moment with him. “If you would just follow me, I’d be happy to show you those currently available.”

  With a sigh, he got up and went with her.

  “Just through here.” She opened the door to her office for him, then shut it behind her. She leaned against it while he got his bearings.

  “I don’t see any comarré in here. This looks like an office.” He turned, scowling.

  “I know who you are,” Katsumi said. “And if you don’t tell me what you’re doing here, I’ll tell the mayor and every other noble vampire in this city exactly who you are and whom you work for.”

  His expression changed, his eyes silvering. “You don’t know anything, especially about whom I work for.”

  “No?” She blinked at him. “Does Tatiana know you’re here? Or did she send you? Are you working for her?”

  Anger narrowed his eyes. “You talk too much.”

  “And you don’t talk enough. You have ten seconds to answer me or”—her hand moved to the light panel—“I press this button and call security to have you removed. The head of our security is a shadeux fae. Nasty what one of them can do to a vampire, isn’t it?”

  Octavian lunged and Katsumi realized too late he wasn’t nearly as drunk as he’d led her to believe. He grabbed her head in his hands and smashed it against the door, kneeing her in the belly at the same time. She doubled over in pain, lights swimming before her eyes. The soft shooshing sound of a blade being pulled from its sheath reached her ears. She went for the kanzashi stuck in her elaborately knotted hair, but a fiery pain pierced her body before she reached it.

  She looked down, amazed to see the end of a slim wooden spike protruding from her chest. “You—”

  But ashes had no voice.

  Chrysabelle settled back as the plane began to descend. Darkness still cloaked the Ville Éternelle Nuit, the City of Eternal Night, as it was known to the nobility, called that because any vampire who set foot within the city limits of New Orleans would find they were impervious to the sun. The ability came from a witch who’d cursed the city in revenge of a broken heart. The fae, for whom New Orleans was a haven city, had been able to temper the curse so that upon leaving, all vampires immediately forgot most of what they’d experienced. The threads that remained had turned the city into a legend in vampire lore for being something remarkable. They knew it was special, just not exactly why or where it was.

  The only thing special Chrysabelle wanted from the city was access to the Claustrum. By the time they landed and the sun rose, she’d hopefully have convinced someone to give it to her. Jerem, who’d accompanied them, sat near the front of the plane and rocked his head slightly to music on his MP3 player. She shook Fi gently. “Hey, we’re here.”

  Fi’s lids fluttered open and she stretched. “Cool. Can we get some beignets? I’m starving and I hear those things are like crack.”

  “You can do whatever you like after we check in, although I’ll probably try to get a little sleep.” Something she hadn’t been able to do on the plane with everything going through her head. And regardless of what Fi thought, she had no intention of taking her into the Claustrum. That job and that risk were Chrysabelle’s and Chrysabelle’s alone.

  Fi frowned. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I ate one of the sandwiches Velimai packed. I’m fine. I just want to do what I came here to do and go home.” With Tatiana in town, she’d sent a message to Mortalis asking him to stop by and check on things. She knew her brother and Velimai could take care of themselves, but a little extra protection was never a bad idea.

  Fi patted Chrysabelle’s arm. “I know it’s not a vacation. I didn’t mean to imply anything different.” She smiled apologetically. “So what’s the first stop after the hotel? Khell’s?”

  “Starting with the current guardian seems like the best plan.” She shrugged. “I did help him get that position, after all.”

  “Then he owes you.” Fi nodded. “I can’t wait to meet him. I bet he’s an interesting guy.”

  “He looks a little like a math professor, but you won’t get to meet him. I need you to stay at the hotel. Or go sightseeing or whatever else you’d like to do that doesn’t involve coming with me.”

  “What?” Fi made a face. “Don’t even try that because it’s not going to happen. I’ve come this far; I’m not sitting in some hotel room waiting for you to come back, wondering if you’re okay, worrying that I’m never going to see you again. No. Way.”

  “Fi, it’s just that—”

  “I’ll stay ghost the whole time if that makes you feel better. Plus, who else is going to watch your back?” With a huff, she crossed her arms and put her feet on the seat in front of her. “I am so going,” she mumbled.

  “It’s just not a good idea—”

  “Neither is your going alone. Stop arguing. We’re doing this together.”

  Chrysabelle let out a long, frustrated breath. “Fine, but you’re in ghost mode the entire time.” She shook her head. “You really don’t let up, do you?”

  “To know me is to love me.” Fi grinned. “By the way, you look nice in your new clothes. A lot more normal. Except for all the gold bits on your hands and face, but I’m guessing no one will look twice at you in New Orleans. They’ll probably just think you’re a street performer on the way to your job.”

  Within an hour of them deplaning, Jerem had them settled into the rental car he’d arranged, then drove them to the hotel, stopping only for the checkpoint, which they sailed through.

  The last time she’d done this, Mal had met her in the city. And she hadn’t been pregnant. How fast things could change in so little time.

  At the hotel, Jerem turned the keys over to the valet but wouldn’t let the bellboy touch the bags. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that the long duffel held two swords and a leather roll of smaller blades. At least flying private made transporting weapons a lot easier.

  Once in the penthouse, they separated into their bedrooms, each setting their alarms for the same time. The only place she knew to look for Khell was La Belle et la Bête, the oldest othernatural bar in the French Quarter. It’s where she’d found him last time and she’d gotten the sense that he was a regular there, thanks to info Augustine had given her.

  She didn’t know if Khell would be there now, but chances were good she’d be able to persuade someone there into divulging his address. How much persuading that would take she didn’t know, but she wanted to be rested for it.

  Besides, there was little point in arriving at Khell’s too early and waking him or whatever his girlfriend’s name was up. Chrysabelle needed him to be as amenable as possible, not cranky because she’d pulled him from his beauty sleep.

  But when the alarm went off a few hours later, the sleep she’d managed had been fitful at best, disturbed by anxiety over what the outcome of this trip could mean if things didn’t go well. Trying to push the worries out of her head only gave place to new ones.

  Reluctantly, she tapped the alarm off, got up, and showered. She dressed in something that gave her a little more edge: black jeans, a long-sleeved gray T-shirt, and a darker gray leather jacket.

  Then she unpacked her arsenal and strapped the daggers to her waist, where they’d be mostly hidden by her jacket. The sacres might upset a few patrons at the bar, so they’d stay here until she returned and knew she had passage to the Claustrum. They were definitely going with her then.

  Fi walked into the bedroom sipping a large cup of coffee and wearing one of the hotel robes. Her hair was still a little damp. “Where to first?”

  Chrysabelle sat at the dressing table and began to braid her hair out of the way. “La Belle et la Bête. Means beauty and the beast. It’s an old othernaturals-only joint in the French Quarter.”

  “Sounds awesomely not awesome.” Fi rolled her eyes. “Only fae would name a bar after a fairy tale. What is it, one gi
ant tea party?”

  Chrysabelle laughed, catching Fi’s gaze in the mirror. “Not exactly. Last time I was there, the bartender was varcolai.” She raised her brows for effect. “Gator shifter.”

  “For real?” Fi sat cross-legged on the bed. “So is this one of those deals where I have to stay in ghost form?”

  She tied off the end of the braid and flipped it over her shoulder. “You might not even be able to see the building in your human form. It’s got all kinds of fae magic protecting it.”

  “Hmm,” Fi said. “This place might not be so bad after all.”

  Mal tucked the portrait of Sophia into his pocket. “You can’t stay here.”

  Tatiana seemed perplexed by that news. “Why not? The sun will be up soon. Where else am I going to go?”

  “Back to Corvinestri. I have something to take care of before I help you.” Someone, actually. A gilded, blond someone he wanted out of his life for good. “When that’s done, I’ll come to you.”

  She laughed. “How exactly are you going to get to Corvinestri? You keep a private jet somewhere I don’t know about?”

  “I can borrow one.” Dominic owed him. Or he’d steal it.

  “You won’t be able to get through the wards.”

  “So fix that. You already said you were going to return me to my noble status. Make that the first step. Otherwise, I’ll have a hard time believing you.”

  “Fine.” She lifted her chin. “Not that I’m not happy to get out of this hellhole you call home.” She grimaced. “How do you live here?”

  He picked one of his favorite daggers off the wall, hefting it in his hand. “You didn’t leave me with many options.”

  Her eyes went to the blade. “Yes, well, let’s try to put that behind us, shall we? I’ve promised to rectify the situation. Let it go.”

  Let it go? She’d chained him in the ruins of an old fortress and left him to rot. He should just kill her now and be done with it, but the lure of access to all that wealth was great. And having power meant getting away with murder. Literally. He reluctantly tucked the dagger into his belt. “I’m ready for you to leave.”

 

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