Violet Abyss (A Blushing Death Novel Book 7)

by Suzanne M. Sabol

  “Good,” I said, starting to pace in front of her. “Good, Geneen. Now, why were you at the crime scene this evening?”

  “Where am I?” she asked, her voice shaking. “Are you going to kill me?”

  Damn, this would take forever if she kept going off track. I had shit to do, people to save, and evidently, a meeting to attend. “Geneen!” I barked. “Focus! This will go a lot smoother for everyone if you focus.”

  Her surprised eyes widened and her body trembled as my voice sharpened. But she nodded warily as a single blood-red tear ran down her cheek. Jesus, now I felt like an asshole. She clearly wasn’t that powerful and I’d bullied her until she cried. Tilting my head back, I stared at the ceiling for a long moment until I could speak to her without scaring her.

  “Why were you in the Marigny tonight?” Dean asked, his tone harsh but expectant.

  I’d heard that alpha tone before and it never ceased to send shivers through to my core. I could only imagine what it was doing to Geneen.

  “I . . . I dinna know,” she stuttered, shrinking even further into the chair.

  “Come on!” I said, tired and still hungry. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s true!” she almost shouted, scooting her butt back in the chair as if she could get away. “I dinna remember anathing after walkin’ out o’ the restaurant. After that . . .” She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Then who were you waiting for?” Garrett asked from the stairs where he lounged casually with his elbows behind him and his legs stretched out.

  Geneen jumped at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t realized someone else was in the room. Her power level wasn’t strong enough to even be on the charts but to make matters worse, her observational skills were pathetic. How had she survived?

  She gave him a once-over, her fingers tight around the edge of the chair. “Help,” she whispered.

  “Help from whom?” Dean asked.

  She sighed. “I left a message at the house but now that Raine is dead, they’ve scattered and no one answered.”

  “Raine’s death leaves a lot of untethered vampires,” I murmured to Dean.

  “It does,” he grumbled, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

  “Until another vampire is assigned to her territory and the blood oath is taken, they’re on their own,” Garrett said, meeting Dean’s glare and then mine.

  I pursed my lips, peering down at Geneen. Vampires without a master were dangerous, feral almost, and who knew when the council would get around to naming another. It didn’t appear as if there was anyone willing to step up or they would have already. When I’d killed Ethan, Patrick initiated the blood oath immediately to stave off rampaging hordes and the board. I glanced back down at Geneen and made a note to talk to Patrick about adding the New Orleans vampires to our Colony. For safety’s sake, of course.

  “Go ahead and undo the restraints,” I said to Garrett.

  He went to her feet first. Bloody tears ran down her face as first one foot was free and then the second. She rolled her ankle and then her left wrist as Garrett worked on her right side.

  “Did you work for Raine?” I asked.

  She sniffed back her tears and met my gaze, rubbing the abrasions on her skin from where the leather had been wet and tight. “I was her personal maid. I’ve served Raine for two and a half centuries.” She wiped her cheek, smearing the blood across her face. “What will I do now?”

  “Don’t move,” I said.

  “Are you gonna . . .?”

  “I’m not going to kill you. Jesus!”

  “Ach, that’s a relief.”

  “What got Raine murdered?” Dean asked, his voice softer but still firm. He crossed his arms over his chest making him appear bigger, more solid, and much more dangerous.

  “She was retrievin’ the Chalice of Isis.”

  “Why would she have it? Why would the head bloodsucker entrust something so valuable to her? Why not keep it himself?” Garrett asked, stepping away from the chair and the vampire.

  “He canna,” Geneen answered.

  “Why?” Dean asked.

  “It canna be held by a man, only a woman. Raine said it would melt any man who touched it.” Her voice was stronger, more sure and I was glad that on some level she carried some strength. Calm humans and preternatural beings were easier to pluck information from than hysterical ones. In my experience.

  “Melt?” Garrett gasped.

  “Melt,” Geneen replied. “She had me throw out the carpets.”

  “Disgusting,” I said with a grimace. Since being involved with Patrick, I’d seen a lot of grotesque shit. “But informative. Thank you.”

  “What happens to me now?”

  “You stay here, for now. We’ll be back in a bit,” I answered, motioning for Dean and Garrett to follow me up.

  We closed and locked the basement door, sliding the mechanism into place to bolt it shut. Dean scanned his retina in the panel adjacent to the door and tapped his finger on the panel flashing lock.

  I turned the corner and went into the kitchen where Miss Caroline was stirring a big pot of red beans with the rice cooker on high. She glanced over her shoulder at me and smiled. “You hungry?”

  “That smell,” Garrett almost purred in delight. “Miss Caroline, can I take you home with me?”

  She giggled and kept stirring. “There’s corn bread coming out in a few minutes too.”

  “You’re up kinda late, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “Always been a night owl, myself.” She winked at me and kept moving the spoon in the pot.

  I nodded and sat at the kitchen island, turning the chair to face Dean and Garrett. “So, what do we know?”

  “Someone wants you dead,” Dean growled.

  “What?” Miss Caroline shrieked, turning to glare at me with her hand placed firmly on her hip.

  “Don’t worry, Miss Caroline, someone always wants me dead. It’s my sparkling personality.” I tried to make it lighthearted but she narrowed her gaze on me and started slamming cabinets around. I, in turn, glared at Dean. He shrugged and took a bite of the red beans from the spoon while Caroline wasn’t looking.

  “Someone is still killing vampires and werewolves but we don’t know why or who?” Garrett added, peeking over Miss Caroline’s shoulder as she pulled the corn bread out of the oven.

  “And this Chalice of Isis can only be touched by the ladies. So, there’s that,” I huffed, resting my chin in my hand.

  “Don’t forget the NOLA vampires don’t have a master,” Garrett added. “They’re roaming around the city now without a leash.”

  “Great,” I sighed. “I’ll talk to Patrick about Geneen and the roaming hordes of the undead. In the meantime, I have to shower and meet him in the Library.”

  “Good luck,” Dean grumbled as Miss Caroline set down a huge bowl of red beans and rice in front of him. “Mmmm,” was all he said before shoving a gigantic spoonful into his mouth.

  Rolling my eyes, I headed for the shower. Even I was beginning to smell me, which never boded well.

  After a quick shower, Dean bandaged up my back again. The wound had closed a little and the pain had lessened but it wouldn’t be entirely healed for another 12 hours or so. I threw on a tank top and a pair of jeans and headed downstairs, feeling pretty good.

  My hair was still wet but I’d managed to run a comb through it and pull it back in a ponytail so it wasn’t crazy. I no longer smelled like swamp and blood which was important. I’d strapped Gladi to a sheath strapped down my thigh so it wouldn’t irritate my wound and laced up my boots before heading downstairs.

  As I descended the stairs, I waved at an entire house full of people and made my way back into the east wing toward the library. The further into t
he east wing I went, the less people there were. And before long, I was alone in the hall, standing before a solid oak door where the sound of soft muffled voices filtered through. I took a deep breath, set my shoulders back, and straightened my spine. It wouldn’t do to show any kind of weakness to these men. If I was weak, they would assume the worst and people would die because of it. I was tired of burying people. Turning the brass knob in my hand, I entered.

  As the door swung open, all talking stopped and every eye turned on me. Patrick sat behind his desk, framed by a wall of books that made him look very professorial. Deigo, tall and lean with jet black hair slicked back in his classic 40’s style, was sitting across from him with his back to the door as he sipped a glass of what looked and smelled like brandy. His legs were crossed and he seemed much more comfortable in his surroundings than the other man.

  A second vampire stood at the large picture window with his hands behind his back, gripped so tight his knuckles were white. In the light, his hair was blond but as I inspected closer, there were other colors there too, deep auburn, ash white, and strawberry blond. His hair was the type of shade I would’ve paid hundreds of dollars for just to get fucked up by the hairstylist. His deep-set green eyes bore into me as if I were a wayward servant who needed to be admonished for interrupting them. I cocked a brow at him and stepped fully into the library. Smiling at Patrick, I shut the door behind me. He stood and held his hand out to me.

  “Dahlia, thank you for coming,” he cooed with a grateful smile turning up the corner of his lips. I could feel his relief and understood with the twinge in his gut, it hadn’t been going so well.

  “No problem,” I said, circling around to him. I gave him a quick kiss and perched on the corner of his desk. My left foot dangled while leaving my right foot on the floor in case I had to move quickly.

  Patrick nodded toward Diego. “Sweetheart, you already know Deigo.” Diego nodded, and I responded in kind. Patrick continued, “May I present to you Gunter Trumbolt of the Pacific Northwest Territory.” Patrick gestured toward the man at the window. Turning slightly, the vampire bowed, clicking his heels together in a way I hadn’t seen anywhere except in the movies.

  “It is my pleasure,” he said in a thick German accent.

  “Mine as well,” I replied with a quick nod.

  “And finally, may I present Pierre,” Patrick said. On the small loveseat in the back of the room, a man sat watching all of us.

  He was dressed in a slick Armani suit with his arm draped over the back of the leather sofa. His deep chestnut hair was swept carelessly from his face in a way I knew was done with a shit ton of product but was made to look effortless. His Roman-sculpted nose and cheekbones were the envy of every male fashion model. The vampire gave me a once-over with his honey-colored eyes and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. Something about the glint in his gaze made me think he was imagining me naked.

  Patrick slid his hand down my back and cupped the portion of my ass hanging over the side of the desk in full view of Pierre. Evidently, Patrick had noticed that expression too and decided to stake his claim.

  At one point in my life, I would have been offended at his blatant possessiveness. I belonged to no man. But I’d been in the world of monsters and goblins for too long and their alpha tendencies had a place and a purpose. Plus, I didn’t mind Patrick staking a claim on me in front of others. I was his. But he was also mine.

  “Madam,” Pierre said with a fluid French accent, nodding in greeting while also acknowledging Patrick.

  “It’s becoming too difficult to hide,” Diego said, continuing their conversation before my intrusion. He swirled the brandy in the large snifter glass as if he hadn’t noticed any of the posturing happening behind him. But as I met his gaze and the amusement dancing in them, I knew he hadn’t been immune.

  “They sit in their glass tower, plotting and maneuvering their political schemes while we attempt to survive on the ground,” Pierre said, his lilting accent not able to hide the disdain in his tone. “We struggle every day to keep our colony in line, to stay away from police, and all the cell phones. Cell phones are the plague of the modern era.”

  “The board will not suffer this rebellion. You could find yourself in more of a conflict with them than you already are, Cavanaugh,” Trumbolt said from the window and I noticed that he didn’t say ‘us’. He sighed audibly, glancing from me to Patrick. “I agree with your politics, with your way, but at what cost?”

  “There is always a cost to progress,” Patrick answered without missing a beat. He was so good at this negotiation shit and I knew that’s why the board, and especially Konyam, hated him. Patrick was fair. He had integrity and vampires followed him without question. He was a leader where Konyam and the board were bullies.

  “True,” Trumbolt answered as he returned to gazing out the window overlooking the back garden. “But can we pay that price and survive? We will be weakened and then lain open. Prey for others.”

  “Prey for whom?” I asked and maybe it was a little naïve of me but they’d thrown a whole lot of shit at us in the last few years and we’d survived. I wanted to know who these terrors of the night were scared of. Surprised and uncertain gazes stared back at me from Diego and Trumbolt. Pierre, however, simply watched the show.

  “The shifters, for one,” Diego said.

  “Why would the wolf packs and other shifters attack?” I asked.

  “Not all the Territorial Lieges have the same relationships with the local shifters as you do,” Pierre offered in his lilting accent as if placating a child. That shit set my teeth on edge.

  “Then fix it,” I said, not willing to offer up the fact that Dean and I were reaching out to the alphas across the United States. We’d been planning similar meetings with them. Six months from now, we hoped the world looked a whole lot different. Maybe we would all survive the transition too.

  “It is not so simple,” Trumbolt said, moving from the window, gracefully sitting in the chair next to Diego.

  “It is as simple as how you treat them. How you interact with them. They are not lesser,” Patrick said with a hint of disdain in his tone.

  Long before I had come along, Dean and Patrick had been friends. Real friends. And there was a part of me that was glad that friendship had been able to survive and grow as I entered the picture.

  “I agree,” Diego said, “but there are those that do not.”

  “Then let them pay the price for their ignorance,” I snapped and glanced down at my nails. I was tired of the holier than thou bullshit the vampires always played with the shifters. Trumbolt gaped at my callousness. Maybe he wasn’t used to seeing a woman command attention but I couldn’t hide or shrink from what was to come. No matter how frightened I actually was at the looming horizon

  Trumbolt closed his mouth and said, “And what of the Fae?”

  I glanced back at Patrick, asking a silent question as I met his gaze. ‘Why would the Fae be a threat?’ A wash of confusion filled me, followed by caution. I knew when to keep my mouth shut and let Patrick fish for the information he wanted. Something was going on here, and neither he nor I had all the details.

  “The Fae?” Patrick questioned, a confused, unimposing expression lighting his dark obsidian eyes.

  “Yes,” Diego said with a panicked inflection that made me think his loyalty wasn’t so certain. “How do we know Konyam won’t use Ciro’s power over the Fae to launch a war against us? To use their magic as a weapon.”

  The Fae had lived for more than a century under the protection of Ciro and his vampire colony on the East Coast. Konyam’s personal pet, Ciro had basically ignored the fae and their King, Saeran. But Saeran had desired the fae to be what they once were, a great power in the preternatural world. He didn’t know we understood that. Patrick was pretty damn intuitive and had thought having him as an ally was
better than being surprised by them in the end. So, Patrick had offered Saeran the opportunity to change his allegiance. Now, we protected them and no one had noticed for quite a long time. From the confrontation in the square, Ciro had noticed but it didn’t appear anyone else knew.

  In my head, I asked Patrick a question, ‘Do they not know about Saeran and the Fae? Is Konyam playing the Fae loss close to his chest or does he not know Ciro lost them?’

  This Wardum/Warda bond was AWESOME. Since we’d basically did the whole vampire wedding thing, Patrick’s emotions no longer beat me up. They were a smooth caress through me, almost as if they were my own with a more masculine flavor. We could also talk to each other, mind to mind. Okay, so talk isn’t the right word. It was more like flashes and impressions but it got the point across.

  Patrick answered with a simple, ‘I do not know.’ To the rest of the group, he said, “Let me assure you that the Fae will not be a problem when the time comes.”

  Everyone raised their eyebrows in surprise at that statement. Only Diego glanced my way.

  “What have you done?” Trumbolt asked, shifting forward in his seat, suddenly intrigued.

  “Done?” Patrick asked, almost offended.

  “We’ve done nothing. We’ve instigated nothing, only seized on opportunities that were presented to us,” I said a bit sharply, defending Patrick’s offended honor.

  “How long have the Fae been under your thumb, mon amie?” Pierre asked from the couch.

  “More than a year,” Patrick answered with a smug smirk on his kissable lips.

  Trumbolt whistled low and sank back into the chair. Crossing his arms over his chest, the vampire stared at Patrick for a long moment and then at me. “What else don’t we know?”

  Patrick smiled broadly. “Oh, a great deal, Gentleman. A very great deal.”

  Chapter 26

  “Bring her here,” Patrick said after Dean closed the library door behind him.