Out for Blood (44 page)

Chrysabelle sincerely wished this started a great many rifts that would grow and fracture the families, weakening them until they were as powerless as they had been so many centuries ago. In those days, the squabbling and infighting had made organization nearly impossible and the comarré had been able to manipulate things from behind the scenes with tremendous ease.

Now the comarré were relegated to their surface abilities, unable to do much more than serve and provide blood, a situation that would only worsen if the nobility’s sense of entitlement grew. A suffocating wave of defeat swept her. She choked it back. She couldn’t leave Damian here. It would be the death of him. Maybe the death of her. To know her brother was trapped in this life of service and forced politeness, valued for nothing more than what flowed in his veins. No, she would not allow that to happen. Not when their mother had enabled Chrysabelle to escape.

She circled around, headed toward the dais now. The arrangement of plants and animal cages made it easy to slip behind the platform. Not surprisingly, she wasn’t the only comarré who’d figured it out. A few others had found the hidden spot and sought refuge from their patrons there. They nodded at her in greeting, exchanging the knowing glances that said it all: How much longer before this foolishness was over?

She made her way to the back of Damian’s chair and cleared her throat. He didn’t move, just sat looking at the crowd, his large form slouched in the chair like a sack of sand. “Damian,” she whispered.

He glanced over, then went back to staring at the crowd.

“Damian, I need to speak with you.”

Without looking this time, he spoke. “There are no comarré positions available in the Dominus’s household.”

She scrunched her face up. Was that what he thought she was after? She tugged his sleeve and kept her voice low. “If things go well, there will be after tonight.”

He twisted around to face her. “What are you talking about?”

“Might we talk privately?” It wasn’t uncommon for comarré to bear innocuous messages from their patron to that of another comarré. She hoped that was all it appeared she was doing.

With a beleaguered sigh, he dropped down onto the floor beside her. “What is this about?”

“Privately,” she reiterated.

“Fine. Follow me.” He took off at a shamble.

She followed, wishing he could find the fire to move faster. Was this really her brother? The man who’d helped Creek kill Aliza? The man who’d had the guts to run from Tatiana in the first place? Somehow she’d expected more.

He led her into a small study, closed the door, and stood waiting, his hands on the back of a large wing chair. “Well?”

“Damian, it’s me, Chrysabelle.” He would know who she was, wouldn’t he? “You stayed at my house in Paradise City.”

His brow furrowed. “You don’t look like the Chrysabelle I remember from the Primoris Domus.”

“I’m disguised. I have friends with me and we’re here to get you out and bring you back to New Florida with us.”

He blinked long and slow. “Why would you do that?”

She wanted to take his hand but refrained. “Because you’re my brother.”

He rolled his eyes and came around to sit in the chair. “I find it hard to believe you’d do all this out of some sense of comarré obligation.”

She shook her head. “No, I mean you are
genuinely
my brother. We are blood relatives.”

“You can’t know that. Those kinds of records are sealed.” He slumped a little lower, his posture defeated. “I get you think you’re here to help me, but—”

She stepped into his personal space, her gown brushing his knees. “What is wrong with you? Creek told me about how you helped him get rid of Aliza, but you barely seem capable of killing a fly right now. I can’t believe you ever had the wherewithal to run from Tatiana in the first place.”

With a full-body sigh, Damian let his head drop back against the chair. “The way I feel lately, I can’t believe I did either. I think she drugged my food this evening. Probably afraid I was going to make a scene at her precious ball. Like I care.”

“She can’t be drugging you if she’s feeding from you. It would affect her, too.”

“She’s not feeding from me. Not since her Elder bought a comar a few days ago.”

Tatiana’s audaciousness made Chrysabelle’s hands long for her blades again. “You are coming with us. No argument.” She pushed enough of her anger down to concentrate on what needed to be done. “Can you manage this?”

He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re really my sister?”

“Yes. And I knew our mother.”

For the first time, a spark of life flared in his eyes. “Knew?”

“She died at Tatiana’s hands.”

The spark of life turned to fire. “What do you need me to do?”

Chapter Forty-One

T
alking to every noble who stopped her made Tatiana’s patience grow thin. She did what was expected of her, answering their questions, thanking them for coming, accepting their compliments and empty words of support, but the result was that it took far too long to reach the noble she’d been watching. She kept glancing at him, but not once did he move or take his gaze from her. Almost as though he waited for her.

She liked a man who accepted her superiority, but a small bit of disappointment crept into her that he posed no challenge. At last she broke free and waded through the crowd toward him again.

His size seemed to increase as she advanced, but it pleased her to think she’d soon have the brute at her command, because there was no question that she would woo him to her bidding. Men were all very much the same, vampire or human; they all responded to the proper application of female charm.

She extended her hand and offered him the smile that had opened more doors for her than her current position of power. “Thank you for coming. I don’t believe we’ve met. I suppose you know who I am.”

“I suppose I do.” The timbre of his voice was oddly familiar. Perhaps she had spoken to him at another ball. “My… pleasure.” Something flickered in his dark eyes, but his face remained unchanged. After a moment, he finally lifted his hand to take hers. The contact was brief and she barely felt it through the silk of her elbow-length gloves.

His cool disinterest unnerved her. “And you are?”

“Lord Moreau. House of Tepes.”

“So we are family, then. How lovely. Do you live in Corvinestri? I think we would have met if you did.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I spend a great deal of time in Singapore.” He glanced past her and tipped his head toward where Octavian sat on the dais, Lilith on his lap and a crowd of nobles jockeying for his attention. “A daywalker. Interesting.”

Tatiana acknowledged her family. “Yes. She’s quite remarkable.” The next sentence came out before she could close her mouth. “I fear for her safety, though.”

Lord Moreau nodded. “And well you should. There are many who would consider her an asset to their own families. Or a threat.”

That was all the opening she needed. She moved a few centimeters closer and let as much helplessness come into her expression as possible. At least she hoped that’s how it read. Helplessness wasn’t something she did well. “There have been threats already.”

Interest widened his eyes slightly. “From who?”

She shook her head as if the whole thing was too terrible for words. “There is a rogue comarré in New Florida. Horrible, horrible creature. She killed the Elder before me, you know, Lord Algernon. Sliced his head clean off.”

Lord Moreau appeared unmoved. “A comarré killed an Elder?”

“Yes,” Tatiana insisted. “Then she took up with the most awful anathema vampire, but he’s dead now. Killed by a human, of all things. It’s been on the news.” She smiled. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I lifted the restrictions on electronic communications. Lord Syler is going to do the same for the House of Bathory.”

Lord Moreau nodded. “And you think she’s going to come after the child? A lone comarré.”

Tatiana leaned in. “You don’t understand what these creatures are capable of.” Her brows lifted as she looked out into the crowd. “You have a comarré. I saw her. You must be very careful of how close you allow them to get to you.”

“I will take that under advisement.” He hesitated. “What do you plan to do about this comarré?”

She smiled. “I’m so glad you asked.” With a conspiratorial glance around, she started. “I’m putting together a team of capable nobles to go after her. A team that, once successful, will be rewarded to the utmost of my power.”

“You don’t need a team.” He leaned against the enormous birdcage behind him, expanding the space between them. “I can handle it.”

“I don’t think you understand how devious this comarré is.”

“I don’t think you understand how capable I am.” His eyes narrowed. “But I work alone. If you want my help, you must promise not to speak to anyone else about this issue until I’ve had my shot. I don’t want a bunch of bumbling nobles getting in my way. Understand?”

His sudden control of the situation thrilled her. Even Octavian rarely did much more than agree with her these days. “I understand. You have my word.”

His mouth bent. “Is that any good?”

“Are you implying I don’t keep my word, Lord Moreau?”

He straightened and closed the distance between them until little more than a handbreadth separated them. “I’m implying you have a reputation. And not a good one.”

She pulled back. “No one speaks to me that way.”

“Maybe they should.” He tipped his head and came imperceptibly closer. “Maybe you need someone around you who isn’t afraid of putting you in your place once in a while. Someone who does more than ask how high when you say jump.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine and into her belly, igniting a fire that hadn’t burned in centuries. Not since… she forced the memories away. “My consort is the only one I need around me.”

“Then send him after the comarré.” He turned to go.

“Wait.” She grabbed his arm. Dense muscle tensed under her hand. “I will give you a chance.”

Moreau’s eyes narrowed with a look of satisfaction. “Then I’ll take care of the comarré as my gift to you. To prove my loyalty.”

She mentally shook herself. “That’s very… generous.”

He laughed softly, his gaze stroking the curves of her body with a familiarity that made her weak. “The only thing that’s going to be generous is how you reward me when I return.”

Creek drove faster than he should have, but a speeding ticket was the last thing on his mind. For the first time since he’d taken his position as the KM’s agent in Paradise City, he actually felt the desire to do the job for more reasons than providing for his family and keeping himself out of prison.

The mayor had lost her mind. And so had the vampire who’d turned her. If this was the way all humans thought, that the answers to their problems lay in the undead life everlasting, the world would crumble faster than the KM predicted.

He skidded to a stop in his grandmother’s driveway, spraying gravel as he killed the engine and hopped off the bike. Martin’s truck was gone.

Annika walked out onto the porch. “That was fast.”

He pulled his helmet off. First things first. “How is she?”

“Resting, but doing well. She’s very strong. Her friend will be back at dusk to stay with her.”

“
Strong
is an understatement.” He climbed the steps to stand beside her. “We need to talk.”

She motioned to the low bench under the front window. He sat at the far end, not waiting for her to join him before he began. “The mayor’s been turned. At her own request, apparently.”

Annika’s thin brows rose over her shades. “That’s rather inconvenient. The masters will not be happy with that news. Do you know who did it?”

“A noble.” He shook his head. “Maybe Dominic, but she wasn’t detectable as a vampire. I’ve never run across that, but that’s a Paole power, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And there aren’t any of them in town.”

He snorted. “That we know of, but then how could we?”

She nodded. “If this new vamp is going to start siring children on a regular basis, we’ll need to deal with him.”

“Understood. What are your thoughts on the mayor?”

She leaned against the house. “What would you do about her?”

“I don’t know.” Annika’s question was probably a test. Didn’t make answering it any easier. At least she wasn’t Argent, who would have taken a wrong answer as a personal assault. He leaned his forearms on his knees and listened to the insects drone. He flexed his hands, warping the words inked across his knuckles. “She’s going to drop the curfew, which will be good, but I can’t see the people who voted for her being happy about her sudden change of affairs.”

“Many will want to follow in her footsteps.” Annika leaned back. “She did it for the power, I assume?”

He nodded. “And because she thinks it will help her raise her grandchild.”

Annika snorted. “She’ll never lay hands on that child. I’d sooner give a snake egg to a chicken to hatch.”

He grunted. “You’ve been hanging around Mr. Hoops too long.”