Last Blood

could come in here and take over this pride. Especially if he could throw suspicion about his sister’s death on Doc or me.”

Pete nodded. “That’s interesting. And it gives me a lot to look into.” He pushed his tablet forward a little. “I still have to ask you questions.”

“I know. And I’m ready to answer.” She’d said her piece, given him everything she and Doc had come up with in the car. Remo could definitely be behind this. And even if he wasn’t, it would buy Doc and his council a little more time to do their own investigation.

Pete cleared his throat. “Where were you the night of Heaven’s death?”

“Right there in the arena with her, getting the daylights beaten out of me. By her.” Fi took a breath. “Next?”

“The sun will be down in an hour, maybe less.” Chrysabelle pushed her dessert plate away. “I want to wake him up.”

Not alone, Velimai signed as she began to clear dishes.

“I agree.” Mortalis set his coffee cup down. “Let Damian and me go with you. Just to be safe.”

Amylia smiled politely. “I feel like I’m intruding on personal business here. Thank you for dinner, it was lovely, but I’m going to go back to the guesthouse and let you have your privacy.” She pushed her chair back.

Chrysabelle nodded, knowing how awkward this must be for the girl. “Thank you. You’re welcome for dinner any time.”

Amylia gave a little wave and left.

As the front door swung shut, Chrysabelle raised her eyebrows. “That was intuitive of her. Of course, she can’t be that comfortable knowing there’s a vampire in the house. I get it, but it is my house.” She looked at Damian. “Sorry. Our house. I guess you’re probably not crazy about him being here either.”

“Amylia’s… fine. As fine as she can be in this situation. And she understands about Mal.” He flattened the crust of his key lime pie with his fork, turning it into sand. “She knows, like I do, that Mal helped you get me out of Corvinestri. He kept you safe. And I know you have feelings for him. I’m not about to tell you whom you can and can’t love.” He looked at her. “I just hope for your sake, he wakes up like his old self again.”

“Thank you.” Having her brother on her side meant a lot. She pushed her chair back and stood. “Shall we?” She led them down the hall.

Mortalis stopped them at the door to the hurricane shelter. “Let me.” He opened the door slowly, then tapped the light panel. Soft overheads filled the space with gentle illumination.

Mal sprawled on the couch, one arm hanging off, but otherwise stone still in the deathly repose of a vampire in daysleep. Mortalis pulled a small black dagger from his belt.

Damian unsheathed the sacre he’d grabbed along the way. “Just in case,” he whispered.

She didn’t like it, but she understood. “Mal,” she called. “Can you wake up?”

No response. She went close enough to give his leg a shake. He wasn’t usually a sound sleeper. “Mal. Wake up.”

His eyes came open and he blinked a few times. The moment his gaze focused on her, he grinned. “You’re home.” He leaped off the couch.

Damian’s blade came flashing down between them. “Not so fast.”

Mal snarled, but his hands went up in surrender. “You have a death wish?”

Damian kept the blade in place. “Do you?”

“Enough.” Chrysabelle itched to touch Mal, but first things first. “Mal, how do you feel?”

“Like if I don’t get some alone time with you, I’m going to kill somebody.”

Mortalis spun the blade through his fingers. “Not the answer we were looking for.”

Mal frowned. “You know what I mean.” He turned his gaze to Chrysabelle. “Damn, it’s good to see you. I just want to hold you and make sure you’re real.”

He stared at her, his expression fraught with all the emotions that had been ripped from him, his eyes so silver they gleamed, and she knew in that moment that he was back. This was her Mal standing before her. “That might be a little uncomfortable.” She pulled up the sleeve of her tunic top. “I’m wearing my body armor.” It was the best protection she and the baby had against him if things went poorly.

His hands reached out for her, but he made no move to come closer. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have let the raptor touch me. I should have fought.” Anger and humiliation razed shadows across his face. He turned so she couldn’t see his eyes. “That damned thing got the best of me.”

Mortalis tucked his blade away. “There was nothing you could have done. And I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I knew what that fae was capable of; I just never guessed what he’d go after.”

“Put your sacre away, Damian.” Emotion made it hard for her to say more. “I’m just glad you’re back, Mal. So… glad.”

He looked at her again, squinted, and pointed to her forehead. “Please tell me I didn’t do that.”

Her fingers went to the scratch near her hairline. “The raptor did.”

Mal’s jaw clenched and he slanted his eyes at Mortalis. “You brought that thing back? After what it did to me?”

“No.” She held her hand out. “I went after it. I… killed it. I had no other choice.”

Mortalis nodded softly. “That’s why she wasn’t here when you arrived. And why your emotions returned to you.” He looked proudly at Chrysabelle. “She did the impossible. To save you.”

Dominic’s patience had stretched to a new definition of thin. Katsumi’s murder, much like Maris’s, stirred a fire in him that could only be quenched by another death. He stared at his nephew as he entered the office. “What have you found out?”

Luciano settled into the chair across from him. “The mayor knows more than she is saying, but not much I think.”

“She lied to you? You are her sire.”

“And she is also Americano.” He said the word with disdain. “She knows nothing of the old ways. Nothing of respect.” He crossed one leg over the other, his pant leg pulling back to reveal a sheath of slim throwing daggers. “Do you know this new vampire that works for her? I spoke with the staff and he was definitely here with her that night.”

Dominic waved his hand, one of his rings throwing flashes of red. “I don’t know many of the fringe.”

“He’s not fringe. Not with that face and those eyes.” Luciano nodded. “Definitely noble, and I could sense him before I stepped off the elevator, so not Paole either.”

“What’s his name?”

“She called him Octavian and I confirmed with both the server and the croupier who took care of them that night. Octavian Petrescu.”

Dominic stared at Luciano but saw only memories. “Brown hair and eyes, medium build. No age on him. Sired less than a year, probably.”

“Si, that could be him.”

Dominic swore. “He works for Tatiana. Porca troia.” He rested both elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “I want him brought in alive, and then I want word sent to her that her errand boy has been discovered. If she wants him back, she can come and get him herself. Otherwise, I will kill him.”

Luciano’s mouth bunched to one side. “Do you think she’ll come? After all, she’s not known for her compassion toward her fellow brethren.”

“I saw them together at the Dominus ball. She loves him. She’ll come. And when she does, I will kill both of them to make up for the deaths they have dealt me.” He nodded slowly. “I must prepare my workroom. These deaths…” He smiled. It was good to have something new to focus on. “They will not be fast or merciful.”

Luciano didn’t get up. “Zio, there is another thing…”

Dominic settled back in his chair. When Luciano called him uncle, chances were good the next thing that followed would not be. “Si?”

“The other night, when I was leaving blood for Malkolm, I ran into someone.” A rare sliver of fear ran through Luciano’s eyes.