Paradise City, she would turn him over to Luciano. If she didn’t kill him herself. Octavian had to be the one who’d killed Katsumi. Clearly, he was capable of it. And now, here she was, trapped with him in this strange place. Only the thought of rescuing Mariela kept her from attacking him.
When the car arrived after sunset, she got in when Octavian told her to, sat where he said to, and kept her mouth shut. She hadn’t become mayor by being stupid but if that’s what he wanted to think, let him. Throughout her political career, many men had underestimated her: opponents who had fallen short as the tallied votes came out in her favor, as her initiatives were passed and her ordinances put into action.
She watched Octavian, waiting for the first sign of weakness. Maybe she wouldn’t wait until they were back in Paradise City. Maybe all she’d turn over to Luciano was ashes.
Chapter Thirty-two
A report on Creek’s scanner app had led him to this section of town, but the soft
The creature growled at him. Creek lifted the hand not holding the flashlight and backed up a step. “Easy there, not an enemy. You need help?”
The growling stopped, replaced with another
“I have no idea what that means. You want me to call an ambulance? Or a vet? I don’t know what you varcolai do in cases like this.” He flicked the light over the gashes again. They looked smaller.
He nodded. “I get it. You’re healing. You just want to be left alone, right?” He started to back out of the alley. “No worries. I was looking for someone else anyway.”
He cut out of there, but found a spot across the street to park himself. The blood scent was bound to draw fringe; the least he could do was keep them off the shifter. Over the next few hours, a few drifted into the alley, but they retreated to the sounds of menacing snarls. The shifter obviously didn’t need his help. Creek was about to head out when a man limped out of the alley. Creek didn’t recognize him, but snapped a few pics on his phone anyway. In this town, sometimes things were exactly what they seemed, and sometimes they weren’t. He hung a while longer, hoping the lingering blood scent might even lure Octavian, but no such luck.
He resumed his patrol route. Might be time to pay Dominic a visit, let him know what had happened with Octavian. Creek had no desire to step foot into Seven, but Dominic wasn’t the kind of man to take a death like Katsumi’s easily. He probably already had his own people working on it. Damn it. That might mean Luciano.
Creek turned back toward his apartment and broke into a run. He needed his bike. He had to get to Seven fast. Better Dominic found out about Octavian from him than discover it on his own and take matters into his own hands.
A vampire set on revenge was a very dangerous thing.
“I’m here for a very good reason, Nadira.” Chrysabelle addressed the Aurelian like an old friend, something she definitely wasn’t, but Chrysabelle had learned from Mal that throwing people off guard was a great way to keep them guessing. Plus, it helped mask her fear. The Aurelian might not be able to kill her again, but that wouldn’t stop Nadira from trying. “The Castus have raised a monster that sets even the nobles on edge. I want the comarre alerted so this new threat can be dealt with swiftly. The moment for them to rise up has come.”
Nadira relaxed, but only slightly. “What monster is this? I’ve heard nothing.”
“The vampire baby. They fed her their blood and grew her into some kind of super vampire.”
Nadira nodded, dropping her head for a moment. “I did not know they had brought her back into this world.”
“You knew about this?” Chrysabelle threw her hands up. “What’s being done?”
“Nothing,” Nadira answered. “We knew, but there was no sign they would bring her out of the Castus plane and back to the mortal one. You know this for sure, that she’s been seen?”
“She killed one of Tatiana’s soldiers.”
Nadira peered at her, uncertainty in her eyes. “How do you know this?”
“It came from Tatiana’s mouth. She told it to someone who wouldn’t lie to me.”
“Who is that person?”
This was going to go over big. “Malkolm.”
Nadira’s lip curled. “The vampire who twice dared breach my sanctuary.”
Chrysabelle jabbed a shaking finger at Nadira. “The second time it was to save my life. I should kill you myself for what you did.” She took a breath, forced herself to calm down. Yelling at the Aurelian wouldn’t accomplish the task at hand but it might start a fight. “And in case you’re wondering, I found Damian, no thanks to you.”
“It was not my place to help you. Those records are sealed for a reason.”
Stupid, worthless… she took another calming breath since the first one hadn’t worked. “Are you going to raise the comarre forces?”
Nadira turned and pulled a large book off the shelf behind her, then sat and paged through it. At last, she looked up. “No. This is not the time.”
A muscle in Chrysabelle’s jaw spasmed in anger and she realized that the fear the Aurelian had once instilled in her was completely gone. With a quiet but determined voice, she spoke. “What good are you, Nadira? You offer me no help. You never have.” She slid one of her sacres from its sheath. Rennata inhaled loudly. “I would be well within my rights to consider you my enemy, wouldn’t you say? You are an obstacle in my path.” She leveled the sword at Nadira. “Do you know what I do to obstacles?”
The rise and fall of Nadira’s chest increased. “Rennata, curb your comarre.”
“She’s mine no longer.” Rennata’s voice quavered. “She’s been disavowed. As you know. As you commanded.”
The anger rising through Chrysabelle’s body found a level spot and an eerie calm settled over her. A sense of imperviousness came with it. Perhaps that was from the ring of sorrows sewn into her back. “You already know she can’t dictate what I do. No one can. That should make you very afraid, because there is nothing keeping me from killing you.” She lifted her sacre a little higher. “Unless you’d like to give me a reason not to.”
With a gulp, Nadira lifted her hands in surrender. “I-I can help.”
“Can you?” Chrysabelle asked. “Because I have yet to see proof of that.”
“I will not call upon the comarre to rise, but I can aid you in the fight against your enemies.”
“You give me aid? Why should I believe you?”
“I cannot speak lies. You know that.”
“No, but too often you speak too little and use twisted words.” Chrysabelle tipped her sacre to flash light in Nadira’s eyes and stepped forward. Metal met flesh. “What help can you give me? Will it be enough to save your life?”
Squinting, Nadira pulled back against her chair as far as she could to avoid the blade under her chin. “Sheath your weapon.”
“No. What help?”
Struggling to look down, Nadira began scrolling through the book still open on her desk. At last she settled on a page. The words were written in a language Chrysabelle couldn’t read, but at the center was a beautiful drawing of a tree unlike anything she’d ever seen. “You must lure your enemy to the Garden of Eden, then make her eat of the fruit of the Tree of Life.”
“And I’m supposed to find the Garden of Eden how?”
“Move your weapon. Please.”
Chrysabelle pulled the blade back a few inches.
Nadira stood, then opened a small drawer in the edge of the table. From it, she retrieved a short dagger.
