chest. He shook his head and his hand came back down. “Like I was saying, she was paralyzed. We went to every doctor we could, spent money we didn’t have on therapies and untested cures, and all of it?
He scowled. “Half of those doctors were worthless to begin with, but I was willing to try. For her, anything. But eventually the debt was too much. Marissa insisted we stop trying. That she’d come to terms with what had happened to her and she just wanted to move on.”
“I could not accept that there was nothing I could do.” Tipping his head back a little, he stared into the heights of the ceiling. “Then one night, about a year after she’d given up, I heard about a woman who might be able to help us. A healer.”
“My grandmother?”
“Rosa Mae Jumper.” Dominic looked at Mawmaw. “She was not happy to see me when I showed up on her doorstep.”
Creek snorted. “You’re lucky she didn’t stake you.”
Dominic canted his head as if remembering. “She almost did.”
Mawmaw brushed her hand through the air. “It helped that he came bearing gifts.”
Creek raised a brow.
“I brought her a vial of my blood,” Dominic answered.
Mawmaw nodded. “I knew if he was willing to give me that, he wasn’t there to hurt me.”
“I told her everything. Including that I had no money to pay her with. In return she gave me a remedy and the promise that I only had to give her a favor if the medicine worked.” He shrugged. “How could I pass that up? I went home and started slipping the potion into Marissa’s evening tea as your grandmother instructed me.”
He sighed. “It had no effect. Or so I thought. When I went with Mal and Chrysabelle to Corvinestri to rescue Marissa from Tatiana’s clutches, I found out she could walk. She’d been hiding the ability for who knows how long. I knew right then your grandmother’s remedy had worked.”
“How did you know it was her remedy that did the trick?”
Dominic narrowed his eyes. “I am an alchemist. I have a feel for these things. I
Creek just nodded, a little awed by Dominic’s story. The man wasn’t exactly the monster he’d believed him to be.
“After we returned to Paradise City, after Maris was buried and I’d made my peace with her death, I went to see your grandmother again. To tell her what had happened and to acknowledge that I owed her a favor. She told me when she needed it, she would let me know.”
Creek leaned back, studying his grandmother. The short, gray-haired woman in the chair across from him suddenly looked very different. He shook his head as he spoke to her. “My bond price was the favor.”
She held the thick paper coffee cup with both hands. “It would have been a not-guilty verdict, but Dominic couldn’t make that happen. And not because he didn’t try.”
Dominic balled one fist. “Human courts…” He snorted in disgust.
Mawmaw poked her finger into her knee. “This, however—this was something he could do.”
Dominic stood and buttoned his jacket. “And now that it’s done, I should go.”
Creek got up. “Does Chrysabelle know anything about this?”
“No. Not even Marissa knew the real reason she regained her legs. Some things don’t need telling.” Dominic raised a brow. “This is one of them.”
Creek nodded. “Fine. But what about us? Our agreement.”
“I assume you still want a job?”
“I do.”
“Then I’ll expect you at the club by sundown.”
Creek looked up at the sleeping loft. “Considering I have to be out of here in twenty-four hours, I can be there a lot sooner than that.”
Dominic bowed to Mawmaw. “A pleasure to see you.” She nodded back at him, and then he walked toward the door. As he passed Creek, he tossed him something.
Creek caught it. A key. “What’s this for?”
“Your apartment at Seven. Yours for as long as you work for me.” He pushed the door back. “Mortalis, we have an appointment to keep.”
Chapter Forty-eight
Chrysabelle lifted her hand to knock on the door of the old church, but it creaked open before she touched it. Preacher glared at her from the dim interior, his gaze skipping briefly over Lilith to shoot straight to where Mal waited in the car. After a long, hard look, his gaze returned to her. “Comarre. What brings you here?”
About the greeting she’d expected. “I have great news. Can we come in?”
“You can.” His gaze stayed on Mal. “That’s it.”
“The child comes with me.”
He glanced down at Lilith and crinkled his forehead but stepped aside to let them pass. He swung the door shut as soon as they were in. “What’s this great news?”
“First, how about you lose the attitude?” How was she ever going to leave this child with Preacher if he didn’t cool it? “I’m not the enemy.”
Preacher sneered. “The vampire out in that car is.”
“No, he’s not. In fact, he saved this little girl’s life. And she happens to like him very much.”
Preacher crossed his arms, but the tone of his voice softened a little. “What’s it to me?”
“You’re starting to make me regret this decision.” Chrysabelle leaned in until only a few inches separated them, then lowered her voice. “She’s your daughter, you self-loathing hypocrite.”
The scowl on his face melted into disbelief and his eyes focused on Lilith. He shook his head, the scowl coming back. “That’s a dirty trick and it’s not going to work on me. That child is human. My daughter is not.”
“She is now.” She put her hand on Lilith’s shoulder where the little girl hung onto her leg. “This
Doubt clouded his eyes. “Mariela has a birthmark on her hip shaped like a crescent moon.”
Chrysabelle nodded and crouched by the little girl. Lilith looked on the verge of tears. This all had to be so confusing for her. At least Velimai had been able to get her some decent clothes. Chrysabelle patted her hair. “It’s okay, baby. Can I just look at your tummy and see if you have a spot there?”
“M’kay.” She pulled up her dress, showing off a pair of pantaloons, then pointed at her side. “Here.”
Chrysabelle tugged the pantaloons down half an inch, revealing the crescent-shaped mark. She looked up at Preacher. “Satisfied?” But his eyes were already filling.
He dropped to his knees in front of them, his dog tags clinking softly. “Mariela,” he whispered. “My Mariela. At last. I don’t know how she’s grown so fast, but I don’t care.” He looked heavenward. “Thank you.” Then he held out his hands to her. “My sweet girl. I’m your papa.”
Mariela looked at Chrysabelle. She nodded. “He is.”
Mariela shook her head, her bottom lip thrust out.
“Wait,” Preacher said. “Give me a sec.” He disappeared into a back room, returning with a speed only made possible by his vampire abilities. He held out a stuffed pink giraffe. “Remember Gigi?”
Mariela’s frown disappeared. She put her hand on the giraffe’s head. “Gigi.”
“That’s right. And I’m papa. Remember?”
Mariela smacked one of his hands with her own like she was playing a game, then loudly pronounced, “Vampire.”
He laughed and nodded. “Yes, I am.” Then he glanced at Chrysabelle. “And so was she. So how isn’t she a vampire anymore?” He shook his head. “She’s changed so much. She’s so… big.”
