Just like that, the conversation was over. The flame of hope in Doc’s chest went out, replaced by a darker fire. One that blazed hotter. One that burned away the fine line between right and wrong.
One that didn’t care who it reduced to ashes.
Chapter Thirteen
Mal leaned his forehead against the wall of glass that made up the north side of Dominic’s ultramodern penthouse. Mortalis had already left to follow up with the driver and Chrysabelle had been talking to Dominic in the library since Doc came out looking like murder incarnate. Whatever he and Dominic had discussed, it hadn’t gone well.
From this height, the city beyond the bay seemed like a glittering jewel of tranquility. Precious electricity flowed into this part of town without interruption. Couldn’t have the inhabitants of Venetian Island being reminded what a dump the rest of Paradise City was. The condo buildings on this secluded haven were well maintained, no signs of vandalism or even the acid rain corrosion that marred most other areas. The streets had an abundance of trees. Mostly palms, but still. No wonder this small island employed their own harbor police to patrol the borders.
It reminded him of where Chrysabelle lived, of the luxury her mother had left for her, and, once again, of how great a delta existed between Chrysabelle’s world and his. And how little you deserve her.
He rapped his head softly on the glass, the lights beyond blurring, and stared at his reflection. ‘Why do you torture yourself thinking about a future with her?’ Because you’re a fool. ‘Once she helps you, she’ll be gone.’ Good, good, good. They would go back to their separate lives. Her in her castle. Him in his slowly sinking rust bucket.
He closed his eyes and shut out the scowl on his face. ‘She only sends you blood because that’s what a good comarré does for their patron. It’s an obligation.’ Blood, blood, blood. And since his curse meant he couldn’t drink from her veins anyway, why shouldn’t she keep her distance and send it to him? Why not drain her? Drain her, drain her. He rolled his forehead against the cool glass, trying to flatten the voices. Those miserable plastic containers of blood lacked her warmth and her smell and the sweet symphony of her breath and her heartbeat and— Enough. He would deal with it, just like he’d dealt with every other wretched aspect of his life.
Mal opened his eyes, the glittering scene in front of him coming into focus. Something about the next island over seemed familiar. No, not the island, but something about it. He looked harder. Big boat. Pool that overlooked the water. Nothing about that unusual for these man-made islands. They’d been created to keep the wealthy a healthy distance from reality.
But the design in the bottom of the pool … what was that? It looked like a swirl. Or a starburst. It reminded him of the phoebus signum Chrysabelle had told him all comarré wore on the backs of their necks. It was the same as the logo Maris had used for her cosmetics company. The design Chrysabelle had engraved into Maris’s headstone.
His jaw loosened a bit.
That was Maris’s pool. Chrysabelle’s now. How about that. Had Maris known? Mal straightened and glanced back to where Doc sat staring daggers into the air. Mal tucked the info away for future reference as he walked over and sat beside the shifter.
‘Why do you look like you’re going to kill someone?’
Doc shrugged. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I’m talking about whatever happened between you and Dominic just now.’
‘With all due respect, what went down isn’t your business. Understand?’ Doc threw back the last of his drink and stood. ‘I’ll be in the car.’
If not for Chrysabelle and Dominic returning at the same time, Mal would have gone after him.
She smiled weakly. ‘We should probably go as well. Dominic needs to get to the club and we should—’
‘We should go check on Nyssa like Mortalis asked us to,’ he finished for her. It was a complete lie, but she clearly wanted to go. Had she not had any success with Dominic either?
‘Yes, we should.’ She nodded, eyes brightening at the out he’d given her.
Dominic paused beside her. ‘Perhaps after that, you could investigate this street Maddoc told me about near the club. Supposedly there are piles of fringe ashes there.’ He sighed. ‘I can’t have someone killing off my customers, especially near the club. It’s bad for business.’ He set his empty wineglass down. ‘This city doesn’t need a fringe uprising either.’
‘We can take a look.’ Mal had planned to check that out anyway after dropping Chrysabelle off. If someone was killing vampires, it seemed like something he should know about.
Chrysabelle frowned. ‘Won’t you need your car back if you’re going to the club?’
Dominic laughed. ‘I have more than one, cara mia. Now off you go. You have much to discuss with your patron, no?’ He gave Mal a very serious look. ‘You will do as she says. Understood? I will not have the child of my beloved harmed in any way. This thing she proposes to do, it is not easy. The outcome could change everything. And not just for you.’
Mal shot back an equally serious look. ‘If you think I would ever let harm come to her, you don’t know me very well.’ And suddenly Mal wondered how well he knew himself. Was he willing to put Chrysabelle in harm’s way in order to remove his curse? She’d been visibly shaken when she’d entered the room. He caught her gaze. ‘What exactly does this visit to the Aurelian entail?’
She cleared her throat before answering, lifting her chin slightly. ‘Blood sacrifice.’
‘Whose?’
Her face steeled with determination like she was preparing for a fight. ‘Mine.’
Tatiana entered Seven as easily as if she actually worked
