Maris had been exceptional at keeping secrets. Even Dominic hadn’t known that she’d regained her ability to walk over the years. In the end, that secret had made it possible for her to kill Chrysabelle’s patron and escape without detection, all in an effort to free Chrysabelle so she might live a life beyond the servitude of the comarré world, something Chrysabelle had long wanted.
Maris had gotten her wish. But at what price? Even Dominic had paid highly. His noble family, the house of St. Germain, had declared him anathema for loving the comarré of one of his peers and causing that comarré to claim libertas, during which her patron had been killed. The council had blamed him for the patron’s death. And although killing another vampire was an unforgivable sin, he had escaped with his life because he had only been the cause and hadn’t actually dealt the killing blow. Not that Dominic was suffering now.
His nightclub, Seven, seemed to be doing very well. The man wore expensive suits, had his own plane. Once a week, he laid a blanket of white roses on Maris’s grave. And he might indulge in some things that were not exactly above board, but Chrysabelle couldn’t help but feel some affection for the man who still obviously loved her mother.
She returned to the journal but had read only a few pages when the intercom chimed twice, indicating the guard at the main gates was calling.
Velimai came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She threw it over her shoulder and signed, Are you expecting someone?
‘No, but that’s okay. I’ll get it.’ Chrysabelle got up to answer the intercom. ‘Yes?’
‘Ms. Lapointe, there is a visitor here, but they’re not on your list. Should I let them in?’
‘Who is it?’
After a brief pause, the guard responded. ‘He says he works for Mr. Scarnato and has a message from him.’
She chewed her bottom lip. If someone meant her harm, why would they bother stopping at the guard shack? Why not find another way in? Although using Dominic’s name was a pretty good ruse. ‘He’s alone?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Let him through.’
‘Very good, ma’am.’
She checked the closed-circuit monitor that showed the gates into the property. Those gates had to be opened manually, which would give her time to react if whoever was in that vehicle was up to something. Instinctively, she felt for her wrist blades, but she wasn’t in the habit of rearming herself once she’d gotten ready for bed. Perhaps that would have to change. She turned. ‘Velimai, could you get my—’
Velimai stood behind her, Chrysabelle’s sacre in her upraised hands.
‘Sword.’ Smiling, Chrysabelle took the weapon, careful not to touch the wysper’s sandpaper skin. ‘Thanks.’
Should I get Maris’s sacre as well? she signed.
‘No. I plan on keeping her rule of no vampires in the house, so whoever this is won’t be coming in.’ She slipped her arm through the red leather strap on the sheath and hung the sacre over her shoulder. ‘Assuming it’s a vamp.’
Good, Velimai signed. I’ll be in the kitchen. Call if you need me.
‘Will do.’
As Velimai headed into the other room, Chrysabelle turned back to the monitor. A sleek black car stopped outside the gates. The window tinting prevented seeing into the vehicle, but the driver put the window down and leaned out, presumably to let her get a good look at him. She recognized him as one of the fringe vamps who had piloted Dominic’s plane to Corvinestri on the trip to save Maris. What was his name? Leo? Yes, that was it.
He pressed the intercom button. ‘Evening, Ms. Lapointe. I’m alone.’
She leaned on the wall and pushed the button to be heard. ‘Good evening, Leo. Get out of the car and walk in. I’ll buzz the pedestrian gate.’
He gave a thumbs-up, got out of the car, and walked to the left where a smaller gate allowed pedestrians to come and go.
She punched the buzzer. He pushed through and headed toward the house. She kept tabs on him via the monitor on his way to the front door. She opened it before he could knock.
‘Here you are.’ Leo handed her a sealed envelope.
She took it. ‘Be right back.’
‘I’ll just stay here.’ He backed away but stayed within the pale glow cast by the entrance lights.
Yes, she thought, you will. She shut the door and ran her nail beneath the seal. It occurred to her as she read the note within that she had no way of knowing if the handwriting belonged to Dominic or not.
Buonasera, dearest Chrysabelle,
I am sorry to approach you this way, but I find the events of the past few weeks have weakened me more than I anticipated. My heart seems incapable of healing, and my body has followed suit. Please, bella, it shames me to ask, but if you could provide me with the nourishment to return to my full strength, I would consider it a great boon and be indebted to you for my eternity. I know well the value of what you can provide, so if you are not so inclined, I understand and hold no ill will.
Ciao,
Dominic Scarnato
She stared at the note. Then read it again. It meant exactly what she thought it did. Dominic wanted blood. Her blood. Well, what he wanted was comarré blood. She couldn’t blame him. Comarré blood meant power and strength unlike anything human blood could provide. Dominic had been through so much and had done so much for her. After they’d returned from Corvinestri, he’d sent his cypher fae, Solomon, to the house to prepare a special ward to erase the house’s location from Tatiana’s memory. How he’d done that exactly, she didn’t know, but Dominic’s alchemy was strong. He was a
