Last Blood (9 page)

“Like what?”

Dominic lifted one shoulder. “A touch of this, a touch of that, a hint of laudanum. Enough to keep him so relaxed, he will not be a problem to anyone. And he will not even realize what’s being done.”

She hated the idea of drugging Mal, but… “Okay. I don’t like it, but I like it better than him reverting to killing humans.” If he hadn’t already.
Please, holy mother, don’t let him have come to that
. “Will you be able to get it to him in such a way that it keeps him from hunting?”

Dominic nodded. “I can enhance the aroma, make it irresistible, make it so that he is drawn to the blood and thinks of nothing else. And I’ll be sure it’s placed in his path. It will be done. You’ll see.”

“Good.” She stood, ready to be home again. “One last thing. I don’t care if Luciano guards my house, but I don’t want to see him, I won’t give him shelter from the day and under no circumstances is he to approach Mal if he shows up. Is that clear?” She knew she sounded harsh but didn’t care. “I just… need my space right now.”

“Absolutely. Perhaps I will find a better use for my errant nephew.” The twinkle in Dominic’s eyes said he found her commands either amusing or charming but she was in no mood to be either.

“Do you think this is funny? This is my life we’re talking about. And the life of my—” She stopped cold, the word “child” dancing on her tongue. Her hand slipped to her stomach. “Brother,” she covered.

The twinkle died, replaced by sudden curiosity. Dominic tipped his head. “How is your brother? And the other comarré? Amylia?”

Afraid she’d say something she’d truly regret, she
answered quickly. “They’re both fine. If you’ll excuse me, I really must go. I’m not feeling well.” And with that, she hurried toward the door. Dominic could think what he liked as long as he sent Mal the blood as promised.

“Chrysabelle,” he called after her.

She kept moving. It was that or vomit in his office.

T
he throb of bloodlust infiltrated Mal’s daysleep with an undeniable force. The moment he moved, the voices started up. Their chant of
blood, blood, blood
multiplied his growing hunger until he could almost smell blood.

He sat up in bed. Actually, he
could
smell blood. Human blood. Still in the clothes he’d collapsed in when daysleep hit, he stumbled out of his room and down the freighter’s long hall toward the scent. The solars had kicked on with the setting sun, but he could have found his way by the smell alone. It grew stronger as he approached the door to the main deck.

He swung the door open. A container sat a few feet away. Every sense alert, he checked the area but found nothing to indicate it was a trick. He inhaled. Beyond the thick perfume of blood, there was a faint trace of spice. The smell of vampire. Namely, Dominic.

A satisfied smile curled Mal’s lips. About time Dominic started giving him what he was due.

He wrenched the top of the container off. Inside sat four bags of blood, still warm thanks to the container’s
insulation. He grabbed them and with one final look around, headed back inside. These would be just enough to fuel him for an evening of hunting. The deer he’d had at Chrysabelle’s had barely scratched the surface of his need.

Squeezing one of the bags to tighten it up, he sank his fangs in and drank. The blood was definitely human, probably from Dominic’s comarré, but a little flat tasting. Maybe because nothing compared to drinking straight from Chrysabelle’s vein, something he’d do again, very soon.
Yes
, the voices urged.
Soon
.

Swallowing the last of the bag’s contents, he tossed it away and started downing another. Halfway through it, his feet got harder to lift, his body less responsive. Still the voices urged him to drink more.
Blood, blood, blood
.

He struggled to keep his head up. The remaining two bags slipped out of his grasp. The one he’d just about emptied followed after, falling with a soft plop onto the metal flooring. Stooping to retrieve it made everything go sideways. He put his hands out to steady himself, but ran into the wall anyway. He dragged his feet over the threshold of his room. The light from the solars dimmed like they were running out of juice. Was dawn coming? He couldn’t feel the sun approaching. No, definitely night. The sun had just set. The voices went quiet.

He lifted a hand to rub his eyes and missed. His lids drifted down, heavy as though he’d had no daysleep at all. Maybe he’d rest a little before he went hunting. Before he went back to Chrysabelle’s and…

He stumbled onto his bed, closed his eyes, and passed out.

Luciano jumped down from the upper deck. All sounds of movement had ceased several minutes ago and judging by the way Malkolm had torn into the first bag of blood, he’d ingested enough of the drug for it to have taken effect. Luciano’s lip curled at the rust and decay surrounding him. How could any noble vampire live this way?

He picked up the container’s lid and tucked it into the empty vessel, then ducked inside to collect the blood bags. Considering that he’d gone from vampire assassin to vampire babysitter, perhaps he should be less critical, but this ship reeked of rats and rot.

One blood bag was empty, another still had a few ounces in it, and two were untouched. He picked them all up, then went a little farther down the hall to confirm Malkolm was safely out for the evening.

He was. Sprawled on his bed, arms akimbo, one foot still on the floor. Luciano smirked. When Dominic said he’d do something, he did it.

With a shake of his head, Luciano headed out. He stuffed the bags into the container, then tucked the whole lot under his arm and jogged back to where he’d hidden his car. Dominic’s car, actually. Since he’d run from his noble life, he’d had little opportunity to take anything with him.

If not for Dominic, he would probably be in Malkolm’s straits. For the hundredth time, he cursed himself for siring the mayor and angering his uncle and thought again about ways he could rectify the situation. He opened the trunk as a seabird flew overhead, shattering the quiet with its screech.

His skills lay in ending life, not creating it. He should have stuck to what he knew. After putting the container away, he closed the trunk and got in the car. Destroying
the child he’d sired would be difficult, but nothing was as difficult as the reason he’d come to Paradise City in the first place.

He felt for the bottle of pills in his coat pocket before he started the car. He didn’t have the alchemist skills of his uncle, but he’d learned enough over the years and Dominic’s laboratory was a storehouse of supplies. What he’d put together should do the trick. All he had to do was convince Hector, which shouldn’t take much. The comar would still be servicing fringe females at Seven if Luciano hadn’t brought him in to supply the mayor with blood after her turning. He drove toward Lola’s house. Starting tonight, he would begin to make things right, because there was no way he was going to ruin his chances of staying here.

Tatiana’s new comar, Aaron, staggered from the room. She’d drunk from him until the ashen hint of death had tinged his blood, taking all he had to offer and then some. Daciana raised a concerned brow, but said nothing. Tatiana tipped her head against the back of her office chair and stared at the ceiling as her heart began to beat. “I know I took—” She gasped as the power of Aaron’s blood gripped her. Icy hot pain coursed through her body. She tensed, bowing up off the chair with the sensation, teeth clenched, muscles contracted. Another gasp and it began to mellow into pleasure. A soft mew of contentment left her mouth. “Amazing. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this good.”

She pulled herself upright, almost panting with the life inside her. “I started to say I know I took more than
I should have. I won’t do it again. I just needed to renew myself.” Heat suffused her being. “And judging by the power rushing through me, I have.”

“You feel well, then? Enough to call the ancients?” Lines of apprehension snared Daciana’s mouth.

“Yes, but you needn’t be here. I know they are unsettling.” Daci had done so much for her, there was no reason to put her in harm’s way unnecessarily.

“No, I want to be here. I am your Elder.” Daci stood a little straighter. “It’s my duty to be at your side.”

“Fair warning, then.”

“I know what the ancients are like.” Daci nodded. “Call him. I’m ready if you are.”

Tatiana moved out from behind the desk to stand in the office’s open space. Every fiber of her being thrummed with energy. If there was ever a time to call the ancients, this was it. She lifted her hands and called him by name. “Samael, my lord, my maker, please grant me your presence.”

She teetered toward disappointment, expecting him to ignore her again.

Then shadows began to form, leaking out from the corners of her office. They coalesced into a dark, spiraling storm in the room’s center. Lightning flashed over the whirling mass, shattering the blackness with bursts of heat and fire. The musty sourness of brimstone and unwashed flesh rose to an almost unbearable level. With a final crack of thunder, the storm split to reveal Samael in all his squalid resplendence. He wore his usual skirt of undulating shadows, the faces and hands of his victims visible as they failed to escape him over and over. From the waist up, his naked body was the burnished red of a flayed carcass left to dry in the sun.

But unlike the previous times he’d come to her, he was not alone. Another figure stood behind him, this one completely cloaked in shadows so that Tatiana was unable to determine anything except that the second being was closer to her size. A secondary Castus, perhaps? There were legions of them, but Samael was the only one she’d met face to face. The idea of what might lay in store for her with two of them made her stomach turn.

She immediately dropped her gaze and bowed, as overjoyed that he’d come to her as she was terrified. Time spent with him in the past had rarely been pain free. “My liege, thank you for coming to me.”

“I know why you’ve called me,” he growled.

To her side, Daciana was almost prone to the floor she was so low. Tatiana kept her head down but her gaze locked onto the razor-edged hooves visible beneath his shadowy covering. Respect was one thing; carelessness was another. She knew enough to stay quiet and let him speak, so she just nodded.

“You want to know about the child.” A distant, eerie laugh followed his words. The second Castus?

“Yes, my lord.” She lifted her chin a bit, her gaze still averted. As best she could tell, the figure behind him hadn’t moved.

“Tell her,” a high, feminine voice whispered. Definitely not Daci, as it carried traces of power unlike anything Tatiana had heard. Goose bumps rose on her arms.

Her gut reaction was to look up and see who’d spoken. When she did, she found herself staring at Samael. He’d gone oddly still and his eyes were slanted downward as if he was listening to the creature behind him.

Curiosity swept Tatiana like a wildfire. “Please, my
liege. I promise I am fit to raise her now. My enemies are behind me. No harm will come to her. I swear it. I need Lilith back. I need—”

More laughter.

Samael regained his stern countenance. “You don’t know what you ask.”

Tatiana stood her ground, making eye contact with a boldness that belied the nerves rocking her core. “Yes, I do. You gave her to me to raise and I let you down. I want to prove to you that I am not a failure. That I am worthy of the power you’ve bestowed upon me.”

Samael was quiet a moment, his gleaming red eyes piercing her in a way that almost made her feel like he pitied her. “You take responsibility for her?”

“Of course.” She straightened. “That is a mother’s duty. That is the duty I accepted when you gave her to me.”

Something like relief flickered over his face. He stepped aside and the being behind him moved forward.

The shadows surrounding the creature were actually a dark cloak. Slender hands reached up and pushed the hood back, revealing a young woman of such cruel beauty that Tatiana instantly felt lacking. Her eyes were the same blood red as Samael’s, her skin so pale that blue veins etched the surface. She smiled at Tatiana, showing off a set of double fangs as wicked as the aura surrounding her. “Hello, Mother.”