Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) (44 page)

‘What the hell is going on? I thought he was safe from sunlight?’

Chrysabelle shook her head. ‘He had blood.’

Her bottom lip was smeared with red. Creek clenched his jaw so hard it popped. If Mal had hurt her, Creek would kill the bastard with his bare hands.

‘Help me get him out of the sun.’ She tried to climb off the vampire, but he gripped her forearms so tightly bruises already formed under his fingers.

‘Invite me,’ Mal ground out. Cracks opened in his flesh, spilling more blood. The names began to merge, covering him in darkness and crawling over his skin. He arched against the floor, almost bucking her off.

To keep Chrysabelle from igniting along with the vampire, Creek grabbed Mal’s booted feet and dragged them both into the room’s shadowed interior.

‘Malkolm, I invite you in,’ Chrysabelle whispered.

At the words, Mal let go of her, slumped flat onto the bloody tile, and canted his head away from her and Creek. His wounds
began to close and the names stopped moving. Creek grimaced. Wearing your sins on your skin that way was a heavier burden than he could imagine.

She cupped Mal’s face in her hand, trying to get him to look at her. ‘Are you okay?’

He said nothing, just kept his head turned. Creek could understand the man needed a moment. He extended a hand to Chrysabelle. ‘Let me help you up.’

‘Thank you.’ She got to her feet and let go. She smelled of blood and the Glades, her whites dingy with the latter and gory with the first. The wysper glided toward her, hands and fingers forming shapes he couldn’t read. Chrysabelle nodded. ‘You’re right. I should get ready.’ She glanced back at Mal. ‘Just tell me you’re all right.’

He pushed to his side and sat up with a slowness Creek had never seen a vampire display. He kept his back to her and again didn’t answer.

Chrysabelle reached for him, then stopped and pulled her hand away. ‘I’ll be ready as soon as I can. We’ll get your answer.’

Mal cleared his throat. He expelled a hard breath. ‘I can’t get to the boat without cover.’

She nodded. ‘We’ll come up with something.’ She turned to Creek. ‘Won’t we?’

‘I’ll take care of it.’ He gave her a nod and tucked his halm away. Befriending a vampire had seemed like dubious business at first, but now he wondered if the partnership could pay off after all. The KM might think twice about getting rid of a slayer who had the trust of a vampire like Mal.

‘I’ll get ready as soon as I can.’ With a last look at Mal, Chrysabelle left and went upstairs.

Creek waited until she was out of earshot. ‘You okay to move?’

‘No.’ Mal shivered and he spoke through clenched teeth. ‘I feel like hell.’

He looked like it, too. Getting pulled apart from the inside would do that to a person. ‘Take your time. I’ll figure out a way to get you on that boat.’ Creek took off for the garage, suddenly understanding what it meant to have sympathy for the devil.

N
ow aboard the
Heliotrope
thanks to Creek’s help and the protection of a large tarp, Mal still hadn’t looked Chrysabelle in the eye since she’d wiped his brief mortality away with a single bloody kiss. Becoming vampire again, in her house, without invitation, had almost killed him.
Good
. Waves of pain still echoed in his bones. The voices had returned with a vengeance. For nearly three hours, he’d sat on the floor of her kitchen letting his body heal to the point where he could move without feeling like he was going to pass out. Or disintegrate. Maybe dying would have been better, but the ache in her voice when she’d said she’d needed him had made him hope for the future. She’d promised the Aurelian would have an answer.
Lies, lies, lies.

He hoped for Chrysabelle’s sake that was true. If he’d lost the chance to die with his brain and body at peace, he would not forgive her. Or himself.

‘I’m going to begin now.’ She spoke with the same voice she’d used to charm the human into giving them an airboat. Mal distrusted that voice. It sounded false.
It is.
‘Once I start, you must
not touch me or interrupt me or you will break the ritual and I will have to start over.’

In the
Heliotrope
’s salon, she kneeled on the gleaming teak floor. Her white silk gown pooled over her knees and feet, the fabric so delicate he could tell she carried no weapons. The only thing between her and the silk were her signum. From shoulder to shoulder, a strand of braided fabric kept the backless dress from falling off, and with her hair twisted up, the length of her spine was visible. Too visible. The gold runes engraved into her skin shimmered with her breathing.

Mal ground his teeth together, despising his weakness for her beauty.
Pathetic. Fool.
Getting lost in her loveliness wouldn’t save him, but he still couldn’t look away.

At her side was a scrap of paper and a long, narrow pouch of red leather, like the kind that wrapped the handles of her swords. With her head bowed to her chest, she chanted softly for what seemed like an hour or two. The shadows moved around her as the sun sank lower, but she stayed in her place, never wavering.

At last she raised her chin. He rose from his seat and moved a few steps to the side so he could see what she was about to do. Opposite him, Creek did the same.

Her eyes stayed closed a moment longer. When she opened them, she took the small slip of paper and unfurled it across her lap. On it were the runes that decorated her spine. She took up the pouch, unfastened it, and removed a thin gold pipette. One end tapered to a needle-thin point.

She bent her head again in what looked like prayer, but briefly this time. With her right hand, she lifted the pipette, the pointed end facing her. What little color she had drained away.

She inhaled.

Wrapped her left hand over her right.

And plunged the pipette into her chest.

Doc paced the freighter’s hold, the small wrapped bundle from Aliza as heavy as bricks in his pocket. The sun would be down soon. Just a few more minutes. He’d never seen Fi until after sunset. There was no reason tonight would be different.

He exhaled, trying to calm his nerves. At Aliza’s, Dominic had told Mal things were square, but Doc didn’t believe Dominic. He knew the man, and the man liked his revenge.

‘Fi! Fi, you there?’ The sooner he could do this thing, the better. He flicked on the lighter in his hand, but the small flame was powerless to chase the hold’s gloom. Even the solars, strong at this hour, didn’t do much more than fill the cavernous space with extra shadows.

‘Fi!’ he shouted one more time. ‘Where are you, girl?’

‘Here,’ came the weak response.

He whirled around but saw nothing. ‘You there?’

‘Yes. Trying to be.’ She stood a few feet away, so soft and transparent he could see only the brightest parts of her. The Cheshire glow of her eyes and teeth, the faintness of her pale skin. ‘It’s hard. I feel … like I’m not really here.’

Excitement zipped through him. He pulled out the bundle. ‘I’ve got the cure for all that, baby. Stay with me now.’

‘You got it?’ she asked, growing brighter for a moment. ‘Sure do.’ He cleared a spot near her, making sure there was nothing but metal where he planned to start the fire. He’d brought a bucket of water with him, but if things got out of hand, that bucket wasn’t going to put out much. He pulled out the bundle and showed it to her. ‘I’m going to light this, then you have to pass through the smoke. Can you do that?’

She disappeared entirely, then flickered back into view. ‘Maybe we should wait until a little later so it’s easier for me to stay visible. You know, if this works and things go back to the way they were, I could get snapped back to Mal’s side, wherever he is.’

‘Well, at least we’ll know it worked, then, won’t we? We gotta do this now.’ If Dominic still had that potion in his system, he could be headed here now. Doc listened a minute, trying to see if any odd noises filtered through, but the ship seemed quiet. ‘Try for me, okay? For us?’

‘Okay.’ She smiled. ‘For us.’

He set the bundle down and lit the end. The gathered paper ends burned slowly until they hit the fat part. Whatever Aliza had packed in there went up with a bright flare. Greenish gray smoke rose in a thick column. He sat back on his haunches. ‘Go ahead, baby. Go through it.’

She gave him a weak smile. ‘Here I go.’

As thin and wispy as she was, she nearly vanished into the smoke. For a second, it seemed she and the smoke were one. She bathed in it, closing her eyes and cupping her hands full of it like it was water. ‘It’s soft. And cool.’

‘Not too long now. The witch just said pass through it, not spend all day.’ He grinned to soften his words.

She floated through the smoke and stopped in front of him. ‘Do I look any different?’

He nodded, hesitant hope filling him. ‘You do. You look … more solid. Try it. See if you can get corporeal.’

Nodding, she blinked hard. The wound on her throat disappeared along with the bloody sweatshirt, replaced by smooth skin and some funky off-the-shoulder top. She fell to the floor of the hold with a thud.
She was solid.
Laughter echoed through the space. ‘You did it. I’m me again! And I’m still here!’

‘You sure are.’ He scooped her up and squeezed her tight, thrilled there was a tangible body to hold on to, a warm neck to bury his face against. He inhaled until his head swam in the perfume of her. ‘I’m never letting you go again, I swear.’

She wrapped her legs around his waist, then pulled away enough to get face-to-face with him. ‘Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.’ She kissed him, hungry and crazy and careless. Then she stopped as suddenly as she’d begun. ‘You know what?’

‘Hmm?’ He planted a few kisses on the curve of her neck, his mind already lost in the scent and taste of her.

She twisted, looking over her shoulder. ‘If that smoke can fix me, I mean really fix me, like detach-me-from-Mal fixed, maybe you should go through it, too.’

He paused. Her logic wasn’t half bad, but the fact that Aliza may have counted on him trying to remove his curse with the smoke was a very real possibility. Would the old witch have anticipated him going through the smoke, too? Could she have planned for it? ‘I don’t know, baby. What if something goes wrong?’

She ran her nails over his shaved head in long, lazy scratches. ‘It could be your chance, but if you don’t feel right about doing it … ’

He stared into the smoke. The fire was almost out.
Courage
, he told himself. This could be his one shot to be whole again.

Fi traced the line of his ear. ‘If you don’t want to, then don’t. Doesn’t change the way I feel about you.’

‘No, you’re right. What do I have to lose?’ He put her down. ‘I’m going to do it.’

She squeezed his hand. ‘Go ahead, kitty cat. I’ve always wanted to snuggle with a big ole leopard.’

He kissed her once for luck and stepped into the smoke. It curled over his body like a cool mist, as soft as she’d said. Peace filled him and he understood why she’d stayed in it so long. Reluctantly, he walked on through.

‘Well,’ she asked. ‘How do you feel?’

He turned and shrugged. ‘Good, I guess.’ But he’d felt good as soon as Fi had gone solid and he’d known Aliza had done what she’d promised.

‘Go ahead,’ Fi urged. ‘Change.’

New nerves tripped along his back. He nodded and stepped away from her to get some space. Just in case things went … wrong. He winked at her. ‘Here goes.’ And gave himself over to his true form.

The shift came easy and smooth in a way it hadn’t for years. Almost too easy. Suspicions crept over him, but he shook them off. This was a good thing. No point spoiling it by giving in to crazy guesses that Aliza had somehow tricked him.

Not with the way Fi was looking at him. Her eyes lit up and her grin took over her face. She let out a tiny squeal and clapped her hands.

At the noise, Doc blinked. Instead of being level with her calves, his sightline was at her ribs. He took a step toward her. The paw stretched out in front of him was the size of a bread plate. He flexed his toes. Claws like talons dug into the floor. Mother Bast, his curse was gone.

Fi retreated a step. ‘I didn’t know you were going to be so … big.’