House of Comarré Omnibus, page 85
part #0.50 of House of Comarré Series
And there was still the matter of the kidnapped comarré, Saraphina, to deal with. The comar, Damian, would want to go after her, wouldn’t he? He had no reason to help Doc over one of his gold-marked sisters. Fi parked, turned off the engine, and rested her head against the steering wheel. The early morning sun beat down on her through the windshield. She wanted to cry, but tears weren’t going to do anything but make her eyes puffy and her nose red.
She left the car, trudged to the door, and knocked, knowing it would be locked. A click of the tumblers and Velimai answered, looking like she’d had as much sleep as Fi had, which was none. “How’s the comar?”
Velimai signed that he was okay. Did you find Doc? she asked.
Fi swallowed to keep from crying. “No. But I’m about ninety-nine percent sure I know where he went. Just not how to get there. Or what to do when I find him. Or how to get him out of the mess he’s in.” She sighed as she came in, shutting the door behind her. “This whole thing is a nightmare.”
She followed Velimai into the kitchen. The wysper went back to scrambling eggs and frying bacon and potatoes. The smell was like heaven and a little bit of solace for the night Fi had spent, but as much as she loved food, she would have traded it all in a heartbeat to have Doc back. She sniffed away a new surge of emotion as Velimai pointed to the coffeepot.
“Thanks.” Fi was going to need all the awake she could get. She took a mug down and filled it, then grabbed a seat at the table and sipped her coffee, mentally urging it to work faster than usual. “Any chance you know where Aliza the witch lives?”
The wysper shook her head.
“That’s what I thought.”
Fi was halfway through her coffee when Damian came in. “Morning.” Above his loose white drawstring pants, gauze wrapped his middle, leaving his broad upper body bare except for another bandage on his shoulder and the swirling, jagged signum that covered his skin. She tried not to gape. Dark circles shadowed his blue eyes, but that was nothing compared to the sharp edge of anger sparking through them. Clearly he was ticked off. And had every right to be.
“How are you feeling?” Fi asked, dragging her gaze back to her coffee. “You passed out right before I left last night.”
“Fine.” The word came out almost a snarl. He took a chair as Velimai placed a massive platter of food in the middle of the already-set table.
“You don’t look fine.” Fi took a long swallow of coffee, wondering if she’d pushed the comar too far. Chrysabelle had a temper. Maybe they all did.
He stared at her. “I’m well enough to do what needs to be done.” He picked up the serving spoon. “Are you going to eat? Because I am and quickly, but politeness dictates I serve you first.”
Fi held up a hand. “You go ahead.”
He shoveled food onto his plate and started eating as if someone might snatch it away from him. Fi kept her fingers on her side of the table. “I take it you plan to go after Saraphina as soon as you finish?”
He stopped eating abruptly, the muscles in his jaw ticking. “Not a chance. She’s the one who put the gash in my shoulder.” He shook his head, a little of the fire dimming in his eyes. “I never should have made her leave in the first place. She’s a lifer.”
“A lifer?”
Another forkful of eggs vanished into his mouth. He swallowed before speaking. “She likes the life. Loves it, actually.” He shoved a hand through his near-platinum locks. “I thought if I got her away from it, showed her what freedom was, she’d change her mind. She didn’t. I take the blame for not figuring that out sooner.” He scooped up another helping of potatoes. “I’m sure she’s the reason Dominic wanted us out of his hair. She wouldn’t leave him alone, begging him to be her patron.” He scowled. “She doesn’t get that we’re about more than that.”
New hope filled Fi. “So maybe you’d help me find Doc?”
Damian frowned. “He never turned up last night?”
“No. I went after him, well, where I thought he was going and I was right. He was under the spell of a witch—the one who’d put him under a curse before. Anyway, I lost him again because of the spell. I looked everywhere I thought he might be but couldn’t find him. My best guess is he’s gone to her house, but I don’t know where that is and everyone who does is off to New Orleans.”
“Most varcolai have packs, don’t they?”
“Doc’s feline. They call it a pride. And yes, they do, but in Doc’s case, no.” She didn’t have it in her to explain that history now.
“What about Dominic, then? He seems pretty connected.”
“He is, but…” Fi bit the inside of her cheek. Doc sure had his enemies, didn’t he? “I don’t think he’d help Doc. They have a long past. A bad one. Like Dominic almost killed Doc a few weeks ago.”
Damian tapped his fingers on the table. “He’d probably give up the witch’s location in exchange for the right information.”
Fi held up her hands. “Like what? I have nothing to tell him.”
“But I do. The vampire who took Saraphina is named Laurent. He’s next in line to take over the position of Elder, should Tatiana become Dominus, which is what she wants more than anything. There’s a good chance Laurent’s working for Tatiana.” He paused for a moment. “Tatiana could even be the second presence on the property last night. Dominic would want to know that, wouldn’t he?”
Fi nodded slowly. “It’s pretty common knowledge Dominic wants Tatiana dead for killing the woman he was in love with.” She pushed away from the table. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”
Chapter Eighteen
Tatiana stomped down the stairs ahead of Laurent, whom she’d left to deal with the comarré. Octavian waited for them with the car inside the dark hangar, away from the blazing afternoon sun. Being back in Corvinestri was like a weight lifted off her shoulders. He came forward to meet her, his brow furrowed, his eyes wide with worry.
“The Elders called for you early this morning.” He kept his voice to a whisper. “The ancient one finally showed. They want you in St. Petersburg by tonight.”
Bloody hell. Of all the bad timing. “What did you tell them?”
“That yo—that Tatiana had some bad blood and was feeling ill. I blamed it on a servant, said the blood hadn’t been properly refrigerated. I told them things hadn’t been easy since your comar ran away.” He shrugged. “I had to buy time. I didn’t know when you’d be back. I was ready to come get you myself.”
She frowned. She didn’t like the council thinking she was sick, but what else was there? “Good enough. Let’s get Laurent back to the house quickly. Damn fool captured the wrong comarré. But you don’t know that, understand?”
Octavian nodded even as he looked over her shoulder. “Ah, Laurent, there you are. Need help?”
Tatiana turned to see Laurent coming down the jet stairs with the bagged comarré over his shoulder.
“No, I’ve got it.” He patted the comarré’s rump through the bag, causing the girl inside to move. Tatiana shot him the look she expected Daciana would have. He ignored it.
Octavian opened the trunk. Laurent took the hint and dropped the girl inside. She let out a small “ooof” but otherwise kept quiet. After the girl’s outburst in the closet, Tatiana figured she was just happy to be out of New Florida. Tatiana certainly was. But if the girl thought she was going to be welcomed back without some sort of punishment for running, she was sadly mistaken.
Tatiana got into the limo and slid to the seat farthest away from the door. Octavian got in ahead of Laurent and she tapped the seat beside her. He took the spot she indicated, forcing Laurent to sit alone.
“What are you doing on that side, pet? You know I like you to sit beside me.”
“I’m fine where I am.”
He scowled but said nothing. She was completely over the charade. In fact, if she was going to kill them both, she wasn’t sure why she was even maintaining it. Laurent and Daciana had one chance to hear her out and come aboard or she would remove them from her service permanently, although she was starting to feel for Daciana a bit. Laurent was a bloody bore. And excessively affectionate. And more than a little controlling. Not that Daciana had seemed to mind when they were in her office. Tatiana forced a thin smile and batted her eyelashes. “Do you miss me already? We’ve just been on that wretched plane together for a thousand hours.”
Octavian coughed, blinking hard.
Laurent gave her a very unpleasant smile in return. “As long as you’re comfortable, love.”
“Very. Thank you.” She turned back to the window and dropped the smile. Beside her, Octavian shifted, drawing her attention.
He leaned forward, opened the bar’s refrigerator, and extracted a stainless-steel thermos. “Blood?”
She and Laurent answered yes at the same time. Octavian poured hers first and she greedily drank it down. She could have polished off the whole thermos, but that would raise questions with Laurent. Soon, very soon, she’d be able to sleep and recover the drain on her strength from holding Daciana’s image so long.
By the time they reached the house, she’d formulated a plan. Getting in front of the council was important, but heading off to St. Petersburg could wait until she’d dealt with Laurent and Daciana. Too many loose ends wore at her nerves, and with her strength so low, she couldn’t handle having another thing to worry about.
She went inside with Octavian and Laurent, who had the comarré over his shoulder again. They followed Octavian into the main parlor of her house. She inspected as they went. The new head of staff Octavian had hired seemed to be doing an excellent job of keeping the estate in order.
As soon as they entered the parlor, Tatiana turned to Octavian. “Could you direct me to a washroom? I’d like to freshen up before we see Tatiana.”
“Of course. I’ll show you.” Octavian gestured toward the comarré and Laurent. “You stay here, keep an eye on the package. I’ll send Kosmina in to bring you some brandy.”
“Wonderful. I could use a stiff drink.” Laurent dumped the comarré onto a sofa, then settled into one of the plush armchairs before the empty fireplace.
Tatiana followed Octavian out of the room, and when they were a safe distance away, she let the guise of Daciana finally fall away. She stumbled, catching hold of Octavian and leaning on him.
“Are you all right?” He held on to her, concern silvering his eyes.
“I’m exhausted.” She allowed him to bear her weight for a moment. It felt wonderful and she realized how much she’d actually missed him. “I’ve used a tremendous amount of power and had little time to recover.”
Without a second of hesitation, Octavian scooped her into his arms and carried her into the nearby library, where he set her onto a chair. “Rest. I can make an excuse for you.”
“No, no.” She waved a hand at him but made no move to get up. “There isn’t time. I must do what needs to be done.”
“What first?”
She tipped her head back against the chaise. “Daciana.”
“I would be happy to kill her for you, if that’s what you want.”
“I’m going to talk to her first. Give her the option of joining us.”
Octavian raised a brow. “You always surprise me.” He bent toward her, bringing his mouth to hers and kissing her softly. “I’ve missed you. If it makes me weak to say so, then so be it.”
She smiled against his lips, reaching up to clasp the back of his head. “I’ve missed you, too. No one takes care of me like you do.”
He straightened and offered her his arm. “Let’s go see Daciana, shall we? The sooner we get you through this and on the plane to St. Petersburg, the sooner you can have some time to sleep and recover.”
She took his arm, letting him pull her up. How had she ever gotten along without him? “You’re right. Let’s get this done.”
Daciana was being held in a small apartment in the lower level of the estate. It sat adjacent to the dungeon and, like the dungeon, was silver-lined to soundproof the space. Octavian unlocked the door and stepped aside to let Tatiana through.
Daciana leaped up from the chair where she’d sat reading. “I demand you let me out of here. Where’s my husband? I want to see Laurent this instant. What game are you playing?”
Tatiana took the chair across from her while Octavian stood in front of the door. “Sit, Daciana. We have much to discuss.”
Heat and stench. Those were the first things that leaked through the chaos in Aliza’s mind. She’d expected both from hell, but the heat was bearable and the stench smelled of dirty diapers and rotten fish, not sulfur and brimstone.
The noise in her head was horrible. Loud and jumbled, like she could hear everything. She blinked in the darkness. Shapes and a thin sliver of light formed as her eyes adjusted sharply.
She moved. Plastic crinkled beneath her. She stuck a hand out and hit metal. Hell was a Dumpster. Her fingers went to her neck. The gash that should have been there, left behind by that no-good, scum-sucking vampire, was gone.
She sat up and hit her head on more metal. It jumped from the impact, letting a brilliant flash of sunlight in. She really was in a Dumpster. But at least she wasn’t dead. How had she survived the attack? Didn’t matter. She had. And now she was going to hunt that bastard down, set him on fire, and take his kid. Lousy bloodsucker.
The very thought of blood made her gut clench in hunger. Dread filled her a split second later. There was only one reason the idea of blood would make her hungry. It was the same reason she could have survived the attack.
Her fingers went to her throat to find a pulse. She shoved her fingers harder against her neck, deeper into the flesh, searching, searching… but there was no pulse. Just like there was no breath in her lungs, no rise and fall of her chest. Her hands went to her mouth, her fingers running across her teeth. She moaned as she found the razor-sharp tips of brand-new fangs.
She slumped into the pile of trash supporting her. She hadn’t survived the attack. She’d been turned. Gagging on the knowledge, she pushed to her feet, shoved the Dumpster’s lid open, and hoisted herself over the side. She dropped to the concrete below, fell to her knees, and vomited. The last meal she’d eaten came up and her stomach instantly felt better. Mentally and emotionally, she could have vomited a dozen more times without feeling better.
A vampire. Her. Of all people.
She looked up and blinked hard. The sun bit into her eyes, making them water. The sun? How was she not a bonfire right now? Maybe she wasn’t a vampire. She hadn’t drunk his blood. A little from his bleeding broken nose had dripped into her mouth, but that wasn’t enough to turn her, was it? Or maybe being a witch had prevented her from fully turning. Maybe she was something else entirely.
She looked around, trying to place where she was. Still in Little Havana by the looks of it. Smelled like Little Havana. Rice and beans and garbage. The Dumpster was in the back of a restaurant. Made sense he’d used a Dumpster that would get emptied pretty frequently. She brushed herself off and got to her feet. Reopening the Dumpster, she rifled through the trash and found her bag and sunglasses.
Tossing the bag over her shoulder and the sunglasses onto her face, she walked to the end of the alley and looked both ways. A car drove down the street, but the driver paid her no attention.
One good thing about this neighborhood: freaks were either ignored or given a wide berth. With no real sense of direction, she started after the car. A few blocks went by and her body began to ache. Like she was hungry, but the gnawing feeling came from every muscle and every bone.
A stray dog scampered past. She could hear its heartbeat. Could feel it in her body as if it were her own heart beating. And beyond the stink of the street in its fur, she smelled blood.
She followed the animal down a new alley. “Here, doggy, doggy,” she called, reaching out for it and clicking her tongue.
The dog stopped, scratched at its ear, eyeing her as if trying to determine if she had food to offer.
“C’mon, you mangy mutt,” she singsonged, creeping closer. “Come and see what Aliza’s got for you.”
The dog came toward her, cautiously, tail wagging. Only a few feet separated them.
“That’s a boy,” she encouraged.
The dog took one more step and its nose wrinkled. It sneezed and growled, bearing its teeth, and started backing away.
She lunged, grabbing it by the scruff of the neck as she threw herself on top of the struggling animal. It kicked and snapped at her, but subduing the creature took almost no work. Her strength had tripled. Maybe quadrupled.
With a guttural cry, Aliza reared her head back, opened her mouth, and tore into the dog’s neck. It thrashed and whimpered, but after half a minute, it lay limp. Blood poured into her mouth. She swallowed and drank, the hot, earthy liquid filling her body with an almost orgasmic surge of energy.
