Blood Rights

Painful memories kept her focused. She kissed the locket and tucked it away. Things were going to be much easier once the ring was hers.

That fool girl. Rennata slumped onto one of the window-front settees, peering through the sheers until Tatiana’s car wheeled away from the house and down the tree-lined drive. Finally. She stood, shoved her cane into the umbrella stand, and strode back to the great room. She clapped her hands. A trio of comarré came forth out of the shadows.

‘Put a few of Chrysabelle’s oldest robes in the closet of that spare room, perhaps add a few insignificant personal items to the dresser drawers, a book, a drawing, that sort of thing. If the council comes, they will inspect more thoroughly. The crest and slippers alone will not convince them.’

Saraphina nodded. ‘What of her suite?’

‘Leave it be. No one but us can touch it anyway.’

‘Yes, Madame.’ Saraphina and the other two bowed and headed off to the work at hand.

‘Jessika.’

The girl stopped. ‘Yes, Madame?’

‘Fetch me paper and pen and find me a messenger going to the Americas.’ Times like this she wished the comarré ignored the nobility’s edict that banned modern technology. She had to get word to Maris immediately. Tatiana’s history in dealing with those who crossed her was dark and bloody. Maris would understand. Chrysabelle could not be allowed to damage everything they’d worked so hard to establish. Maris had done the right thing once. Certainly she could be counted on to do it again.

Chapter Three

Hesitating at the door to her aunt’s house, Chrysabelle checked over her shoulder. Nothing moved but the water bubbling from the three-tiered fountain at the center of the circular drive. Satisfied she hadn’t been followed, she punched in the alarm code to unlock the entry.

The cab had dropped her off two blocks from the bridge into the private gated community of Mephisto Island, then she’d run the rest of the way, swimming the canal beneath the guardhouse and scaling the perimeter wall surrounding her aunt’s estate without incident. Ever since the occurrence at the hellhole otherwise known as Puncture, it couldn’t hurt to be too careful.

If she never set foot in Paradise City again, that was fine with her. For a town with such a lovely name, that place was remarkably deficient in anything close to perfect bliss.

The door slid open. She zipped in and punched the button to lock it again. Must be after 2 a.m. Hopefully, she wouldn’t wake her aunt—

‘You’re all wet!’ Maris’s iBot wheelchair was in balance mode, putting her at eye level.

Chrysabelle jumped, her heart thudding. ‘I swam the canal.’

Maris’s brows rose.

‘Don’t look at me that way. I’ll do what I see fit to keep you safe. Anyway, I was trying to be quiet.’

‘You were, love. Sorry to startle you.’ Maris grinned. Velimai, her aunt’s assistant, wavered behind her. Velimai was a wysper fae. Wavering was the closest she came to standing still unless she was in solid form.

Chrysabelle sighed. ‘But I still woke you and Velimai.’ Velimai signed yes.

Maris patted her side. ‘No, it’s this damn hip. Velimai, go on back to bed.’

Velimai signed good night and vanished into mist. Chrysabelle restrained a shudder. Wyspers were unstable creatures at best. The fae breed was small and wiry when not ethereal, light as a breeze and destructive as a hurricane. They could vocalize sounds but had no speech. Their screams were fatal to vampires, and clearly the reason her aunt employed one.

With the slightest twist of her upper body, Maris turned her iBot toward the kitchen. ‘Come on, you can tell me what happened over a cup of tea.’

‘Tea would be good.’ Chrysabelle kicked off her wet shoes and hung up her damp brocade jacket, then followed, her bare feet padding softly on the wood floors.

Maris flipped on the light. ‘I’ll put some whiskey in it.’

‘Maris, you know I can’t partake.’

‘You’re not bound by those rules anymore, my darling.’

‘Yes, I know, but adjusting to that will take some time.’ Just like not calling every vampire she ran into mistress or master. Not that she hoped to be running into any more. Chrysabelle went to sit, then thought better of it. ‘I’ll get the kettle.’

Maris waved her off. ‘Have a seat. This kitchen is set up for me, you’d just get in my way.’ She winked, then looked at her niece a little harder. ‘Didn’t go that well, I take it?’

Chrysabelle sank into a chair and leaned her arms on the table. ‘The man you sent me to talk to wasn’t there.’

Maris sighed as she took out two cups. ‘Jonas always has been a tricky one. You’ll have to go back tomorrow.’

‘No. I mean, I can’t. They … might have found me. I need to gather my things and go somewhere else.’

‘Already?’ Fear flickered over her aunt’s face for a brief moment, then vanished, hidden by a mask of determination just as her signum were hidden under a layer of foundation. ‘Don’t go yet. I’ll call Jonas. Make one more attempt. I didn’t want to do this over the phone, but I can’t see another way.’

‘He’s kine – I mean, human. I don’t know how you think he can help.’ Human and he employed a remnant, Nyssa. Her hybrid of wysper and shadeux fae had apparently rendered her mute. In the world of vampire nobility, remnants didn’t even register. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">