Creek stood and shook the chief’s extended hand. “Chief.”
Vernadetto looked at him. “You staying out of trouble’s way?”
“If by trouble, you mean the mayor, then yes.”
Vernadetto snorted. “She has gone in an interesting direction.”
Doc held a hand up, trying to shift the conversation before Creek revealed too much. Until Doc knew the outcome of this meeting, the file Creek had given him might be his only leverage. “Let’s focus on what’s about to happen.
After you and your men set up in the conference room, I’ll call Remo up here. Creek and I will lay the evidence out and see what happens. You’ll be able to follow along on the tablet in there thanks to the camera we set up.”
Vernadetto nodded. “And if he doesn’t give us something we can use?”
Doc glanced at the officers. “If it comes down to it, we may use some… extra persuasion.”
Creek crossed his arms. “You have a problem with that?”
Vernadetto shrugged. “If you can do it without leaving marks, that would be better. Harder to prove if there’s nothing to show.”
“Got it.” Doc opened the door to the conference room. “I hope to Bast this works.”
The officers filed in, Vernadetto behind them. “For Fiona’s sake, I hope so too.”
Doc shut the door, then went to his desk, hit the speaker button on his phone, and punched in a number. It rang twice before Remo picked up.
“What?”
No respect whatsoever. Fire built along Doc’s muscles. “Council meeting.”
Remo laughed. “With one council member?”
“I’m making do.”
“All right. I’ll be up.”
“Soon,” Doc said.
More laughter. “What are you going to do? Start without me?”
Doc hit the button to disconnect and looked at Creek. “You may have to stop me from killing him.”
Creek blew out a breath. “You know that’s not really my area of expertise.”
Doc nodded and sat at his desk to wait. “Just make sure there’s enough of him left to stand trial.”
Damian nodded appreciatively at the penthouse’s foyer as he got off the elevator. The place was posh and seemed to be decorated in the style of the Primorus Domus with its gilding and ceiling mural. He studied the painted ceiling and snorted softly as he recognized the source. A copy of
The Feast of the Gods
by Bellini. How appropriate for a comarré. He brushed his fingers over the lion’s-head door knocker hanging off the bronze double doors. Oddly masculine, but he’d never known his mother, so he was in no position to judge her taste.
He held up the key the attorney had given him, waving it in front of the scanner. The bolt slid back and he tucked the key away. If the rest of the apartment looked anything like the foyer, he’d have to gut it and start over. He’d never be able to live in a replica of the place that had sold him into slavery. Of course, gutting the apartment would take money he didn’t have. Money he’d have to take from his mother’s estate.
He scowled at the thought. It felt so foreign to him to even think about a mother. Or a sister, for that matter. A sister who was pregnant with a vampire’s child.
He’d let Chrysabelle think he was happy for her, but in his gut, happiness wasn’t what he felt. He knew nothing about the vampire other than Mal had come with her to rescue him, but Damian hadn’t seen him since she’d returned from Corvinestri.
He might not have known Chrysabelle long, but his instincts to protect his sister had already kicked in. Any man, vampire or otherwise, who would create that
kind of relationship with her only to disappear had a lot of explaining to do. Damian had endured nearly a hundred and twenty-two years of training. Killing a vampire who’d dishonored his sister wouldn’t be hard.
He rubbed a hand across his mouth, trying to calm himself. Chrysabelle was a grown woman. It wasn’t his place to interfere unless it was clear she was in danger and that hadn’t happened. Yet.
It was good this apartment was here. He should give her some space, especially with the baby on the way. Yes, they were family and they needed to get to know each other, but it was obvious she was going through something right now that only time could help. Besides, she’d risked her life to save his. He owed her that much.
He put a hand on the door and pushed.
The apartment inside was beautiful. Clean, modern lines and tall windows that looked out over the sparkling blue waters of the bay. The door swung softly shut behind him as he walked toward them to look out.
He planted himself before the glass and whistled softly. “Nice view.”
“Thank you. Can I ask what brings you here unannounced?”
Damian spun. “Dominic. What are you doing here?”
The vampire nodded. “Glad to know you remember me.” He tightened the tie of his silk robe. “And I believe I’m the one who should be asking you that question.” Small sparks of silver lit his eyes. “How did you get in here?”
Damian fished the key from his pocket and held it up.
The silver disappeared from Dominic’s eyes. “From Marissa’s attorney, no doubt.”
“So you know my mother owns this place?”
He smiled bitterly. “I should. I’m the one who gave it to her.” He pointed at the sleek leather chairs in the sitting room. “Please.” He turned toward the hall. “Isabelle. We have a guest.”
A moment later, a slender, lavender-eyed female in a clingy black dress glided toward them. Everything about her looked human, except for her lifeless, unnaturally colored gaze and weirdly plastic skin. “Hello, guest,” she intoned. “Would you like a beverage?”
“No, thanks.” He eyed the woman as he sat.
Dominic laughed. “To answer the question undoubtedly in your head, no, she’s not human. She’s a symbot.” He turned to Isabelle. “Lower the shades, please.” He glanced at Damian. “I hope you don’t mind, but even with the helioglazing, the sun is too bright for me this time of day.”
“That’s fine.” What a surreal conversation. He watched Isabelle while Dominic took the chair across from him. His hair was rumpled and stubble darkened his jaw.
“I take it I woke you from daysleep. Sorry about that, but I’m surprised. I hardly made a sound.” And most vampires went comatose during daysleep.
He shrugged. “Years of working at Seven. I sleep when I can and have trained myself to do it lightly. I have… enemies. I’m sure that does not shock you.”
“No. But I’m not one of them. I didn’t know you were living here.”
“Few do. Which is what I was striving for.” He nodded to Isabelle as she finished lowering the shades. “That is all.”
With a soft whirr, she disappeared back down the hall.
Damian leaned back. “You said you bought this place for my mother?”
Dominic nodded. “It was our first real place outside of Seven and the safest place money could buy at the time. I had the deed put in her name because…” He smiled. “It was a good gift, no?”
“You had the deed put in her name because why?”
Dominic’s smile waned. “Because I knew she would leave me. And I wanted her to have a place to call her own.” He ran his finger along the seam of the chair’s leather. “I tell you this because you deserve to know the truth. You are her child.”
“But you live here now?”
“After she bought the estate on Mephisto Island, she sent me a key to this place. She knew I needed time away from Seven, knew how much I had enjoyed spending time with her here.” A hint of a smile returned, but it carried the weight of the past. “It was her way of trying to mend things between us, I think.”
Damian sat, not knowing what to say. What had Maris done to Dominic that had left him in such pain?
Dominic sighed like the burden of his years pressed down on him. “I will have my things moved out in the next few nights.”
“Why?”
Dominic lifted his head, eyes confused. “You came here to see about taking this property for your own, didn’t you?”
Damian shook his head. “Just checking out the places on the list.” Dominic had been instrumental in rescuing him. He wasn’t about to kick the man out of a place that held such memories.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed, doing nothing to hide the sudden spark of life that filled them. “You are a good man,
Damian Lapointe. Your mother would be proud of you.” He stood and extended his hand. “If you ever need anything, I am here for you, just as I have been for Chrysabelle.”
“Good to know.” Damian rose, dug out the key the attorney had given him, and held it out to Dominic.
Dominic took the key. “
Grazie
.”
Damian headed for the door. “I won’t keep this a secret from Chrysabelle, however.”
“No, no,” Dominic added, walking with him. “There must be truth between the members of a family.” He lifted one shoulder. “She has been here. This is not such a secret to her anyway.”
Damian paused, his hand on the door lever. “There is one thing I’d like to know before I leave.”
“
Si?
”
“The vampire Malkolm. Do you trust him? Should I be worried about him and Chrysabelle? He won’t hurt her, will he?”
“Malkolm? There is nothing to worry about there. I trust few people, but Mal is one of them. And he loves your sister.” Dominic’s eyes took on the faraway look again. “If your mother and I had what he and Chrysabelle have, she never would have left me.”
Mal’s presence was a comfort, something Tatiana had never expected to feel. Maybe it was because everyone else in her life was gone. Maybe it was his familiarity. No matter what their past was, their history had started well. They had loved one another, hadn’t they? It was hard to remember exactly what her feelings for him had been all those centuries ago. They had at least understood each other.
Now, they were once again traveling the same path. She glanced at him and smiled weakly, not quite ready to call the maelstrom that was Lilith back into her life. “It’s funny, isn’t it?”
“What?” He stood across from her, leaning on the bar in that loose, easy way of his, but she knew well that in the blink of an eye he could become a killing machine. How many times in their early days had she seen it happen? Reveled in his ruthlessness? Drank from his spoils?
She closed the distance between them down to half. “What tore us apart was Sophia’s death. Now we’ve come back together to kill off a child.”
His heavy-lidded gaze didn’t falter. “Calling her a child is like calling a Nothos a puppy.”
She laughed softly. “Yes, of course, but you see the irony.”
“And you see that I’m not here for the mission so much as the end result. I want my status back and the wealth you promised me. An estate of my own. The position as Elder. Forget anything you promised me and you
will
be sorry.”
She touched his chest lightly. Playfully. “Your place as Elder is already secured. The ancients promised me I’d be rewarded for this task and their approval on your ascension to that position is guaranteed.”
“Do you trust them?”
She jerked back, his words bordering on blasphemy. “Of course. Don’t you?”
“I find it odd that they would have the child eat of the tree and not you as well. It seems to me that the child has no need for that kind of power.” He lifted one shoulder in a lazy roll. “I only wonder if she wasn’t listening when he spoke to you. If perhaps he said that knowing you’d understand to do the opposite.”
She went very still. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do,” Mal said. “You know I could be right. You said yourself that the ancients were afraid of her. How do you know she’s not orchestrating this whole thing in an effort to get rid of you? And if she eats the fruit before you, she’ll pitch a fit if you try to have one of your own.”
“Hades,” she whispered as she turned away. Doubt flooded her thoughts. “What am I going to do?”
“You’ll eat the fruit first. It’s all you can do. Once you eat it, she’ll insist on having one as well.”
She looked at him sharply. “And what if it proves fatal?”
“It won’t.” He dug into his pocket and held out a small metal box. “Because I have this.”
“What is it?”
He lifted the top off, revealing a fine white powder. “Protection against any kind of holy magic.” He smirked. “The comarré gave it to me a while ago.” He sniggered. “Now that’s irony, don’t you think? Me using her gift to me to save you?”
“That’s absolutely delicious.” She clapped her hands, then reached out and ran her fingers down his body. “The estate you’ll inherit sits on the next property over. It comes with the job of Elder, as you know. I didn’t live there long, but it’s a beautiful property. You’ll enjoy it. And I’ll enjoy having you close again after all these years. Of course, I wouldn’t be unhappy if you wanted to spend more time here. With me.”
He grabbed her hand and stopped it from moving. “Why would I want to do that?”
She wriggled her fingers free and leaned into him, the solidness of his body a welcome memory. “You cannot deny that there is still something between us.”
“Animosity. Bitterness. Deep-seated resentment. Take your pick.”
“Oh, Malkolm. You can’t still be harboring ill will toward me? Not after we’ve been working so well together.”
He went quiet, watching her, only a flicker of silver in his eyes.
She poked him. “See? You know it’s true.”
“I suppose,” he grunted. “Things have been going… well.” He shifted, putting some space between them. “But you can’t expect me to just forget everything you did to me.”
She leaned back against the bar where he’d just been, planting her elbows on the marble top in a way that pushed her breasts forward. “You should at least give me the chance to make all that up to you.”
“All I need is what I’ve been promised.”
He’d fold. She knew what he liked, how to motivate him to do her will. And once they were rid of Lilith, she’d have nothing else to worry about. Then she could put all her efforts into wooing him back to her side for good. She shrugged like it didn’t matter whether or not he gave her a second chance. “Shall we get on with it, then?”
He crossed his arms. “Please.”
She tipped her head back. “Lilith, my angel, come to Mother. I’ve got a very special surprise for you…”
Damian waved to Chrysabelle on his way from the car to the guesthouse. “I’ll be over in a few minutes. Don’t open any portals without me.”