Last Blood (41 page)

He gave her a quick nod in return.

Lilith tugged on Chrysabelle’s hand. “Birdy!” She pointed as a scarlet macaw sailed overhead.

Chrysabelle smiled and nodded. “That’s right.” The little girl’s small hand clutched hers tighter and her own child kicked in her belly. Soon, the hand she was holding would belong to her own flesh and blood. The child that she and Mal had created. She looked back again, this time at Tatiana. Chrysabelle could not allow that evil to harm her family. Tatiana could
not
return to Corvinestri and her power-hungry, blood-spilling ambitions.

At some point, she would find out about the baby Chrysabelle was carrying and that information would shift Tatiana’s full attention onto her. Just as Tatiana had stolen Lilith, she would throw her weight into stealing Chrysabelle’s child.

It would not happen. It could not. Lilith had been put through hell, stripped of her childhood to be used as a pawn and turned into a monster. Chrysabelle studied the child at her side. She seemed so innocent now, as if the fruit had somehow cleaned the evil from her soul, but looks could be deceiving. What if darkness still lingered in her heart? Would it manifest someday? Would this child become a threat to Chrysabelle’s own?

She knew Mal wanted to take Lilith back to the mayor so she could be raised by family, but that might not be the right decision. Chrysabelle didn’t want to turn her over only to have to kill her someday when her true nature resurfaced.

The gates loomed ahead and, as they approached, began to open. The moon still gleamed from the same place in the sky as when night had first fallen while she was hiding in the tree. Had it moved at all? Did it move? Who knew how this place worked?

A new glow beckoned from the open gate. Eae maybe? She squinted, trying to see through the halo of light, but then a second figure appeared, one that was easily recognizable as Eae.

She slowed and Mal came up beside her. He spoke softly. “Is that a second guard?”

“Maybe.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Go cautiously.”

She nodded and started forward again. With each step, the face of the second guard became more readable.
She inhaled as recognition hit her and the scene of her mother’s death flashed before her eyes. “Michael.” The name came out on a breath and as she averted her eyes, a sudden wave of inadequacy struck her. The glory that surrounded the archangel pressed on her, showing her in a flash of memories how she’d fallen short in her duties as a comarré since she’d last seen him at the breaking of the covenant.

She fell to her knees as he approached, overwhelmed by such deep emotion that standing seemed impossible.

“Get up, child,” he said.

She shook her head. “I don’t think I can.” Not yet. Not while this inexplicable guilt pushed her to the verge of tears. Once again, her pregnancy emotions were besting her.
Her pregnancy
. Holy mother, what would he think of that? As if he didn’t already know.

He crouched down before her. “Look at me, Chrysabelle.”

Reluctantly, she raised her head. The suffusion of light faded enough for her to see him clearly. His face still glowed, but this time, with kindness.

He smiled. “Everything you’re feeling belongs to you and you alone. I am proud of what you’ve accomplished. Nadira should have offered you help when you went to her.”

“S-she did. In a way.” Why Chrysabelle felt the need to protect the Aurelian, she had no idea.

Michael shook his head. “Not enough help. Not the right help. You were correct. The time for the comarré to rise up had come.”

“Then why didn’t Nadira do more?”

He stood. “She is a stubborn woman, too old to bend
with pressure, too full of her own importance. But she—and Rennata—are mine to deal with now. Nadira I can only chastise, but Rennata I can, and will, replace. Something I should have done years ago.” He shook his head ominously. “But know that by your actions, you have averted the crisis.” He held his hand out to her.

She took it and let him help her to her feet. His skin was like water, cool and soothing. “How can that be?” She glanced back at Tatiana. Both she and Mal hung a few feet away. “My enemy still seeks me.”

Tatiana scowled, but Michael laughed. “Your enemy is contained.”

Tatiana laughed right back. “You don’t scare me.”

His countenance radiated authority. “Don’t I? Then you’re ignorant. But I’m not here to scare you, demon.”

She sniffed. “Then what are you here for?”

Michael glanced at Chrysabelle before answering Tatiana. “You have two choices, demon. Remain within these gates for your eternity or walk through them and die.”

She laughed. “You think you can kill me? That doesn’t work anymore, but nice try.” She started forward, pushing past Chrysabelle and Lilith.

Michael turned as Tatiana approached the gates. “Walk through those gates and you’ll kill yourself.”

Tatiana stopped. “What does that mean?”

“You ate of the Tree of Life.”

Her hand slid into the pocket of her gown, no doubt to clutch the forbidden fruit squirreled away there. “Which is why I come back to life now. I get it.”

He smiled in the way of people who know far more than those they’re speaking to. “Your new immortality only works
within
these gates. Your human side died centuries
ago when you were sired. Eating the fruit of the Tree of Life killed your vampire side, except on these grounds where there is no death.” He nodded past her. “Out there, beyond the Garden’s boundaries, you will last no longer than the time it takes for your foot to touch the ground.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “I don’t believe you.”

He held out his hand and one of the Tree’s apples appeared in his palm. He pulled back and tossed it through the gates. The moment it crossed the threshold, it exploded into dust.

Tatiana’s mouth opened and she glared at Mal, then Chrysabelle. “You knew this. You
knew
this and you tricked me.” She flew toward Chrysabelle, but Michael stepped into her path.

“Neither of them knew.” Michael bent his head. “Will you stay? Or will you leave?”

Tatiana backed away from the gates, circling outside of Michael’s reach. Her eyes shone silver and she growled, baring her teeth. She pointed at Lilith. “If I have to stay, so does Lilith. She ate the fruit also.”

Chrysabelle grabbed the little girl and pulled her close. “No, please, Michael, don’t make her stay. She’s only a baby and Tatiana will—”

He held up his hand. “The child may leave.”

Tatiana screamed in frustration. “No! She ate the fruit, too.”

Michael nodded. “The child was born human
and
vampire. When she ate the fruit, her vampire side was killed just as yours was, but her human side remains. All that my fallen brothers did to her has been erased.” He walked toward the gate. “You are free to leave, demon.”

Tatiana sputtered, but Chrysabelle didn’t wait to hear what she had to say. With Lilith’s hand firmly in hers, she grabbed Mal’s hand with her other and pulled both of them after Michael.

Tatiana followed, cursing, but stopped the moment they stepped over the gate’s golden threshold. Slowly, the doors began to close.

Chrysabelle turned, putting Lilith behind her, and stared into Tatiana’s angry metallic eyes until the gap disappeared and the entrance was sealed. A scream went up that shook the gates, echoing into the stillness of the desert night.

Chrysabelle leaned into Mal, exhaling the breath she’d been holding. “It’s over. She’s never getting out of there.”

Mal put his arm around her. “Not alive.”

She twisted to face the archangel. “Is that right? Are there any loopholes? Any possible way she might escape the Garden?”

“No.” He held a hand out toward Eae, who was now making Lilith laugh by hiding his face behind his wing. “Even if she did, she wouldn’t make it past the guardian.”

Relief unlike anything Chrysabelle had felt before overwhelmed her. She swallowed, trying to find her voice. “Thank you.”

“You did it, my child.” He smiled gently. “You’ve always been the light of your kind.”

She wiped at her eyes. “But not anymore.” She put a hand over her belly, feeling the swell that her leathers hid. “You must know what I’ve done.”

“What we’ve done,” Mal corrected her. He stuck out his chest as if defying Michael to call his unborn child a mistake.

Michael glanced at Mal, then back at her. “I do know. The child you carry will be the best of both of you and the greatest protector of the human race.” His smiled faded. “But this child and your union with the vampire are also what separate me from you.”

Chrysabelle shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“The vampire’s blood courses through your veins. His child grows in your belly. You have become one with him.” Michael smiled wistfully. “You must understand my position does not allow me much truck with vampires.”

“Or any, I’d guess.”

He nodded and came close enough to cup her face in his hands. For a long moment, he just gazed at her. “My beautiful warrior child,” he whispered. Sadness dimmed the light in his eyes. “I also came because I wanted to say good-bye to you. My daughter.”

Creek tossed the basilisk scales onto Dominic’s desk. “How soon before it’s ready?”

Dominic picked up the scales and smiled. “Well done.”

“How soon?” He wasn’t that anxious to fight Annika, but putting it off was only going to make him feel worse.

“No more than a day.” Dominic tucked the scales into his vest pocket and nodded toward a chair. “Sit, please.”

“I didn’t plan on staying that long.”

Dominic shrugged and took a sip from an ornate goblet on his desk. A nauseating mix of blood and wine by the smell of it. “And your answer?”

Creek took a few breaths. And sat. “My grandmother is a healer. A very powerful woman in our tribe. She’s fairly well known in Seminole circles.”

Dominic nodded. “Rosa Mae Jumper’s power and reputation extends beyond your tribe, I can assure you.”

It shouldn’t surprise Creek that Dominic knew about his grandmother and yet, it did. The woman was a constant revelation. “She’s the one who gave me the scales. And the reason I’m willing to work for you.”

“
Bene, bene
.” Dominic stood and extended his hand. “I am not such a monster as you think I am. You will see.”

Creek hoped that was the truth. He shook the vampire’s hand, inwardly cringing at the man’s cold touch. At least Dominic knew Creek hadn’t made the decision to work for him alone. And if Dominic really knew Mawmaw, he’d think twice about the kind of work he gave Creek to do. “When should I be back?”

“I’ll bring it to you.” Dominic arched a brow. “I’d like to keep an eye on my investment.”

And so it began. “You know where I live? Little Havana. The old machine shop near—”

“Sixteenth Avenue. I know the place.” He gave Creek a curious look. “I’ll be quick.” He checked his watch. “No more than three hours from now. Will you be ready?”

Creek nodded, but even that felt like a lie. “See you then.”

As soon as he got outside, he sat on his bike and took out his phone to text Annika.
My place in three hours
.

He tucked the phone into his pocket and pulled on his helmet, revving the bike’s engine as he glanced over his shoulder for traffic. His pocket vibrated before he could take off. He dragged the phone out again and checked the screen.

Annika had already texted him back:
Done
.

When he arrived home, he knew why her answer had
come so quickly. She was already there, perched on the steps leading up to the sleeping loft. “Have you made your decision then? I assume that’s what you called me here for.”

He nodded. “I have.” He took a breath. “I choose to fight.” The exhale came easier. “I have no desire to fight you. None. But I want my freedom more.” He shook his head. “I can’t do this job anymore. I can’t.”

She nodded. “I know. You’re a good man, Creek. The Kubai Mata wouldn’t have selected you if you weren’t.” For an instant, the corners of her mouth turned up in a miserable smile, and then the expression vanished. “When do you want to do this?”

He turned enough so that he didn’t have to look at her. He felt like he was betraying a friend. “Tonight.”

“You’ll need a second.”

“A second?”

“Someone to stand with you.”

Dominic would be here, but he didn’t want to be indebted to him any more than he already would be and there wasn’t anyone else he wanted to witness what was about to happen. “I’m fine alone.”

She shook her head slowly. “You have to have one.”

“Why? Is it part of the rules?”

“No,” she said, the tone of her voice almost painful. “It’s so someone can take care of your body.”

C
hrysabelle knew her mouth hung open, but didn’t care. “You’re my father?”

“Yes,” Michael answered.

“That’s why I was able to enter the Garden, isn’t it? Because I’m not completely human.”

Michael nodded. “The angelic heritage is also what makes comarré blood so irresistible to vampires, and why, to vampires, comarré glow.”