‘Wait, wait.’ Wysper hand signs were not one of the required comarré language lessons, but maybe they should be. ‘Even when you go slowly I only get every third or fourth word.’ Instinctively, she reached out and gently captured Velimai’s shifting hands with one of hers. The wysper’s skin was like frozen sandpaper. Chrysabelle’s own snagged painfully against it. Immediately, she released Velimai and flipped her hand over. Tiny ruby drops glistened on her palm and fingers.
A guttural rumble brought her head up. Mal glared from the door, held back by the lack of invitation. ‘I smell blood. Yours.’
Chrysabelle tucked her hand down at her side and offered him a weak smile. ‘It’s just a scratch. Did you find anything yet?’
He shook his head, glowered at Velimai, then vanished into the shadows he’d come from.
Fi came in carrying a steaming cup. Doc trailed her. She set the tea on the brushed steel side table. ‘What happened to your hand?’
‘Nothing. Watch the glas—’
‘Nothing? There’s blood all over it.’ Fi popped her hands to hips. ‘You okay?’
‘Fine.’ Chrysabelle grabbed the washcloth from Velimai’s knees and swabbed the blood away. ‘See? All gone.’ Dawn was coming. Time was running out. ‘Velimai, can you tell me what happened to Maris without signing?’
Velimai stood and took a few steps toward the middle of the room, shards of glass crackling under her feet. She turned to face Chrysabelle, spreading her arms slightly. Her form wavered, then shifted into a very recognizable female vampire.
‘Tatiana.’ The name soured on Chrysabelle’s tongue.
Doc peered closer. ‘That is freaking amazing.’
Fi gasped. ‘How’s she do that?’
‘It’s a wysper thing.’
Velimai shifted again. This time into a male.
‘Huh,’ Fi said, tipping her head. ‘There’s something familiar about those two.’
‘Yeah, they’re vampires.’ Doc tapped Fi lightly on the arm and she smiled, turning toward him.
‘I get that. But I feel like I know them. And not in a good way.’
‘That feeling makes perfect sense.’ Chrysabelle gestured toward the image flickering over Velimai’s skin. ‘That’s Mikkel.’ Of course. Tatiana’s House of Bathory male was the perfect mate. Equally bloodthirsty and a master of the dark arts. ‘Is his power how they got access?’ she asked Velimai.
Velimai shook her head and became Tatiana again. It was like watching an old movie, before holodiscs. Then the image of Tatiana became Chrysabelle.
‘Wait. That’s me. I don’t understand.’ Chrysabelle peered closer. Doc and Fi were caught up in some other conversation.
Shifting back to herself, Velimai shook her head, then held her hand up. She lifted one finger, then turned into Chrysabelle. She raised her hands toward her face and wiped them down her body, erasing Chrysabelle’s image and replacing it with Tatiana’s.
Chrysabelle gasped softly. ‘Do you mean Tatiana was disguised as me?’
Slowly, Velimai signed out a few simple words. She was you.
‘No, she doesn’t have that power. Unless Mikkel cast some sort of spell over her. Was he disguised too? Did Maris invite him in?’
No.
‘Then his power wouldn’t have extended into the house.’ Chrysabelle tapped her fingers against her leg. ‘That means Tatiana has a new power.’ The phrase she dared not utter trickled through her brain. Castus Sanguis. Only the ancient fallen ones could bestow that kind of power. If Tatiana was working with them, for them, whatever the case might be, that made things drastically more dangerous. She sighed. ‘At least they didn’t kill Maris.’
No. Velimai spelled out the word ‘kidnap.’
‘They hope to draw me out.’
Yes.
‘Then we have to figure out where they took her and get her back.’ She glanced at the housing of the crystal clock that had once sat on the coffee table. The crystal was broken away but the clock still worked. ‘Sun will be up soon. They’ll have to find shelter somewhere.’
She stood. ‘Doc, bring the car in. I’ll open the gate. Fi, find Mal and tell him what’s going on.’
The pair nodded and took off.
Velimai trailed Chrysabelle to the door and waited beside her while she punched the gate code into the keypad. Picking up Maris’s sacre, the wysper tipped her chin toward the door.
Chrysabelle shook her head. ‘Velimai, you can’t go. I can’t take the risk that you’ll let loose again and kill Mal. I know you want to help but I don’t need another vampire death on my hands.’
She leaned the sword against the wall and signed furiously.
‘Slow down. Please.’
This time Velimai spelled things out. Why do you care? He’s anathema.
Chrysabelle cradled her forehead in her hand for a moment. This wasn’t something she wanted to share. ‘In a roundabout way, he’s my new patron.’ There was no point elaborating. It wouldn’t change the situation.
Velimai’s mouth hung open. Her hands stopped fluttering. Her gaze snapped from Chrysabelle’s face to her neck and wrists.
She wasn’t going to explain that he refused to take from her vein either. Sharing information that portrayed one’s patron as weak was strictly forbidden. ‘I didn’t intend for it to happen and oddly enough, neither did he. But it did, and now I’m stuck with him. And he with me.’