Mal stood. “Keep us posted on Fi.”
Doc nodded. “Will do. Good luck with Damian. You know I’d go if I could.”
“I know,” Mal said. “And I appreciate it.”
Doc grinned. “Bro, love has made you all soft and squishy.”
And stupid. Mal wanted to punch Doc in the arm for that. Instead, he shook his head. “I learned everything I know from you.”
Chrysabelle got up and gave Doc a hug. “If there’s anything I can do to help with Fi, just say the word. Thanks for being here.”
“Sure.” With a nod, he left.
Mortalis went to the door, pausing to catch Mal’s gaze before heading out. “Do you want Dominic to know you’re alive?”
“If he’s going to help us, he needs to.”
“I agree,” Chrysabelle said. She reached for Mal’s hand as Mortalis left to escort Dominic in. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
“Is anything we do?” She was right—it wouldn’t be easy—but he had a peace about what needed to be done unlike anything he’d felt before. Peace. The last thing you deserve. How odd for him to even use that word, but then everything about his life was odd lately.
Moments after they heard a car door shut, Dominic entered, Mortalis behind him. Dominic was dressed completely in black: suit, shirt, and tie.
Mal raised his brows. “You weren’t in mourning for me, were you?”
“Mamma Mia, you are alive!” Dominic raised his hands, palms together like he was praying. “Now I am only in mourning for my city, my business, and my way of life. This pazzo mayor, she is destroying us all!” He went to Chrysabelle first, kissing her on each cheek. “I came to see you in your time of sorrow, but I am happy to know that time is past, bella. I was worried for you.”
Next, he grasped Mal’s hand. “I do not know how you survived, but I am very glad you did.” He smiled. “Perhaps you have secrets you have not yet shared?”
“Not a secret. Just smoke,” Mal explained. “When I scatter, I turn to smoke. I hadn’t done it in so long, I didn’t think I still could, but drinking from the vein restored my full powers and here I am.”
“Very impressive.” Dominic nodded. “And rare. There was a member of the House of St. Germain who had this power. I never saw him do it, but that was the rumor.” He gestured to the living room. “May I sit? I have much to discuss with you.”
Velimai stood at the edge of the room, eyeing Dominic like her head was full of murderous thoughts. Mal remembered when she used to look at him that way. She will again. Whatever the history was there, it wasn’t good.
“Yes, please,” Chrysabelle said. “We have much to discuss with you, too. Velimai, would you fix me something to eat? I just realized I haven’t eaten all day. I’m starving.”
The wysper nodded and headed to the kitchen with one last glare at Dominic.
Mortalis stayed by the door. “I’ll stand guard outside. Call if you need me.”
“Thank you.” Chrysabelle came back to Mal’s side and together they followed Dominic and sat down. She stayed close enough to Mal that when they took their places on the couch, the heat of her thigh permeated the fabric of his jeans. The voices whined, but he shut them out. He wasn’t about to push her away.
Dominic gestured to her. “It is your house. You should go first.”
Chrysabelle explained everything that had happened, the information that Creek had given her about Damian, the proof he was her brother, the danger he was in, and the KM’s insistence she bring the vampire child back.
Dominic nodded throughout, speaking only when she was finished. “In truth, I’d hoped I might distract you from your grief by convincing you to accompany me on the very same trip.” He lifted his hands. “The mayor refuses to remove the curfew that is ruining my business unless I bring her grandchild to her.” He stood and walked to the rear wall of windows. “How am I supposed to take on the vampire nobility alone? Or worse, the ancients? But she doesn’t understand what she asks.” He turned suddenly. “Do you know she asked me to sire her? Can you imagine?”
Mal snorted. “She asked me, too.”
“What?” Chrysabelle started. “That night she came to the freighter?” She shook her head. “That woman is mad.”
Dominic laughed, a hard, bitter sound. “Mad is right. You should have seen her when I refused. I confess I let my temper get the best of me. I fear bringing the child back may be my only salvation.”
“So how do we do this? According to what Creek’s told me, both Damian and the child will be at the ball, but even with an invitation, they won’t let any of us in.”
Dominic tapped a finger against his chin. “There might be a way.” He made fast eye contact with Chrysabelle before his gaze dropped to a picture of Maris on a side table. “When your mother and I… left the noble life, I created a formula that temporarily changed our appearances. I was still vampire and she was still comarré—I cannot change the core of who someone is—but to the eyes of the nobility, we became someone else, no longer detectable as Dominic and Marissa. I will disguise all of us this way, including my second.”
Mal nodded. “Excellent.”
“This must be done in achtice. I will need nobles to model the images after, blood from them and both of you.” His mouth thinned with uncertainty. “You trust me? Blood is not to be freely given, as you well know.”