Out for Blood by Kristen Painter Page A

for the address she needed.
    She read it twice before setting it aside. What a strange place to live. But strange probably didn’t matter as much as safe did. How safe it would be for her, she wasn’t sure. She’d find out as soon as the sun went down.
    Her gaze shifted to the windows again. She walked over to them. The setting sun burnished away the ugly bits of the city and gilded the landscape until she could squint and see glimpses of the beauty it had once been. Beyond the buildings, the sea sparkled, throwing back the sun’s light in diamond shards.
    She planted her hands on the glass, attempting to remember every color and nuance of this moment. The heat of the day seeped into her skin. She tried to imbed the experience into her memory.
    She’d always loved the moments before twilight, the way the setting sun brought a last brilliant burst of color to the world before night shrouded everything in shades of gray. She crossed herself and said a quick prayer that God would forgive her for reaching so far beyond her place in life and to protect her in the path she was about to travel.
    The sun slipped out of sight. Part of her wanted to weep for what she was about to lose. “Balance,” she whispered. “Balance and sacrifice.” What did it matter if she never saw another sunset again? She’d have her city, but more important, she’d have her granddaughter. Mariela would be enough.
    “I can’t believe it.” Chrysabelle leaned her head onto her hand, her elbow propped on the kitchen table.
    It’s true, Velimai signed. I saw the blood on you myself when Mal brought you in. He told me everything. He watched a shifter at Bar Nine slice your neck open after you stabbed him, then he carried you up to Doc’s office where you came back to life and then passed out right after.
    “Why can’t I remember any of this? I remember going to the club, but that’s it.” She jerked her head up and pounded her fist on the table. “It’s the Aurelian all over again.”
    Velimai got up to start the dinner dishes.
    “You shouldn’t have let me sleep all day. I need to be out there, looking for Damian and this runaway vampire.”
    Velimai shot her a look that said the decision to let Chrysabelle sleep had been in her best interests.
    “Well, you shouldn’t have.” Chrysabelle ran a finger through the condensation on her water glass. “Does Doc even know that vampiress might be after him?”
    Velimai shrugged.
    “You’re a lot of help.” She stood and threw her napkin onto the table.
    The wysper turned from the sink, soap bubbles dripping off her fingers. Tension creasing her face, she flung the suds off and signed, Don’t take your anger out on me. Deal with what’s going on instead of ignoring it, and you might get some answers.
    “Deal with it? How? Acknowledging I’ve got some kind of power that resurrects me isn’t going to help me understand it.”
    Find someone to talk to. Someone who can explain what power the ring had.
    “You have any suggestions as to who this magical person might be?”
    Velimai was wavering between solid and vapor form now, a sign of her upset. Chrysabelle didn’t care. She was afraid of what was happening to her, and that fear made her want to lash out, no matter who she hurt.
    Talk to Mortalis. With that, the fae stalked out of the room, leaving the dishes, and Chrysabelle, behind.
    “What’s he going to tell me that I don’t already know?” Chrysabelle plopped back down into her chair. She huffed out a few breaths, a little of her anger going with them. She shook her head, disappointed in herself. Velimai didn’t deserve her harsh words or crankiness.
    She marched up to Velimai’s quarters and knocked lightly. “Vel, I’m sorry. Open the door so I can apologize.”
    The wysper opened the door and crossed her arms, waiting expectantly with one brow lifted.
    “I’m sorry I snapped.” Chrysabelle sighed. “Truth is, I’m scared. Scared of what’s going on with me, scared