She tipped her head at Creek. “You get this comarré woman and this vampire here by tomorrow night at the latest. If you’re trying to pull something, you can consider yourself the main suspect in my daughter’s murder.” She stood up, brushing herself off. “With your record, I can put you in a holding cell so fast it’ll make your head spin. Am I clear?”
“Crystal.” No way in hell was he going back in and losing his position with the KM. That would mean losing Una’s tuition money. Not happening. “Getting the comarré here is not a problem.” Except Chrysabelle had refused to see him every time he’d been to her house. “Not a problem at all.”
After calming Mal down, Chrysabelle was about to return to Atticus’s side when Mortalis spoke. “If things are settled here, I have duties I should attend to. Atticus, if you need me, you know how to reach me. I assume you two can find your way out when you’re ready to go?”
They both nodded. As soon as Mortalis was gone,Chrysabelle returned to Atticus’s side. “Are you being kept here against your will? We can get you out if—”
Atticus laughed, patting her hand. “I am here freely and quite happy.”
She shook her head. “How is that possible? I didn’t think signumists were allowed to leave the houses they worked for.”
His smile disappeared. “They aren’t. But now is not the time for my story. Tell me what brings you here.”
She launched into the explanation of what had happened at the Primoris Domus the last time she’d been there and everything that had led up to her signum being stripped. “What I need is for those signum to be restored so I can make one last trip to the Aurelian, get the information that will help me find my brother, and I’ll never bother anyone at that house again.” She hoped her voice conveyed the sincerity of her heart.
“No signumist working for any comarré house would put those marks back on your skin. It would be an unforgiveable action.”
Her heart dropped. Of course he would say that. He was a real signumist. She hadn’t counted on that, assuming Dominic’s man would be some self-trained hack doing his best.
“Fortunately for you,” Atticus continued, “I am past caring about unforgiveable actions. If you desire these signum to be replaced, it would be my honor to do the skin work. It has been many, many years since I have stitched gold into one such as you.” He shook his head slowly. “These mortals Dominic brings me. They are so weak. So unprepared for what must be endured.”
She exhaled. “Thank you, Atticus. You can’t know what this means to me. When can we do this?”
His hand reached out, seeking something. It landed on the cane at her side. “When this is no longer necessary and you have properly prepared your body and mind.”
“The cane is just a ruse. I don’t need it.”
“What?” A muscle in Mal’s forehead twitched. “Why would you pretend to be more injured than you are?”
She met his eyes only briefly. “I have my reasons.” She returned her attention to Atticus. “I can prepare myself in a day. Maybe less.”
“Is there scarring?”
She nodded then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes,” she said softly.
He raised his hands, splaying his fingers. “I need to examine it.”
Without looking at Mal, she stood, pulled her hair over her shoulder, then slipped her tunic off. Mal had seen her in her bra before, but she hadn’t planned on it happening again. Not like this anyway. Clutching her tunic to her chest, she turned her back to Atticus. Mal’s gaze might as well have been a ton of red-hot coals the way it burned her skin. She held her head a little higher, refusing to be ashamed of the damage Rennata had left on her body. To Mal’s credit, he said nothing save an almost inaudible curse, but she knew if she met his eyes, they’d be dead silver. He couldn’t be pleased about what he was seeing, knowing he’d been the
“Crystal.” No way in hell was he going back in and losing his position with the KM. That would mean losing Una’s tuition money. Not happening. “Getting the comarré here is not a problem.” Except Chrysabelle had refused to see him every time he’d been to her house. “Not a problem at all.”
After calming Mal down, Chrysabelle was about to return to Atticus’s side when Mortalis spoke. “If things are settled here, I have duties I should attend to. Atticus, if you need me, you know how to reach me. I assume you two can find your way out when you’re ready to go?”
They both nodded. As soon as Mortalis was gone,Chrysabelle returned to Atticus’s side. “Are you being kept here against your will? We can get you out if—”
Atticus laughed, patting her hand. “I am here freely and quite happy.”
She shook her head. “How is that possible? I didn’t think signumists were allowed to leave the houses they worked for.”
His smile disappeared. “They aren’t. But now is not the time for my story. Tell me what brings you here.”
She launched into the explanation of what had happened at the Primoris Domus the last time she’d been there and everything that had led up to her signum being stripped. “What I need is for those signum to be restored so I can make one last trip to the Aurelian, get the information that will help me find my brother, and I’ll never bother anyone at that house again.” She hoped her voice conveyed the sincerity of her heart.
“No signumist working for any comarré house would put those marks back on your skin. It would be an unforgiveable action.”
Her heart dropped. Of course he would say that. He was a real signumist. She hadn’t counted on that, assuming Dominic’s man would be some self-trained hack doing his best.
“Fortunately for you,” Atticus continued, “I am past caring about unforgiveable actions. If you desire these signum to be replaced, it would be my honor to do the skin work. It has been many, many years since I have stitched gold into one such as you.” He shook his head slowly. “These mortals Dominic brings me. They are so weak. So unprepared for what must be endured.”
She exhaled. “Thank you, Atticus. You can’t know what this means to me. When can we do this?”
His hand reached out, seeking something. It landed on the cane at her side. “When this is no longer necessary and you have properly prepared your body and mind.”
“The cane is just a ruse. I don’t need it.”
“What?” A muscle in Mal’s forehead twitched. “Why would you pretend to be more injured than you are?”
She met his eyes only briefly. “I have my reasons.” She returned her attention to Atticus. “I can prepare myself in a day. Maybe less.”
“Is there scarring?”
She nodded then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes,” she said softly.
He raised his hands, splaying his fingers. “I need to examine it.”
Without looking at Mal, she stood, pulled her hair over her shoulder, then slipped her tunic off. Mal had seen her in her bra before, but she hadn’t planned on it happening again. Not like this anyway. Clutching her tunic to her chest, she turned her back to Atticus. Mal’s gaze might as well have been a ton of red-hot coals the way it burned her skin. She held her head a little higher, refusing to be ashamed of the damage Rennata had left on her body. To Mal’s credit, he said nothing save an almost inaudible curse, but she knew if she met his eyes, they’d be dead silver. He couldn’t be pleased about what he was seeing, knowing he’d been the
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