Firestorm: Heart of a Vampire #5 Page 3

  “People tend to rationalize the shadows,” he murmured. “If faced with real dark, they break.”

  She met his gaze, startled at the depth of feeling in his words. “True.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “More went missing, then turned up dead. Two weeks ago, Jacques disappeared.” She swallowed hard, not wanting to imagine the type of power one would need to control a vampire of his age and strength.

  She finished her drink, set it back on the tray, and picked up one of the plates of BLTs. Sitting back, she slipped out a piece of bacon and nibbled. The turmoil of emotions inside increased her worry, set her nerves on edge and made her hungrier. Food would help, but not nearly enough to calm her.

  He didn’t interrupt, as if knowing she needed the time, the silence.

  She swallowed the bite, then dropped the bacon back to the plate. It was as tasteful as ash.

  “My best friend, Abby, was helping me trace the steps of some of the missing vampires, including Jacques. We followed up on a lead, found nothing, and headed home. Abby never made it to hers.” She blinked back the burning in her eyes.

  Silence reigned, not comfortable, but not stressful either. He slowly leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands fisted together.

  She met his gaze, touched by the sympathy in his blue eyes. “I’ve been trying to find them, but keep running into obstacles. I heard about a deserted plantation about twenty miles from here. I checked it out, but the place has been taken over by a wolf pack. They saw me. Since then, it seems like I’ve jumped onto the radar of whoever is murdering vampires.”

  “You haven’t heard anything... whispers... rumors, about who might be doing this?” he asked.

  “There’s something going on, but I can’t figure out what. The Magic Council sent a Judge for something else, months ago. He’s still in the city. When I talked to him, he basically told me not to worry my pretty little head about anything, because there’s nothing to worry about.” She added, “He’s a wolf shifter.”

  Jury and executioner, Judges were the most powerful of the Arcaine, and invoked by the Magic Council to dispense justice as they saw fit to all creatures and immortals that fell under the paranormal jurisdiction.

  Eric sat straighter at that. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

  Pushing down her worry, she straightened, matching his stance. “We can talk to him tomorrow.”

  “I’m here to solve the problem, not babysit,” he spat out the last word as if it was a curse.

  “You can work with me, or get out of my house. These are my people. I’m not going to sit home and knit, while an outdated, condescending jerk tries to take care of the problem,” she nearly growled.

  Her fangs descended as her emotions rose. She gasped. She wasn’t used to losing control like that. It just wasn’t done.

  As if unwilling to argue, Eric stood. “Show me to my room.”

  She wouldn’t fool herself. The order wasn’t an agreement to work with her. But he didn’t know where the Judge was staying, and she wouldn’t tell him until they were on their way.

  Together.

  * * *

  Eric woke abruptly. By the angle of the sun casting shadows through the window, it was late afternoon. Getting to sleep had been as hard as he’d expected. He’d been restless, though for some reason, the usual nightmares had been absent. And he hadn’t woken to remembered agony spreading along his many scars.

  The atmosphere of the house was heavy, as if permeated by residual memories from all who’d lived there throughout the centuries. It was an easy, soothing feeling, as if he was welcome here. Not just from the house, he realized.

  Cat’s scent lingered around him, furthering the calm and peace he’d not felt for too long.

  Shaking his head at the fanciful and unwelcome thoughts, he slid out of bed. Glancing between the door to the hall and the entryway to the bathroom, he debated this night’s direction. A shower to ease the rest of the tension in his muscles from the drive would be nice, but at the moment the house was silent and still. The woman slept.

  More than the relaxing water, he wanted to get out of there without waking the stubborn female. He damn well wasn’t going to be conned into watching her day and night.

  Reluctantly, he ignored the bathroom and the enticing thoughts of a shower. Silent as a shadow, he eased downstairs and out the front door.

  All the while, he didn’t hear a peep from the rest of the house.

  Outside, he nearly turned back around to grab a jacket. It was freezing, frost dusting the rocks of the driveway. Ignoring the chills, he hopped in the SUV and turned the heater on, then rummaged in the back seat for the special cooler holding snacks. On the drive into town, he ignored the sorceress’s whispered threats, forcing down bagged blood and beef jerky.

  Near a busy-looking street, he parked and began walking.

  Musical laughter followed him, from the hordes of people milling around... and from his too-real memories. The meal he’d eaten continued to stir, but he kept it down. His mind might be weak, but he could at least make sure his body remained strong. He shivered, blaming it on the cold.

  Soon he scented a vampire. He tracked down a young, timid woman. She gave him hesitant, nearly whispered directions to someone else who might know where the Judge was staying.

  A wild goose chase and two hours later, he pulled his SUV into the parking lot of the Hotel St. Marie. It seemed an old prestigious place, even had a doorman to usher him inside just as snow began to fall. Eric glanced out into the darkening night, his brows drawn. He hadn’t known it snowed in New Orleans.

  The lobby was expansive, and surprisingly warm considering all the white marble. Old furniture sat in small groups, welcoming visitors to sit a while. He shook his head at the difference between New Orleans and back home in Arizona. Another example of the Deep South and its hospitality. Just like Cat.

  When he’d arrived, the woman had ignored his temper and tried to be gracious, even feeding him—though the meal had been more of a snack.

  He shrugged off his thoughts as the sorceress appeared, sitting in one of the large chairs. She stared at him, tapping her long ruby nails on her thigh. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed. She snapped her fingers and the sound of her beasts—hungry growls and ear-splitting shrieks—surrounded him.

  No one in the lobby noticed.

  The sorceress’s mark, branded on the back of his left thigh, flared with pain. He turned to the long wooden counter on the other side of the room and determinedly ignored his memories coming to life.

  Her husky laugh chased him, the pain in his thigh making him limp slightly.

  Behind the counter, a youthful man stood, sorting papers. He nodded. “One moment, Sir.”

  Directly behind Eric, the sorceress murmured, “You shall not escape me again, no matter how hard you try, my pet.”

  He shuddered, unable to repress it.

  The man smiled welcomingly. “My name is Bain. Welcome to the Hotel St. Marie. How may I help you?”

  Eric replied gruffly, “David Lucas. Which room is he in?”

  Bain flinched, his smile wavering, before he controlled himself. “I’d be happy to take a message for you, but we don’t give out that information.”

  Wishing he hadn’t left his axe in the SUV—though it would only get him into trouble and most likely result in the mortal authorities being called—Eric leaned over the desk, giving the man his darkest scowl.

  Bain flinched, and began stammering, “P-perhaps the m-manager—”

  “I don’t need to see your manager, just tell me which room.”

  “Um, just a moment, Sir.” Bain tapped on a keyboard behind the counter, then glanced up as if fearing Eric was about to attack. “The gentleman you’re calling on is not here. He’s out of town for a few days.”

  Eric froze. What the hells? Why was a Judge leaving the city when it was in such turmoil? Cat said he’d been condescending to her, was he not trying to help anyone in this cit
y? “When will he be back?”

  “I-I’m not sure. The m-manager—”

  “Never mind.” He turned and strode to the door. Outside, the snow fell thickly, dusting the ground white.

  What was he supposed to do now? The only lead he’d gotten from Cat was about this Judge.

  Maybe he should have brought her. She had to know more than she’d told him. Another lead to follow up on, or something. Damn it. He didn’t really want to wander aimlessly around the city, but he didn’t see another option other than going back to her house.

  He sure as hells wasn’t going to do that. Not yet. Not until he absolutely had to.

  Vampires, any Arcaine, didn’t just go missing without the community being aware. Someone must know something.

  Chapter Four

  Near full dark, Eric strode down the busy sidewalks, searching for the scent of an Arcaine, any paranormal creature that he could talk to. The four people he’d already tried had been tight-lipped and claimed ignorance of anything strange going on.

  The shops along the street displayed all sorts of colorful wares. Everywhere, signs in window fronts advertised Saint Patrick’s Day specials—from food to costumes to decorations. Sidewalk vendors hawked all sorts of cheap items tourists could buy to commemorate this year’s holiday. And on nearly every corner, small bands played music.

  It truly was a festive city.

  He hated it.

  His constant companions walked near him, morphing from the sorceress to his sire’s sister. It didn’t matter who appeared, they both whispered promises of torture and pain.

  He refused to look, but could tell which face they wore. Not just by the changing voice and types of threats, but by their scents which constantly surrounded him, making it hard to pick out any other Arcaine.

  Finally giving it up as futile, he turned and headed back towards the hotel and his SUV. He despised giving up, but at this rate, he was getting nowhere.

  As he neared the parking lot, their torturous scents disappeared, replaced by a sweet, cinnamony one that sucker-punched him in the gut. His gaze zeroed in on Cat, as if drawn directly to her by some unseen force.

  She stood near his car, talking to a short, dark-haired male.

  She’d pulled her red hair up into a tight, stringently conservative bun. She wore an expensive looking business suit—tailored jacket and skirt, with a lacy blouse barely covering her eye-catching cleavage that he shouldn’t even be noticing. The vampire with her certainly couldn’t stop looking.

  Eric growled, the angry sound escaping before he even realized it.

  Cat glanced over at him. Her cheeks flushed pink, her eyes sparked with fury, the green circled with a hint of red.

  He reached her side, bracing for an explosion of anger at his wordless absence from her house.

  Instead, tight-lipped and extremely formal, she stated in a clipped, heavy drawl to the man at her side, “This is Eric Wulfgar, the one I told you about.”

  The vampire looked Eric up and down, as if unintimidated by his towering size.

  A quick jolt of surprise and a small spark of cautious respect flashed through him. It was rare strangers tried sizing him up without a hint of fear.

  Cat turned. “Eric, this is Blake Peñola, one of the city guards. He’s been keeping an eye out for information on any strange happenings and trying to keep our younger vampires safe.”

  “So what information do you have?” Eric continued staring at Blake, who still didn’t flinch.

  The man didn’t quite hide a sneer at Eric’s gruffness. “As I was telling Cat, one of our coven members thinks she knows something about the abductions.”

  “We were just about to go see her, since sitting around your car the past hour has, up till now, proved useless,” Cat stated, her voice sweet, though he could read the annoyance beneath her words.

  “Well, now. Guess I’ll fill in for Blake,” he replied.

  The man coughed as if trying not to laugh.

  Cat’s eyes darkened redder, at his behavior. “I don’t see how that is your call to make.”

  Before he could reply, Blake took her hand and bowed over it, kissing it lightly. “Lady, I have plenty to keep an eye on. Besides, I do believe this one is willing to fight for your company.”

  Her lips thinned, becoming a tiny bow of exasperation. “Fine.”

  Eric glared at Blake, but didn’t comment. Solving this problem and getting home meant finding information. As the man left, Eric studied Cat. “The Judge isn’t here. He left town for a few days, though the guy I spoke with didn’t know exactly when he’s getting back.”

  “I know,” she replied, watching him warily. “I checked earlier. The Judge is supposed to return in a couple days.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I asked politely. Besides, I’m known well enough in the city to be granted answers when I ask for information.” Her tone berated him, as if implying he needed her help.

  He tensed at the thought. He didn’t want to work with this woman. But unfortunately, she could open doors for him that otherwise would remain shut, locked and barred...

  Finally, he asked, “Why are you here?”

  “Trying to figure out what’s going on.”

  “Without me?”

  She glanced at him, her eyes sparking. “Seems you didn’t need my help earlier, with your sneaking out of the house... without me.”

  “I never said I would wait for you,” he growled.

  “Neither did I,” she quipped back.

  “Who is it we’re going to see?”

  She laughed, a husky sound that made his pulse speed up. “Oh? Now you wish to work with me?”

  He glowered, hating the way his body reacted to her.

  “Malia is a younger vamp. She came here from a small African village. She’s been a part of our coven for about three years. She tends to... ferret out information others need, and makes deals for it.”

  “As the current stand-in for your king, you should be freely given anything that would be of help.”

  “Is that how your coven works? Your king demands and others answer?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well, we’re more democratic.”

  “That might explain your current troubles,” he replied.

  She stiffened. “Certainly, treating others with decency and respect always lead to problems.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Really?”

  “No. I just don’t see why you need to pay for information from someone under your protection.”

  She mumbled under her breath, “Catch more flies with honey.”

  * * *

  Cat’s every sense was attuned to Eric. She’d seen his expression earlier, as if he expected her to have a temper tantrum then and there. In public.

  It inflamed her ire. She didn’t know how the overbearing brute had been raised, but her father taught her how a proper lady did, and absolutely did not, behave.

  Not that she truly cared about such things anymore, though that niggle always tugged at her heart. It wasn’t as if her father, many hundreds of years dead, would hear about it and reprimand her like he used to.

  But she was well known in some very high circles. She relied on those people for donations to some of her charities. A few old-mud sticklers would not take kindly to hearing about Lady Bienville shouting and making a public scene. Most blue-bloods and old money weren’t nearly as obnoxious as the few portrayed by tabloids and the media.

  An image of one rich, pompous jerk she needed to entice to her cause, hearing about such a thing, came to mind and she nearly choked on the laughter. He’d have an apoplexy, and wouldn’t that be a sight?

  Eric glanced around the parking lot, alert as any warrior of old. As if they’d be ambushed around the next corner.

  A shiver worked up her spine and she realized he could be right.

  Lately, one never knew.

  The strange snow began to fall harder. Already a few inches
piled over the ground. She shivered from a chilly gust of wind.

  “How often do you get snow?” Eric asked, holding his hand out and letting the flakes dust his skin.

  “It’s rare. And this long and heavy?” she shook her head.

  He glanced at her sharply. “What are you thinking?”

  Hesitating, she took a few steps toward her car, but he moved past her, his long legs quickly covering the ground, and blocked her path.

  She stopped. “There’s been this feeling lately... I don’t know how to describe it.”

  “Try.”

  * * *

  “Dark. Wrong. It’s nothing I can point to and say, there it is. Just a feeling, like I said,” Cat finally replied.

  “Hmm.” He stared at her a moment longer. Yet another sign of damned magic? “Where’s your car?”

  She pointed to a tiny vehicle, one of those hybrid electrical things.

  “That?” he asked incredulously.

  She lifted her chin. “I like it.”

  He snorted, amazed anyone could fit in such a little thing.

  Someone driving a much bigger car on the street slammed on their brakes. The back end fishtailed across multiple lanes.

  Eric scowled harder at her compact car. “You’ll come with me. That thing isn’t safe to drive in this weather.”

  She opened her mouth as if to argue. The bang of a crash and crumpling metal rang out as the fishtailing car rammed into another vehicle. She closed her mouth and nodded once.

  At his SUV, he opened the passenger door for her to slide inside. As she passed him, she smiled softly. “So you can be a gentleman.”

  When she was inside, he slammed the door with more force than necessary, making the SUV rock a little. She just continued to smile.

  What was with her?

  He was a Viking warrior, descended from kings. Yet this slip of a woman laughed in the face of his anger.

  Cat gave him directions and, twenty minutes later, they reached an older apartment building. Shriveled bushes didn’t hide the deteriorated rose-colored stone walls. Cat headed up a rickety set of stairs to the second floor, then to a red painted door.