Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7)
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Authors: Amber Kallyn
Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7)
Praise for Heart of a Vampire Series | Bloodstorm
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ColdStorm
Heart of a Vampire, Book 7
Amber Kallyn
After centuries alone, can two vampires accept that sometimes love is worth the risk
?
As a Judge, Anca Fieraru's duty is to eliminate problems for the Magic Council. Her current assignment—find those responsible for the recent slaughters in Moss Creek, Arizona. To track a local vampire traitor and continue the hunt for the supernatural killers she must utilize the one thing guaranteed to give her a necessary edge—her Romani magic. Unfortunately her use of magic and lethal judgment sets her at odds with her new partner, a sexy, stubborn clan vampire. Their fiery clashes remind Anca there's more to life than holding others at a cold distance.
Doctor Matt Dixon has spent centuries healing others in atonement for his own heinous crimes. Never mind they were committed while fighting the Arcaine monsters that lurk in the dark. After killing those responsible for destroying everything he ever loved, he's finally found a place of peace in the Moss Creek clan. Until death once more found its way into his life. Ordered to work with the Magic Council's deadly assassin, he soon realizes there's an intriguing woman beneath Anca's icy façade.
After spending centuries unable to trust, both vampires gave up hope long ago. But when Matt and Anca are together, whispers of love intertwine with fate. They must overcome the horrors of the past and learn to trust one another, before the present danger consumes them and all they care for.
Coldstorm
Heart of a Vampire, Book 7
Copyright © 2016 Amber Kallyn
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be produced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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over art by: Dawné Dominique
http://dusktildawndesigns.com/
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I
SBN-13: 978-1523317585
ISBN-10: 1523317582
A
dark stench lay heavy on the forest air. A gray pall discolored normally vivid earth magics. Death had visited this place recently. Quite a lot of it.
And more would likely soon arrive. By her hand.
Anca Fieraru—vampire, and Judge for the Magic Council—slipped silently through the trees. Surrounded by mountains, sunset came extra early here. Evening shadows shifted through branches to camouflage the ground in black and gray patches. The immense forest welcomed Anca as one of its own, bound to nature and the earth's spirits as she was.
Less than an hour earlier, she'd taken the highway leading out of the nearby sleepy town of Moss Creek. Parked at one of the few scenic overlooks, she snuck into the territory of the local vampire clan. Bypassing massive gates and guard stations along the only road leading to their fortress, Anca instead headed the back way.
The excessive number of guards hiding in the trees didn't surprise her.
The warriors she silently slipped past radiated age, and power. Like Anca, the weakness brought on by the day was most likely ignorable, especially as the sun sank further toward the jagged peaks on the horizon.
Just one of the many vampire myths she remained glad—even after a handful of centuries—that fact didn't always follow fiction. How limiting to only prowl at night.
More obstacles attempted to stop her. An inner block fence topped with spikes running through the forest, perhaps their entire property. Two ensnaring protective wards created by a very powerful witch.
The wards would stop most people.
Anca wasn't most.
She snuck around another hidden sentry. Her senses—and the magics of the forest and the earth—pinpointed his location. A bit later, a glint of metal caught her eye. Another camera. Even a clan as old as this one used electronic security nowadays.
Anca skirted its line of sight and continued on, closer to the stone castle towering less than a mile away now. The fortress was right out of the middle ages. Quite incongruous in these Arizona mountains, but right at home in clan lands.
She stepped lightly, soundlessly.
Lines of earth magic radiated out like glittering threads of an endless spider web. The spirits of the earth danced around Anca, constant companions since her youth long, long ago.
Childlike forms of magic and light, the spirits embodied the powers of the earth. Yet, in this place, they were restless. Like the forest's magics, a dull, almost filmy sheen of grayness darkened the spirits' normally colorful hues—the jeweled green of spring leaves, the ruby of fall, the pure glowing white of snow, the golds and purples of a warm sunset.
The spirits brushed against Anca, their touch just a bit heavier than the air, like a warm breeze. They fluttered her dark peasant blouse, rubbed against her jeans, played with the cherished sword at her hip.
The
saif
, a short curved scimitar, pulsed with power. Her
tată's
magic, imbued in the sword he'd forged. The power hummed along Anca's senses. Attracted the spirit's curiosity.
She hurried on toward her destination, her passage disturbing nothing, just as her
tată
had taught her long ago. Her father's kind eyes—once always laughing before the time of trouble decimated their Romani people—came to mind.
"
Romani can flit anywhere without notice.
" His booming laugh was a sound she could barely remember. He'd always add with a sly wink, "
The patient thief is as a tree whose root runs deep as he waits for the sweet fruit.
"
Though she was no thief, Anca continued on, patient and steady until the forest thinned. The castle loomed just ahead.
Her senses tingled at the presence of so many vampires inside the place. Anca moved even more patiently, holding her
tată's
words close to her heart.
With flashes in her path, the spirits guided her to a stop near a long row of hedges lining a sprawling garden. Few vampires wandered the twisted, twining flowers, and those remained distant from her path.
The spirits whirled around her and filled the air with blossoming scents from the gardens. A hint of memory tantalized her, a familiar perfume she couldn't quite place.
A flowery scent from her childhood.
Romanian peonies? Flowers known to grow only around the mountains from her childhood home. Why would they have such rare blooms here in this place?
With light nudges on her shoulders and tugs on her hands, the spirits drew her along the hedges, closer still to the castle.
Until a calloused grip fell on her shoulder.
She stopped, slipping a hand to the hilt of her curved short sword. How had she not sensed someone's approach?
"Hey, there. Don't think I've seen you around. You part of the clan?" A youthful crack in his voice broke the last word.
Instead of drawing her
saif
, Anca fixed a friendly smile on her face and slowly turned.
Then had to look up, and up.
He was a least a foot taller than her own five-two. Fourteen perhaps when he'd been turned. And only a few years since that event, judging by the small flickers of vampiric crimson in his gray aura. Confirming his youthfulness, the boy's aura also held brilliant threads of pure white. At his mortal age, he'd been damn lucky to survive the change at all.
Anca's muscles tightened, vibrating with anger. Her thoughts spun.
She'd been assured the local vampire King was a man of fairness and decency, one who upheld the Laws of the Magic Council.
Including the ancient decree to never turn a child.
So why did he have this vampire?
The kid's eyes flickered with hints of suspicious worry at her too-long silence. His grip on her shoulder was certainly strong. But nowhere near a threat. Not to her.
Anca widened her smile and struck an innocent pose, even going so far as to pull her long dark braid over her shoulder and twirl it around her fingers as she'd seen mortal teenage girls do.
The kid's tension fled. He grinned back easily.
"Hello," Anca said. "I'm here to see Jordan MacDougal."
Believe the innocent look, kid
. She didn't want to have to rough up a child. But she couldn't risk him spreading the alarm about an intruder on clan grounds.
He let go and stepped back. "A visitor? That's rare lately with all the extra security Jordan's been ordering." He glanced around, a scowl teasing his features. "Why didn't the guards show you to the castle?"
Still playing with her hair, Anca waved at the trees. "I asked to be allowed to see your beautiful grounds."
"Oh. I can take you to Jordan then." He stuck out a hand and stepped closer. "I'm Robby."
"Hello, Robby." She ignored his outstretched hand and kept her tone soothing. "If you don't mind, I'd really prefer to enjoy the forest a bit longer."
"All right." He grinned cheerily, as if he had no plans to leave.
Repressing a sigh of aggravation, she watched him watch her. Maybe her innocent act wasn't working with this one.
"Alone," she added.
Shadows flashed in his guileless eyes. "You afraid of the King?"
"Should I be?"
Robby shook his head. "Jordan can be scary, but he's a good guy. Just don't let his yelling fool you."
Anca laughed lightly at his attempt at a joke.
He continued to grin. Still didn't budge.
After a moment of silence, she nodded politely before walking away. Robby's gaze burned the back of her neck for a long minute, until the trees hid her from his view.
Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the earth spirits. They pushed her faster toward the castle.
Why hadn't she sensed the kid's presence? The spirits hadn't warned her, either.
She'd slipped past all of this place's powerful defenses. Yet this young teen had managed to not only spot her, but sneak up on her, all without triggering any of her usual warnings.
How?
She followed the flickering spirits, her thoughts worrying over Robby, unsure what exactly to make of the boy.
Minutes later, the hedges ended at the castle walls. The last rays of the lingering sun disappeared behind the mountains, drenching everything with the dark of twilight. Between the trees and bushes crowding alongside the stone, the spirits led her to an open window on the ground floor.
A voice drifted out. "...been months, damn it." The man's words rang with despondence, and beneath it, anger.
Cautiously, Anca glanced inside, staying mostly hidden by shadows and the thick, old-fashioned wooden window frame.
On the other side of a very large room, a vampire paced in front of an old wooden sideboard, covered in what appeared to be dozens of miniature paintings. He was thin, almost to the point of emaciation. Sandy blonde hair and cold blue eyes enhanced narrow, Nordic features.
He spoke again. "How much longer must I bear this? Five months. Luci's still gone." His aura shone with bright vampire red in a smoky gray, glinting with flashes of emotion.
Someone else sighed.
In a pair of antique chairs all the way to the right, in front of a large fireplace. One of the chairs had been turned to face out at the room. And in it sat a second vampire. Blond, with a regal bearing and strong features, his elegant suit and casual pose gave off the appearance of a relaxed man. The tic in his jaw, the dark light in his blue eyes, told a different story.
The power of his aura was nearly blinding. Flecks of crimson, and a silvery-green she'd never seen before swirled in a light gray. A wash of his magic swept the room. Over her. An itchy pressure over her skin like thousands of marching ants.