Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7) (14 page)

The horrors from the night they died, uselessly yelling and begging for him to save them from the Judge.

Consciousness hit Matt like a freight train, yanking him from the past. Nearly driving him up onto his feet. He banked the instinct and instead lay immobile, eyes closed, using his other senses to figure out where he was. What the hell might be going on.

And how long he'd been out. Because most of the wounds from the fight no longer greatly pained him. Though there were a few new bruises in strange places that he didn't remember getting.

He lay prone on something soft. Blankets. But the give beneath it didn't exactly feel like a bed.

Soft sounds of movement came from nearby. He smelled blooming wild flowers and cherry trees. Anca's scent tantalized his lungs.

He slowly opened one eye just enough to survey his surroundings. Canvas hung above him.

On the other side of the magically lit tent, Anca stood at a long narrow table. She muttered under her breath, mixing some sort of liquid.

In an actual black cauldron the size of a soup pot. Blue flames merrily flickered beneath it, hovering just above the table and leaving the thin metal unmarked.

She favored her left shoulder and side, but not as greatly as before. While he'd slept, dreamt, she'd washed the blood off, and changed into clean clothes.

A glance down showed he was still bloody and dirty.

"Sleep well?" Anca asked without turning around.

Tension sang along Matt's nerves. His memories replayed the fight with the wolf. He struggled not to flinch at the fury that had been unleashed within him.

Then outside, after the unhelpful conversation with Anca... something coming after them.

In crystal clear detail, he once more saw Anca turn to him a second before he lost consciousness.

Energy filled his veins and he rose to his feet. A growl worked its way up his chest. He took a stiff step toward the woman. "What the hell did you do to me?"

"Knocking you out? You can always think of it as a returned favor." Her shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly. "Or you can view it with the knowledge that I most likely saved your hide."

"You used your Council magic, didn't you?" The idea made his gut churned.

She tensed further. "I did what was necessary in order to keep you from the siren."

"Siren? We're on top of a huge mountain range smack dab in the middle of a desert. We're hundreds of miles from the ocean. Why would a siren be here?"

She finally glanced back at him, only to roll her eyes. "I would presume your Rogues somehow brought it here."

Nonplussed, he sat on the bed, a thick firmly filled air mattress on top of an oversized cot.

"So you knocked me out to stop her from ensorcelling me?" He didn't like the idea one bit. But he couldn't deny that perhaps Anca had most likely saved his life. A siren of all things. "You're a woman, so you got away." He searched his memories for any details he might have heard about the rare creatures.

Anca replied, "A siren's song can bespell anyone, male or female."

"Then how did we get away?"

"I carried you."

She'd protected him? Injured, hauling his unconscious carcass? It couldn't have been easy.

Why would she do such a thing?

Disturbed by the direction of his thoughts, Matt glanced at his watch.

The glass face was shattered, broken during the fight inside the cave. The two long hands were pinned in place at just before five. "What time is it?"

Anca slipped an antique pocket watch from her front jean pocket. She pushed a knob and the face snapped open. "Just past eight." She clicked it closed and slid it back into the pocket.

Turning back to the cauldron, she ladled the thick, bubbling liquid into two cups and handed him one. Her smoky gaze held a challenge, as if daring him to drink.

Asking what it was would be a sign of weakness. He held his breath and raised the cup to his lips, then sipped. Sweet yet tangy brew tingled over his tongue, turning comfortably hot as it slid down his throat. It landed in his stomach with a buzzing warmth.

Now that he'd proven himself, he asked, "What is it?"

She downed her mug. "My own special blend of energy drink and healing booster for vampires."

By the time Matt finished his cup, the warm buzz in his stomach had spread through his entire body. Most of his aches and pains from the earlier fight faded.

Anca grabbed a bag of empty plastic water bottles and began ladling the liquid from the cauldron into the bottles. "I used to use canteens, but this works so much better. Single person servings in easily portable containers. I read it in a novel about a Chicago wizard for hire. How are you feeling?" Her words were rushed. Nervous perhaps?

"I'm fine." He
was
feeling better.

But his thoughts continued to spin.

Why had this Council investigator risked her life to safe his? His mind jumped to replaying the way he'd killed the wolf. He felt no guilt at the death, it had been self defense after all. And as one of the Rogues, the wolf deserved far more then the quick easy end he'd received.

But the way Matt's rage, his need to protect Anca, had become a single minded purpose disturbed him greatly. He'd not reacted with such violence in a very long time.

Matt wished it had been eons longer.

Had she, perhaps, felt the same instincts and urges for him?

Stunned at the impossible thoughts, he surged to his feet, then looked around, unsure what to do next.

"There's a basin of fresh water if you'd like to clean up." She glanced back, and Matt thought he saw a bit of amusement in her eyes. "I don't have any clothes your size, sorry."

"No problem." It was a stupid response, but he had no other. He took a colorful washcloth from the table next to a collapsible basin. Steam rose from the water.

He hastily washed the worst of the grime away. For a moment, he thought he felt Anca's gaze on his back, but when he looked around, she remained studiously bottling her potion.

Matt's mind continued to replay the events leading up to Anca knocking him unconscious. Cleaned up to the best of his ability, he sat back on the bed, nowhere else in the tent to go.

A siren. A creature known to lure men to their deaths. Could he fight something like that? Questions spilled from him. "How do I prevent her song from taking me? Can't I use ear plugs or something?"

Anca shrugged. "It's not so simple. A siren's song is more than just what you can hear. Magic flows through the air like the waves of the ocean battering a beach. When the ripples wash over you, they take you. The key is that the siren's power is limited in range." She sat on the bed beside him and rested her hands on her knees, rubbing her jeans.

Worry?

Anca continued, "The siren sends out a seeking lure, and with it, increases the distance of her magic. Have you seen pictures of an angler fish?"

"A deep sea fish with a dangling appendage on its head that can light up with bioluminescence and lure in its dinner. "

"Exactly. Sirens have something like that, but instead of a light on the end, it’s a magical construct. A mirage of a beautiful woman looking to ensnare you."

So distance was the key. A hell of a defense for the monster.

If Matt got close, she might take him. Far away, he wouldn't be able to do anything.

Anca got up and crossed to open an ice chest. She pulled out some bagged blood and a plastic-wrapped plate, piled with sandwiches. Returning to her spot on the bed, she held out the bags. "Here."

A yawning pit of hunger flared in his stomach. "Thank you." He drank eagerly.

Anca unwrapped the sandwiches and slid the plate between them. "Eat. We'll speak more of the siren and the Rogues later, with your people."

Startled that he'd hadn't even thought to check in with Jordan, Matt grabbed his cell and texted his King with a short update.

He spotted a different text, sent while he'd been unconscious.
We are safe. Hiding. Will call later.
"You sent a message to my clan?" he asked.

She nibbled a bite of her sandwich, nodding. "I didn't want your King to worry."

"Why didn't you just take me to him?" The first bite made his stomach clench, his mouth water. He had to force himself to eat slow and steady, rather than giving in to the ravages of hunger.

"The way I see things, the siren appeared for one of two reasons. The first being that she was backup, already coming along to check on the wolf." She sounded doubtful.

Before she spoke again, Matt supplied another likely reason. "Or the traitor heard our location from Shane Spencer and alerted the Rogues, who then sent the siren."

"Yes." Her eyes flashed with a ring of crimson. "Since I had to knock you out, I didn't want to risk your safety while you were unconscious. Though I did what I felt I must," Anca said softly, "I am sorry for the injury caused you." Her sincerity rang through the tent, driving into him.

A Council investigator, actually apologizing? Sounding honestly regretful for causing him harm, though her actions had saved him. More than once, he'd seen the unexpected in her. Though she hid it well, the woman cared deeply about others.

She nibbled her lower lip, the movement drawing his gaze, capturing his attention.

A rush of heat shot his temperature climbing.

Her colorful billowy blouse slid down one shoulder, revealing sun kissed skin. The rising urge to get close, to smell her, to taste her, to feel that skin on his lips, his hands, was nearly irresistible.

Matt held tight to the sandwich, flimsy as it was, and forced his thoughts from the flashing desire she kept invoking in him. He ripped off a large bite and chewed viciously.

As he found control over his raging lust, he also noticed the comfortable calm settling between them. Easy, companionable silence.

Matt's cell phone vibrated in his back pocket. He pulled it out and answered the call. "Jordan?"

"Are you all right?" his King demanded harshly. "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm fine. We're at Anca's campsite."

Jordan let out a breath. Even over the phone, his frustration and relief were clear. "It's about time you answered your phone."

Anca stood and hurried across the tent, fidgeting with bags and herbs scattered across the table.

Watching her, Matt answered his King. "Your Council investigator knocked me out."

A stillness settled over the phone line. "She did?"

"Long story. I'll fill you in when you get here. Also, can you bring me a shirt?"

"A shirt?" Jordan's tone turned unreadable.

Anca showed no reaction, though she could easily hear both sides of the conversation.

"Long story short," Matt said, "We ran up against a siren."

"The hell?" Jordan barked commands at someone in the background, ordering them to find out anything they could about sirens. Then he asked, "Miss Fieraru, what do you know about these creatures?"

Remaining on the other side of the tent by the metal table, Anca's voice carried as she replied, "I know how to stop them if I have the time and needed materials to prepare the spells in advance."

"And how do you stop them?" Matt asked before his King could.

She turned and met his gaze. "Trap. Contain. Relocate or destroy. And it needs to be done soon, before she's set loose inside the town. Like most Arcaine, mortals can't resist the pull once they hear her song."

"I'll be at your camp in thirty minutes, with our Keeper of the Peace," Jordan replied. "We'll figure out a plan. What do you need me to start gathering?"

Matt handed the phone over and left the tent as she began listing some basic ingredients for either a magic spell, or baking a few dozen cakes.

Then her list of ingredients turned strange and unusual.

He shook his head.

Witchery.

Outside, in the soft light of full night, he continued to listen to the entrancing lilt of her voice.

No leg of frog or eye of newt, but when Jordan told her he didn't know where to find dragon's breath or hell hound fire, Anca asked him to get her a consultation with a reputable local witch or sorceress as soon as possible.

Between Matt and the forest, the wards occasionally shimmered, making the mostly straight tree trunks distort and appear to curve.

He tuned out the phone conversation and took a seat on a tree stump off to the side of her tent, his thoughts racing.

As usual lately, they focused on Anca.

She and Jordan continued to speak softly. Matt ignored the words, barely realizing when the husky lilt in her voice dissipated his tension.

When he noticed, he shook his head and sat straighter.

What was it about this woman that got to him so intensely?

The air stirred, blowing around him while somehow not disturbing the ground or the trees. On the breeze came an unintelligible whisper yet again.

The voice grew, repeating over and over, until it came perfectly clear, striking hard and deep.

Fate. Hope. Mate
.

Matt shook his head, embracing his denial.

He wasn't in the market for a mate. Been there done that. He rubbed he chest, feeling the lingering ache, still there after centuries. It wasn't right for a man to bury his children and wife.

Especially not twice in his lifetime.

Such things weren't for him. Not any longer.

Not ever again.

A
nca strode out of the tent and Matt's thoughts scattered.

She stopped near the wards, staring out at the blurred forest. After a long moment, she said, "I don't feel any danger nearby. A bit of good news at least." She turned back, looking over the camp as if studying it for weaknesses. Her colorful blousy camisole fell wide on her uninjured shoulder and gave Matt an enticing eyeful of cleavage.

"I suppose we were due for something good sooner or later," he mused.

Her shirt was of multiple layers that gently cupped her bountiful breasts, only to flutter delicately over her stomach and back.

Anca headed to a table along the side of the tent and pulled out a couple camp chairs, waving Matt off when he tried to help.