Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7) (15 page)

Her shirt didn't quite meet the top of her jeans. Every time she moved the slightest bit, he caught teasing glimpses of smooth dusky skin.

He sat back down on the fallen tree, sinking a long fang into his tongue. The coppery taste of blood in his mouth shocked him from the growing lusty thoughts and back to more important matters at hand.

Except, she kept moving around the campsite. His concentration was broken again and again, his gaze captured by the flashes of skin.

"So what's next?" he managed to croak, trying hard to change the course of his thoughts. Matt glanced at his watch, only to remember it had broken. He absently reached for his cell. His pocket was empty. "You have my phone?"

Looking a bit startled, she patted the jeans curving over her sexy ass. Anca pulled out his phone and handed it over. Her fingers brushed along his. Matt swore sparks flashed in the air between them.

Her bow-shaped lips parted with a quickly drawn inhalation.

Wind blew around them. Then it gusted. Anca stumbled and fell into Matt's lap.

His phone clattered to the ground as he caught her in his arms. "Everything okay?"

When she met his gaze, Matt froze, carved in ice while every last nerve lit on fire.

He couldn't stop from leaning closer.

And found Anca moving toward him. He kissed her, relishing the soft warmth of her lips, the feel of her delicate sigh, her drowning taste of wild heat. The air spun, nudging them even closer. And on the wind came that familiar voice, whispering its fairytales of fate.

Matt stiffened in denial.

Anca drew away, scrambling to her feet. She hurried to the two trees where her wards opened. "The Keeper and your King should be here soon, right?"

Thoughts incoherent, lungs desperate for oxygen, Matt could do nothing but gulp deep breaths. Then he pushed back the roiling confusion—and the long forgotten, unnamable thing inside him suddenly stirring wide awake—and stared blindly at the trees. At least his blood began to cool a little. "Soon."

A quiet settled between them. She didn't look at Matt. He stared anywhere but her.

Except he could still taste her, feel her against him.

And by the way she couldn't stand still, so unlike her usual ability to mimic an emotionless neutral observer, Anca wasn't as calm as she tried to appear.

He didn't know whether to be glad or sorry. All he knew was the need to concentrate on the clan's problems. Besides, nothing could come between him and someone from the Magic Council. Even if she seemed to be different than most others he'd had the misfortune to encounter.

They continued to avoid one another in an uneasy silence until finally Jordan and Shane strode into view.

"
Deschis
." Anca opened the wards with a commanding tone.

Just outside the two trees, Shane stopped, staring intently as if he could see and study Anca's magic. The man probably could.

"Enter and be welcome," Anca said.

Giving her a friendly grin, Shane walked through the opening. Jordan followed.

The men grabbed the camp chairs, popped them open, then sat across from Matt, on the log.

After a slight hesitation Anca sat beside him.

Shane said, "We've cleared the cave and taken the captives to the castle dungeon. Tell me what happened."

Beginning from when they'd left the crime scene and headed into the forest, Matt and Anca took turns describing all they'd seen and heard and felt. When Anca spoke of the siren and her flight through the woods, lugging Matt's carcass to safety, something inside him lit heatedly.

If...

If... possibly... she wasn't entirely like those who usually aligned with the Council...

Matt was unable to finish the thought.

Anca continued explaining all that had happened until she'd reached the safety of her camp, securing her and Matt inside.

Jordan bowed his head toward her. "Thank you for saving one precious to me."

The words made Matt flush. Uncomfortable with the emotion in his King's voice, he cleared his own blocked throat. "So now we have a siren, on top of the Rogues. What's our plan? How do we fight this thing?"

Jordan replied, "The witch requested a meeting at my home, three a.m. Anca, she asked me to tell you she knows the spell you have in mind to perform. She is aware of all you need and will bring extra supplies, just in case."

Anca asked, "Who is your witch that she would know such things?"

"You'll see," was his reply. "Don't worry. She's trustworthy. I'd stake my life on it."

Anca fidgeted but didn't push the matter.

Both Jordan and Shane gave her their full attention, as if by virtue of being from the council—and possibly one of the only people in town who knew how to deal with a siren—they were willing to follow her lead.

A glint in his King's eyes told Matt that Jordan's agreement was more of a
for now
idea.

Matt met Anca's stare.

Her smoky gaze challenged him, as if daring him to follow her as well.

He should be able to trust her.

Could he? He just wasn't certain.

He sure as hell didn't trust the voice that had been whispering around him—around them—earlier. Matt no longer believed in fate.

Or hope.

Anca stood up to pace through the camp. "If your witch really knows what she's talking about, then we should be able to get a trap set up before dawn, when the siren will start hunting again. She'll need to heal, at least a little. The Rogues can wait for now. The siren is an urgent emergency." Her worry was nearly palpable.

Matt recalled her earlier comment, of how nearly everyone would fall under the spell of the siren's song. An image filled his mind. A line of townspeople—mortals, vampires and other Arcaine—walked out of town in single file, called to a pied piper.

In Matt's imagination, at the end of the flowing line of people, a mountainous angler fish squatted. Its mouth, full of sharp needlelike teeth, gaped widely open to admit the people who blindly walked inside one by one.

Anca quickly summarized a few important legends about sirens, including their irresistible call that lured countless sailors to their doom. "There are older tales of sirens inhabiting other bodies of water such as lakes, but only for a short time. The Magic Council hurries them to unpopulated areas."

Jordan nodded as if Anca's answer solved something in his mind. "So this trap you're planning is to capture, not kill?"

Her eyes flushed red. "No. We don't have the time or the power for something so complex. If you don't want people to start dying a lot faster than they already have been, our only choice is to go straight for the kill."

Her words made sense.

But the easy tone of voice, while delivering a judgment of death, soured Matt's stomach.

Anca glanced at her watch. "We've nearly five hours until the meeting with your witch. There are things I need to do, and to prepare, that require privacy."

It took all three of them a moment to catch her meaning. Jordan stood a moment before Matt and Shane rose.

Anca waved them to the opening in her wards. "Good evening. I will be at your clan castle for the meeting."

Jordan tipped his head. "I'll let my guards know that if they manage to spot you entering, it's all right." He and Shane started out.

Matt felt rooted at the prospect of leaving her alone with all the dangers out there.

But she was a Council investigator.

She'd be fine.

Besides, he had his own things to do. Like having a long conversation with the men he followed from camp. Find out everything they knew about the situation.

***

A
nca watched them until they were out of view, then secured her wards. But she didn't move until she could no longer sense the men in the slightest.

Light from the moon filtered through the branches, creating shadows that flitted over the ground. The earth spirits, their magic dimmer and weaker than before, moved restlessly.

She didn't know if the siren could devour their magic or not, but she didn't want to take any chances. She slipped back inside her tent to gather the things she'd soon need.

Constantly plucking at her attention was a small, distracting kindling of warmth. The scent of minty male continued to surround her.

And what had the spirits been doing earlier, battering her around like that? They'd never been so forceful before. Falling into Matt's arms had been an inadvertent accident.

Kissing him again, a mistake.

Unwilling to sit and worry over it, she dug out a bag from the corner of the tent. She slid out a tablet and flipped it on. A welcome distraction from her wandering thoughts, but also necessary work.

The screen lit, connecting her to one of the Council's satellites. It blinked a warning screen. She had fifteen seconds to successfully log in, before the tablet sent an alert straight to the Magic Council, then crashed.

She signed into the huge, ancient database collected over eons by the Council, and double-checked the exact details of the spell she wanted to use on the siren. All her calculations were correct.

In addition, by virtue of accessing this information, her supervisor, Elder Endulpias, would know what was happening in Moss Creek.

And how strange things were getting.

Just in case.

An hour later, she was as prepped and ready as she could be until the meeting with the clan's witch.

With hours still to go, Anca felt restless. She didn't want to stay here and stare out at the dark night, her thoughts constantly bouncing between the siren... and Matt.

Finally, she drove her tiny rental car into town.

The brightly lit hospital drew her. She needed to restock on blood, so she didn't fight against stopping. The odds that Matt would be here, or that she'd run into him, should be slim.

But perhaps...

Her stomach fluttered, a girlish thing that had her gritting her teeth.

Slamming the car into a parking spot, she got out. The door banged shut like a ringing shot in the night. She stomped towards the same entrance she'd used last time, nearest the blood bank.

Why was she still thinking about Matt?

All she needed right now was food. She'd be getting the rest of her supplies in a few hours.

Perhaps he weighed so heavy on her mind because she was at loose ends. She was used to working alone.

Always alone.

It made life easy. Uncomplicated.

A voice inside her whispered that working with the locals usually didn't bother her in the slightest.

But she'd never had to partner with someone like Matt before. He disturbed her in ways she didn't want to examine. Thoughts of him kept forcing their way to her mind, bringing the feel of his arms tight around her. His taste, a fine aged whiskey she wanted to gulp down.

Thankfully, the blood bank attendant cut through her irresistible thoughts by bringing her a packaged order. Outside the hospital, she secured the bags in a cooler in back of her car, then drove into the heart of town, all without running into Matt Dixon.

There was nothing for her to do at the moment. Too much time meant annoyingly wandering thoughts.

She despised brooding.

As she'd told the others, the siren was the most important quarry for now.

But maybe, if she walked these streets alone, she'd see someone. Something that didn't belong. At the least it would kill time.

And if she got really lucky, she might find the chance to work off some of her frustrating softness stirring inside her. A chance to fight something other than time.

Running across a murdering Rogue or two would be nice.

She parked in an empty lot in front of a grand, old-fashioned brick building that looked like an overgrown schoolhouse from the early west. The sign proclaimed it the town's library. Getting out, Anca surveyed everything she could see and realized she wasn't that far from the most recent crime scene. She headed in that direction, ever alert and watchful.

A little past ten and the sleepy town was nearly deserted.

The alleyway remained cordoned off by police tape. Anca found nothing more than had appeared earlier in the long day. And those few signs were fading fast.

Threads of icy blue magic from the wolf shifter were nothing more than disappearing silvery-white strands.

The wolf was dead now.

Soon, even these last afterimages of his existence would cease to be.

Between seconds, the air thickened with heavy magic. A powerful force shoved against Anca. The handful of dim earth spirits lingering nearby disappeared.

A few blocks away, voices rose, carried on the exploding magic. The sounds held an anger that clutched at the edge of violence.

Anca's pulse picked up to a double beat. Her nerves hummed.

Breaking into a sprint, she fought through the tingling, prickling power. The darkening tint of magic and fury led her around a corner, down a different road, then another. Around yet another corner, she stopped short.

A dozen or so people gathered halfway down a quiet street lined with businesses long closed for the night.

Auras of cold blues and crimson-flecked grays of various ages and strengths filled the opposing groups. Vampire facing off against shifter. A few individuals of both groups radiated power that only came with a long life. They were strong enough to do some real damage.

And every last one of the people currently hurtling ferocious insults at each other had either pack or clan ties coloring their magic.

Not the Rogues, then, but the disintegrating pact between the groups of local Arcaine.

An old pickup truck rattled loudly along a nearby street. Its exhaust backfired with an echoing boom. No one noticed anything other than their own screaming. Certainly not Anca's swift approach.

Only seconds passed before the rumble of the engine faded.

The vampire's auras flashed bright with rage. Something the wolves said striking home.

One of the clan shouted furiously, "Shut up about our Queen."

The magic turned cloying, oppressive. Somebody snarled. Someone else growled.

In a blink of magic, two of the pack shifted from human to wolf, beginning to yip and howl.