Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7) (2 page)

This could only be the King of the castle, and Master of the local clan. Jordan MacDougal.

His reply held a strong assurance. "Leo, we will get your sister back. I swear it."

A sister? It was rare enough for a turned vampire to rise, even more so for blood relatives to survive the change. She was finding all sorts of oddities here.

"When?" The younger vampire slowly turned, as if ancient and every movement brought agony. He looked at the King with so much despair, Anca felt his pain from where she crouched.

MacDougal stood up and crossed the room to lay a hand on Leo's shoulder. "Soon as we can." His voice thickened with a Scottish brogue. "I swear it, lad. No one is giving up."

Leo started to speak, didn't manage a sound. He cleared his throat. "One of these days, Luci's going to be..." He choked, then mumbled, "Find her dead... Tortured. Gotta get her out," he ended on a strained whisper.

Anca swallowed past her tight, heating throat. She knew all too well the excruciation that came when forced to face having a loved one, family, being captured by the enemy. Worse was finding them brutally tortured to death. Knowing you hadn't been able to stop it, to save those you loved.

It was enough to crush one's soul.

MacDougal replied, "We are searching everywhere."

Leo started to shake his head, a flash of something in his eyes Anca couldn't quite see. His shoulders slumped and he slowly nodded. "I can't... I just... It's killing me."

"Aye. I understand. You'll continue to be kept informed of everything we find."

Leo nodded again, a bit more hopeful. He bowed before turning and leaving the room.

The King turned and strode back to the unlit fireplace, staring at the soot-blackened stones in deep thought. With a weary sigh, he turned his chair toward the wall like its' match, and sat down.

His gaze never left the fireplace.

Anca continued to study him. This vampire, both a Master and clan King, seemed reasonable. Decent. Caring. All that she'd been told.

But she'd not be able to trust him at all without an answer to the question burning inside of her. She leapt up, landing catlike and quiet on the wide windowsill. Soundlessly, she stepped down to the floor, and crossed the room.

She stopped a good ten feet behind the King.

Letting a small taste of her power seep from the cloak she constantly hid it beneath, Anca pushed the magic of her position into her words. "Why do you have a child vampire?"

With a bellow, the King jerked to his feet and rushed her.

"Halt, Warrior. I was sent by Endulpias."

The name of one of the Magic Council's Elder vampires stopped his very large, grasping hands only inches from her throat. He straightened, looking her up and down. "You are a Judge from the Council?" he asked softly.

"I am." Keeping her expression coldly neutral, she stated just as deceptively soft, "This will be the final time I ask. Why do you have a child vampire?"

He didn't even hesitate. "The boy came to me that way."

"From who?" she demanded.

Rubbing his jaw, he assessed her. "It doesn't matter now. His old Master is dead." His face, his eyes and voice all projected truth. More importantly, so did his strange aura. Anca relaxed the slightest bit.

As if he'd read her carefully hidden anger, and now its cooling, the tension billowing from him eased as well. He looked her up and down with a critical eye, and then laughed heartily. "The Magic Council sent me a babe. How old were you when you became a vampire?"

She'd been nearly twenty and in her time, very much an adult. Anca stood to her full height, ignoring the fact that he towered over her.

Used to being taken lightly due to her small stature and appearance, she replied, "The Council ordered a Judge sent to assist with your recent problems. Do you wish to question my abilities?" For the briefest of moments, she opened the cloak hiding her magic a little wider. Let him feel more of her power.

The King's eyes flared crimson for an instant. Then, like a patient predator, he stepped back. A hint of a smile played at his lips as he bowed his head regally. "My apologies. I am Jordan MacDougal, local Master and clan King. Welcome to my territory. We graciously accept your assistance." He sounded sincere but his words dripped with sarcasm.

Anca understood. Was used to it.

He needed help, but didn't necessarily like being forced to take it. Like all the Masters she'd worked with over the centuries, he'd either accept her, or force her to prove her strength. Anca would deal with his choice when it came. And if his decision was to fight, well, she'd yet been the one to lose.

MacDougal waved her to the chairs in front of the fireplace, wordlessly offering her a seat. Tipping her head politely, she settled lightly in the one beside his.

After a long moment, he reclaimed his seat. "May I ask how you got in?" The too-casual question hung in the air.

Anca raised a brow. "I'm a Judge. I have been for quite some time. Though I may look young, my power isn't to be trifled with." She continued, gently but without the slightest waver. "The Magic Council has heard disturbing rumors from Arizona. Out of control problems, both here in Moss Creek, and down in Phoenix. I'm here to solve what the Council considers the larger, and more immediate threat. That would be your town. I've read the reports from the last year or so, but I'd prefer first hand details if you'd fill me in?"

He spoke of an unraveling truce and growing problems with the local pack of wolf shifters. An endless influx of dark Rogues. "A master vampire who utilized black magics came to Moss Creek a while back." MacDougal's fists clenched. The wooden arms of his chair creaked threateningly. "Best I can figure, Thomas Montgomery thought to overthrow me and take control here. While he and many of his creatures were quickly dealt with, a few remaining followers have managed to stay stubbornly hidden while continuing his work." His expression flushed with shadows of regret and self-castigation.

Once he'd brought her up to date on the most recent murders, MacDougal fell silent, staring at the banked fireplace. Long moments passed before he met her gaze. "All the recent problems have thrown the local Arcaine into a chaos we're still climbing out of."

Anca calculated a few things. "So you've been battling on two fronts, the pack and this dark vampire's leftovers?"

"Aye. And something tells me that there are more secrets waiting to surprise us. You know most of mine after reading the council reports." He studied her. "I do wonder what your exact orders are?"

She hesitated, but everything so far said she could trust this man. MacDougal was a Master, true. But he didn't seem to be one of those who'd become corrupted by power.

Instead of answering, she said, "Connor Gregory has spoken much of you and your clan. He told me you are trustworthy." A fellow Judge, Connor was also related to the king. A cousin or something.

"Why didn't you tell me you came with a recommendation from that old bastard?" MacDougal barked a laugh as he sat back, this time truly relaxing. He waved a hand. "Go on."

"The Council ordered me to eliminate the remaining members of Montgomery's clan. Connor added a secondary request."

MacDougal stiffened.

Anca pushed on. "He spoke of your sister's betrayal, and how, even after she was turned over to the Council, the security here is not what it should be."

His face could have been etched from the same granite as his home. "Does the Council know about the traitor within my clan?"

Having done as Connor asked and kept it quiet, she replied, "No."

MacDougal breathed a sigh of relief.

Searching for additional answers, she said, "Tell me of Leo and his sister."

"I won't bother to ask how long you were eavesdropping." He pinned her with a powerful look.

Though she didn't blush easily, for some reason, heat crawled up her cheeks. She'd only been doing her job. So why did his stern stare make her feel like she had long ago, caught by her
tată
while trying to be sneaky?

The King replied, "Leo and Luci are rare blood relations. They've been with me nearly a hundred and fifty years. The Rogues took Luci late last fall, while Montgomery was still alive. She's one of the few captured back then that we weren't able to find, to rescue." His shoulders slumped, the heaviness of responsibility he felt suddenly tripling in weight.

"How many of your people do they still have?"

"That we believe are alive? Three." His tone was low, weary. "Even one is too many."

"Why do you think they're still alive?"

"Because they haven't been dropped off in town, with signs of being killed in dark rituals, like the others."

The answer chilled her to the core. Hopefully, she'd be able to ease the burden for him. For his clan and all the other local Arcaine affected by the dark magics permeating this place. She was going to find these Rogues. Put an end to their depravities.

And there was the other matter. The personal favor for Connor Gregory. She'd try her best. But in order to do that, she'd need MacDougal's complete cooperation.

Would she get it?

Without looking away from him, she told him matter-of-factly. "If I cannot find your traitor before I leave, I will be required to report the breech to the Council." Laws were what they were, and they had to be followed. Even if it meant the Council would be forced to interfere fully.

MacDougal shot her a calculating look. "Of course."

Thoughts racing, she started a mental list of the many things she'd need to figure out how and where the Rogues were hiding.

And, there was one more person in town she had to speak with, sooner rather than later. "I need the statements from the recent killings. Your Keeper of the Peace should have them?"

"Shane Spencer. Also town sheriff. I'll have someone get the reports."

"Thank you."

He stood. "I'll have a room readied for your stay."

"I won't be staying here." Though it was protocol to be offered, in over four centuries, she'd never once accepted.

"As you prefer," he replied. "The town's inn then?"

"No."

Curiosity flickered over his face. "There's no other place to stay in town."

"I'm not staying in town." Whether she told him or not, he'd figure it out. He had a stubborn, must-know-everything type of vibe. "I'm camping in the forest."

On top of the uncomfortableness being around large numbers of people brought, towns weren't safe. Anyone could find out your location. In the forest, all Anca had to do was make certain no one followed her to the hidden camp she'd set up, complete with her own unbreakable protective wards, and she'd be quite safe.

MacDougal seemed put out with her reply, but only asked, "Do you need supplies?"

Knowing he was referring to a steady supply of fresh blood, she said, "I do."

"Our only blood bank is located in the hospital, first floor. It's on the south side of town. Just tell them I sent you, though as a Judge, you won't have any problems."

That wouldn't work with the slowly forming plan she had in mind. "I don't want to announce I'm a Judge."

He paused, assessing her once more. "What?"

"It would be better if I appear as a Rogue, unaffiliated with your clan. And I'd prefer that you tell as few of your vampires—and only those you trust explicitly."

"You're not used to small towns, are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"People gossip, is all. But I'll do my best."

"If there's anything else, you can contact me at—"

MacDougal cut her off with a laugh. "If I need to contact you, I'll find you. This is my territory, after all, lass." His power flared.

Anca tensed, but this wasn't the test of power she worried might come—a waste of everyone's time and strength. Instead, it was more a friendly warning that she was here at his allowance.

She donned a neutral expression and tipped her head the slightest bit.

Acknowledging his rule here.

Just not over her.

***

M
att Dixon sat in his chilly office, finishing paperwork for the surgery he'd recently performed. He ignored the crowd in the room, knowing that if he didn't pay them heed, they might go away.

Not likely. But might.

He slid another completed form neatly on the small stack at the edge of his desk. A second later, someone tapped on the wood. Matt glanced over. The papers were askew. He realigned the edges perfectly square before continuing to write up his notes.

The top sheet of paper flipped up into the air, tumbling over itself until it landed on the floor across the room, near the door.

Guess this uninvited guest refused to be ignored.

Matt looked over the handful of ghosts lounging around his office. His glare landed on the one messing with his paperwork and demanding attention. "George, your wife survived the operation. You saw her."

The old man, dead three months from a werewolf attack, stared mournfully. His wife of forty years had been Matt's most recent patient. Implanting her pacemaker had gone well, but now, the mortal woman needed to rest and recover.

At least with his wife in the hospital, George seemed to have decided to mostly appear as he had in life—a hearty, redheaded lumberjack of a man—rather than the usual lately, as he'd looked in death after the attack.

Most Arcaine believed seeing the dead was a powerful ability. One only a small percentage of vampires acquired.

Matt considered it a burden.

Though he could see and speak to them, there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help. He didn't even know why they remained. Only that he'd only ever seen a concentration of ghosts in the same area where they'd died. Like George and the others wandering the hospital.

And like all spirits, ever voiceless, George picked up the paper and slapped it against the door.

Matt shook his head. "She needs rest. She'll wake in the morning and not beforehand. Be patient."

George shook his head jerkily, not caring for Matt's reasoning. The ghost flung the paper at the ceiling. It fluttered a moment before floating to the floor. George picked it up and threw it higher, again and again.