Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7) (3 page)

With a quiet sigh, Matt turned back to his notes. When he finished, he carefully slid the paperwork into the appropriate folder, crossed his office, and snagged the last sheet from the air in front of George.

Even though the ghosts couldn't be felt, at least not by anyone mundane like him, Matt stepped around George out of politeness as he left his office. In the hall, he slipped the paper in its proper place, then tapped the folder to exactly align the edges.

George followed, passing through the door to join the few ghosts in the bright, sterile hospital hall. The spirits eerily floated above the floor, wandering ever aimlessly.

Matt ignored them and headed down the corridor, George at his side, staring mournfully.

Moss Creek was fairly small, but with all the Arcaine living nearby, the hospital stayed busier than it should. With the wounded, and far too many deaths.

The handful of doctors who worked in town shared two secretaries. Inside their office, Matt dropped his folder neatly into the
in
basket on the first desk. Back in the hallway, he found George had left. Most likely off to look after his wife while she slept.

Matt returned to his office, but when he reached for the doorknob, a growing lethargy stopped him, leaving him blankly staring at his nameplate. Exhaustion rolled through him. He rubbed his face wearily. The letters of his name blurred and doubled, then cleared, before blurring again.

He should go home.

Get some sleep.

With all the recent butchery, thanks to the Arcaine Rogues trying to hijack Moss Creek, he'd spent far too much time working, and too little time sleeping. He checked his watch, startled it was almost eight p.m.

He'd been on shift nearly sixty hours between scheduled patients and emergencies. While he didn't need much sleep, he required at least some. He'd be no good without rest. In fact, he could be dangerous to a patient right now.

Unacceptable.

Decision made, he turned and headed for the blood bank that serviced the local vampires. He needed to stock up at home.

A few corridors from the always open bank, a sweep of power washed over Matt.

Unfamiliar vampire power.

The few ghosts in view stopped moving as if they too felt it. Almost as one, they turned in the direction of the blood bank.

He'd never seen such a reaction before.

Matt walked faster until he was nearly running.

He knew all the clan vampires.

This wasn't one of them. And if there were visitors for his King, he'd have been told. Which meant this might be one of the Rogues. His entire clan was hunting those damned Arcaine.

The luck to have one walk in here.

He careened down the last hall and around the final corner.

Magic crashed against him like a brick wall, freezing him in midstep.

Across the wide lobby, by the blood bank's glass doors, stood a tiny woman. Long raven hair, so black it had a glossy nearly blue shimmer, fell in a thick braid down her back. Dusty skin spoke of exotic blood.

The thick magic tightened like a noose around Matt's throat, his chest, his limbs. Magic that he couldn't place, other than the hint of a stranger. And vampire.

As if sensing him, the woman glanced back over her shoulder. Above a pert nose and bow-shaped lips twisted in a scowl, her eyes were a smoky blue.

Something inside Matt stirred when he met her gaze.

Desire. And...

A hint of fear?

Perhaps, though it made no sense.

She was just a tiny thing.

In an instant the overpowering magic fled.

Straining as he had been, Matt stumbled forward a few steps.

With a soft gasp, the woman turned to face him fully. The magic must not have been coming from her. She didn't seem all that strong. If he'd have to guess, she was maybe a decade old as a vampire, and that would be stretching it.

Exactly like reports about some of the Rogues hanging around.

Instinct rose. Matt growled harshly.

Stranger or Rogue, it didn't matter. She had no right to be in his clan's territory. But he'd solve that. An interrogation by his King would ferret out any secrets.

In less than a breath, he flashed across the wide lobby.

Her eyes widened imperceptibly, a ring of red bleeding around gray-blue irises.

Matt grabbed her shoulders. Slammed her back against the nearest wall. Before she could react, he shoved his power over her, a special type of sedative-like magic he'd perfected during long centuries.

The woman's eyes slid closed. She slumped forward against his hold.

Hefting her over his shoulder, Matt spun on his heel and left the hospital.

O
utside in the long parking lot, Matt ignored the one wandering ghost to search the night for any additional threats.

He laid the Rogue on the back bench seat of his SUV and looked her over. She wouldn't wake any time soon. There was no need to use something as crude as ropes on this small woman, enemy or not.

Only after he moved her legs a bit more comfortably, found himself noticing how her hair glinted black-blue in the moonlight, how compelling her soft features, did he realize the gentle way he was treating his prisoner.

Shaking his head, he assured himself he'd get some sleep and soon. He drove west out of town to his clan's Scottish castle, hidden by a supernatural forest and a good deal of witchery.

Getting through all the recently increased security along their private road was a hassle. What had been a ten minute drive now took over twenty. Finally, cleared past each of the gated checkpoints, past the cameras and hidden sentries tracking his progress, Matt exited the trees into the enormous clearing around the fortress.

Stone towered above his vehicle, blocking out the mountainous horizon. Matt followed the wide circular driveway, around a grassy area with a flowing fountain, then stopped in the deep dark blanketing a parking area off to the side.

Picking the Rogue up from the back seat, Matt strode to the wide stone stairs leading up to immense double doors of thick wood. When he reached them, he realized he was cradling the woman to his chest. His hands and arms were full of warm soft curves.

A door swung open.

One of the younger castle guards, Leo Bjarnesen, waited on the other side. He looked at them, stepping back to let Matt walk in. "Security said you were on your way. King's heading down now. He'll meet you in his usual chambers. Who's she?"

Shaking his head, Matt hurried across the marble foyer and past the sweeping staircase. "Don't worry about it. Yet." He strode through the hallways to his King's private reception rooms.

Inside he laid the Rogue on one of the couches.

As he'd predicted, she showed no signs of waking. Dark lashes swept over flushed cheeks. Her pink lips were parted, relaxed in sleep. She looked so young. Innocent. Incapable of the atrocities committed by the Rogues.

Distant sounds drew closer, announcing Jordan's pending arrival. Matt forced himself to cross to the fireplace. He lit the readied wood, using a lighter to spark small flames.

His King strode inside. "Tell me there hasn't been another murder."

Matt straightened from the tiny, flickering fire and moved to the couch.

Jordan's eyes widened at the sight of the unconscious woman. His gaze snapped back to Matt.

Clearing his throat, Matt said, "I found her trying to get into the blood bank. I don't know if she's one of the monsters killing innocents or not. Either way, a Rogue shouldn't be in your territory."

Jordan sighed. Rubbed his forehead for a long moment. Then his mouth twitched. "You found her at the blood bank?"

"I did."

"Well, now." He crossed to the bar and poured two glasses of old whiskey, then waved Matt to the antique chairs in front of the fireplace.

"Shouldn't we get her to the dungeon in case she wakes?"

Jordan shot him a sardonic glance. "I think between the two of us, we'll have no problems with such a bit of a female."

With a convincingly uncaring shrug, Matt sat down and accepted one of the glasses.

Taking a sip, Jordan stated, "Tell me every detail." The hardness in his voice struck Matt wrong, but he couldn't fully read it.

Starting with the wash of power in the hospital, Matt continued to the reaction of the ghosts. His glance strayed to the woman once more. "The magic couldn't have come from her. She didn't have that kind of power." He finished the explanation, studying Jordan, trying to figure out why the man kept almost... grinning? He had to be reading things wrong.

Jordan pinned him with a heated glare and Matt knew for sure he'd imagined any amusement.

"Mateo," Jordan said deceptively soft, using Matt's given name. "You saw a strange vampire, going into a public place, open to all. Instead of asking if she had permission to be there, you knocked her unconscious and brought her here?"

Well, when he put it that way... "She's not one of ours." Heat squirmed in Matt's gut and he found his attention once more drawn to the woman.

"Wake her up," Jordan commanded.

Matt crossed to her side, her dark, exotic beauty striking him yet again. For a long moment, he hesitated.

Jordan cleared his throat and spurred Matt into action.

He laid a hand on her forehead.

At the touch, a zap of electrical energy prickled over his skin. The air stirred, bringing the thick scent of springtime and cherry blossoms.

Her scent.

The faintest of whispers circled. Far, far away, struggling to come closer, the words broken and distorted. Ignoring the strange sensations, Matt let his magic wash over the woman.

She woke with a gasp. Tension sang through her taut form. She jumped to her feet, her smoky blue eyes unfocused for only a second. When her gaze cleared she stared hard at Matt.

He didn't even see her move.

A sudden increase in magical power rent the air. A heavy hardness slammed into his chest, directly above his heart.

Matt flew backward through the air and crashed against the stone wall on the other side of the room. Pain stabbed along his spine. Ice cold tendrils slid through his lungs when he breathed. He shook his head violently to clear a slight dizziness.

The Rogue remained in front of the sofa, tensely crouched, watching him. Her eyes blazed a furious blood red. She bared her teeth, flashing her fangs in warning.

"It's all right, Anca." Jordan's commanding tone filled the room with the pressure of his strength. "You're safe now. Back in my home."

The woman slowly straightened. Her gaze ping-ponged between them. Finally she stopped at Matt. Her lush mouth twisted in a scowl. "You attacked me. What exactly did you do to me?" Her voice held an old European lilt that made Matt think of times long ago.

With gritted teeth, he pretended there was no stabbing pain in his back, his chest, his ribs. He reached his feet without a single flinch. "I saw a strange vampire in my King's territory. We've had issues with Rogues lately—"

"I know," she cut him off.

How could this woman, a stranger, know about their local problems?

Accent thickening to a husky lilt she mumbled, "
Găoază
."

Sending Matt reeling in even more surprise, Jordan chuckled. "The good doctor might be a bit abrupt, but I assure you he is not an asshole."

She replied, "Forgive me if I reserve my judgment."

Jordan crossed his arms over his chest and watched her with mock fierceness. "Seems you're not as sneaky as you pretend. I had a report after you left, from the kid you asked about. Robby wanted to ensure my
visitor
made it to see me. Caught by a youth." Jordan chuckled. "So tell me, Anca, how did they both manage to find you?"

Incensed at his King's tone making him sound like some weakling, Matt strode forward as if he didn't have a care. Or cracked ribs. Possibly a punctured lung by the flash fire of every breath he shallowly took.

Right now, he had more important concerns. "Who is this woman?" he demanded.

"Oh, we'll get to that." Jordan continued to watch her. "So how'd you get caught a second time?"

Was that glee in his King's voice?

Her eyes faded from crimson to smoky blue. "They both surprised me. For some reason I couldn't sense your young Robby. You sent me to the blood bank. There was an oddity there, distracting me. This one," she pointed at Matt, "didn't give me a chance to say anything. I will not let my guard fall again. I guarantee you that." She spat the words, shooting Matt another angry look.

Jordan obviously knew her. Why hadn't Matt been told about the visitor, like usual? A fiery poker jabbed at his gut. Had his King suddenly stopped trusting him? Surely Jordan knew Matt couldn't be the traitor.

A yawning darkness roiled inside him.

Surely.

"When are we clueing me in on what's going on?" Matt managed to ask.

Jordan rubbed his chin. "Have to tell him something. Might as well be the truth."

The woman studied Matt intently.

When they both continued to silently stare, making him feel on exhibit, Matt straightened. Through clenched teeth, he gritted out, "What the hell is going on?"

The woman's expression tightened. "You would trust this man with the fate of your entire clan?"

"I would," Jordan stated without hesitation, his tone fully confident.

Pleasure at his King's trust flushed the worry from Matt's soul.

Jordan's next word's floored him. "Matt Dixon, meet Anca Fieraru. She's been sent by the Magic Council to deal with our remaining Rogues, and perhaps, ferret out our traitor."

The Council
?

The words spun in Matt's mind like a flash fire of white hot rage. His muscles stiffened, his jaw tightened. "You're from the Magic Council?" he growled.

His hands fisted, and he took a step back. Bitterness welled at the back of his throat like sulfurous bile. Anger and hatred coursed through his blood.

Jordan continued, "Now that the two of you have met, I do believe it would be best for all involved for you to work together."

Shock thrummed through Matt. Work with someone from the Magic Council? Hell no. He wouldn't work with those murdering bastards if his life depended on it.