Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7) (5 page)

Another emotion she knew well.

Slumping in her seat, she played with her braid. Kept her expression neutral. Silently waited. After long, drawn moments, the snapping tension faded. The edge of danger mellowed to a simmer.

She let a few more minutes go by in calm, peaceful silence before softly replying, "I've never known the Magic Council to sanction the killing of those who are innocent." The Council would never allow such a thing. They were the light, that which protected the innocent, not destroyed it.

"Unless someone threatens the Council or the secrecy of the Arcaine's existence in some way," he threw back.

"Sure, the Laws state anyone can be punished for such offenses. But the Council employs many, with numerous types of magics. Killing someone is not their first go to choice, unless the guilty one has committed a heinous crime."

They left the forest behind for the highway that led into town. Above the horizon, the large, nearly full moon had cleared the tallest of mountain peaks, casting the night in a magical warm silvery glow.

Tiredness swept through Anca. She'd had a long few weeks with little sleep. Back to back assignments sucked, but the Council was busy lately.

And being knocked unconscious hadn't exactly been restful. "You don't have to take me everywhere MacDougal told you to. If you'll let me out near the lake—"

Sounding offended, his reply was gruff, "I have my orders."

She eyed him, but didn't complain. Food and a supply of blood would be welcome. More though, necessary. Vampires needed both.

Later, once privacy had returned, she'd get some rest. Figure out her next steps. Until then, she'd put up with this vampire.

And she'd find out just what was beneath his aloof exterior.

M
att struggled to ignore the woman in his passenger seat, focusing on the long, empty highway winding between rolling hills awash with the light of the moon and stars.

Forced to work with someone from the Council was bad enough. But she'd obviously drank the cool aid, with her instant defense and spouted propaganda.

He'd seen the slaughter. More than once.

And he'd taken care of the Judges responsible. More than once.

In vain, Matt wished that earlier, he'd decided to walk right back into his office. Instead, he'd gotten this complete and utterly messed up night.

The power he'd felt in the hospital had been the same when she woke in the castle. Which meant she cloaked her magic. Smart, he supposed.

She appeared young and weak at first glance. Her true power said she was anything but.

No mere decade old, but centuries.

Repressing a sigh, he watched the road run beneath his SUV. The scent of cherry blossoms and springtime filled the cab. Her very presence was a constant prickle at his skin.

By the time he pulled into the parking lot of Moss Creek's only diner, his nerves were stretched taut. He ushered her inside the classical fifties styled place, across a black and white tiled floor, past bright red booths, to a row of stools at the long white and chrome counter.

Anca picked up a menu and looked it over.

After she ordered, Matt added, "Make it to go."

He gave Anca a look that dared her to argue. He might be forced to babysit, but nothing said he had to take a long time doing it.

Her stony, neutral expression barely changed. A hint of amusement. Then a small grin curved the pink bow of her mouth in a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

One of the odd things about Anca clarified in his mind.

Like all her expressions, there was something slightly off about her smile. As if she acted the way she thought she should, rather than revealing any true emotion.

It was disconcerting to say the least.

Mind games were the Council's forte. Most likely hers as well. But as long as he stayed very clear about the fact that she couldn't be trusted, he'd avoid issues.

While they waited for her food, Matt carefully lined up the salt and pepper shakers in an even line, then slid the containers of sugars to the sides, all perfectly symmetrical.

Anca broke the silence. "So how much do you know about what's going on around here?"

"Regarding what specifically?" he asked hesitantly. He'd have to give her answers, but didn't really want to share anything she didn't already have.

She seemed to easily read through his ploy. "I've read all of the older reports from your local Keeper of the Peace. MacDougal gave me additional details. Essentially, you've been having problems for over a year. With the Rogues, a little more than half that time."

Sounded like she pretty much knew it all. So why had Jordan
really
sent him along? Not just to watch her, or keep her from hurting any innocents. His King didn't despise the Council as much as Matt did. He hadn't been forced to watch the acts their Judges committed, face the devastating aftermath, like Matt had.

"I told MacDougal that I'll need the details of the newest murders." Anca's lilting voice fragmented his musings. "I also need to see someone who belongs to the local pack."

"Whatever for?"

"To see what the pack bonds look like. It'll help me distinguish any wolves between local and Rogue."

As far as Matt knew, only shifters could see pack bonds. Anca was certainly a vampire. How could she
see
anything?

But he looked around and got lucky. "I can point some out right now." Matt nodded toward the large windows of the diner. Outside, past a small scattering of ghosts, a group of three men walked down the sidewalk, huddled together.

Anca stared at them a while before nodding. "All right. There are also places I'll need to visit."

All right? She hadn't done anything but look at them. "What places?"

"The scenes of the crimes. All of them."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "It's how I do my job."

An idea was forming. A possible reason Jordan had jumped on providing this tiny deceptively fragile woman an escort. He met her gaze. "Thomas Montgomery is the dark vampire who brought the Rogues here."

"Yes."

"But you're aware of the problems we had before that?"

"Your conflicts with the local wolf pack? I am. So is the Council. The traitor in your clan? That one I know, but the Council doesn't. Not yet. They aren't the reasons I'm here, however."

"Then why are you here?"

She remained silent, as if weighing her words. "To take care of the remaining Rogues."

Which was what Jordan said earlier.

"My clan has been after them for months now. What makes you able to just come in and take care of it?" They had experienced trackers, warriors with great age and experience.

There was absolutely no reason they shouldn't have found these guys and eliminated them long ago. Yet, his clan had failed.

It rubbed Matt wrong.

"First of all," she replied dryly, "there's my authority from the Council. But you don't like that reason. So let's go with the fact that, like you, I am
very
good at what I do." She threw his earlier words at him.

For some reason, it almost made him grin. He caught himself.

After helping her carry the to-go bags to the SUV, he chauffeured her to the hospital. This time, he placed an order too. Back outside, he looked over the nearly empty parking lot, ready to be at least partially rid of her. "I'll follow you to the lake. Where's your car?"

She arched a brow. "At the lake. I came into town on foot."

Weariness swept over him. Of course she had.

By the time they reached the lake that sat between the town and clan lands, the moon hung high in the sky. It was nearly midnight. Lack of sleep fuzzed his thoughts, itched along his nerves. He needed rest, but still had much to do.

Seconds after he parked in the lake's public access lot, Anca jumped out, grabbed every last one of her bags, and strode off into the trees.

Matt scrambled to follow. "Wait a minute. Jordan wants you escorted safely back to camp." A bramble caught the cuff of his trousers. He jerked free.

Neither of them needed a flashlight with their enhanced senses. Though night blanketed the forest with muted tones, every detail remained sharply defined. As he caught up, Anca tossed him an exasperated look over her shoulder. In it, he read the same exhaustion and need for sleep that kept yanking at him.

She said, "I'm a lot tougher than I look."

Didn't he know it. Earlier, rising from unconsciousness, she'd managed to knock him all the way across a room hard enough to break bones. He'd mostly healed, though the effort had taken most of his energy reserves.

Still a slightly twisted urge inside him pushed out, "Really? Because my sedative magic only works on the weak, the exhausted, or the injured. You don't look hurt to me, so which of the other two are you, Miss Fieraru?" Matt wasn't quite sure if he was teasing or goading her.

She didn't answer.

Deep in the forest, far from any hiking trails, Anca stopped between two trees and whispered softly beneath her breath, "
Deschis
." Shimmering magic opened like a curtained veil between the two trees. A very powerful ward, based on the magic prickling over his skin in warning.

Anca strode between the trees into a small clearing. On the far side, partly hidden by branches and bushes, a tent wavered in and out of his vision, camouflaged by yet more magic.

Matt crossed through the opening, feeling a spiky buzz of magic invading his head. Was she testing him?

Then she had another thing coming.

Most shields and wards worked by rejecting another's power, and preventing them from passing through. He didn't have any magic other than his vampiric power—strength, speed, longevity. Enhanced senses. Even his sedative type magic was a latent vampiric skill he'd worked hard to mold into what it was now, nothing more.

A rarity for vampires. Some believed it was because in order to survive the change, most needed the strong magic of ancient Arcaine bloodlines. Without it, the power to awaken in undeath just wasn't there. But not for him.

He shoved at the barrier, startled when it continued to resist his passage.

So she'd covered all her bases, prepared even for the unusual. He pushed harder until he broke through.

Anca watched his every move intensely.

He stopped in the middle of the clearing and crossed his arms over his chest. With thick sarcasm, he asked, "Do I pass or fail?"

She shrugged, turning to lay her bags on a cleverly hidden table beside the sometimes-there-sometimes-not-tent. "I told you. I need to know what to expect when—in my line of work it's never an
if
—we face danger together." She shot him a challenging look. "Hindrance or help?"

"And Lady, I told you. I will never be a burden. Nor a hindrance."

***

A
nca had a feeling the man's self-confidence was most likely well placed. She'd see eventually, she guessed.

He drew to his full height, towering above her. "I have spent centuries studying around the world. Martial arts. Training with monks. Do not doubt my strength even if it may be different from your own."

At the moment, she bit back her many questions.

Her curiosity did come from the need to know about him in order to work together, as she'd said earlier. But part of her was actually interested in his answers. Which didn't make sense. Especially since after a day or two, there would be no need for him to stick around.

Besides, he obviously felt nothing but revulsion for her.

Everything she said sparked his temper in some way or another, based on the heat in his crimson tinted eyes. Sharp masculine features mixed with anger made him appear harsh, predatory.

A shiver slid down her back.

Nonsense. He'd gotten lucky with that sleep magic last time. That was all. She certainly didn't fear him.

So why then did her nerves hum lightly with an edge of panic? Because grumpy though he remained, she was enjoying their banter?

Not possible.

She stepped toward Matt, forcing him backward and out of her wards. "Thank you for your escort. Please convey my gratitude to your King, and let him know the Council will hear of his cooperation." She half-bowed formally, going through the required motions.

Matt just looked at her.

"Or not," she replied.

From a trouser pocket, he pulled out a cell phone and tapped the screen a few times. "What's your cell number?" he gruffly asked.

She didn't answer.

Matt glanced up sharply. "I'll call you tomorrow to meet up—"

"I don't carry a cell phone."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Why the hell not?"

She just shrugged. There were many reasons, none of which she wanted to get into right now.

He sighed, looking at his watch. "It's almost midnight. Eat. Get some sleep. Then meet me at the diner tomorrow morning. Let's say nine. I'll bring the information you need."

His command grated on her nerves, but she didn't argue. There was no point in starting a conflict about something minor.

"Fine," she replied. "Good night."

He glanced at the stars dotting the sky. "Nine a.m. Sharp."

As he walked away, Anca reengaged her protective wards.

Matt muttered something about ruined shoes. The expensive-looking leather had barely survived the hike in. They'd be toast by the time he returned to his SUV. The man was out of place in the middle of the forest.

Perhaps next time, he'd think twice about kidnapping a stranger.

When she could no longer hear him, when even the electric zing of his attention grabbing aura quit humming over her skin, Anca turned to her tent. With bags of food and blood, she slipped inside her fairly large temporary home.

She finished off half of the bagged blood. Opening the to-go containers from the diner, she dug in ravenously. She was more exhausted than she'd realized.

Guess that was the answer to Matt's disturbing question about why he'd been able to knock her out. Though, she conceded the man was strong.

Not that it mattered. She depended only on herself. She relied on no one else. If the clan vampire managed to help, it would just make things a little easier.