Cursed by Fire (Blood & Magic Book 1) (6 page)

Parents loved their kids, right? I didn’t have any children so I had no idea what that was like, but I know my parents loved me and I’d thought Jessica loved her son, but that woman back there, she wasn’t the mother I’d initially met.

“Do you usually have problems containing your wolf?”

James gave me a sidelong look that said he didn’t like my question. I shrugged my shoulders and waited for him to answer anyway.

“No. I do not have issues containing my wolf, ever,” he ground out.

“Well you’re obviously having issues today. I think you should get a handle on that before you go all furry on me.” I gave him a sweet, and what I hoped was an innocent smile.

He cringed, so much for sweet and innocent. Giving it some thought I lowered the visor mirror and smiled at my reflection.

“What are you doing?”

“Admiring myself.” I smiled and then cringed at myself. It looked forced and a bit crazed. I tried again, this time pulling the corners of my mouth down just a bit.

“Are you smiling at yourself?”

I shut the mirror and put the visor back up before glaring at him. “Yes, I’m smiling at myself. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Seriously, Ari?” he said in a condescending tone.

“I just want to make sure I look normal when I smile, ‘kay? Can we move on now?”

James started laughing, a deep rumble in his chest and I had to grit my teeth and cross my arms to keep from smacking him upside the head.

Idiot.

James and I went to Sanborn Place after grabbing coffee at the Rocket Bakery down the street. With a steaming cup of deliciousness in my hands, I rested my feet on the edge of my desk and inhaled the earthy aroma, allowing the warm steam to fill my senses. I was a sucker for a good cup of coffee and after a sleepless night and a vigorous workout, I could use its rich warmth.

Taking a tentative sip, I let the thick, warm liquid make its way down my throat before returning for a steaming gulp. James sat across from my desk in the guest chair with his own cup of coffee in hand. I watched through half-closed lids as he took several deep gulps, devouring the beverage in a matter of seconds. I shook my head, he didn’t even savor the taste. What a waste.

“Do you always chug your coffee?” I asked.

“How else am I supposed to get the stuff down?”

I stared at him in shock, my eyes as wide as saucers. “What do you mean, ‘how else are you supposed to get it down?’ Do you not like it?”

James made a face of disgust. “Nope, can barely stand the stuff.”

“Then why do you drink it?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Dunno, for the caffeine kick I guess.”

“You don’t get a caffeine kick, the Lyc-V in your system burns through it too quickly to really get any sort of result.”

“If I drink enough of it, I suppose I can get a caffeine buzz for a minute or two. But I’d need to drink a lot.” James’ gaze was far away for a moment. “Maybe 20 espresso shots, maybe more.” He shrugged.

“O-kay, so again, why do you drink it?”

James shrugged again. I was getting nowhere.

“Whatever,” I mumbled under my breath as I savored the remainder of my cup of joe. The shadow of a man crossed the front office window catching my attention. I leaned forward as James got up to look around the office but the shadow didn’t cross again. A faint buzz left just as quickly as it had come. I shook the feeling and turned back to James’ study of my office.

It wasn’t anything overly exciting, just a decent sized room sectioned off into four office spaces, a small kitchen, and three side rooms. One was used to catch some sleep, another housed weapons, and the third was a small bathroom. The main office space housed mine and Mike’s desks along with two others pushed off into a corner for the non-regulars. It wasn’t much but it worked for us.

James walked slowly around the perimeter of the room, examining the various article clippings and pictures framed there. Mike was a tad sentimental and liked to document anything that he considered to be a memorable event. Most of the images were from cases solved. Missing people who were found, lives that were saved in the nick of time. Those faded clippings were our Hall of Fame. The reason we showed up each morning. Sure we were mercs but we had hearts. I just wished Daniel Blackmore’s image could have made its way onto that wall.

“So what do you suggest we do next?” James asked from across the room.

I raised an eyebrow at his question, surprised he was letting me take the lead.

“I think we should arrange a meeting with the Coven. We know the cause of death and know that a vampire is the culprit. I think if the Coven knows the Pack is involved now, they may be more willing to corporate.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well it would be in their best interest to avoid a war wouldn’t it? And the death of a shifter child could easily ignite a war. I think if given all of the proper facts, Rebecka will realize it’s better to just hand over the perpetrator than to have us dig further. Politics and all that nonsense. From what I’ve gathered, she isn’t a fool. Besides, if the culprit is a rogue, we’d be doing her a favor. Vampires don’t have the same loyalties that shifters do, they wouldn’t bat an eyelash over leaving one of their own out to dry if it benefitted them as a whole.”

“I think you’re wrong, Ari,” he said, his tone now grim.

Where was he going with this? “And why is that?”

I thought over my earlier statement and it still sounded solid in my mind. Vampires were loyal but not the way shifters were. In the end, vampires did what was best for them. If they could get further in life, or the afterlife, by severing their own hand, they would do it.

Shifters on the other hand were more like a family unit. They all looked out for one another and regardless of rank, everyone was important to the pack structure.

“The vampires want a war. They’ve slowly been growing their numbers and believe they are in a position to challenge the Pack for power over the territory as a whole. They want us out, completely.”

“The Pack has what, close to thirteen hundred shifters within the Pacific Northwest? The Coven doesn’t have a chance. Besides, don’t the Pack and the Coven have a truce of sorts?”

“We do, which is why they haven’t come and shown any outright aggression, but this, this is something that, like you said, can ignite a war. When it boils down to just numbers, we have them over the Coven nearly two to one if we pulled everyone in but I know how Rebecka’s mind works. We’ve been studying her habits and tracing back through her history for years. She wouldn’t plan an overtaking if she didn’t think she could win and that is what concerns us the most.”

James shook his head in frustration. I hadn’t realized the Pack was keeping tabs on the Coven, let alone tracing Rebecka’s history but it made sense. A truce was made for a reason and while the hope was usually to build long-lasting political relationships, reality typically deemed that they were simply enacted to keep everyone from killing each other. There was always a reason that they wanted to kill each other. Not that those reasons always made sense.

It took close to forty minutes on the phone and several transfers later but I was finally able to schedule an appointment for eleven p.m. at the Cove, the Coven’s secret hidey hole, well it wasn’t really all that secret. The Cove was an old historic building built in 1901 that boasted eclectic architecture and beautiful landscaping. From what I’d learned, Rebecka and the rest of the local vampires began occupying the mansion about five years ago, shortly after the Awakening. Where they had lived before, no one knew but they were here now and I doubted they would be moving any time soon.

Before all things paranormal came out, the Cove was used by a non-profit organization. Rooms were often rented out for events and tours were offered to the public. Now it was rare for any non-vampire to ever enter the establishment. Vampires couldn’t enter homes without being invited. Since the mansion had no permanent residents, vampires were able to come and go as they pleased but they were a bit touchy about uninvited guests. I always assumed since they weren’t able to go in the homes of others, they didn’t want others coming into theirs.

It made sense in a twisted, jealous sort of way.

At ten fifty-five p.m. James and I pulled up to the elegant mansion nestled south of Upriver Drive. The mansion lawns were lit by small pockets of light hidden between shrubs and stones, illuminating the rich, lush grasses. Even though it was dark out, every piece of molding and every detail in the stain glass windows could be seen. It was breathtaking.

I hadn’t realized I was staring until I heard the clank of a door shutting as James exited the car. Clearing my head, I followed suit and exited the vehicle. James came around and stopped beside me as we both gazed ahead. Taking a deep breath I pushed back my shoulders and took measured steps up the stone pathway with James by my side.

The night was cold and silent, despite the beauty of the mansion before us there was an eerie quality to it that had my nerves on end. I casually brushed my hands along the handles of my daggers, hanging low on my hips in their leather sheaths. Their soft weight added an extra measure of comfort as I headed straight into unknown territory. I told myself I was walking into a lion’s den but really, this was worse.

When we reached the front door, I admired the woodwork once more before administering three solid knocks,
knock, knock, knock.

James and I waited in silence as we heard the distinct sound of high heels on wood flooring grow progressively louder as our host made their way towards the front door. The door opened on silent hinges and before us stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She towered over me by a good five inches with a figure most women would die for. She was thin but not too thin and had curves in all of the right places. Dressed in a floor-length navy dress, she looked like a movie star, if such things still existed after the Awakening.

“Follow me,” she said in a cultured voice.

James and I stepped over the threshold and followed the woman dressed in blue. I watched as her long red hair brushed her lower waist. The color was striking but most likely came from a box. It was too vivid to be natural. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floors as we made our way to the main sitting room in the home. Taking my gaze away from her back I looked around admiring the beauty that was the Cove. The entryway still had its original floors and woodworking. The craftsmanship was beautiful and the rich beams on the ceiling were hard not to appreciate.

All of the light fixtures looked original as well. It didn’t appear that Rebecka had made any modifications upon acquiring the mansion. The beautiful cream and gold wallpapers dotted with accents of red were rather remarkable next to all of the deep rich wood workings and plush draperies. The draperies though, I assumed were either new or had been relined to block out the sun during daylight hours. Vampires were not impervious to the sun but neither did they particularly care for it. It had something to do with their chemical makeup and the reaction sunlight caused. There was a reason that legend said vampires couldn’t go out in the sun and they were almost right on that point.

The truth of the matter though is that if exposed to the sun for a long enough length of time, their bodies experienced something like an allergic reaction. The effects varied based on a vampire’s age, the newer vampires were able to withstand the sun’s harsh rays for a longer length of time since their bodies contained more moisture. If they were less than five undead years old, they could typically withstand sun exposure for anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour as long as it wasn’t direct. Any older and a vampire’s skin would begin to wither and if they were out for more than a minute or two, they would die.

It had something to do with the lack of water contained in their bodies after the change and the sun basically causing extreme dehydration. I’d seen a vampire die from sun exposure before. Several years ago when I was visiting Seattle, Washington the local Coven decided to make a demonstration. I wasn’t sure what the crime had been but the Coven tied a vampire to a post in the middle of Pike Street Market with silver chains and left him for dead. When dawn came and the sun began to rise, the vampire’s skin began to boil and blister. Within minutes his body withered to a dry husk. Within an hour, he deteriorated further and nothing but ash remained. It was a ghastly sight and the stench of burned, rotting flesh was one I’d never forget.