Darkness Burning (2 page)

T
he profound silence struck Mikaela Jones first. Her own booted heels clapped on the pavement, but the sounds she associated with The Crescent City had vanished, along with most of its inhabitants.

Instead of the blare of blues and tinny Cajun music from the bars along the street, and the voices of people laughing and shouting as they ambled by, barhopping in the late-night hours, a muffled hush blanketed the city. There was a watchful, pregnant quiet, like the breathless, relieved lull after the powerful storm—the day before water had consumed life as she’d known it.

The inky, thick shadows at the edges of the streets also creeped her out. Without power, alleys
and deep doorways were impenetrable to her gaze and could hide many creatures of the night—street thugs, looters, gang-bangers. She carried a hardened leather blackjack deep in her jacket pocket—her weapon of choice should anything jump out from the pockets of darkness.

She’d worn her weathered leather jacket despite the muggy heat just for that purpose; she needed storage for her weapon and the tools of her trade. But she also needed comfort, and the jacket was the first piece of clothing she’d bought with her first paycheck. Not the nicest item in her closet now, but familiar. A little worn, but resilient, just like her.

As the silence and darkness closed around her, she reminded herself why she’d decided that this excursion would be such a peachy idea. Reports of the crime-ridden streets—the wanton attacks and rampant looting—were known. Every major news organization had descended like locusts on a killing field to cover the tragedy and the painful recovery.

But other whispers had reached her ears. Less newsworthy, but definitely more intriguing, made more believable by the fantastic events of the past days.

Whispers said magic was in the air. Monsters were on the loose. Perhaps the dreams that plagued her had a basis in reality.

Miki turned up her coat collar to ward against the prickling disquiet lifting the fine hairs on the back of her neck. She tried concentrating instead on the details she needed to remember for the next piece she’d write describing life in the aftermath of the great storm.

Like the twinkling stars she’d never seen above New Orleans’s light-polluted streets. They speckled the damp, cobbled pavement, resembling muted fireflies. Or the unchanged
aroma of sewage emanating from the grates beneath her feet, ripened by the added odor of the contaminants swirling in the black waters covering large portions of the city.

Twin beams flashed as a vehicle turned onto her street.

Miki trotted to an alleyway to avoid the National Guard patrol rolling by in a camouflaged Hummer. Being caught breaking curfew might make an interesting story, but she didn’t want to waste hours cooling her heels, or worse, being evicted from the city.

She turned the corner and pressed her back against the wall of a brick arcade, waiting for the vehicle to pass, when muffled sounds came from behind her. For a second, she froze.

Low, heated murmurs. The scrape of a zipper and the rustle of clothing. Soft laughter cut off by a deep moan.

Someone enjoyed the anonymous shadows.

Curious, she crept closer, edging along the wall, her eyes adjusting slowly to the near-pitch darkness until she spotted a couple further along the opposite side of the alley. The man stood with his back against the wall, a woman nuzzling the side of his neck as he groaned. Metal glinted from his opened zipper, and Miki guessed where the woman’s hand roamed.

She nearly groaned. The urgent sounds tightened her already restless body.

Deciding she’d leave them to their tryst, she edged backward, hoping the patrol had passed, when something rushed by her so quickly that she saw only a blurred, grayish streak. The man’s next moan was cut short by a shout. The woman cursed.

Miki froze until sounds of a fight erupted, nearly making her leap back into the street. At first, she didn’t see anything.
Then a dull explosion where the woman had stood illuminated another blur of movement too fast for her gaze to follow. A second gray figure streaking to the right had her narrowing her eyes to peer into the gloom. Fists connected with flesh, and were followed by another burst of light. Fiery ash settled to the ground.

A battle ensued, but one unlike anything she could have imagined.

Excitement started a slow, heavy thrum pounding in her chest. Had she found what she sought? Then a footstep scraped behind her.

It was too late to run. She gasped when a strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a wall of solid muscle. With her arm clamped to her side, she couldn’t reach for her blackjack. Acting on instinct, she lifted her foot and slammed her heel onto her assailant’s foot.

A soft chuckle in her ear turned her fear into panic, and she struggled against his hold, wriggling hard, jabbing elbows at steel-plated ribs. The man behind her didn’t budge. He simply tightened his arm until she slumped against him, panting breathlessly within his embrace.

So she couldn’t beat him in a fight. Thinking fast, she relaxed in his hold. “Not gonna ask me what a nice girl—”

“Nice girls don’t walk alone after dark,” he told her, his voice deep and silky.

The thought occurred to her that only a truly attractive man could muster a voice like that—a ridiculous thing to note, given her circumstance. Her rising panic made thinking hard. “That’s rather sexist,” she blurted out and nearly groaned at her inane comment.

His hand slid inside her jacket and slowly up her belly to clasp her left breast. “Your heart’s beating so strong, I’m thinking you’re scared.”

“Duh,” she gritted out, trying to stretch away from his grasp. She gave up when soft laughter stirred the hair beside her ear. “Look, just let me go. I have some money—”

“I don’t want money.” His nose trailed along her neck, pushing past her collar.

“Guess not,” she said weakly, a shiver working its way up her spine. “You know, I haven’t washed in a couple days. No water.”

“Liar.
” His soft, warm tongue lapped the side of her throat. “I taste soap.”

Miki nearly wilted in his arms, which set alarm bells ringing. How could she be turned on by a man who appeared bent on molesting her? “Um…my name’s Sarah.”

“Don’t think so, but Sarah’s pretty. I like the tat.”

She bit her lip as he mouthed the tiny sickle-shaped moon and stars behind her ear. “You can see that? It’s pretty dark…”

“Shush. It’ll be over quick. I just need a taste.”

“Taste?” Her voice tightened to a shrill squeak as his lips slid down and his cheek nuzzled the edge of her jaw. When teeth pierced her neck, her knees buckled. The sharp sting of the bite faded in seconds. “What the hell?” she said, her voice oddly breathless.

A murmur that sounded like a sexy reassurance rumbled against her skin, calming her. His mouth began sucking, drawing on the wound.

Miki felt dizzy, faint…and incredibly, instantly aroused.

His hips pressed against her ass, making her aware of the
thick, hard ridge of his cock. His hand cupped her breast and squeezed, shaping its fullness with his broad palm.

Her fear faded, overwhelmed by his sensual assault and the tingling awareness sweeping downward from where he sipped at her neck, winding tightly inside her belly and releasing a trickle of desire that dampened her cotton panties.

The attack continuing just feet away didn’t seem nearly as important as her arousal bloomed, spiking higher along with the nipple he rubbed.

“Alex, isn’t it?” came a masculine voice tinged with amusement.

Alex
growled against her neck, eliciting another shiver of a different sort. Miki would have told the other man to beat it, but she was nearly boneless, nearly
there.

Alex’s teeth slid gently from her neck, and his tongue licked the wounds he’d made. One hand squeezed her breast, and the other patted her butt. “Sorry, sweetheart. Another time.” To the man hovering at his elbow, he said, “Malcolm, you’re a dead man.”

“Too late.” Malcolm chuckled. “Fancy seeing you again so soon. I’d be flattered if I thought this had anything to do with me.”

“We’d better move along.”

Before Miki opened her eyes, both men were gone. She reached behind her, pressing a hand flat against the wall to steady herself while her trembling legs remembered what they were for. She took deep, reviving breaths.

What the fuck had just happened?

A moan from further down the alleyway pulled her toward the man slumped on the ground.

“Hey, are you all right?” she asked, keeping her distance.

“Name’s Leo,” he said, his voice sounding weak. He held a hand against his neck, and dark, trickling liquid spilled from between his fingers. “Can you help me?”

Miki’s “spider sense,” the instinct she’d trusted before tonight, told her “Leo” wasn’t anything more than what he seemed: a man caught with his pants down and a neck wound bleeding into his shirt. A wound like hers. Only when she touched her neck, she felt nothing, just cooling moisture from Alex’s final lick.

Once again, curiosity and a shivering excitement built inside her.

Decision made, she held out her hand and helped him to his feet. Once she had him cleaned up, Leo was gonna do a whole lot of talking.

From the entrance of the alleyway, Alex strode in the opposite direction from Malcolm and his men. He wasn’t sure how, but the scent of the wolf hadn’t attracted any attention. Perhaps the men had been too distracted by the adrenaline zinging through their veins or the delicious aroma of “Sarah’s” arousal to notice.

Whatever the explanation, he was glad the beast hadn’t been discovered. Not yet, anyway. Not until he discovered why
weres
had broken treaty and entered vampire territory.

Rene slipped from a shadowed stoop and fell into step beside him.

“Recognize the man who led that patrol?” Alex murmured.

“Malcolm,” his father growled.

Alex nodded. Malcolm was one of Nicolas’s rogue vampires,
one of the group that had attacked
Ardeal
a few nights ago for a show of strength against the Born vampires. They’d wanted to win the right for one of their own to sit among the ruling
sabat
, the vampires’ council—a right reserved for millennia by those born to the night.

Their plan had been doomed from the start, because Inanna, the matriarch and Queen Bitch of the council, had learned of their attack and prepared. No one, not the rogues or Inanna’s minions, could have know that the
Grizashiat
demon who’d been steadily stalking closer to
Ardeal
would unleash a host of zombies at that exact moment.

Nicolas’s rogues had been forced to protect the estate, battling alongside The Born, when the zombies had crashed their party. All had ended well, it seemed. The rogues hadn’t been destroyed and instead were now patrolling as part of Inanna’s security force, all under the leadership of Nicolas—who’d won his spot, at last, on the council.

“Couldn’t resist playing hero, could you?” Rene muttered. “Looked like Malcolm had it handled.”

Only Alex had wanted to do all the “handling”—Sarah had been too delicious to resist. “Just making sure the girl stayed out of the cross fire.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She was a tasty bit,” he said, shrugging off the attraction that had sparked hot and irresistible when he’d held her in his arms. She was human, therefore not for him.

“So long as you keep your eye on the prize. Can’t afford too many distractions now.”

Alex nodded, tamping down his irritation at yet another reminder of his damnable destiny. His father hadn’t had a choice once his mother had sunk her fangs. He might have resisted, at
first, but his future had been decided in that one sensual act. No way could Rene understand the multitude of choices and temptations that lay in front of Alex.

A final glance over his shoulder assured him that the two humans were safe for now; they were moving away. He caught one last glimpse of the woman’s sleek curves and sighed. Nice, but not for him.

Alex melted away beside his father, shedding regret and leaving it with the werewolf slumbering alone in the darkness.

A
lex winced as he pried away the shirt collar stuck to dried blood at the base of his throat.

“Quit being such a pussy,” came an amused drawl from behind him.

“I seem to remember locking the door,” Alex muttered, turning to scowl at his mentor.

Today, Simon Jameson bore the face of his video-store-owner persona. Short brown hair stood in stiff, gold-tipped bristles on top of his head. He wore a T-shirt with a Hurricane Party Here slogan and an arrow pointing toward his groin.

Alex didn’t bother wondering why the mage had shifted. He thought that sometimes the long-lived Simon was just plain bored.

“I have a key. I’m your landlord, remember?” Simon leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. His fore
head furrowed as he peered at Alex’s wound. “That nick should have healed quickly. How’d you get it?”

“A werewolf bite,” Alex said, turning back to the bathroom mirror.

“A werewolf inside New Orleans? Interesting.” Only he didn’t sound so surprised. And why should he have sounded surprised? Despite their treaty with the Wolfen Nation, they’d had other rare appearances in “N’awlins” lately—zombies, demons…a Born vampire of the male persuasion.

Alex skimmed off the shirt, wadded it in his fist, and tossed it on top of the growing pile of dirty laundry. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“You know I can’t—”

“Yeah, yeah. Too much knowledge of what will pass might affect my course,” Alex said, his tone sour. “You do know I’m getting just a little sick of that line.”

“Did you meet the girl?” Simon’s sharp gaze conflicted with the casual tone of his remark.

“The one who got dusted or the one I felt up?”

Simon’s eyelids shuttered his gaze, then rose slowly again. “What did you think of her?”

Alex wished like hell the mage would simply tell him what he needed to know. “Why? You planning on setting me up on a blind date?”

“Just curious.”

“Right.” Alex snorted. “Let’s see. Slim. Black hair, gray skin. It was a fucking alleyway. I couldn’t make out much detail, colors anyway, in the dark. Probably wouldn’t recognize her if I did see her again.”
Liar.
He sighed, picked up a washcloth, and soaked it with the bottled water he kept on the floor beside the sink.

“Pity.” Simon sniffed. “You’ll be meeting her again.”

“At last. A hint.” Alex paused to stare back at him in the mirror. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

“It’s all you need to know.”

Screw him and the girl.
He scraped the cloth across his wound. “Anything else I don’t need to know?”

“They’ve beefed up patrols at Inanna’s compound. Inside the perimeter and at the gate.”

“How’d you get that intel? Thought you weren’t welcome there any more after you aided my parents’ escape.” At the tightening of Simon’s jaw, Alex grunted. “You sent your familiar to spy.”

That Simon would put Madeleine at risk meant the stakes were indeed high.

“Seemed too risky to slip inside myself,” Simon said, his tone even. “I let the kestrel be my eyes.”

Alex forced his gaze back to his own reflection before he asked the question burning a hole in his gut. “Did she catch a glimpse of Chessa?”

Compassion softened Simon’s usually passive expression. “No, sorry, Alex. Inanna will have her on lockdown to assure Nic’s good behavior—and to keep her present condition under wraps. A mature, pregnant vampire will be hard to explain to the
sabat
.”

Alex’s irritation drained away. “I don’t like it, Simon,” he said softly.

“She’s safe for now.”

“You can’t know that for sure.” Alex lifted one eyebrow. “Something may already have changed.”

Simon shrugged. “Inanna will keep Chessa safe for now. She’s curious about her child. How it was conceived. Born females aren’t supposed to get pregnant more than once.”

“Why will she care about the how?”

“Inanna wants her secret. She might suspect a Born male exists, but there are other ways for a female to conceive more than once—dark ways.”

“Does she want to use the child?”

“She never misses an opportunity to increase her power, but that’s not what she wants right now. She wants to conceive herself.”

“Should I be paying careful attention to how you just worded that?”

Simon’s enigmatic smile irked.

Alex tossed down the washcloth. “I have to get to work.”

“Alex,” Simon said, his nonchalant expression changing subtly. “There will be a meet ’n’ greet at the estate tonight.”

At last the wily mage had gotten around to the reason for his visit. Alex narrowed his eyes. “The council is arriving?”

“All the members are in the area. They’ll converge at the compound after dark.”

“A welcoming party, then. They’ll need snacks. I want to be there.”

Simon’s smile flashed. “Thought you might. Erika’s trolling the Quarter for young, handsome men to serve as blood hosts. She doesn’t know you.”

“What about the rogues who were captured at the zombie fest? They’ll recognize me.”

Simon’s smile broadened. “I’m a mage, remember? Let me take care of that little detail.”

More magic. An uneasy premonition crept along Alex’s spine. He unbuckled his belt and gave Simon a glare. “I’m gonna bathe. You staying to watch?”

“Stop by when you’re ready to head out.” Simon slid away, no doubt to prepare the spell Alex would need to cloak his identity among the vampires. Alex knew it would be up to his own wiles how he kept his neck out of reach. One bite would spell disaster.

Distracted and filled with an edgy, unsettled energy, Alex’s mind wandered as he bathed street grime and sweat off his skin.

Lately, he’d been consumed with seeking new challenges while sifting through memories of the past—not all of them his.

With his destiny at hand, he couldn’t shake the feeling they’d missed something. That
he’d
failed to widen his scope beyond prophecy and his mentor’s insight into the future. That perhaps they hadn’t predicted the true path he should seek.

Adding to his unease, he wondered what was so damn special about “Sarah.” He didn’t like surprises, even when they were sexy and wrapped in a whiskey-soaked voice.

Miki helped Leo, a slim man with shoulder-length dreadlocks, into the slouching recliner in his small loft apartment. “All right, Leo. Gonna tell me what the hell happened back there?” she growled.

He leveled his coffee-colored gaze on her. “You been walkin’ dese streets after dark,” he said, his voice flavored with Caribbean syrup. “You don’t know?”

She had more than an inkling, but she wanted him to say it. Make it real. So she waited while he settled into his chair.

“Hon, I’m an addict. Needed my fix. My
vampire
fix.” Leo rested his head on the chair and closed his eyes. “Need to stop the bleeding. Get a dishtowel from the kitchen.”

Miki fingered the nonexistent wound on her neck. “How come you’re still bleeding?”

“Lady didn’t get a chance to lick me up after she fed.”

She remembered the incendiary flares. “Where’d she go?” she asked, not sure she was ready for the answer.

His eyes opened, a stark expression on his face. “I’m wearin’ her dust.”

Miki swallowed, her glance raking his thin T-shirt. Ash streaked the black cloth. She turned on her heel and hurried to the kitchen, a thousand questions screaming in her mind for answers. Vampires. She’d really been bitten by a damn vampire.

She found a towel in a drawer beside the sink and rushed back to Leo, who wearily turned aside his cheek to expose his neck. Blood trickled in a sluggish but thinning stream from two small punctures.

“Think she took a little too much B-pos. Tired.”

Miki’s hand shook as she wiped at the wound, then pressed hard to slow the bleeding. “You’ve done this before.”

“Told you. I’m hooked. I spend my nights in blood bars waitin’ for an invitation. Most of dem are polite. Take only a few ounces so I can keep in the scene.” His lips curved in a mirthless smile. “This one was…
da-yum hot
. Took so much I came before we…”

“Before you had sex?”

“Yeah.”

Recalling how her own arousal had been manipulated, Miki thought she understood his peculiar addiction. “Where do you find them? The vampires?”

“Not so many places left. One just off Bourbon Street in the Quarter, called Aftermath. They play nice.”

“So why were you in an alley with her?”

“Like I said, she was hot. Thought we might have a party. At my place. Never got this far. She had someone waitin’ in that alley. Think they meant to make a meal of me. I was too far gone to care.”

“What happened? I couldn’t see very much. Blurred movement.” She hesitated before adding, “Flashes of light.”

“Move quick, don’t they?” he said with a weak smile. “Never saw it before. Heard things. Never saw ’em killed. Those were the flashes you saw.” His hand slid beneath hers, taking the cloth, and he turned his head toward her. “Get your first bite tonight?”

Miki swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah.”

“So, now you know,” he said quietly.

“Guess so.” She nodded toward his neck. “Are you going to be okay? Do we need to find a clinic?”

His full lips opened, large white teeth gleaming. “And tell them what? We all keep under the radar. I’ll be okay in a week or so. Can hold out here for a while.”

Miki straightened, already impatient to get back out on the street now she that had a lead. “I’ll check back in on you to make sure you’re okay.”

“Be careful. Pretty lady like you…dey’ll eat you all up.”

Somehow, the thought didn’t frighten her. She let herself out of his apartment, climbed down the narrow steps onto the street, and headed back toward the Quarter. She thought about hitting her apartment first, checking in with her neighbors to let them know her new destination. They’d worry if she stayed out too late. They might even mount a search party.

Funny how a disaster had made fast friends of everyone
who’d waited out the storm. They’d banded like a tribe of lost souls, first sharing nails and plywood to batten down windows as the storm had approached. Those who’d meant to ride out the Category 5 storm had combined shopping lists and argued over how many batteries they were going to need for flashlights, how much water and canned goods to stock up on in case the power stayed off for a few days. They’d offered to pool resources—hand-cranked storm radios and bottles of wine to make the wait more pleasant through the long, dark night.

They’d felt a sense of purpose and courage—and brash recklessness. When the worst of the storm had missed the city altogether, they’d shared premature sighs of relief and toasts to newfound friends.

They hadn’t known the big bullet was still coming their way. Not until the storm surge had breached the levees. Then they’d listened in shock as every politician and policeman had urged them to evacuate.

Still they’d held out. All for their own reasons. Some to protect their homes from looters. Others stubbornly refusing to believe things wouldn’t turn around quickly.

Miki had stayed to cover the story—to give a resident’s bird’s-eye view. It wasn’t like she’d had anywhere else to go.

When old man Mouton had insisted that they prepare for a long siege, she’d pooled her water, food, and candles with the others and let the Depression-era baby dole out the stores. Residents had shared communal dinners cooked over a Coleman stove, and their friendships had deepened—something she’d never experienced before. Or that she could recall.

She’d found a family at last. For as long as the recovery effort took.

Still, much as she wished she could hit the apartment, she
headed toward Bourbon Street. The compulsion to learn more, to find proof she wasn’t nuts, and that Leo wasn’t high on something besides lust and blood loss, had her hurrying back the way she’d come.

However, the farther from Leo’s apartment she moved, the less plausible and more ridiculous the explanation seemed. She’d been looking for monsters. Looking for the source of her nightmares. But was she really ready to find them?

Police Lieutenant Byron Williams sat at Chessa’s old desk, leaning back in her rickety wheeled chair, his shoeless feet crossed on top of a pile of unfinished reports. He was snoring.

Alex crept quietly inside the cubicle, opened the top drawer of his own dented, gray metal desk, pulled out a butterscotch candy, and slammed the drawer shut.

Byron’s eyes shot open and his arms uncrossed from his chest to flail for a moment as the chair creaked ominously, teetering before slamming back on all three wheels. His blinking gaze settled on Alex, and a glower deepened the wrinkle bisecting his dark brow.

“Did I wake you?” Alex asked, popping the candy in his mouth to hide his grin.

His boss narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond as he rubbed a hand over his close-cropped black hair. “Thought this was the last place I’d be disturbed. Aren’t you supposed to be tracking down dog packs?”

“I already did.”

“Anything I need to know about?”

Alex grunted, finding it ironic to be asked the same question he’d posed to Simon. Seemed everyone had something to hide. “Probably just what you’ve been thinking.”

Byron’s grimace reflected disgust. “Damn weird. Zombies, werewolves…demons who think human hearts are snack food. I’ll be glad when things get back to normal. Gimme a serial killer any damn day.”

“Speaking of which, find any more bodies matching our demon’s MO?”

Byron shook his head. “Been quiet. Think you and Nicolas were right about him movin’ out of the city.”

“Heard from your family?”

Byron grimaced. “Talked to the wife earlier. She’s already plannin’ on how to spend the insurance check when it comes.”

“You had flood insurance?”

“Damn straight. Doesn’t mean I still won’t take it in the ass. No amount of money’s gonna fix what’s wrong with my house.”

“Have you been out there yet?”

Byron shook his head. “Saw my rooftop on the news. Gonna have to gut the place, if it’s even salvageable.” His jaws stretched wide around an enormous yawn. “Better get back out there.” He bent to slip on his shoes, then stood and cracked his neck side to side.