Master of Fire (22 page)

“Look, I know you’re upset about Davis, but it wasn’t your fault. You had no reason to think that fuckin’ arsonist had planted a bomb to kill first responders. That kind of crap don’t happen in this county.”

Logan set his jaw. “He was my responsibility, Sheriff. And he died on my watch.”

“And I’m responsible for
both
of you, MacRoy.” The sheriff stared at him, gaze brooding, for a long moment. As if finally coming to a decision, he sighed. “Look, resigning right now is a really bad idea. Take some time off if you need to, but don’t quit. I had to bring the ATF in on this, and it would look damn suspicious to them. They’re gonna wonder if you want to get out of town because you planted that device.” Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms were often called in on bombings, particularly if a serial killer was suspected.

“They’d think I’m crazy enough to stay in the house,
knowing
the bomb was about to go off?”

Jones shrugged. “You know feds. They tend to suspect locals of being either crooks, crazy, or incompetent. Maybe all three.”

Logan grunted, frowning. The sheriff had a point. Yet once he became a vampire, working during the day would be out of the question. Well, he’d just have to try to finesse the situation as best he could. “Okay, I’ll just take some time off.”

Besides, a badge might come in handy during his pursuit of the assassin.

“What about Shepherd? Isn’t she supposed to be learning the job from you?”

“I’ve got a feeling she needs some time, too.”

Not that he intended to give her any.

 

 

Logan followed Smoke
through the dimensional gate that led to Giada’s Avalon neighborhood.

“This way,” the cat said shortly, tail lashing, as he trotted along the cobblestone street.

Oh, yeah. Smoke was pissed.

It had taken Logan an hour of argument verging on a shouting match to convince his friend to help him. Finally the cat had growled, “Okay, I’ll take you. But don’t be surprised if she turns you into a frog.”

Which was why Logan had bought a dozen pale lavender roses that emitted a scent as exotic and lovely as they were.

Giada’s neighborhood bore an astonishing resemblance to one of the lower-middle-class developments back home in Greendale County. The houses were all single-story brick ranches, utilitarian and small, with one or two bedrooms at most. Some were the most their Majae owners had the experience or power to construct. Most had been created by more experienced Majae as residences for young vampires or witches who couldn’t yet build their own.

Giada’s house followed that pattern, with the addition of cream trim and bright flower beds in a riot of colors. She might not have had a lot of power when she built the house, but she’d done her best.

Logan’s stomach gave a nervous flutter as he climbed the brick steps to the front door, positioned the bouquet of roses to his satisfaction, and took a deep breath.

From somewhere inside, he heard something that sounded like the theme song to
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
.

At least she was home.

He pressed the doorbell and listened to its musical notes peal through the house. And waited.

No answer.

Frowning, Logan looked down at Smoke. “Is she home?”

“She’s home,” the cat said shortly. “She’s ignoring you. Not that I blame her.”

Huffing out a breath, Logan leaned on the doorbell again. “Giada! Please come to the door. I’d like to apologize.”

Music sounded so suddenly he jerked away. Pink, singing “U + Ur Hand” at a thunderous volume directly in his right ear. A spell.

So he yelled louder. “Giada!”

Pink informed him that he was going home alone.

Huffing in frustration, Logan looked down at the cat. “Would you mind asking her to talk to me?”

Smoke’s blue eyes narrowed as his tail whipped back and forth. “Waste of time. You stepped in it this time, boy.”

“Just tell her I came to apologize.” He gritted his teeth. “Please.”

“Won’t do any good.”

“Okay, tell her I came to grovel. She only did what she’d been ordered to do. I get that.”

A nerve-wracking moment went by as the cat glowered up at him. “All right—for all the good it’ll do you.” With that, Smoke strolled through the solid surface of the door as if it had an invisible pet entrance.

Logan watched him go—and frowned at the ugly feeling the cat was right.

Smoke found Giada
lying sprawled on a long sectional couch watching an enormous television. On its huge screen, a young blond girl drove a stake into the chest of a fanged person with a misshapen face. The monster promptly exploded into dust.

Giada scooped chocolate ice cream out of the large bowl she held in her lap. Licking chocolate off her spoon, she asked, “Do you think I’d make a good lesbian?”

“No. You like men too much.”

“Not anymore.” She took an even bigger bite. “Men suck.” The blonde leaped up and kicked another vampire in the face. He flew backward.

Smoke wandered over to sniff the bowl. The alcohol content made his eyes water. “What the hell are you eating?”

“Häagen-Dazs Rocky Road and Godiva Chocolate Liqueur.”

Smoke shuddered. “You’re going to spend the next three days making sacrifices to the porcelain god.”

“Nope. Because I can do magic.” Giada snapped her fingers, and tiny fireworks exploded over her hand like a miniature Fourth of July celebration.

Smoke sat down on the coffee table and curled his tail around his toes. “Logan wants to apologize. He wants you to give him Merlin’s Gift.”

“Too bad.” She returned her attention to her magical television, her expression brooding. “Anyway, Arthur ordered me to stay away from him. I can’t talk to him, I can’t even look at him. And I’m sure as hell not supposed to sleep with him. Tell him to go find himself another witch.”

“He wants you.”

Her head jerked around to stare at him. “I. Don’t. Care.” She gestured. Before Smoke could block the spell, he was sitting on the front porch next to Logan.

Thoroughly disgusted, Smoke looked up at his friend. “Told you so.”

“Why the hell not?” Logan demanded.

“To start with, Arthur gave her a direct order not to so much as look at you, much less have sex.”

“My love life is none of Dad’s business!”

The cat snorted. “Try telling him that.”

Logan bared his teeth. “Oh, I will.”

 

 

“My relationship with
Giada is none of your business,” Logan growled at his father. “Rescind your order.”

“Forget it.
She disobeyed me
.” Arthur spoke through his teeth, big fists clenched. He and Logan stood nose to nose and toe-to-toe as they glared at each other in the middle of the Pendragon living room. “House arrest is the least she deserves.”

“Morgana’s necklace . . .”

“Was not the reason she slept with you the second time.
That
she did deliberately, just as she deliberately did not report to me after the first time you made love.”

“Actually,” Smoke said distantly, “I convinced her not to.”

“You?” Arthur wheeled on the cat, who lay cradled in Guinevere’s arms as the two watched the brawl like spectators at a tennis match. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Because she’s perfect for him—which you’d know if you weren’t so bullheaded.” Smoke flicked one pointed black ear in feline disdain.

White teeth flashed in a snarl. “You do not get between me and my warriors, godling.”

Smoke’s pupils contracted to slits. “You do not command me, Arthur Pendragon.”

Gwen tightened her grip on him, as if to keep him from leaping down and transforming into something that could do a great deal more damage than a seven-pound house cat. To her husband, she said, “I told you Logan was in love with her.”

Logan stiffened. “I didn’t say I was in love.”

She shot him a glower. “You didn’t have to.”

“I
cannot
have my warriors ignoring my orders.” Arthur’s voice sank into the deadly whisper that communicated rage far more clearly than any bellow. “When I lead my people into battle, a moment’s disobedience could kill us all.”

“We’re not in battle, Arthur.” Gwen glared at him even as she maintained a firm grip on the cat.

“Davis could tell you differently,” Arthur snapped. “If, that is, that idiot Maja hadn’t gotten him killed.”

“She’s not an idiot,” Logan ground out between clenched teeth. “She’s quite literally a genius, and I wouldn’t be here now if she hadn’t saved my ass—twice. She may lack experience, but that doesn’t make her incompetent.”

“She still disobeyed a direct order. When I was High King, I had warriors flogged for less.”

“Knights,” Gwen corrected coolly. “Not ladies. You’ve never laid a hand on one of my ladies. Not even me, and I deserved it.”

Arthur huffed. He eyed Logan a long moment. Whatever he saw in his son’s face made his own expression warm fractionally. When he spoke again, his tone was a bit more conciliatory. “So. Despite her mistakes, you seem to have a high opinion of this girl.”

“She’s brilliant, she’s got courage. She doesn’t back down. And . . .”
I want her.

Arthur’s dark gaze softened. “But do you love her?”

Logan opened his mouth for an automatic denial. Then he closed it again and sighed. He’d never been able to lie to his father. “I don’t know. I know I was falling for the woman I thought she was, but I’m not sure now how much of that was real. All I’m really sure of is that I want the chance to find out. Besides, it’s time I become a vampire. I need a Magus’s powers to avenge my friend, not to mention all the Latents those bastards have killed.”

“You don’t need the girl for that,” Arthur pointed out. “Any Maja will do as well. La Belle Coeur—you had a crush on her, as I recall.”

“Yeah, when I was fourteen. I haven’t been fourteen in a long time.” He met his father’s gaze steadily. “I want Giada, Dad. Rescind the order. Find another way to punish her if you have to, but don’t keep us apart.”

“Dammit. Very well, then.” Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “But make no mistake—she
will
be punished.” His voice dropped to a mutter. “As soon as I can come up with something appropriate.”

“Thank you.” Knotted muscles relaxing, Logan allowed himself a smile.

“Orders notwithstanding, there’s no guarantee she’ll agree to give you the Gift.”

“I can take care of the rest, Dad.”

“It’s not going to be that easy, boy,” Smoke observed. “She’s pretty pissed.”

“And I’m pretty stubborn.” He gave them all a grin and headed for the door.

 

 

As it closed
behind him, Smoke looked up at Guinevere. “He has a great deal to learn.”

“It’s that hard Pendragon head.” Guinevere bent and let the cat leap to the floor. “I’d better get her new orders sent before the shouting starts.” She disappeared through the hallway door, leaving Smoke and her husband alone.

“Does Giada love him back?” Arthur asked in a low voice.

“Oh, yes.” Smoke looked up at him. “But he hurt her more than he realizes. She’s very young and very vulnerable.”

“And very beautiful.” Arthur stared blindly at the door his wife had vanished through. “A woman like that can find a man’s vulnerabilities and pry him apart.” A very faint smile touched his mouth. “Or make him more than he ever was before.”

 

 

The great black
wolf bounded through the thick mountain woods, sending a squirrel fleeing from his path with a panicked squeak. Ordinarily, he would have entertained himself with a chase, but there were more serious matters on his mind at the moment.

It was dark in the mountain woods this night, with only a thin sliver of moon providing any light at all. But the wolf’s eyes were so sensitive, he found his way to the sheer gray-granite cliff with ease.

As he stopped before it, a section of the cliff face began to shimmer, melting away like a mist. A great black cave entrance appeared. The wolf trotted into it. The minute he vanished into the darkness, the opening disappeared as the cliff face solidified again.

Inside, the wolf paused as a soft, dim light began to radiate from the tunnel walls, for even one such as he couldn’t see in total darkness. The beast shut his eyes and bent his head, concentrating. He began to glow, his outline flaring bright, shifting. When the light vanished, a man stood in the beast’s place.

George Devon Jr. straightened his broad shoulders and ran a manicured hand over his dark hair, making sure no strand was out of place. He’d worn what he considered casual clothes—a pair of dark tailored slacks and a navy silk shirt that made the most of his athletic build. His feet were shod in expensive loafers, a match for the black belt that circled his narrow waist. A thick gold ring glinted on one hand, adorned with a black gem in the shape of a stylized wolf head. An iridescent shimmer danced over the ring’s stone with every move he made.