Shadows of Fire (2 page)

He
saw the murderous demon raise the small ottoman only seconds before it crashed
down on Paul’s world.

* * * *

“Oh,
screw you, Burkett.” Reese Colton threw his cards down as the man across the
table collected the two paper IOU’s along with a pile of money. Testosterone
and laughter filled the fire station kitchen. “You all suck!” Reese drained the
drink at his elbow.

His
best friend leaned back in the wooden chair and flicked the scrap of paper with
his finger. “Oh, you’ll pay up on this one, buddy.” Josh Burkett flashed his
familiar shit-eating grin. Only braces and modern dentistry had altered its
appearance in the two centuries Reese had known him. “Not only do I have it in
writing,” the chair banged down hard on the linoleum floor as Josh leaned over
the marred table, shooting Reese a smug look of satisfaction, “I’ve got
witnesses.” His outstretched arm indicated the four other firefighters sitting
around the table.

Reese
had never welshed on a bet, especially if it was more along the lines of a dare
or involved a woman—this one was both. Wagering an official date with the owner
of the firefighter’s local watering hole against Josh’s month of station
cleaning duties seemed like a sure thing. Now that he’d lost the bet, Reese was
having his doubts. He’d been flirting his way around the woman for months—had
even managed a friendly kiss or two—but he’d sidestepped anything deeper. A
complicated relationship just wouldn’t work around all the shit going on his
life at the moment.

And
a relationship with Alexandra Flanagan would be nothing but trouble.

But
with Josh pathetically lusting after some co-ed, his friend had goaded Reese
into the bet. “You haven’t had anything better than a straight all night, Burkett.”
Reese gathered the cards off the table and put them back in the box. “With a
full boat, it was a pretty safe bet I’d be pocketing that paper and you’d have
your head stuck in the station toilets for the next month.” His hand shot out,
attempting to snatch the IOU from Josh.

“Oh,
hell
no! You’re not backing out of this one.” Josh’s superior reflexes
were as quick as Reese’s, keeping it from his grasp. He tucked the paper safely
in the shirt pocket of his uniform. “This is our golden ticket to a front row
seat of pure entertainment.”

Timmons
leaned in conspiratorially. “I’d be happy to cover that bet for you, Colton.
I’m just afraid one night with me and that sexy Irish barmaid would find you
just couldn’t measure up.”

“A
woman would choose a life of celibacy over a night with you, Timmons.” McLeod laughed
as he cleared away the empty nacho plates, wing dishes and the drinking glasses,
depositing them all in the industrial sink.

Friendship,
boredom, and the late hour made the whole situation humorous—at least to the
other men in the room.

“I’m
thinking this date needs to happen in the next—”

The
shrill ring of the alarm speared through the firehouse, cutting Josh off mid-sentence.
Conditioning and quick reflexes pressed the men into action. Chairs scraped
across the floor and boots pounded through the adjoining day room.

“Attention
South Kenton fire.” The dispatcher’s disembodied voice filled the newly charged
atmosphere. “Repeat. Attention South Kenton fire. Structure fire, East Brooker
Road. Witnesses report potential occupants …”

Six
men slid down the brass pole, donning their bravery with their bunker gear.

* * * *

Glenn
Karr set the fancy glass on the bar in front of the blonde, wondering when life
had gotten so complicated.

Thirty
years ago he’d bought O’Malley’s Tavern and catered to the everyday Joe of
South Kenton. Hard working men who drank their liquor straight up or from a tap,
ate their food deep fried and full of calories and watched their sports on
grainy televisions. It wasn’t until recently the younger crowd had been
clamoring for mixed drinks with silly names and a menu that now included gluten-free
pizza dough and salads. And despite the fact they all carried their lives in
those foolish iPhones, his new clientele had insisted he hook up Wi-Fi and HDTV.

Life
over the centuries had certainly become more complicated.

“That
man of yours picking you up?” he asked the woman.

“Josh?
No, unfortunately he’s working at the fire station tonight. Why do you ask?”

He
nodded at the third pomegranate martini Hope Grayson had ordered. An hour
hadn’t passed since she’d slipped in the door and dropped herself on his stool.
A regular on the arm of one of the local firefighters, Hope wasn’t normally alone
at the tavern. With recent events, Glenn wasn’t pleased she’d shown up without
an escort. From the look of her disheveled hair and the sweat pants hanging low
on her hips, he suspected she wasn’t too happy about the situation either.

“Yeah,
well I’m not driving home if that’s what you’re worried about.” She dragged her
long nail around the rim of the glass. “I was bored and walked over from my apartment.”
She craned her neck to look around the bar. “I was kind of hoping to talk to
your partner in crime and maybe bum a ride home with—”

“Evening,
Glenn.” Ronan Nason sauntered into the tavern. His Armani suit jacket, pressed
khakis and Italian boots were several steps above the local clientele. “Is it
too late for a man to get a drink in this fine establishment?”

After
nearly a year of living on the west coast, the man’s heavy brogue hadn’t
softened any more than his pretentious attitude. “We close in an hour. Just
like every Thursday night.”

“Well
then I’ll have a glass of your finest Merlot.” Ronan leaned against the bar,
leaving only a stool between him and the blonde, who was working to ignore him.
She seemed to be one of the few females in town not enamored by his charm. “Evening,
Hope.” Ronan touched the brim of a hat he wasn’t wearing. “I’m surprised to see
you here. Nothing newsworthy going on tonight?”

She
flashed him a sarcastic smile and batted her lashes. “Like another grant to the
university chemistry department for
pig
research?”

Glenn
set the glass of wine in front of Ronan, biting back a smile. The huge sum of money
that had been gifted to the university had actually been funneled into the
chemistry department from Ronan’s employer. It was more important to residents
of South Kenton than humans realized. The fluff news piece Hope had done a few
days ago had been carefully scripted by Professor Paul Morgan, head of the
chemistry department, to look like another useless analysis of swine disease.

Since
Ronan had known the true impetus behind the grant money, it had galled him to
do the interview. Undercover as a grad student working in the chemistry
department, he’d been the one traipsing through the pig muck at Glenn’s farm with
a cameraman, while Glenn’s business partner, Associate Professor Alexandra
Flanagan had been interviewed in the comfort of her office at the university.

“That
pig research may just save your life,” Ronan shot back.

“As
a vegetarian, I suspect that
research
will simply waste needed
university funds and will be as useless as the pigs themselves.” Hope set down
her glass with a bang, spilling some of the drink over her hand. “Aww, jees,
Glenn I’m sorry about that. I know your pigs are important to you. I didn’t
mean—”

“No
offense taken.”

“But
your pigs. I—”

Glenn
pulled the towel off his shoulder and wiped up the mess. “Don’t you worry, Hope.
Takes a lot to insult me.”

“No
doubt Glenn’s very adept at dealing with rude drunks.” Ronan swirled the wine
in his glass, inhaling its aroma before sipping from the glass and savoring the
dark liquid.

 Hope
spoke through gritted teeth. “Ronan, I don’t need to go a round with you. I
just came in for a quiet drink and some face time with Alex.”

“Someone
call my name?”

Glenn
watched the co-owner of O’Malley’s sneak in from the kitchen as if she could
hide her arrival from him. Though Alexandra Flanagan hadn’t told him
specifically where she was headed when she’d dropped her apron under the bar
and gathered her purse, she’d said she wouldn’t be long. Three hours was longer
than it took to run a typical Thursday night errand. Whatever the hell that
might be.

“Evening,
Alex. You working the kitchen tonight?” Ronan asked.

“Yeah,
something like that.” Alex smiled apologetically at Glenn.

Their
short order cook, Chris Dillon, had left unexpectedly an hour before Alex,
leaving him to finish the evening by himself. Not that it was a problem for
Glenn, but their behavior was just a little suspect.

“Chris
have the night off?” Hope asked.

“He
went home sick,” Alex replied. “Can I get anyone anything?”

Ronan
finished his wine in one swallow. “How about another glass of your finest?” The
way his eyes followed the woman with the Irish pixie features, Glenn had no
illusions the man’s nightly visits had anything to do with the wine they
served.

“The
usual Merlot?” Alex asked, slipping in behind the bar.

“Nothing
like a local California wine and a beautiful lassie to end a perfect evening,”
Ronan replied.

Glenn
didn’t miss the wink Ronan shot Alex as she uncorked the bottle and overfilled
his glass. Though the two vampires worked together at the university and were
decades older than their twenty-something appearance—infancy in the grand
scheme of immortality—Glenn hoped nothing would ever develop between them.

Ronan
had shown up in South Kenton six months ago with the lush winds of spring as
part of the solution to Glenn’s very desperate plea to the vampire tribunal. He
would be here only as long as it took to discover the reason behind the recent
rash of vampire murders and then he’d move on to the next place where vampires
threatened either humans or their own species.

Alex
had become part of his family a decade after Glenn had settled in this Northern
California mountain town forty years ago. She’d found her way to him, a stray
in need of saving. Glenn had made it his personal mission, nearly a century
ago, to help new vampires find their way in the mortal world. His reputation
had spread and now, countless numbers of young vamps came to him. Drawn by word
of mouth, they sought explanations, training and—if possible—redemption.

Every
single one of those he’d saved over the years hummed softly in the background
of his consciousness, permanently connected to the very heart of his being.
Some, like Alex, were closer to the surface. Until recently, her internal
monologue was as much a part of him as his own thoughts. Tired of his presence
in her head, she’d managed to block him. Glenn shouldn’t miss her quiet
whispers, but after thirty years of listening to her dreams and fears, the
silence was deafening.

Like
so many of his protégés, Alex had lost her mortal family. Her parents believed she’d
died the night of the vampire attack thirty years ago. But Glenn’s blood and
tender care had brought her from the brink of death into the world of
immortality. It had taken nearly three years for her to swim out of the sorrow
of losing her former life. Glenn had broken his own codes, allowing her to live
with him until she’d become secure in her new life. By then, she was working
with him and they’d slipped into a comfortable life running the tavern. In the
decade that followed, Alex had received her PhD in chemistry, taken the job at
the university and somewhere along the road, crawled under his skin and
burrowed her way into his heart. He loved her like a daughter.

But
there was just something a little off about the way she’d been acting recently.
Alex stacked glasses in the dish bin beneath the bar while Glenn absently
polished its surface, wishing she trusted him enough to share what was really
going on.

“I’m
surprised to see you here tonight, Hope. What’s up?” Alex stifled a yawn.

“Boredom.
There are only so many re-runs a girl can watch before being driven insane.”

“Twasn’t
a long drive,” Ronan muttered.

Hope
ignored the comment or, more likely, her human ears didn’t hear the insult. “Josh
is working tonight and I’ve got tomorrow off. I get to cover the Harvest Hoe
Down on Saturday.” She saluted with her glass. “Yay, me” Hope took a long pull
of her drink. “Anyway, I walked over and thought I’d hang while you closed down
the bar. I’m hoping to catch a ride home.”

“Tonight?”
Alex pressed a hand to her stomach.

“Oh,
sorry, I didn’t expect you to have plans. My bad,” Hope said.

“No,
I didn’t mean that.” Alex pasted on an overly cheerful smile and swallowed
hard.

Without
the ability to hear her thoughts, Glenn didn’t know if it was guilt or sickness
clogging her throat. But now that he looked closely, Alex didn’t look well. He
wondered if the disappearing acts over the last couple of months had anything
to do with the recent weight loss she refused to discuss.

“Of
course I can take you home.” Alex grabbed the overflowing bucket of dishes. “I
just need to get these done.”