Circle of Desire

by Keri Arthur

  She looped the chain around his arms—making sure it touched his sweater rather than his skin—and the lightning instantly shriveled away from it. Cut off from the main source, the web of energy wrapping around his body fizzled and died, leaving only his clenched fists in contact.

  “Now pull free.”

  With a grunt of effort, he did. “Thanks,” he muttered.

  She nodded and unwrapped the chain from his arms. If she’d had enough silver chain with her, she could have created a doorway to crawl through, but neither she nor Gwen had expected the soul-sucker capable of something like this. Though why, she had no idea. An ancient spirit would have had more than enough time to learn a magic trick or two.

  “It won’t take much more than an hour to go back to the cabin, get supplies, and come back.”

  His look suggested an hour was fifty-nine minutes too long. “Then go. I’ll wait here.”

  “For what? You can’t get past the barrier.”

  “But I can watch. I can see if she’s moved or anything.”

  And what if the soul-sucker came to taste rather than move? What could he do, other than go insane watching? “The zombies or the mara could come down this tunnel at any time.”

  His gaze went back to the cavern. “The tunnel will force the zombies to come down one at a time. That I can handle.”

  “And the soul-sucker?”

  “Leave the pack.”

  She sighed in frustration. “I will, but I insist you wear the chain under your collar.” She didn’t wait for argument; she simply lifted his shirt collar and looped the chain around his neck. Once she’d folded the collar back down, the chain couldn’t be seen.

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “You saw how the energy reacted, didn’t you?” When he nodded, she continued. “That’s because pure silver is immune to magic, and as such, repels it. So wear it and make yourself a little less of a target. Just don’t touch it yourself, because it will burn you.”

  “It didn’t burn you.”

  “That’s because I have some immunity to it.”

  His frown deepened. “Does that mean I can’t shift shape?”

  “Magic is magic, whether it’s a wall or the ability to shift into another form.”

  “I think I’d rather not wear the chain.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he threw up his hands and added, “Go. And be careful going through those zombies.”

  “I will.” She hesitated, wanting to kiss him but not daring to take the step that separated them. Not sure how he’d react to the everyday act of lovers the world over.

  He made no move, his attention on the cavern more than on her. She sighed, dropped the pack at his feet, and walked away.

  The darkness closed in around her again. She dragged her fingers along the walls to keep her bearings and tried not to think about the tons of rock and dirt hanging overhead. She was trembling by the time the end of the tunnel came into sight, and she shifted shape with relief, flying through the trapdoor and out the window. Out into the wide-open skies. Lord, the freedom of it felt so good!

  It took far less than an hour to fly to the cabin, grab the necessary supplies, and get back to the tunnel.

  But the zombies were gone when she arrived.

  And so was Ethan.

  ETHAN CROSSED HIS ARMS AND LEANED AGAINST THE DAMP, cold wall. Janie was a bare ten feet away, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to not attack the wall that separated them. God, all he wanted to do was sweep her into his arms and let her know everything was going to be all right. That he was here and he would protect her against the demons.

  But the truth was, he couldn’t protect her against those demons. Not yet. And maybe not ever. Kat and her grandmother probably had more chance of doing so than he ever would.

  He wished the cabin were only a few minutes away. Hoped Kat was coming back right now with whatever she needed to free the girls. He had a bad feeling that time was running out.

  His gaze drifted to the left. In the other cell lay a second little girl—undoubtedly Karen, the kid they’d failed to save last night.

  Like Janie, she was asleep, curled up into a ball. Like Janie, she was shivering and crying softly in her sleep. He had no doubt they’d both been drugged. The cave was icy, and neither child had blankets. And it certainly wasn’t an environment that induced a restful sleep.

  Damn it, they had to get them both out! They couldn’t leave either of them here in that monster’s grip any longer than necessary. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes had passed. It felt like an eternity.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and studied the two zombies. They stood on either side of the small cells, one of them close enough to turn his stomach with its smell. They’d obviously been around for a while, if the withered, gaunt look to their skin was any indication. Did zombies actually grow old? Did they decay? They were dead, so surely they must, eventually.

  He snorted softly at the thought. Two days ago he would have considered himself insane for even thinking something like that. God, what a nightmare this was all turning out to be!

  Except for Kat.

  He certainly didn’t regret meeting her. Or making love to her. She was warm and vibrant and so damn sexy he ached just thinking about her. Her scent lingered around him, a taste of sunshine in the cold darkness. He briefly closed his eyes, remembering the way she’d looked at him just before she left—green eyes filled with a combination of passion and hesitation. Doubt. Her mouth had been so damn lush he’d just wanted to reach out, drag her close, and kiss her senseless.

  But that was dangerous. Especially if she wanted to take this whole thing one step further, though it was crazy to think anyone could get so serious in such a short time.

  It was a thought that made him smile grimly. He had. It had taken only two incredible days—and nights—with Jacinta, and he’d been ready to commit the rest of his life to her. It was Luke who’d convinced him to wait the six months.

  Luke, who had picked up the pieces when it all went to hell.

  God, he had to save Janie for him. Had to.

  Sound scuffed against the silence. He froze, listening intently. It came again—the brush of a heel against stone. Then the smell of death began to invade the air. The zombies must have awoken and discovered the open trapdoor.

  He swore softly, grabbed the pack, and called to the wolf as Kat had taught him. Nothing happened. No golden glow, no rush of power, no moment of numbing emptiness as his body reshaped and the wolf formed. The chain. He ripped it free from his neck and shoved it into the pack, burning his fingers despite the small amount of time he was in contact with the metal. He reached again for his wild side, and this time it came in a rush of power that was almost overwhelming.

  In wolf form again, he gathered the pack in his mouth and bounded up the tunnel. He’d seen a small fissure in the rock about halfway down—not big enough to hide a human, but just right for a wolf. All he could hope was that the zombies had a lousy sense of smell. As much as he liked to think he could handle ten dead men, he wasn’t going to take a chance when Janie’s life was at stake. Not unless there was no other choice.

  The dragging footsteps moved closer. From the sound of it, there were only three coming down the tunnel. He wedged himself into the fissure, keeping low to present a less obvious presence to any dead gaze that might happen his way.

  The smell drew closer. But with it came something else, something he’d felt before—in the warehouse, just before Kat and the man he now knew was a vampire had entered.

  Heat began to burn against his neck. He glanced down. One of the stones in the necklace Kat had made was beginning to glow the color of blood. Hadn’t she said the red stone was meant to prevent the mara from sensing his presence?

  Did the fact that it glowed now mean the soul-sucker was coming down the tunnel with the dead men?

  If she was, he had to hope the stone worked like it was supposed to work. Zombies he could handle,
but what hope were teeth and claws against a creature who could disappear into a cloud of smoke?

  A zombie shuffled past. It was big and lumbering and looked no more dangerous than a slab of meat. But the dead men he’d fought at the farmhouse had proven just how deceiving that image was. They might look slow, but they weren’t. And they were damn strong.

  A second zombie lumbered past. The stone at Ethan’s neck burned more fiercely, searing his skin with its heat. A third appeared—and above its head, tendrils of white smoke slowly gyrated. He didn’t move, hardly dared to breathe in case the soul-sucker sensed him. But his heart was pounding faster than a damn locomotive, and it was a wonder the creature couldn’t hear it.

  They disappeared into the tunnel’s darkness. He waited until the shuffling steps of the zombies had become little more than a scuff of sound and the burning in the stone had faded. Then he slowly eased out of his hiding spot.

  Four figures were silhouetted against the flickering light of the torches at the far end. The mara had regained human form and was gesturing with one hand. Air shimmered briefly, then the four of them walked into the cavern.

  He padded forward quietly, keeping low to the ground and close to the walls. When the shadows began to give way to the light, he stopped. Two of the three dead men who’d accompanied the soul-sucker down the tunnel had moved into the cells and picked up the girls. The mara was talking to the zombie guards. He flicked his ears forward but couldn’t hear anything beyond a singsong murmur.

  The two zombies with the girls moved out into the main cavern area. The mara motioned them toward the second tunnel, then her form dissolved and floated after the dead men. One of the guards disappeared inside a cell, reappearing moments later with a box clutched in skeletal hands. Both dead men began to walk toward the tunnel he was in. He cursed softly. While he doubted the mara had sensed his presence in the tunnel, any delay in following the creature could be costly. It had taken days—and blind luck—to find this hideaway. If he lost them now, it might be the end of any hope he had of rescuing Janie alive.

  He turned tail and padded back to the fissure. Water dripped onto his nose as he crouched down. He shook it free and glanced up, noting that the cracks rising from ceiling to roof were oozing moisture. From the look of it, the tunnel slid right under the river in this section. He suddenly hoped whoever was responsible for creating the passageway had allowed enough depth to give the river base support—otherwise the river could end up cutting itself an entirely new path.

  The zombies shuffled past. They didn’t go far, stopping just beyond his line of sight. They stood there for a good five minutes, their breathing as sharp as their smell, their fingers scraping across the stone. Finally, they moved on.

  He edged out. The zombies were shuffling toward the trapdoor, and one still carried the box. He looked up, but couldn’t see anything out of place and wondered what the hell they’d been doing. Something, he was sure of that. Something that boded him and Kat no good.

  For a second, he was tempted to follow them. Kat was due back down this tunnel in the next half hour, and if the dead men were creating some form of trap, she’d be caught.

  But dare he risk losing Janie by watching the dead men?

  The answer was a resounding no. Kat was a resourceful woman, and psychic besides. Surely she’d sense any trap the zombies were laying.

  Right now, his priority had to lie with his niece and the other little girl, not with a woman he’d probably never see again once this mess was over.

  He turned and padded after the mara, wondering why the thought of never seeing Kat again churned his gut and made his chest feel tight.

  KAT PEERED DOWN INTO THE DARK TUNNEL FROM THE RELATIVE safety of the empty cabin. She could hear no sound beyond a steady dripping, and Ethan’s scent was little more than a caress of warmth across the chill air coming out of the tunnel. He wasn’t in there; she was certain of that. Did the absence of both him and the zombies mean he’d been caught?

  If he had been, he wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. But she couldn’t smell freshly dead zombie in the air of the tunnel, and surely she would have if there were one or two down there.

  She bit her lip. She had an uneasy feeling that it was no longer safe in the tunnel, but unless she went in, she’d never know what had happened. Surely Ethan would have left her some hint, some clue, as to where he’d gone if he hadn’t been captured by the zombies or the mara.

  Perhaps shifting shape was the answer … only her back and legs were aching with the strain of carrying the small backpack so far in her claws. She doubted that her raven form would be able to hold on to it much longer without dropping it—and dropping it would shatter the extra sleep bombs she’d collected. Leaving it here while she explored the tunnel was out of the question. If the mara came back, she’d be left without weapons.

  She’d have to risk going in. She really had no other option. Sighing, she grabbed the pack, swinging it over one shoulder before lowering herself into the tunnel.

  Her feet hit the stone with a soft thump. She remained where she was, studying the darkness in front of her, listening to the silence. Beyond the steady dripping there was very little sound. The air seemed thick and cold, icing her lungs with every intake of breath. She shivered and was suddenly glad she’d put on an extra sweater.

  She rose and cautiously moved forward. The ground under one foot shifted. Something clicked—a sound so soft she might have missed it had she not been so aware that something was horribly wrong. She froze, her heart beating somewhere in her throat and goose bumps chasing down her spine. Nothing happened, yet that sensation of wrongness increased tenfold.

  Swallowing to ease the dryness in her throat, she lifted her hand, running her fingers against the damp wall for guidance as she edged forward.

  Again, her foot hit something. Again, there was a whisper-soft click.

  Apprehension slithered through her. She scanned the inky tunnel, fingers clenched against the urge to release kinetic energy. At what, she had no idea. There was no threat she could see or smell or hear. Yet every instinct suggested she was stepping deeper and deeper into danger.

  Sweat trickled down her cheek. She swiped at it, then stopped, suddenly aware that it was beginning to get truly hot inside the tunnel. Just like the house …

  Apprehension turned to fear. She swung around, knowing she had to get out while she still could, before whatever trap the soul-sucker had set could snare her.

  Deep darkness slammed down on her. Someone had shut the trapdoor. Cursing loudly, she bolted for the end of the tunnel.

  The air around her began to vibrate with energy. The heat increased, until it felt as if her skin glowed with it.

  Then everything exploded. She was knocked off her feet by a blast of red-hot air and hammered into the tunnel wall.

  JANIE’S BABY-SOFT SCENT LINGERED, GIVING ETHAN A TRAIL to follow. The light of the torches was quickly left behind, but the veil of darkness didn’t fully return, lifted by the beams of light filtering in up ahead. Slime hung in tendrils from the ceiling, waving gently in the breeze wafting down the tunnel. Water trickled past his paws, freezing his pads. He half thought about shifting shape, but he knew it was safer to remain as he was, cold paws notwithstanding. The mara was less likely to be on the lookout for a wolf.

  The path came to a junction. He stopped, looking both ways. To his left were warmth and light and the promise of an entrance to the outside world. But Janie and her captors had headed right, up the slope and deeper into the mountain.

  Why? The cells in the cavern behind them had appeared secure enough, so what did moving the two girls gain? Did they suspect he and Kat had found their hiding place? Or did the move have nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact that both girls were food for the soul-sucker and its offspring?

  Fear began to pound through his veins, and the sensation of time running out increased.

  He followed the tunnel, his nails making little nois
e against the damp stone under his paws. The air grew colder, and the sensation of being very deep under the earth increased. Odd, when the path he followed seemed to be going up rather than down.

  The smell of death sharpened the air. He slowed, knowing he had to be close.

  Light shimmered up ahead. He stopped, not sure what he was seeing. Then he realized he was viewing the torch through a curtain of water, and the tension in his gut increased. The clothes of the kid they’d found torn apart in the warehouse had been damp. Now he knew why.

  He edged closer to the water. The zombies were standing next to a stone table that reeked of blood. Not fresh blood, but old. As if the stone had spent years and years steeped in it.

  He couldn’t see the two girls, but the soul-sucker stood in front of what looked like a second cave, placing small stones across the entrance. When she’d positioned the last one, she made a motion with her hand, and the air shimmered briefly. Another magic wall, obviously. Only this time, he was on the right side of it. With any luck, all he had to do was shift the placement of those stones and the energy wall would dissipate.

  The mara walked past the old stone table to the other side of the cavern. She stood in front of it for several seconds, then made another motion with her hand. The curtain of darkness that shadowed the wall seemed to flow aside, revealing another tunnel. One that had a slightly phosphorescent glow. He had no doubt a sample would match the material under the second kid’s fingers.

  The soul-sucker glanced at the zombies, and all but one followed her into the greenish passageway. He shifted his feet, itching to attack, knowing this was possibly his best chance. But Kat had said the mara would know the minute one of the zombies died. Right now, he couldn’t afford to do anything that would attract the soul-sucker’s attention. Not when he was alone and the mara was so close.

  Besides, he doubted if he could outrun the zombies, and he certainly couldn’t fight when he was carrying both girls.

  It left him with very little choice. He’d have to wait and see whether the mara and the zombies intended to leave the girls here. Then he’d have to go back and wait …