Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 5

by Sins-Flesh(lit)

  There was nothing natural about this death.

  Visually, Philippe's body resembled a burning by the sun with a few exceptions. Usually, when a vampire died by sunlight, only the exposed area was reduced to ash. In this case, he was not. His extended arm was undamaged. The other arm, bent at the elbow, nearest the major damage was only singed, the skin blackened, but intact. Judging from the pattern of the burn, he'd been standing with the flames rising into his face in order for it to be damaged. The face was unrecognizable, but the skull was intact. It had not been reduced to ash, thus implying the fire in that area hadn't been as hot as it was in his chest.

  He swallowed hard.

  The vampire had been killed by someone setting his chest-and only his chest-on fire. He'd been standing upright, causing the flames to destroy his face, before falling to the ground. The fire had burned long enough to evaporate the majority of bodily fluids as well.

  He shook his head. It should be damned near impossible for a vampire to be killed this way, by a mortal at least. A mortal wouldn't be able to handle a vampire-

  "What's going on?"

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  "He's dead."

  Cass frowned at the interruption; then his words sank in. "Already?" She lay her pen down.

  "He lasted longer than the last one."

  Miles dropped several Polaroid's on the desk in front of her. Fascinated, Cass picked them up and flicked through to see the hapless vampire in varying stages of destruction. While she was disappointed in the outcome, she rather liked the one that showed Philippe's face, mouth open as he screamed while being consumed by the flames. As she thumbed through the images, she could watch his once-handsome visage melt away.

  She wrinkled her nose, then dropped the photos. "The other one only lasted twenty hours or so. I was hoping for so much more with this one." She reached for a small leather notebook. Opening it, she studied the writing on a page dated two days before. "This one only lasted thirty- two and a half hours."

  "You've improved the formula."

  Absently, she nodded. "I'm getting closer, but I'm still disappointed." She flipped through a few more pages, coming to one dated today. "How is our next subject?"

  "Shaky but holding his own."

  "It's been almost forty-eight hours since he was dosed. So far so good." She closed the book. "I wonder why this one is lasting so much longer than dear Philippe."

  "Age?"

  "Hmm, could be. Could also be related to their master. This one has a much stronger master than Philippe did." She picked up her pen and scratched a note to herself. "Go out and keep a close eye on him. I want to see how he fares in the next ten hours or so."

  "Will do."

  "Wait." She looked up, cursing inwardly as she asked the one question she'd wished to avoid. "Any news on Alexandre?"

  Miles' gaze was hooded as he nodded ever so slightly. "He'll be at your meeting."

  A surge of triumph washed over her. Finally, step two was accomplished. "Thank you, you may go now."

  He gave her a half-bow before exiting the room.

  She smiled to herself. Maybe now Alexandre would finally come to heel. Tomorrow would bring many things to the fore and she would make the Elder an offer he simply could not refuse.

  She dropped her pen and reached for a small, wooden box on the corner of her desk and opened it. Snug in a lining of deep blue velvet lay the very thing for which half the preternatural world was looking. The diary of Elsabeth, Mikhail's first wife. This small book could spell the end of the preternatural world as it currently stood and that's exactly what she was counting on.

  She flipped through the well-worn, faded pages. Of course, it would have been much more convenient for her if Elsabeth had written the details in a logical order. She'd failed to note a great many things in the tome. Cass rolled her eyes. No matter, she'd gotten the gist of what she needed and her experiments were progressing nicely.

  Should Alexandre make the mistake of turning her down, he and his companions would pay very dearly indeed and there was nothing they could do about it.

  Either way, she would be the victor.

  Sunni shuddered at the thought of that poor, tortured vampire, dead on the floor of the warehouse. It had taken a half-hour and gallons of scalding water to remove the stench of burned flesh from her skin and hair. Her clothes were a loss as far as she was concerned; the smell would never come out of them. She couldn't get the sight of his destroyed face out of her mind. She touched her cheek as if to reassure herself that she'd left the gruesome scene unscathed.

  As long as she lived, she'd never forget the sight of that tormented creature. Burning had to be the worst way for a vampire to die.

  "Let it go, Sun."

  Alexandre stood in the open doorway of her shop, his expression stoic. She'd left him at the warehouse over two hours before with his hurried promise that he'd come to her when he was done.

  "I can't." She dropped her gaze to the floor. "I can't get him out of my mind. I close my eyes and he's still there" She raised her head, her eyes meeting his. "Who was he?"

  He hesitated.

  "Damn it, that vision is going to haunt me for the rest of my life." She spun away from him, busying herself with reordering the pile of portfolios that contained examples of her and Sasha's work. They didn't need to be straightened again, but she desperately needed something to concentrate on or she'd start screaming and never stop. "The least you could do is tell me his name."

  "His name was Philippe DesJardins." She heard the door close. "According to his girlfriend, he was a street musician who liked to prey on junkies for the rush he received from their tainted blood."

  His voice was flat, emotionless and she turned to catch sight of the exhaustion written on his face. "Receiving tainted blood doesn't cause vampires to burst into flames."

  "You're right." He looked away.

  "Sunlight," she whispered. "Only sunlight can cause this type of death, or holy water if it's somehow ingested." She shivered. "If a vampire were unconscious, they could be set on fire and burned alive. I've heard stories over the years of vampires being burned alive while they slept during the day. It's one of the hazards of creating a lair within the confines of a man-made structure."

  Alexandre didn't respond.

  "You don't think either one killed him, do you?"

  "We're still investigating at this point."

  She rolled her eyes. There were times when talking to him was like trying to hold a conversation with a tree trunk. "Okay, so hazard a guess what it was."

  "I would hate to speculate on this." He crossed his arms over his chest.

  "For crying out loud." She slammed the last two portfolios on the table with a crash. "What is it with you? Do you always have to be so damned perfect?" She stalked toward him. "News flash, you're allowed to be wrong once in a while. You can make a guess. No one expects you to be perfect every moment of every day. When word of this gets out, it'll generate a shock wave through the whole community. Vampires will be frightened; I know I am. What will you say to them when they come to you?"

  "That's why you need to leave New Orleans. Now, tonight."

  She skidded to a halt, stunned. "What did you say?"

  "You need to leave."

  "No."

  A flicker of annoyance crossed his face before it vanished. "Yes."

  "This is my home and I won't leave it. Are you going to ask every vampire in the city to pack up and leave?"

  "The smart ones have already left."

  "Oh, yeah?" She placed her hands on her hips. "Guess what? I can take care of myself and I've been doing so for many years now."

  "Like that time in San Francisco?"

  She scowled. "I made a mistake and, yes, it almost cost me my life. I was lucky you were there to help me. However, a gentleman wouldn't have brought that up."

  He gave an unpleasant laugh. "Finally, you figured it out." He moved toward her. "I want you to pack and leave tonig
ht."

  "No." She stood her ground as he loomed over her. "You can't make me leave."

  "I am the head of-"

  "Bah!" She turned away, stopping only when he grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to face him once more. Her breath caught as she looked into his eyes. Dark and haunted, he wasn't as emotionless as he'd let on.

  "Will you never listen?"

  "I always listen... to my heart."

  "Sunni-" His tone was half-groan, half-growl.

  Reaching up, she curled her fingers in the lapels of his silk jacket, tugging him toward her, delighted when she saw the flash of desire ignite in his eyes. He wanted her, no matter how much he tried to fight it. A thrill of possession ran down her spine. "Kiss me," she whispered.

  "No." He reached for her hands but she tightened her grip.

  "Please?"

  His head dipped as if he had no control over his own reaction to her. Her breath mingled with his, deepening as his raw sensuality poured over her skin like molten gold. Her hands released their death grip on his jacket to curl around the back of his neck.

  "Damn you, I don't want you," he snarled.

  "Yes, you do."

  She stretched on the tips of her toes to brush her lips across his. Once. Twice. A sound broke from him and they came together.

  Their tongues tangled as she sucked at his mouth. He backed her against the counter, his arms encircling her waist, lifting her. She parted her thighs, moaning as he stepped between to lean into her. She arched as his hips gave an abbreviated thrust against the core of her desire. She felt the rise of a longing buried so deep within her soul that she couldn't let go of him if her life depended upon it.

  She caught a finger on his hair tie and pulled it free, allowing the dark waves to escape their confinement. Tangling her fingers in his freed locks, she tugged his head into a more gratifying position as his touch softened.

  She couldn't resist reaching to grasp his backside, her fingers digging into his firm, silk covered flesh. She spread her thighs farther, shifting her hips to change her angle every so slightly.

  Oh, yes.

  He thrust again.

  He'd found her sweet spot.

  "Please," she whispered. "Touch me."

  He moved his hand along her inner thigh beneath her skirt. Strong, callused fingers slid past her dampened panties to stroke her aroused flesh. A whimper broke from her lips as two fingers slid into her swollen sheath to plumb her velvety depths. One digit brushed her clitoris, eliciting a sigh as a rush of desire zinged through her abdomen and curled her toes. She kicked off her sandals and they hit the floor with a clatter.

  He worked her flesh in a no-nonsense manner, each movement zeroed on the seat of her desire until her hips jerked and she tightened around him. Light burst behind her eyelids as her release swept her body.

  As her shudders subsided, he slid his hand away. She whimpered at the drag of his fingers against her swollen bud. He gently rearranged her skirt, covering her before stepping away.

  Her gaze fastened on the massive erection tenting his trousers. A yearning curled through her body and she reached for him, startled when his hand stopped her. She met his gaze.

  "We can't do this." His voice was remote, at odds with the fever that still burned in his eyes.

  She forced a smile even though she felt like crying. "I think we just did." When was he going to admit that they should be together?

  "It was a mistake." He backed toward the door. "I want you to leave the city, Sun." He reached for the handle and opened the door, pausing to lock it from the inside. "You'll be safer away from here, away from me. I don't want to see you hurt." Without waiting for a response, he left, shutting the door behind him.

  She slid from the counter, her body sated but her soul heavy. There was no way she could leave him, not now when he needed her the most.

  Dawn approached.

  Alexandre stared out the window of his library, watching as the sky turned pink. Ripening from a dark raspberry to a sublime peach, sunrise was his favorite time of the day. For hundreds of years he'd been consigned to the darkness, but now that he'd aged enough to allow him limited amounts of sunlight, he never missed an opportunity to indulge.

  Lord, but he was tired.

  He raised a hand to his forehead and caught a whiff of elusive scent. He closed his eyes and inhaled her fragrance that still clung to his skin.

  Sunni.

  She was a danger to him and to herself and she didn't have the sense to realize it. What was he going to do with her? She'd refused to leave New Orleans and she was a serious distraction. It wasn't safe for her to remain.

  And he wanted her.

  Images of her riding his hand, her soft cries as she'd crested, invaded his mind. The memory of the warmth of her skin against his was as strong as it had been many hours before when he'd left her alone in the shop.

  He'd only hurt her. He wasn't the man she believed him to be. Just ask the Albigenses from the village where he'd been raised. Not that any of them had survived. A shaft of pain lanced his chest at the thought of his slaughtered comrades. It had been eight hundred years since the massacre in Albi, France, and he, the only survivor.

  And it was his fault.

  Since then, he'd spent many hours contemplating that night. Twists of fate had conspired to put him in this time and place and he would not shirk his duty for a mere woman. He'd done it once before, never again.

  Too many lives depended upon him.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  Sunni stepped out onto the balcony above her shop, watching the colorful crowds move along Bourbon Street. Mardi Gras was nearing an end and the air was heavy with humidity. The temperature had reached an unseasonable ninety degrees with an equal humidity ratio during the day. Neither had subsided with the sun.

  There was an unfamiliar, threatening tension in the air. She scanned her surroundings but saw nothing amiss. The mortals on the street didn't seem to feel it as they went about their evening, imbibing Hurricanes, dancing in the street and picking up strangers for fast, emotionless couplings. Sex was happening all around her.

  Maybe that was the problem. Since being in Alexandre's arms last night, she couldn't get thoughts of him in her bed out of her mind. With his touch, he'd awakened the sleeping woman inside her and she wanted more...much more.

  She lifted the edge of her cotton blouse away from her overheated skin, fanning it lightly. Vampires, in general, didn't react to heat or cold but, tonight, she was on fire.

  A smile curved her mouth as a tingle of anticipation ran over her skin. Would she see him tonight? If she had anything to say about it, yes, she would. The sooner the better.

  A faint drift of cool energy moved across her skin, causing her to drop the hem of her shirt. A revenant was near.

  Sunni turned her head slowly, scanning the crowd once more. She frowned. There was definitely a revenant near. But, with the size of the crowd below, they could be anywhere.

  She leaned forward to get a better look and her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of Miles. He stood across the street, staring up at her with an expectant expression on his face. She jerked back, startled. How long had he been there? What did he want?

  She leaned forward once more, her gaze locking with his. A slow smile curved his mouth before he turned to walk down the street, his pace leisurely. She leaned further out, not wanting to lose sight of him, but she needed to get hold of Alexandre fast.

  Miles stopped at the corner by the new reggae club and looked back, his gaze meeting hers once more. He gave her a slight nod before moving around the corner to vanish from sight.

  He's up to something...

  Sunni dashed into the house and snatched up her cell phone as she ran for the door. Heart thumping, she dialed Alexandre's home number. The annoying buzz of a busy signal sounded loud in her ear. Drat! Didn't the man know about call waiting? She could call to him telepathically, but it wasn't really an emergency and she hoped
it didn't escalate to that.

  She slammed the phone down as she ran down the steps leading to the shop. For now, she'd follow Miles, then report back to Alexandre. It wasn't as if the revenant would get the chance to actually hurt her. She'd learned her lesson. She wouldn't allow him close enough to touch.

  Sasha had someone in the tattoo chair as Sunni ran through, tossing only a hurried wave to her partner. Humid air engulfed her as she exited the shop. Dodging the foot traffic clogging the street, she arrived at the corner where Miles had vanished only moments before.

  She knew the streets of New Orleans like the back of her hand. Unafraid, she turned the corner to follow her prey. Small shops lined the street but she paid them nary a glance as she maneuvered around the small clumps of window-shoppers.

  She caught sight of Miles again and increased her pace. She wanted to stay behind him, but she didn't want to take a chance on losing him either. As they progressed, she caught brief glimpses of him. Just enough to ensure that she was still on his trail.

  With each block, the din of Mardi Gras faded and the shops grew older, more esoteric. Here and there, storefronts stood long empty, their blank windows laden with dust, staring at her like so many soulless eyes. She shivered.

  He stopped in the center of the street a half block away. His gaze was fixed on a small sign, which hung over the door to a shop. Without warning, he looked back, his gaze focusing on her. He smiled and, with a slight nod, turned and stepped into the store.

  He knew she was following him. He wanted her to.