Magicstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 4)

by Amber Kallyn

  He hadn’t meant to scare her, but no one could stop that primal reaction when faced with something like him. And afraid she was, no matter the stiff broom holding her back perfectly straight.

  “Let me go,” she growled.

  The sound of her voice, slightly accented, smoke and honey, pushed rational thought from his mind. He lowered his mouth, hovering just above her tanned skin and let one of his fangs lightly touch her.

  She shivered.

  He swallowed his own primitive urges and got back to the task at hand. “I could pull you under right now. Make it so that you turned, holding tight to me, while I drank you blood, your very life essence.”

  “I doubt that. No one controls me,” she replied tartly.

  He let go and stepped back. She turned, gasping as she saw his face.

  “It’s not a matter of control. It’s a matter of desire,” he replied.

  She stiffened, her chin jerking up. “I don’t desire you.”

  “Perhaps not yet. But deep inside, you can sense what I am. And you fear it. The only way your mortal soul can deal with that knowledge is to either fight or run, or change it into desire. Need.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m not like that.”

  “Really?” He snapped his teeth and she flinched.

  He’d not thought it possible for her back to get any straighter, but she somehow managed it.

  “You planning on just trying to intimidate me all day? ‘Cause it’s not working.”

  “Hmm.”

  Striding to the table, anger radiating from every line of her body, she stated, “If you’re not going to help, then leave. Otherwise, let’s get started.”

  His lips curled into a sneer. “As you wish.”

  Hours later, Celeste had sorted through boxes of files, pinning notes and pictures on the boards covering the walls. She sighed, leaning back in her chair, and stared at the only blank wall left.

  “I told you it wouldn’t be of help. The demon who did all this is dead.”

  She sipped at her coffee, wrinkled her nose at the taste, then stared at him. “And you’re not a cop. If what you say is true,” she drew out the word in disbelief, making him tense, “we still have these new murders. If it’s a copycat, they knew the first guy. There is a connection. We just have to find it.”

  “I guarantee you, the demon is dead,” he stated between clenched teeth.

  She stiffened at his tone of voice. “Look, I don’t know you from Adam. Why should I trust you? Especially since you claim to be some monster?”

  Anger pricked at him, but he breathed deeply, controlling his temper. “Because I don’t lie.”

  “Humph. Everyone lies in one way or another.”

  Curiosity roused, he asked, “How do you lie?”

  Her glare nearly seared him. “I wasn’t talking about me.”

  He figured the wisest course was to stay quiet.

  After a tense minute of silence, she reached for the last box still on the table. “These are the recent murders.”

  As she pinned the photos from the three sites on the last wall, Brandon studied them.

  “Damn it,” she growled.

  The scent of blood drifted to him, hot and sweet. His stomach clenched. Slowly, he turned.

  She sucked on her finger, glaring at a stack of files lying on the table.

  Clearing his throat, Brandon said, “It’s long past time for lunch.”

  She rolled her eyes. “We don’t have time to eat.”

  His voice lost some of the smoothness. “We can either eat, or I can eat you.”

  She froze, but refused to look away.

  “Come.” He left the room, not certain if she would actually follow or not.

  Didn’t matter. He needed blood, and food, to help maintain his control.

  As her scent drifted closer, an idea struck. He had a place to take her, full of Arcaine creatures. Once she entered O’Grady’s Pub, she’d never again deny their existence.

  She’d have to believe. And that belief would help keep her alert, maybe even alive.

  He hid a sly smile, looking forward to the reaction from this prickly woman.

  ***

  The short walk to the Irish pub was quiet. Celeste didn’t have much to say to the man at her side. But she thought of his earlier words, about primal feelings.

  When she’d cut her finger, she hadn’t thought much of it, until she’d seen him staring at her like some sort of buffet.

  She wouldn’t have put it past him to actually bite her. Her stomach trembled from the thought.

  At that second, she’d felt fear down to her toes, which pissed her off. She wasn’t afraid of much, and this man shouldn’t even be a blip on her radar.

  He pushed open the door of O’Grady’s, then waited for her to enter. As she moved inside, he rested one massive hand lightly on her lower back.

  She shot him a glare, stepping away. He shrugged as he headed further into the place.

  An older man stood behind the bar, short and round, his shocking red hair laced with white. His eyes lit as he saw Brandon.

  “Wulfgar!” He bustled around the bar and hurried over, holding out his hand. “So which one are you?”

  Brandon chuckled, a sound she thought strange coming from him. “Hello, O’Grady. I’m Brandon.”

  “Never could tell you twins apart. And how’s your brother?”

  The thought of two of them loose in this world made her mind spin.

  Shadows darkened Brandon’s eyes. Instead of answering, he waved to her. “This is Celeste Wilder.”

  O’Grady looked her over, his eyes widening. In a whisper, he said, “She’s not one of us.”

  “No, but she’s been forced to deal with our kind. I figure if she sees your back room, she’ll get over her nerves.”

  She glared at them both as they chuckled. Reluctantly, she followed them to the back of the bar. She wasn’t about to back down from any challenge, no matter how silly.

  As she walked through a nearly hidden doorway, she froze, staring.

  The walls were painted with murals of creatures straight out of mythology. The atmosphere was full of thrumming static, making her muscles tighten.

  People sat at random tables scattered throughout the room.

  What she couldn’t quite comprehend was the creature in the far corner. He wasn’t, couldn’t be human. His face was contorted in impossible ways. It was almost as if he’d been crossed with a snake. Multi-hued scales covered his cheeks and chin, down his neck and bare chest. His thick arms ended in twisted fingers tipped with long, black talons.

  Beside him, a woman reclined in a chair. Her clothes would get her locked up for indecency if she stepped outside. But what bothered Celeste were the glittery wings. With each flutter, glittering dust puffed around them, like an iridescent cloud.

  She stared at the woman’s back. The wings literally came out of her skin.

  At a nearby table, a man who looked human at first glance grinned when a waitress brought over a covered tray. The server set it down, and lifted the lid.

  Celeste nearly jumped as a rat squeaked, trying to scamper away. The man flicked a snake-like tongue. The long, slimy thing caught the rat, wrapping around it. As he brought the rat to his mouth, his lips split open, his jaw unhinging strangely.

  He swallowed the rat in one gulp.

  Brandon’s hand clamped on her upper arm and he dragged her to an empty table away from everyone else. “It’s rude to stare,” he said.

  She nodded, continuing to glance around the room.

  Her thoughts spun, trying to process everything she saw. Things that couldn’t be costumes or makeup. When a small glowing ball of light flew through the air, only to stop right in front of her, she jumped.

  The creature looked like Tinkerbell, except for the disgruntled look on its face. “Got a problem, sister?” it asked in a squeaky voice.

  “Um, no?” she replied.

  “Good.”
It flew across the room and up a staircase that Celeste hadn’t even noticed.

  So much for her super-cop powers of observation. “Where are we?”

  “O’Grady’s Bar and Grill,” Brandon answered smugly.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re really a vampire?”

  “Yup.”

  The waitress set a menu in front of her, then turned to Brandon. “Your usual?”

  “Of course, Jannie.”

  The woman turned to her.

  “Coffee. Strong.” She glanced blankly at the menu.

  “Give her a minute,” Brandon said.

  The waitress bustled away while Celeste focused on the menu, only to realize it was partitioned in sections, each one written differently. Some were recognizably letters, just strange languages. Others she could barely even look at, the writing seemed to waver and flash before her eyes.

  Brandon reached over and flipped it open, pointing to a section in English.

  She wanted to deny all she was seeing, but that reeked of cowardice. And she refused to be a coward. Even though part of her was still stuck in disbelief, she glanced at him. “So, what, monsters exist, but hide from humans?”

  He leaned back in his chair, the wood groaning. “We’re called the Arcaine, and some of us are human.” His voice rumbled as if angered by her question.

  “But you’re a vampire.”

  “I used to be mortal, like you. I’m still human.”

  “How come you hide?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard stories about mortals going crazy and hunting anything different from them. Think about the witch burnings, then expand that to today.”

  “So why are you letting me know?”

  He laid his arms on the table, leaning close. “Would you rather be dead?”

  “I suppose I should thank you for saving me and Daily last night.” Not that she wanted to.

  For all she knew, she could have taken care of them by herself. Her hand drifted to the bites on her neck. They throbbed as if calling her out on her lie.

  “You are welcome,” he replied formally.

  The waitress set a mug of steaming coffee in front of her, another with thick red liquid in it by Brandon, then a huge plate with two steaks, a baked potato, and a side of some kind of shrimp salad beside it.

  Celeste stared at the food as he lifted his mug and drank. She didn’t have to ask, she could smell the coppery tang of blood.

  “You eat real food?” she asked.

  “Don’t you?” he replied sarcastically.

  “Yeah, but I’m huma... um, mortal.”

  His eyes lit with amusement. “We eat food. We need it as much as you do. We just also need blood.”

  She shuddered at the thought of drinking blood. The waitress cleared her throat impatiently, so she ordered a club sandwich with fries. Brandon dug into the food with gusto.

  “So what other myths about vampires aren’t true?”

  “Most of them,” he replied between bites.

  When her food arrived, she nibbled at it, but her stomach churned.

  The world had turned upside down and she couldn’t quite find her footing. Always, she’d known who she was, that she wanted to be a cop. But now, the line had blurred at exactly who--and what--the bad guys were.

  She set down the French fry she’d been trying to eat. “So what about your brother? You’re twins?”

  His jaw tightened, but he answered, “Yes.”

  “Is he a vampire too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is he?”

  Brandon’s eyes glowed a reddish sheen. “Somewhere safe.”

  Leaning back in her chair, Celeste studied him. If that wasn’t a telling answer, she didn’t know what was. Safe? As opposed to not? “Let me guess, you’re older.”

  He gently laid his fork on the table, then glared at her. His voice was quiet, but thrummed with anger. And, she thought, sorrow.

  “Why all the interest in my family?” he asked.

  She shrugged and picked up another French fry. Set it down again. Drank deeply of the coffee.

  The silence stretched, taut and edgy.

  “So why are you here?”

  He gritted his teeth as if annoyed by her questions. “Have you ever fought a demon? A werewolf?”

  “No.”

  “Then you need the help of someone who has. I don’t know what’s out there doing the killing, but I assure you, Detective, it’s out of your league.”

  She stiffened as anger balled in her stomach. “I’ve never had a problem closing a case before.”

  Yet. He was right. She’d never faced going up against the paranormal, Arcaine he’d called them.

  He snorted and took another bite of his steak. As he slowly chewed, his gaze burned against her skin. “Well, then. I guess I should just leave you to it. Endless more murders shouldn’t faze you.”

  Her anger snapped. “I didn’t say I was stupid or that I didn’t want your help.”

  “Didn’t you now?” His brows rose.

  “Like I told you and the captain, I’m staying on this case. I’ll solve it too.”

  “Even if it means working with--as you pointed out--a monster like me?”

  Celeste cringed as he threw the word back in her face. She hadn’t meant it like that. Biting her tongue, she pushed down her pride. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  He nodded regally and took another bite.

  “So you think it’s an Arcaine behind the killings? Why?”

  “Many reasons. You were correct earlier when you said the murderer must be connected with the demon of before. Everything is too coincidental and similar for it to be anything else.”

  A small blossom of warmth hit her from the approval in his tone. “Then what?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  She managed a bite of her sandwich, thinking things over. “Okay, so what all types of Arcaine creatures are out there?”

  He shook his head. “You name it, it probably exists.”

  “Well, that helps narrow it down,” she muttered.

  Brandon continued to polish off his meal.

  When they arrived back at the station, she headed for the conference room. As they continued sorting the files, part of her mind still tried to wrap around the thought of creatures going bump in the night all around her.

  Chapter four

  Keeping quiet, Brandon watched his new temporary partner work. Confusion and uncertainty shone from her dark chocolate eyes, yet she was holding it in. Her movements were strained, jerky. Her hands kept fisting, clenching tight again and again.

  Compared to most mortals, she was taking the revelation pretty well. At least she wasn’t running around, shouting to the rooftops that the end was near.

  Not that he’d expected such from her, otherwise he’d have kept it hidden. But still, she was showing a rare strength. Not many could get over such knowledge so quickly.

  It was admirable.

  But most importantly, it would make working with her much easier.

  He half felt he should apologize for his abruptness during their meal, but he didn’t want more pestering questions. Not about his brother.

  He pulled out his phone, texting Dalia. A minute later, she replied. Still no change.

  His phone vibrated again, this time with the warning to stop annoying her. She’d send word if Eric came out of his sleep.

  With a sigh, Brandon turned his attention once more to the woman in the room. She worked with nervous energy, but he could tell it was her natural state. Celeste wasn’t one to sit still for any period of time.

  The door swung open and a man in a dark suit strode in, a box in his hands and a sneer on his face. He let the box drop with a loud thunk, then leaned against the table, staring at the board Celeste had been studying.

  “Kurtz,” she said sharply. “Did you need something?”

  He glanced around the room, gaze locking on Brandon. “How’s the case coming with y
our new... toy?”

  She stiffened.

  Brandon rose to his feet, towering over the man. He smiled ferally, allowing menace to creep into his voice as he said pleasantly, “I’ve not been called a toy in quite a while. Unfortunately, she won’t play with me.”

  Celeste’s face pinked.

  Kurtz’ scowl deepened, though a tremor ran through his hands. Swallowing, Kurtz demanded, “Who exactly are you?”

  Celeste snapped, “If you’re that curious, go ask the captain.”

  “I would, but us lowly peons actually need an appointment to see Uncle Wes.”

  “I’ve told you before, he’s not my uncle.”

  Forgetting Brandon, Kurtz leered at her. “Then I wonder how else you get your special favors.”

  Brandon ground his teeth as his anger boiled. His fangs lengthened. The way this male was talking to Celeste was unforgivable. He froze, taking a deep breath at the swift reactions he was having for this female.

  Celeste straightened, the broomstick back. “Is that an insinuation of me using sexual favors? If I recall, you already have two sexual harassment charges pending. Perhaps I should add another.”

  His face blanched, but his eyes burned with fury. “Try it, De-tec-tive.”

  She stared at him expressionlessly. “If there’s nothing else, you can leave now.” She wiggled her fingers toward the door.

  Kurtz’ fists clenched. The tension in the room spiked. Brandon’s anger spiked again, so fast and hard he barely stopped himself from grabbing the man by his throat and throwing him from the room. The man spun on his heels and strode from the room.

  “What was that about?” Brandon demanded, wrangling in his emotions as he stared at the closed door.

  “Just a jerk.”

  He glanced at Celeste, trying to figure out just what it was about this woman that made him feel so damn protective. Why her?

  She wrote notes on the whiteboard next to the recent crime scene photos. Anyone without his enhanced vision would have missed the way her hand trembled slightly, or the way her pulse throbbed in the vein at her neck.

  “You get a lot of that from other cops?”

  She stopped writing, but didn’t turn. “Not only am I a cop, I’m a female. I dared to qualify as a homicide detective. I’m also the best shot in our division, pistol or rifle. There are a few old-school cops like Kurtz who can’t stand it, but plenty of others who don’t care. They respect me for what I do, and have done.”