by Keri Arthur
“Maddie?” He shook her shoulders slightly, forcing her to look him in the eyes again.
Such nice eyes, she thought with a smile. Eyes that she’d love to wake up to in the morning—all the mornings—for the rest of her life.
“Maddie, are you listening to me?”
She smiled again. “No.”
He frowned and suddenly looked more worried. “I said, I called the police before I attacked Hank. A man called Mack is in charge. His men have Evan. You’ll be safe with them until I get back.”
Evan—lord, she’d forgotten all about him! Guilt washed through her, thick and strong, and momentarily cleared the fuzziness from her mind. “Is he hurt?”
“He’s in better condition than you are.” His gaze ran past her again. “Mack, get some medical help, will you?”
His gaze came back to hers. Anger and worry burned deep in the wild blue depths of his eyes. Her heart did an odd flip-flop. She reached out, touching his full lips with her fingertips.
“Let the police handle it,” she said, suddenly realizing he was going after Hank. That he would make Hank pay for the hurt he’d inflicted on her.
“I can’t.” He reached up and took her hand, gently kissing her fingertips. “Hank and Eleanor are my field of expertise. I’ll handle them.”
“You can’t go alone. Let me come.”
“Ah, Maddie, you continue to amaze me,” he whispered. Leaning forward, he kissed her lips, his mouth hot and yet so gentle against her own.
Heat whispered through her soul and made her heart ache. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his. It was scary to realize just how far she’d fallen.
“Don’t go,” she whispered after a moment.
“I have no choice.” He kissed her forehead, then pulled back and glanced toward the doorway. “Mack, this is Madeline Smith. Maddie, Mack’s from the FBI.” He rose and squeezed her hand. Then his eyes became cold, so cold. “He’ll look after you until I get back.”
“Damn it, Barnett, just wait—” The big man cut his sentence short and frowned darkly as Jon disappeared through the doorway.
“Not one for taking assistance or orders, is he?” he commented. With surprising grace, he knelt down beside her.
She shivered. “No, he’s been alone too long to depend on anyone but himself,” she said softly. And wondered where the hell that left her.
HANK HAD A GOOD TEN MINUTES’ START ON HIM, BUT THAT was nothing when you could fly. He barely even felt the wind and the rain buffeting him. All he could think of was the pain in Maddie’s amber eyes, the touch of her blood against his fingers.
The bastard would pay.
After a while he saw a flash of movement through the trees and quickly dove. When he neared the ground he changed, landing with little noise and on the run.
“Hank!”
There was a brief flash of white face as Hank glanced over his shoulder. Jon smiled grimly. Hank leapt forward in a frantic burst of energy. His quarry smelled of sweat and fear.
“You’re a dead man, Hank!”
Taunting your prey was not usually a wise move, but it gave Jon an odd sense of satisfaction. The man was afraid—though not as afraid as Maddie had been.
And not as afraid now as he would be when Jon caught him.
He leapt across a fallen tree stump, took two quick steps, then launched himself at Hank. He hit him hard, and, locked together, they tumbled to the ground with bone-crunching force. Hank kicked and screamed as they rolled off the path, but Jon ignored him, hanging on grimly as they crashed down a rocky incline and slammed against the trunk of a pine tree.
“Bastard.” Hank spat. He swung his fists, punching wildly.
Jon grinned flatly and caught Hank’s left wrist in one hand, crushing it until bones cracked and Hank screamed. “I haven’t even begun to be a bastard yet, my friend.”
Hank swore and kicked. Jon jumped away, evading the full force of the blow, but lost his grip on Hank’s wrist. Quicker than lightning, Hank was up and running.
Jon loped after him. He’d flown over this area when he’d first arrived in Taurin Bay and knew that Hank was headed straight for a cliff. There was no escape.
The trees gave way to barren, rocky ground. The full force of the wind hit them, driving the rain with needlelike force. Hank staggered several steps sideways, then stopped and swung around. Jon saw the anger in his eyes, the desperation. But it was the sudden lack of fear that made him wary.
“I tasted the sweet delights of your woman, shapeshifter,” Hank snarled, his voice full of venom. “I made her squeal, made her beg for more.”
Jon barely resisted the urge to leap forward and rip the life from the lying fiend’s heart. That pleasure could come after he’d found out where Eleanor was. “Where is your master, Hank? Has she gone and left you to face the murder charges alone?”
The flicker of fear through Hank’s dark eyes told Jon the thought was not a new one.
“She needs me, shapeshifter.” But the tone of his voice was uncertain.
“Needs you to be the fall guy, nothing more.” The wild wind twisted suddenly and blew Hank’s long coat around from the back of his legs. Silver gleamed in his right hand. Jon grinned flatly. “Wrong choice of weapon, Hank. I happen to be immune to silver.”
Hank snarled and lunged forward, the knife gleaming brightly in his hand. Jon dodged, but Hank’s weight hit him and knocked him sideways. The knife, aimed at his heart, slammed into his thigh instead. Pain ripped through his body. He ignored the burning ache and smashed his fist into Hank’s face. Hank staggered a few feet backward, then stopped. His mouth was bloody, and there was surprise in his eyes. Jon didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
But he wasn’t about to let Hank know that.
“Didn’t I tell you silver wasn’t effective against me?” Jon slowly pulled the knife from his leg. He held it out, letting the rain wash his blood from the gleaming blade. “Now tell me where Eleanor is, Hank.”
“I’ll see you in hell first,” Hank snarled, then turned and ran for the trees.
Jon threw the knife. Hank made a gargled sound and fell to the ground, the knife buried hilt-deep in his back.
Jon watched him silently, ignoring the buffeting wind and the rain that ran down his face as fast as the blood running down his leg.
Hank didn’t move. Either he was very good at lying still or he was dead. Jon grimaced. He hadn’t intended to kill him—not until he’d found out where Eleanor was, at least. But then, nothing in this damn case was going the way he wanted, so why should things change now?
Suddenly weary, he took off his shirt and wrapped it tightly around his leg. Blood soaked quickly through the wet material and he swore. He’d have to get medical attention, but he couldn’t leave just yet. He still had to find Eleanor.
He limped over to Hank and bent down awkwardly, pulling the fiend onto his back. Death had ripped Hank’s mask of humanity away, revealing a face that was all bone and little flesh. He might well have been looking at the skull of someone who’d been dead for years. But the look of surprise on what was left of his features made Jon frown. Hank obviously hadn’t expected to die—but why?
Had Eleanor promised a victory over all forms of death, not just the natural ravages of time? Just how old was Hank, if he looked like this in death? How old was Eleanor? If Hank’s quickly disintegrating body was anything to go by, they were both more than several centuries old. Which made Eleanor older, and more powerful, than he’d ever imagined.
He quickly patted down what was left of Hank’s body. No wallet, no keys. Nothing to give any clue as to where Eleanor might be.
“Just not my day,” he muttered, standing up. That was when he noticed a blood-red ring gleaming softly on a skeletal right finger.
He slid it off and held it up to the light. It was a ruby, and etched onto the gleaming surface of the stone was a snarling cat. The ring was ancient and rare. He’d seen its like only once—on the hand of a man bound to serv
e a vampire for all eternity. Eleanor certainly wasn’t a vampire, but she was a powerful enough sorcerer to work a ring of binding.
He flipped it lightly in his hand, watching the red glitter in the cat’s stone eyes. He could almost feel Eleanor’s presence as he held it, could almost taste the darkness that was her soul.
He wouldn’t have to find Eleanor. With the ring in his possession, she’d find him.
All he had to do was get Maddie out of harm’s way.
MADDIE LEANED AGAINST THE WALL AND CLOSED HER EYES. The soft murmur of conversation rolled across the room, a soothing sound in the stark, cold surroundings of the police station. At least it would have been, if she hadn’t known they were discussing her. It was obvious from his questions that the FBI agent didn’t entirely believe her—at least when it came to the issue of how she knew Evan was in danger hours before he’d actually disappeared.
Or maybe he was just a cop doing his job, and she was being entirely too suspicious. Maybe she had let Steve’s antagonism color her judgment a little too often when it came to the police.
She rubbed her hand across her eyes. The madman in her brain was still pounding away tirelessly, and the cut on the back of her head ached, despite the painkillers the doctor had given her. But at least stitches weren’t needed, despite Jon’s fears. The doc had cleaned and bandaged the wound, and advised her to go straight to the hospital if she started vomiting or felt sleepy. Which she certainly did—but it had nothing to do with concussion and everything to do with the day being a long, shitty one. And it wasn’t as though she was going to get the chance to sleep anytime soon—not if the attitude of the FBI agent and the police was anything to go by.
Why couldn’t they just believe her and let her go? The only two people she really wanted to speak to were Evan and Jon, and the fact that she hadn’t seen either in over five hours worried her.
But what worried her more, now that Evan was safe, was that Jon had no real reason—and maybe no real wish—to see her again. Maybe he’d use this time to go after Eleanor, then simply leave.
She wanted—needed—to see him again, if only to hold him one more time before he said good-bye. She glanced down at her hand, and the silver ring that gleamed on her middle finger. He’d said he would come back for it, and she believed him. She’d get her chance, however brief that might be.
“Miss Smith?”
She opened her eyes. Mack stood about three feet away, holding out a mug of what looked like dirty dishwater.
“Coffee?”
She nodded and accepted the mug. At the very least, it would warm her fingers. “How’s my nephew? When can I see him?”
“Soon.” Mack sat back down at the table and motioned her to do the same. “Your statement.” He pushed several pieces of paper across to her. “Read it and sign it, if everything is correct.”
She quickly scanned the papers, then signed the bottom and pushed them back.
Mack shuffled them together without looking at them. “You realize, of course, that you are a prime witness in this case. You’ll be expected to appear in court.”
Something in his gaze told her that he was well aware of her past, or more precisely, her lack of cooperation when it came to the investigation of her husband’s death.
“I realize that,” she said, her voice sharper than she’d intended.
He smiled slightly. “Your … abilities will come out during the trial.”
“My abilities are nothing when compared to Eleanor’s, believe me.”
Though she privately doubted that the case would ever make it to trial. There wasn’t a prison built that could hold a woman like Eleanor—a shapeshifter well versed in the art of black magic.
She remembered the coldness—no, deadness—in Jon’s blue eyes as he’d left to go after Hank, and she suddenly realized he had never intended to hand Eleanor and Hank over to the police. Jon was judge, jury, and executioner.
He’d come to Taurin Bay to kill, not to capture.
Ice crawled over her skin, splintering into her heart. She shivered and rubbed her arms.
Mack frowned at her. “Better drink that coffee up. Your brother-in-law will be here soon to collect both you and Evan.”
Oh joy. That was one fun trip home she planned to miss. “I’d like to speak to Evan before then, if possible.”
Mack regarded her for a long moment. She had a feeling there was little he missed. Including her dislike of Steve.
“Okay. I’ll go see if the doctor has finished with him.” He rose and walked quietly from the room.
Left with nothing else to do while she waited, Maddie sipped the coffee. It tasted as bad as it looked. The minutes crawled by, and the coffee slowly cooled.
“Aunt Maddie?”
She glanced up. Evan stood in the doorway, staring at her with an odd mixture of relief and uncertainty on his face. It made him look older, and yet somehow more vulnerable. She smiled and opened her arms. He ran across the room like a child and fell into her hug.
“I knew you’d come for me,” he whispered. “I watched you in my dreams.”
She closed her eyes. So it was true. Evan had inherited abilities just like hers. And like her, he had a mother and father who didn’t want to know. How could she have missed that? How could she not have known? Had she been too wrapped up in her own misery to see what was happening to Evan?
But at least she was here, and she’d do whatever it took to ensure his abilities didn’t take him down the same path as hers. One murderer in the family was more than enough. “Are your mom and dad here yet?”
“No.” He hesitated and pulled away slightly. “Why isn’t Jon with you?”
She raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question. “He went after Hank.”
Evan grabbed her hand, sudden desperation filling his eyes. “You have to save Teresa. You just have to.”
Teresa was obviously the name of the other kid. Maddie wondered how he knew her, then she saw that Evan’s gaze was distant and shadowed, as if he were viewing the scenes of a movie no one else could see.
Maddie rubbed a hand across her eyes. She really wasn’t up to this. It was only thanks to Jon’s intervention that she had escaped Hank’s clutches. If she stayed any longer in Taurin Bay, she had a horrible feeling she’d have some sort of run-in with Eleanor. And escaping that woman’s claws a second time would not be so easy. Better to avoid her altogether.
“Jon will find Teresa, Evan.”
“No!” The sudden urgency in his voice made her shiver. He sounded so much like his stern, uncompromising father that it was frightening. “Jon will go after her. You have to rescue Teresa—promise me you will. Promise me you won’t leave.”
She took a deep breath. It would be nothing short of madness to make such a vow. She’d been lucky up until now, but that luck surely wouldn’t hold. It never had. She opened her mouth to refuse, but the sheer desperation in Evan’s amber-brown eyes made her hesitate. He was seeing the future, and it obviously wasn’t good for the second teenager. Could she handle the weight of another death?
She sighed and closed her eyes. “I promise.”
Evan blinked, and his eyes became clear again. “Good. So tell me, why is Dad mad at you?”
It was almost as if a switch had been flicked somewhere in his head. He obviously suffered none of the confusion she had when it came to clairvoyance. She sipped at the cold coffee, searching for a tactful answer. “You’ve talked to him?”
“Yes. And he’s furious.”
She smiled grimly. How did she explain to a thirteen-year-old that his father’s anger stemmed from the fear that she would destroy his family as she had destroyed her own?
“He’s not really mad, Evan. I think he’s a little scared.” She hesitated and brushed the stray red-gold strands of hair out of the teenager’s eyes. “I think he believes my gifts do more harm than good, and that it might somehow affect you and your mom.”
Evan tilted his head and studied her for a moment. �
�But if you weren’t gifted, I would never have been able to send Jon to you, and you would never have found me.”
She smiled. There spoke the logic of a child. “True, Evan. And perhaps you should remind your dad of that when he gets here.”
“I will.” He hesitated, and fear touched his gaze. “She’ll come after me, you know. I’m not safe, Aunt Maddie. Not here, and not at home.”
She remembered the venom in Eleanor’s voice—and the fact that they still needed Evan to complete the ceremony. Remembered the shapeshifter’s contempt for the protection the police station offered. Evan was right. He wasn’t safe—not until Eleanor was caught, or dead.
She squeezed his shoulder lightly. “I’ll talk to your mom and dad. I’ll get them to take you somewhere else for a couple of days.”
He nodded. Footsteps rattled down the hall, and she glanced at the door. Mack walked into the room, followed quickly by Steve. Meeting her brother-in-law’s steely gaze, she saw only contempt. Evan ran to his father, and Steve’s big arms all but engulfed him.
“They tell me you helped rescue Evan,” he said, his lips thin as he glared at her. “I guess I owe you thanks, and … I’m sorry for giving you so much grief.”
Any apology, however reluctant, was the last thing she’d expected. “No matter what you think of me, Steve, I couldn’t just sit around and let something happen to Evan.”
Evan glanced across at her. He knew, as she did, that the police would never have found him. Not in time to save his life.
Steve’s sun-browned face held a hint of malice. “As you did to your husband, you mean?”
She sighed. Trust him to bring the subject up with the police and the FBI in the room. “He physically and mentally abused me, Steve, and I have the scars to prove it.” She hesitated, then shrugged away the rise of guilt.
She’d paid for the mistake she’d made that day—through isolation, loneliness, and fear—and it never seemed to be enough. And yet, if she had the chance to undo the past, she wouldn’t.
“That’s no justification for killing him.”