by Nell Stark
“Any news?” I asked her.
“Yes, but it isn’t good.”
My stomach soured. “What happened?”
“A sociologist at Columbia identified the tenth location as the slopes of Mount Noshaq, the highest peak in Afghanistan.”
I nearly surged to my feet. From the corners of my vision, I caught Olivia staring at me curiously. “I’ll book a flight right now. Do you know the nearest airport?”
“Alexa, stop.”
“And do you know the elevation? Mountainous terrain will be treacherous this time of year. I should probably—”
“Stop.” The quiet vehemence of her monosyllable made me pause.
“What?”
“Al Qaeda is still hiding out in those mountains. The whole region is a minefield. Literally. You can’t go over there.”
I had to bite my lower lip to keep my temper in check. It was a good thing we were having this conversation by phone. I wasn’t sure I could have held my panther back if we’d been face-to-face.
“That’s ridiculous. It’s not as though I’ll be helpless!”
“Think it through,” Karma said. “You’d probably be fine as long as you were four-legged. But when you find the flower, you’ll need to study it, then gather and transport it. Tasks for two legs.”
She had a point, damn it. My sigh came out sounding like a snarl, and Olivia sat back hard in her chair, eyes wide. “What do you want me to do, Karma?”
“I want you to wait. It’s been less than a week since I sent out the translation, and we’ve already gotten two positive identifications. More will come.”
I dug my fingernails into a stray napkin on the table and balled it into my palm. My panther stalked behind my eyes, wanting to lash out, and I shared her desire to rip and shred and tear away everything that stood in the path between us and the flower.
“I’ll wait. For now. But if we reach a dead end, I’m going.”
“That makes sense.” Karma’s voice was soothing, and I suddenly realized just how demanding a friend I had been lately. Forcing myself to breathe deeply, I tipped my head back to relax the muscles of my neck.
“I’m sorry. You’re being a saint.”
“We’ll get a lead worth following. You’ll see.”
After promising to call me as soon as she heard any more news, she ended the call and I turned to Olivia. “I suppose you want to know what that was about.”
“For a few minutes there, it sounded like you were going on some kind of hiking trip.”
“I was on the verge of buying a plane ticket to Afghanistan.”
“What?” Alarm flickered across her face. “Why the hell would you travel there right now?”
“You’re not going to believe it.”
“Try me.”
I crossed my arms under my breasts to keep my hands from fidgeting. My panther needed a hunt, and I needed to get out of my own head for a while. “The abbreviated version is that my friend Karma recently discovered an ancient Egyptian inscription about a rare and short-lived flower known as the Tear of Isis. This flower, so the story goes, can bring people back from death’s door. We think it might be able to restore Valentine’s soul.”
To her credit, Olivia didn’t so much as blink. “And you can find this flower in Afghanistan?”
“Apparently, yes. The inscription mentions thirteen possible locations, one of which is there.”
“But you’re not going.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the onset of a headache. “No. Karma convinced me to wait until we’ve deciphered some of the other locations.”
“This Karma sounds wise. And persuasive. Is she a shifter?”
“A jackal.” I watched Olivia’s reaction closely, but she didn’t seem disgusted or afraid. Only surprised.
“That’s exotic.”
“Shall I set you up on a date?” I teased her.
She stood and pulled on her coat. “No. Not with her.” She brushed her fingers lightly across the back of my neck as she headed for the door. “See you tomorrow.”
Her caress ignited a flash of heat low in my abdomen. Startled by my own reaction, I made no reply. It was a relief to feel an emotion that wasn’t sorrow or anger, but disconcerting to be stirred by an unfamiliar touch.
Chapter Five
Bracing myself over the small conference table in Karma’s office, I squinted through her magnifying glass at an ancient shard of pottery—the only remnant of a ceremonial urn. Once jagged, its edges had been worn away by the clutches of the soil. An image had been painted on its dusky rose surface, and I leaned closer in an effort to make it out.
“Your colleague is sure this is the flower?” One of Karma’s associates at the Met had pointed out this fragment as possibly having a connection to the narrative on the stelae.
“As certain as he can be after a brief consultation.” Karma stood across the room waiting for the printer to finish its latest job. After gathering up several pages, she stapled them and set the pile next to several others on the windowsill. “He caught me on his way out the door to catch a plane overseas for a conference. He’ll do a more thorough examination when he gets back next week.”
“And in the meantime, we have homework.” I crossed to the window and surveyed the articles that her colleague had recommended. They had all been written by the same person. “What do you know about this Mariano Miralla?”
“Apparently, he spent most of his career researching the folklore and customs of the people who inhabit the region where that clay fragment was discovered. Maybe there will be a connection.”
As Karma continued to collate documents from the printer, I skimmed the abstracts of the articles she had gathered. Miralla appeared to have been at his most prolific half a century ago. He had focused almost exclusively on a remote settlement in the shadow of Ojos del Salado, a massive volcano in the Andes mountains that straddled the border between Argentina and Chile.
I hefted one of the thicker documents. “Are you up for burning the midnight oil? You don’t have to do this, you know. I can read these through by myself and report back.”
Karma reached around me for one of the other stacks of paper before settling onto the small couch perpendicular to her desk. She patted the spot beside her then turned her attention to the text. Clearly, I had my answer.
Four hours and several cartons of Thai food later, I was just about to suggest that we turn in for the night when Karma leaned into my space, her forefinger pressed emphatically to the page.
“This sounds eerily familiar.”
The paragraph in question introduced a local legend about a “parched spirit”—an apparition in the form of a beautiful woman who descended from the mountain in times of drought and stole blood from sleeping villagers just as the cloudless sky stole all moisture from the earth.
“It’s a vampire myth.”
“Yes. But not your normal fare.” She turned the page and pointed to where Miralla continued to discuss the legend of the “parched spirit.” This ghostly female figure was most frequently sighted on a “haunted” ridge above the crater lake to the east of the volcano. She was regarded as a harbinger of famine, and the villagers considered any person who saw her to be temporarily cursed.
“It definitely sounds like Ojos del Salado has a vampire tenant. Or had as of fifty years ago, at least.” I rubbed my gritty eyes. “But what does this have to do with the flower?”
“Look closely. These sightings are during the daytime.” Karma reached over to underline several phrases, all of which referenced the sunlight. “The only vampires who can walk under the sun—”
“—are vampires who haven’t made the transition.” Exhaustion forgotten, I feverishly reread the passage. “Do you think this vampire somehow discovered the flower and its properties?”
“I have no idea. But the Consortium’s records go back centuries. If we cross-reference this legend with data in the library, we might be able to learn more about vampire activity
in Argentina and Chile over the past few decades.”
“I’ll go. Right now.”
Karma laid a hand on my arm. “It’s the middle of the night. If you go now...”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. If I went now, there was a good chance I’d cross paths with Valentine. My stomach churned at the thought. I wasn’t ready, especially not after having seen her at Luna. With Sebastian.
Red haze filmed over my vision, and I focused on taking a series of deep breaths. Karma eased off the couch to lean against her desk. With my panther in such turmoil, her jackal had no choice but to respond to a potential threat. My volatility wasn’t just affecting me; it was throwing off those around me. Sorrow tempered my anger. Would I ever be ready?
“You’re right, of course. I’ll wait until morning. And I’m sorry.”
Karma lightly shook the pages in her hand. “Just keep your eye on the prize.”
*
“Good morning.” Olivia’s smile of greeting quickly morphed into a frown. “You look completely exhausted. What’s wrong?”
I set my coffee—a red-eye with a double shot of espresso—on the table and slid wearily into the chair across from her. When I’d finally fallen asleep, I had dreamed myself onto a rock-strewn, almost lunar landscape where I pursued a hooded woman who danced over lava floes with impunity.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “The short version is that I might have to go out of town suddenly.”
“To Afghanistan? Alexa—”
“To South America.” I took quick sips of the steaming liquid as Olivia digested this new information.
“You think you’ve found this flower in South America?”
“It’s starting to look that way. I’ll know more after I have a chance to do some additional research.”
Olivia leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. My attention was drawn to the smooth skin of her forearms—as delicate and elegant as the gold watch that encircled her left wrist. Wholly unlike the taut, coiled strength of Valentine’s body.
I let my next sip of coffee burn my tongue. No thoughts of Valentine; not now. If I dwelled too long on the stakes of this project, I risked losing control because pinning down the flower’s location was just one step on a long and highly uncertain road. No full vampire had ever been brought back into the sunlight. It might not even be possible, but if I started thinking that way, I’d make myself crazy.
“If this lead pans out, how long will you be gone? What will you do about school?” Olivia sounded accusatory.
“I don’t know. And I’ll take a leave of absence.”
“A leave of absence in your final semester?”
The panther snarled behind my eyes as my temper flared. “Why the third degree, Olivia?”
She looked away. “I just don’t want to see you jeopardize your future.”
My anger ebbed as I realized that not only was Olivia genuinely concerned, she was also jealous of Valentine and the hold she still had over me. Despite the intervening months, I was willing to drop everything and go on a wild goose chase for the woman who had broken my heart. That had to rankle with Olivia.
But before I could try to explain myself, Karma appeared in my peripheral vision. She was dressed as immaculately as always in a chocolate colored suit, with a matching bag perched on her shoulder, but her eyes were wider and darker than normal. Only another Were would have been able to sense it, but I knew she was on high alert.
I stood. “What’s up?”
“Hi. Good morning.” She looked to Olivia, who had also gotten to her feet. “Ms. Lloyd, we’ve never had the pleasure. I’m Karma Rao.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Alexa speaks of you often.” Olivia glanced uncertainly between us, and I knew she had picked up on the tension.
“I’m sorry to have to call you away,” Karma said to me. “But there’s something I need your opinion on.”
“Of course.” I turned to Olivia. “See you tomorrow?”
She surprised me by reaching for my hand. “Don’t leave town without telling me.” She squeezed my fingers tightly. “Promise.”
Flustered at the display, I nodded. When she let go, I followed Karma outside. She stepped to the curb and raised her hand for a cab.
“What’s going on?”
“Not here. Headquarters.”
Her terse reply only ratcheted up my tension, and the panther pushed at the borders of my mind. While Karma kept her attention on her smartphone throughout our cab ride, I fidgeted in my seat, heels tapping a muted staccato against the floor mat. But when we reached Consortium Headquarters, Karma pushed my hand away before I could press the “up” button on the elevator.
“We’re not going to your office?”
“Not yet.”
Valentine had told me that there were medical facilities in the basement, but the only subterranean level accessible from this elevator was the hunting arena, where Weres who couldn’t or didn’t want to leave the city indulged the needs of their inner beasts. Lit by scores of sun lamps, the enclosure boasted a thick forest at one end that gradually gave way to a small meadow of prairie grass at the other. Vampire guards watched over the arena from two observation decks. Armed with tranquilizer rifles, their orders were to subdue any Were who turned from hunting prey to hunting peers.
I fixed Karma with a frown. “Why are we here?”
She set her bag down on one of the benches that lined the walls of the foyer leading up to the arena, then removed her jacket. I didn’t understand. She was acting as though we were here to hunt, but I didn’t want to hunt anything except the flower. And she knew it. As I opened my mouth to demand an explanation, she opened her bag and took out a newspaper. The “Lifestyle” section of the Times. She held it out to me, but still wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Page six.”
My panther paced in circles, mirroring the spiraling dread in my stomach as I flipped through the pages. Halfway down page six, I saw the headline.
Everything. Stopped.
My nerveless hands would no longer function, and the paper fluttered to the ground, shedding newsprint. The page fell at my feet, facing up. Three simple words knifed into my heart and flayed me open and the panther was coming—she was coming and I didn’t even want to stop her and finally I realized why Karma had brought me here. Because she had known this would happen.
Brenner Weds Darrow.
My choked off sob became the panther’s growl, and willingly, I surrendered my awareness.
*
It took me a day and a half to find my way back to human form. This time, I didn’t struggle against the panther’s will but against my human self. Despair was waiting, and I instinctively shied away from it, taking refuge in the strong and simple desires of my panther’s animal brain. Eat. Sleep. Fuck.
Ultimately, it was the urge for sex that roused my human consciousness. I had no interest in satisfying that impulse with another Were feline. I only wanted Valentine, and wanting Valentine was pain.
I woke in the fetal position on a bed of moss beneath an oak tree, my stomach rumbling with hunger pangs. As I stood, a wolf emerged from the surrounding foliage. A wolf, like Sebastian. My panther pushed for dominance again, but this time I forced her back and instead bared my human teeth, releasing a subvocal growl. In a blur of brindle, the wolf turned tail and was gone.
I emerged from the arena to find an envelope with my name on it resting atop a neatly folded pile of clothing. Karma had taken the time to raid my apartment for a change of clothes. I put them on, then opened the note. Call me.
But I wanted to know all the details first. Someone had cleaned up the newspaper that my claws had shredded, so I rode the elevator all the way up to the library and sat at one of the public computers. A quick search of the Times website yielded the article, and I swallowed down a surge of bile as I read the brief description of Sebastian’s and Valentine’s biographical details and how they had eloped to Bora Bora.
“She did it fo
r the money,” I said, startling a young Were who was reading in a nearby armchair. When our eyes met, he glanced away quickly. Leaning back in the chair, I arched my neck in an effort to ease the taut muscles in my shoulders. My treacherous brain conjured up the image of Valentine and Sebastian kissing on a moonlit beach, platinum rings glinting from their joined hands, and I grit my teeth against the anguished howl that wanted to burst from my throat.
One deep breath and then another. And another. Gradually, my pulse slowed and the panther once again receded from the forefront of my consciousness. Whether Valentine was even capable of love at this point was debatable, but she didn’t love Sebastian. I knew that in my bones. She had used him to get to her grandfather’s money. If I believed anything else, I would go mad.
A sharp cramp in my stomach reminded me that my hunger wasn’t a luxury but an imperative. Shifting back and forth required a great deal of energy, and it had been many hours since I’d caught and killed a hapless rabbit that had been released into the arena by the guards. As I made my way to the restaurant and bar on the top floor, I checked my phone. Olivia had texted three times and called twice. My thumb hovered over the voice mail message she’d left, and I steeled myself. Doubtless, she had heard about Valentine—probably not long after I’d left the Starbucks. A shiver ran through me when I realized just how narrowly I had escaped losing control in a highly public and crowded place. If Olivia had read the paper earlier, or if Karma had arrived later...
Shaking off the hypothetical, I listened to Olivia’s message. She vacillated between professions of sympathy and more demands that I not leave the country—at least, not without her.
I sat in a booth near one of the northwest-facing windows so I could have a view of the Empire State Building. After ordering a steak and a very dirty vodka martini—a drink that was “safe” because Valentine regarded any martini not made with gin as an abomination—I called Karma. She picked up on the first ring.