Enlightened (Love and Light Series)

by Melissa Lummis

  Wolf nodded and tapped the metal light shade. “Don’t work in the dark.” He headed for the side door. “I’m going over to Michael’s.”

  “Got it.” Merle tucked his headphones back in.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~

  “Wolf. Hey, buddy.” Michael wiped his hands on his greasy white apron and stepped out from behind the order counter. They grabbed each other’s elbows so their forearms touched, smacking backs in a half-hug. As Wolf stepped back, Michael flicked a brown dread over his shoulder, running fingers and thumb from his mustache, out and around his sparse goatee. “How long are you back for?”

  “Don’t know.” Wolf dug a boot heel into the old wood floor, lifting the toe as he rocked back on the other foot. “Probably until tomorrow night.” The ache in his chest flared.

  “I know better than to ask where you’ve been.” Michael trotted behind the counter to the grill and flipped a sizzling patty.

  “You the only one working tonight?” Wolf leaned over the defunct deli case that Michael’s girlfriend had painted. The glass front was now a black chalkboard with their menu written in colorful chalk. Little drawings of pigs by the “Pulled Pork Bar-B-Que” and flowers by the “Veggie Burger”.

  “Yeah, I sent the others home. Slow night. Just Jimmy and the guys drinking too much Coke and CheerWine.”

  He dropped a basket of fries into the deep fryer, the oil sizzling and bubbling. Wolf wandered over to the stage where a hodge-podge of well-loved instruments gathered. He lifted an acoustic guitar and picked a few notes that hung in the air suggestively.

  “What’s wrong?” Michael wiped his hands on his stained apron and leaned on the counter. “And you’ve got two minutes.” Wolf set the guitar back on its stand, reluctant to let go. “Nah, play, man. It’s good for you.”

  Wolf hesitated, but cradled the guitar, looking it over with satisfaction. Settling into a wooden chair, he strummed a few discordant chords, adjusted tuners and twanged strings a few times until it sounded right—his fingers unhurried in their work. The notes calmed into a tune, and closing his eyes, his head moved to the music as the song found him.

  “Wicked Game, huh?” Michael huffed out his nose.

  Wolf grunted.

  “Sounds like woman problems.”

  Wolf passed him an annoyed look.

  “You don’t have to say a word.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ve never seen you flinch over a girl.” Michael pushed away from the counter and pulled a bag of Kaiser rolls off the shelf behind the grill. “Is she worth it?” Michael twisted the tie on the bread bag.

  Wolf nodded, amused enthrallment sweeping across his face. As he finished the last refrain, his vampire ears picked up a commotion next door. He sat still as a statue while Michael slid the burger off the grill and onto the bun. Wolf shot out of his chair and through the side door, the guitar clanging on the clapboard floor. Jumping as the screen door banged shut, Michael peered through the glass and screen, but Wolf was already out of sight. Keeping his eyes on the side door, he plated the fries and set it aside. Wiping his hands on his apron, he picked up the receiver from the wall mounted cradle.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~

  Wolf listened at the side entrance to his shop, between the door and the window. Leaning back, he squinted through the glass without showing himself, but all he made out was his own reflection. There was a muffled grunt and a thump then all was quiet. Every muscle fiber cocked and loaded, he turned the knob bit by bit. Opening the door just wide enough, he slipped in sideways and lowered into a crouch. The work light above the bench was off and the stool lay on its side, both the door to the storage room and the front office closed. He sniffed the air. Blood. Human. Dog. Vampire. Something . . . else, he wasn’t sure. His vampire eyes darted around the room, coming to rest on Merle’s body splayed on the concrete floor. Blood pooled around his head. Wolf listened and waited, all senses poised, all emotions halted. Small breathing sounds, whimpering. Randy and Sarah.

  “Mr. Wolf Arrighi.” A male voice reverberated in the garage, seeming to come from all corners.

  “Where are the girls?”

  “They are fine, Mr. Arrighi. We would not hurt a hair on their heads.” There was a weighted pause. “As long as you cooperate.”

  He took a step toward Merle.

  “Unfortunately, your young friend did not.”

  He paused then took a step back. He reached behind him with unwavering accuracy to grab the sledge hammer leaning by the door. He brought it to his side as if it were weightless.

  “We just want you, Mr. Arrighi. Not the girls.”

  The sledgehammer hung down Wolf’s leg. His hair covered one side of his face, while the single, black eye stared at Merle’s body.

  “He was just a kid.” Wolf’s voice was wooden. “You could have subdued him.”

  “We wanted to make a good first impression.”

  Two forms leaped at him at once. He swung the hammer in a wide circle and connected with a crunch. Blood sprayed in an arch as the body flew through the air and smashed through the wall, crashing into the show room. Glass tinkled as Wolf ducked out of the other creature’s way. It flew over his head. The sledgehammer circled around with the weight of its own momentum as the creature somersaulted and bounced off the wall. Arms reaching out, it growled as it sailed toward Wolf. There was a wet smack, like a watermelon hitting pavement, as the hammer connected—blood and brains spattering Wolf and the Indian Chief. The body sailed through the shattered window and into the night. Wolf crouched with the hammer in both hands, holding it over a shoulder like he was waiting for a pitch.

  “Wolf?” A scared girl’s voice. Randy.

  “Mr. Arrighi, please. We can end this now.”

  “Randy?” Wolf called. “Are you okay? Sarah?”

  “Yes,” she quaked. “Sarah’s here.” She started to weep. “With me.”

  “We just want you. We will let them go if you surrender.”

  “What do you want with me?” He stayed where he was, sledge hammer motionless.

  “That’s a matter to be discussed in private, but I can guarantee your little girls’ safety.”

  Wolf weighed his options. Continue to fight and hope Randy and Sarah didn’t end up as casualties, or give himself up to the unknown. Normally, it would’ve been a no-brainer. Fight. But if he fought and they died, he would never forgive himself. And if he fought and he died, well that would’ve been okay, once, but not now. If he died, Loti died. No strings, damn it. That had always been his rule. In his quest for the truth, he’d hobbled himself. This fucking bond is going to kill me—and her.

  “How do I know you’ll let them go?”

  “You are going to have to trust me.”

  “I make it a point never to trust anyone who says, ‘Trust me.’”

  Silence.

  “Give me your word you will surrender—and I will send them to the store next door.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Done. But I want to watch her leave first.”

  “We are sending them out the front door now, Mr. Arrighi.”

  Wolf lowered the hammer to the floor and stood up, measuring his steps to the broken window. The general store’s windows cast yellow slants across the gravel lot that separated the two businesses. Michael’s shadow appeared in the side door as Randy lurched across the lot, clutching baby Sarah to her chest. Michael swung the door open and scooped them inside. He paused with the door open, seeming to look right at Wolf. Maybe he saw him in the window, or maybe he knew he was there. Wolf couldn’t be sure, but Michael was the type of guy who knew things before you said them. Loti would know what he is. He mentally checked his shield—barely there. He reinforced it.

  Michael touched the piece of abalone shell around his neck, tipped his fingers to Wolf, and let the screen door recoil. The inner door closed, and Wolf turned around as two man-shaped figures swung a silver net over his head. He threw his arms up. His hands sizzled, ribbons o
f smoke curling up. He screamed.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~

  Loti screamed in agony. “It burns.” She grabbed her face, hands shaking as she collapsed to her knees on Calisto’s living room floor. “It burns. It burns.”

  Calisto zipped through the crowd to where she trembled. “What’s happening, Loti? Can you get past the pain? Where is he?” Margarite pushed through the others. “Stupid, stupid. I can’t believe he left like that.” Calisto got his arms around Loti, who curled into a fetal position as he picked her up.

  Margarite glared at him as she pried Loti’s hands from her face.

  “Block, Loti. Just a little,” Calisto urged. “You can block the pain and still pick up his thoughts.”

  Loti gulped air like a hooked fish tossed on the bottom of a boat. She nodded through another grimace. It was physically and mentally exhausting to focus on her shield.

  Wolf?

  Loti. His anxiety and his fear billowed through her.

  Where are you? What’s happening?

  I really fucked up, this time.

  Never mind, tell me what’s going on.

  Someone . . . not Patrick . . . ambushed me at my shop

  I can feel you moving.

  I’m in a van heading south on 29, I think, back toward Lewiston

  We’re coming—

  Don’t come for me.

  What?

  “What’s he saying, Loti?” Calisto’s voice hummed in her ear.

  Curled in his lap, she waved an anxious hand at him, her eyes distant. “He’s telling me not to come for him.”

  Wolf, I’m not going to leave you.

  Silence. He blocked her as much as he could, but he couldn’t block the pulling. She felt the strain ease as if he was moving toward her, coming from the north.

  “He cut me off when I said I wouldn’t leave him.”

  “He’s a fool. We need you two to be connected, so he can feed us information, so we can figure out where they are taking him.” Calisto pressed his forehead to Loti’s. “Damn his ego.”

  “I can tell where he’s at.” Loti touched Calisto’s face with both hands.

  He lifted his head, eyes wide. “You can tell where he is?”

  Loti nodded. “Is that unusual?”

  He breathed in through his nose. “Yes, it is. Usually, a vampire can tell where his bondmate is, but not the other way around.”

  “He’s getting closer to the ashram, but they’re on the highway going south. He’ll go past us and continue on to Lewiston. We have to follow him,” Loti babbled, shaking with the burning pain.

  Calisto turned his lips into her hand and kissed her fingers. “We’ll find him.”

  Tears coursed down her cheeks.

  “But, we need some sort of plan.”

  “There’s no time.” Panic strained her voice. “If he gets too far ahead—”

  “We’ll find him. Take a deep breath.” Calisto tightened his grip, cradling her close.

  She wanted to believe him, but something scary hid in the corners of her mind, something taunting her. She jerked upright. “I have such a bad feeling, Calisto. I—” Katie Brown sat down beside them and ran a reassuring hand through her hair.

  “Shhh, darling, we’ll find him. You’ll find him.” She curled her lips under, still stroking Loti’s hair, lines framing her eyes.

  “I told you he would make his move soon,” Fiamette knelt between Calisto and Katie.

  “Yes, you did.” Katie’s hand fell to her lap as she studied Fiamette’s face with trepidation. Fia reached manicured fingers to Loti, who took her hand.

  “Wolf said it wasn’t Patrick.” Loti turned hopeful eyes on Katie.

  Calisto’s eyes were closed as he spoke to Fiamette. “You know something, my dear, don’t you?” His voice held no judgment, but a grave certainty.

  “I think I know who it is.” She spoke in a quiet voice. “I wasn’t sure because we had reason to suspect,” her eyes shifted to Katie, “but I think it’s a vampire. A very old and very insane vampire.”

  Loti slid out of Calisto’s lap, holding clawed hands to her face. Breathing in and out, her brain scrambled to get on top of the burning.

  “His name is Modore. He’s—”

  “I know who Modore is.” Calisto voice was very level, and very calm. All the color drained out of Katie’s face like the sand running out of an hourglass.

  “Yes, him.” Fiamette bit her bottom lip

  “Who’s Modore?” Loti stared at nothing.

  “An evil son of a bitch,” Calisto’s voice sent shivers up Loti’s spine. To Fiamette he said, “And why didn’t you tell us about your suspicions earlier?”

  She looked from one to the other, guilt and fear loosening her mouth. She dropped her gaze and mumbled, “Because I didn’t want to believe it.”

  “Who is Modore?” Loti insisted. “Who in the hell is he? And why does he want Wolf?”

  “He doesn’t want Wolf.” Calisto squeezed her shoulders. “Look at me. He wants you, and he’s using Wolf to get to you.” Her gaze flitted from his eyes to Fiamette’s bowed head to Katie’s pale face.

  “Because he couldn’t get to you.” Calisto turned her chin back to him. “When Wolf took off, he ventured outside of our protection. There’s a special magic to this place. It’s why we chose the location for the ashram.”

  “We also built very complex, layered wards around it,” Margarite added. She knelt on the floor by Calisto, one hand on his knee. “Katie and her coven have helped, as well as the local witches and healers.” She slid her feet out from under her as she shifted her backside to the braided rug. “It’s been a monumental group effort and one of the reasons I was a bit lax when I checked you and Rachel before you entered the house. Besides my excessive pride, that is.” She winced at her own words. “It’s very unlikely anyone would be able to circumvent the natural boundaries as well as our contrived protections.”

  Loti searched Calisto’s eyes, her face hard. “Why does this Modore want me?”

  Calisto squeezed gently. “Who knows what his exact intentions are. He’s unpredictable and self-serving.” He sighed. “The creature is insane and has spent the last millennium stirring up trouble—but with purpose. He wants, if you can believe it, to save the world—in his own way. He believes humanity is hopeless—the human race cannot be enlightened. So he wants to get them out of the way before they screw it up for the rest of us.”

  “You’re kidding,” Loti tittered. “Like some cosmic clean-up crew? You’ve got to be kidding.” Her eyes went wide and wild. “And how in the world would I fit into this?”

  “You have no idea what you’re capable of, do you?” Calisto asked with wonder in his voice.

  She shook her head in slow motion. “No. So far I can heal, with Wolf’s help, and I am locked in a bond with a bondmate who doesn’t really want to be bound to me.” Her voice wavered a little.

  “You know that’s not true,” Calisto said as he stood up, and she followed. “Whatever stupid stunts he pulls, he wants to be with you. Don’t ever doubt that.” Calisto kissed her cheek. “Even if he doubts himself.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~

  In the dim light of the lamp, Rachel dug through the box on Katie’s desk. She stayed behind to gather the things the coven would need for the casting tonight. They needed to find Loti’s stalker before he made his next move. With Wolf and Calisto’s help, maybe, they would get somewhere this time. She rummaged through the cloth and plastic bags, reading the markings and tossing some on the antique credenza. The front door knob jiggled as someone slide a key in the lock.

  “Nan?” She glanced at the open study door.

  She snugged the lid on the pale, pink box and grabbed another one marked “Crystals” in her grandmother’s graceful long-hand.

  “Why’d you come back? You could have called me if—”

  “Hello, dear.” Patrick stood in the doorway twisting the key ring in his hand, a pained expression on his face.

  “Patrick.�
�� She froze. “We have been trying to . . . ” Her heart thumped with a chilling anticipation, and she trailed off, narrowing her eyes. “Why aren’t you in Ireland?”

  Rachel tucked the lid on the box, dropping her gaze. She kept him in her peripheral vision. When he stepped across the threshold, she flung her hands out, a burst of blue lightning flashed. He waved his hand like he was dismissing a silly remark, and the streak of light fizzled into nothing. Her eyes grew wide as she stepped back. She’d known him all of her life and had no clue he was this powerful.

  “I am so, so sorry, sweetie. This is not my choice. Please know that.” He waved both hands in front of him like he was scooping a wonderful, appetizing fragrance to his nose, and Rachel collapsed in a boneless pile on the ecru carpet.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~

  She woke up in the dark, her face wet and gritty. A light flashed and she squinted. It bounced away, revealing glimpses of stalactites clinging to the ceiling and a rock wall worn smooth. Water dripped. As her eyes adjusted, Patrick set a lantern on the floor. The light threw ghastly shadows on his face. She swallowed, grimacing at the thick soreness and pushed herself up, drawing her knees under her. She held her throbbing head with one hand.

  “Why?” Was all she could think to say.

  “I wish I could tell you, Rachel.” Patrick slumped down on a mound of rock shaped like a scoop of ice cream. His shoulders hunched, he wrung his hands, and leaned his elbows on his thighs. “I’m so, so sorry.” His face held so many emotions it was difficult to sort them out. Sadness. Confusion. Disappointment? No, more like . . . hopelessness. Rachel got her feet under her and tried to stand.

  “Patrick?”

  “No, no, sweetie.” He waved both hands. “Stay still for a few minutes. That whammy I gave you takes some time to wear off.” He sat straighter, rubbing his liver-spotted hands on his pleated khaki trousers. Glancing at his watch, he sighed and looked up, studying some imaginary scene. She plopped back down as the world wobbled and grew fuzzy around her.

  “What happens now?” She groped around into a crisscross applesauce position, absorbing as much of the cave as the lantern would reveal. The air was eerily still and odd smelling. Stale. Lacking some quality she couldn’t figure out.