“I’m fine,” I said, rolling my shoulders and focusing on the problem at hand. Baba Yaga’s magic coursing through me was definitely a problem for a different day. “I heard from Derek a couple of hours ago. We have three bodies missing from those graves. A woman was torn apart last night and if I’m not mistaken, two new vampires are in town,” I responded under my breath as we passed a group of over-styled and over-cologned college guys.
Ev crinkled his nose at the scent and asked, “You think they’re connected?”
“What do you think?”
He was quiet for a moment as we exited, filling our lungs with the clean scent of fresh air and approached Dean’s truck.
All I had was my bike so I had to keep borrowing cars from Dean and Patrick anytime I wanted to go somewhere with more than just me. Which was all the damned time since they wouldn’t let me go anywhere unguarded. It was a huge pain in the ass but unless I wanted to buy a car, which I didn’t, this would have to do. Neither Patrick nor Dean seemed to mind.
I peered over at Ev, almost able to see the wheels turning in his head. Smiling to myself, I hoped he didn’t notice my proud little grin.
“They’re connected. They have to be. That’s too big a coincidence. Dean and Patrick should probably know,” he said, his tone sheepish as if he wasn’t 100% sure of his answer.
“I think you’re right,” I said, reassuring him. “Let’s get that plate number to Jade and see what she can dig up. I think I’m going to make some more rounds at the clubs to see what I can find out.”
“I’m coming with you,” Ev said. There was force behind his words.
I smiled to myself even while strolling in the muggy, summer night air. I would never be alone again. Ev, among others, would make sure of it.
Chapter 4
If that bitch didn’t stop crying, he was going to kill her before it was time just to shut her up. He was having trouble concentrating with all the whimpering and sniveling going on. Pouring the salt from the canister, he turned in a circle and spread the crystals out around him. He could see Olentangy River Road from his position in the back of Union Cemetery but the drivers wouldn’t be able to see him. Which suited him just fine.
“Shut up!” he growled, just barely keeping his anger under control. Perhaps he should have eaten prior to isolating himself with two beating hearts. Especially just before a ritual that would drain a great deal of energy from him. There hadn’t been time to stop for a snack. Icy cold power dripped from his fingertips. The magic within him knew it was time.
He stepped out of the circle and grabbed both women by the hair. One of them tried to scream but the sound came out as a muffled squeak around the gag filling her mouth.
“It will only hurt for an hour or so. After that, you won’t feel anything. You’ll be dead,” he cooed, drawing the knife from his boot.
They both squirmed, fighting harder once they caught a glimpse of the blade in his hand. The blonde thrashed, kicking the other woman to get away.
Laughing, he said, “You can’t offer up the other for yourself. I need you both.”
He dropped them inches from the salt circle. The blonde fought, turning on her side as she attempted to get to her feet. He clasped his hand tight around the knife and punched her in the face. Her jaw cracked and broke beneath the force of his blow and blood oozed from her mouth. She fell to the ground, snaking away from him. Her hands were tied behind her back and her ankles were bound, limiting her movement.
“Don’t go far, dear,” he called, kicking the other woman in the face to stop her simpering cries. They were getting on his nerves. This was one of the reasons he hated women. There were more reasons of course, reasons he hadn’t spoken of since his turning, centuries ago. However, the weak, whimpering, guilt-laden tears they cried were definitely among the worst of their offenses.
Snatching the brunette by the hair, he gazed down into her eyes. They were wide with the fear he could smell on the air, savory and rich. He smirked with a glare he knew terrified her with each increasing beat of her heart.
“Since you were better behaved than the other one, I’ll make your death quick,” he said, petting the hair away from her slick, sweat and tear stained face with the knife still in his hand.
She eyed the blade as she jabbered around the gag, trying desperately to plead for her life.
He tilted her head back, exposing the long line of her throat and the hard thump of her heart through her jugular. Tears streamed from the corner of her eyes as he sliced, drawing the sharp edge of steel across her soft flesh. Blood gushed from the wound, coating her neck and shoulders as the light fled from her eyes.
Power crackled in the air around him searching for somewhere to go. Death magic surged up his arm, an electric shock of power, filling his body with a sharp, painful hum. He stepped back into the circle, and the magic coalesced into a single beam of energy behind the barrier of the salt. Such a simple element to hold and concentrate so much power. He couldn’t keep the smile from his lips as the power seeped into the ground beneath him and searched for what it wanted.
Bodies beneath the earth reacted to his magic, shifting and turning in their graves to reach it, to reach him. So many bodies, so many dead ready to walk again. He couldn’t raise them all, not tonight. With only the one death, he could only raise a few. Reaching out to the bodies nearest him, he forced his power into six of them.
“Rise and greet your master.”
The ground shook and he fought to keep his feet as the magic roared beneath the ground. Massive chunks of earth rippled and upturned as bodies climbed up through the hard ground. One hand and then another burst through the surface and propelled the dead up from their resting places. Covered in dirt and death, each of the six tore their lips apart, ripping the stitches from their flesh as they pried their jaws open, hungry for the blood that would seal the magic in their flesh.
The first zombie fell upon the woman still crawling away, her heartbeat like a beacon to their hunger. The magic moving their limbs craved the blood, flesh, and death only her living heart could provide them. He laughed into the night, the hearty sound of his joy echoed against the constant rumble of cars on the road beyond the cemetery that now seemed like another world away.
The woman screamed behind the gag as blunt teeth and torn nails dug into her skin and muscles, breaking bones. Ripping and biting, they fed and took her life into themselves until her screams became gurgles and she choked on the blood soaked gag. As her life drained into the blades of grass in a scarlet gush, the zombies moved on to the woman already dead at Logan’s feet. They tore at the soft tissue and muscles, consuming as much as their stomachs would hold.
One by one, the zombies turned empty, glowing green eyes up to him, his dark magic flashing in their gazes. He stepped from the circle, feeling his power, death magic, as a static entity in the air.
“Follow me, I have work for you to do.”
Turning toward the river behind him, he stepped onto the bike path. Like the Pied Piper, six dead zombies followed behind him in a single file, lumbering line.
Whistling “Summer Wind,” he marched back to where he’d parked the truck, leading a cavalcade of death behind him.
Chapter 5
It had been a long night of loud music, aimless groping, and absolutely nothing. No one had seen anyone new in town or heard anything about missing women. In fact, it was one of the quietest nights in the capital city I’d experienced in a very long time. As the sun crested the skyline and the first rays of what promised to be the blistering sun of an Ohio summer day warmed my skin, I knew it was time to head home.
Arriving empty-handed wasn’t something I liked, but there was nothing I could do about it. Whatever had killed that woman wasn’t prowling the clubs or the easy pickings there. He or she found their victim somewhere else.
I stormed in the front door fifteen minutes after sunrise, still antsy. I took the stairs two at a time up to our bedroom. Our bedroom. It sounded right in my head but I still hesitated over the pronoun. I’d never lived with a man before, let alone two and in shifts.
Water pounded through the jets against the wall of the shower, sounding like a river rapids. I unhooked the holster from under my arm and tossed the Smith and Wesson on the bed.
“Patrick, are you in the shower yet?” I called. I had to pee and I wasn’t particularly comfortable using the facilities in front of either of them.
“No,” he called from the bathroom just before he opened the door wrapped in a heavy, soft, touchable towel. I couldn’t hide my smile as I took in his chiseled, alabaster chest. Once, that chest had been unmarred, smooth. Now, it bore the scars of his torture at the hands of a Sluagh monster in the Outer Realm and his instrument of pain, Milagra. Faded translucent skin, dotted his chest where silver spikes had impaled him for days. He didn’t shy away from the scars. Patrick wasn’t a vain man but I felt his concern radiate from him that I would be repulsed by them. I wasn’t. My eyes trailed lower to the dark hair that wrapped around his navel and descended lower in a sultry line down his torso to the hidden pleasure beneath the towel.
“Sweetheart,” he growled deep in his chest. “I have to rest.”
“I’m sorry.” I laughed, unable to hide the yearning that made my gut flutter. I glided by him and shut the bathroom door behind me. “Did Ev talk to you?” I called as I flushed the toilet.
“Yes, he did,” Patrick said in a deep menacing tone that sent my senses on fire.
I washed my hands and opened the door.
Lounging back on the bed, he propped his lean, long body on his elbows. I strutted by him, swinging my hips in a sultry invitation, just to rub it in and tease him a little. He was already up past dawn and had been the day before as well. Patrick could stay awake all day if he wanted but it took a lot of energy out of him, drained his power, and made him vulnerable. I didn’t want that and I knew we couldn’t afford it.
Tugging my shirt over my head, I tossed it in the dirty clothes, followed by my bra and pants. I slipped on a sports bra, a tank, and a pair of exercise pants.
“You want some breakfast?” Dean asked from the doorway.
I hadn’t heard him. I’d been so focused on Patrick and pushing his buttons that I’d missed Dean’s power warming my skin. I turned and smiled at him. His Caribbean blue eyes narrowed on me with a grin curving his full lips. Then his gaze turned toward the bed and Patrick’s lounging form. The grin disappeared.
“Nah,” I said, smiling back. “I’m gonna go for a run. I can’t shake this antsy feeling.”
“Pat,” Dean greeted, his voice cold and disconnected.
“Dean,” Patrick replied, a smug expression curling his mouth.
“You want company?” Dean asked, avoiding the vampire lounging back on the bed.
“Only if you promise not to goad me into a race,” I smiled, teasing, trying desperately to lighten the mood. “I need to work some of this off and think, not wear myself out.”
“You okay?” he asked, pushing off the doorjamb and closing the distance between us.
I glanced over my shoulder at Patrick and watched his jaw tighten and fists clench on the bed. Dean knew exactly what he was doing.
“Yeah, fine.” I shrugged out of his hold, trying to keep some distance between us. On top of refereeing the shit show that had become my segmented love life, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d missed something. I couldn’t slow my mind down long enough to figure out the big picture of that crime scene, let alone sleep.
“Don’t believe her,” Patrick huffed as he stood from the bed. “She didn’t kill anything last night. She hasn’t killed anything in weeks.”
“Did you just make a joke?” I asked, astonished and a little taken aback. Tying my running shoes, I met Patrick’s gaze with an unexpected smile. Tension or no, Patrick had made a joke.
Dean laughed, a deep chest-rumbling chuckle that lightened the whole mood of the room, releasing the tension that had been twisting my stomach into knots.
Patrick smirked, showing just enough fang to make his smile dangerously enticing.
“It was funny,” I said, grabbing one of Dean’s baseball hats.
Patrick snatched my wrist and held me, jerking me against his hard body. He slipped his fingers into my hair and tugged me within a breath of his lips.
“He makes you laugh so easily,” Patrick growled.
“Come on, killer, let’s go find you a squirrel or a bunny to slaughter,” Dean gruffed, leaving Patrick and me with a hint of privacy.
I smiled up at Patrick and winked at him as I brushed my lips gently across his. Reluctantly stepping from his embrace, I turned toward the door. Glancing over my shoulder at Patrick behind me, I mouthed, ‘I love you,’ letting him feel how much he meant to me. If only he could understand how happy he and Dean made me, how they’d saved me from myself, he wouldn’t worry so much. At least I hoped not.
The morning air was thick and humid as it saturated my lungs. My thighs burned as I jogged through German Village, struggling not to twist my ankle on the uneven brick streets and sidewalks. Dean made the turn onto Whittier and headed west toward the river, our usual route. We jogged over the bridge and cut under the shelter of the trees along the bike path. Wild flowers bloomed and swayed with the humid wind as we ran. Birds chirped and songbirds sang out, oblivious to the caged beast running along the river beneath them.
Dean said nothing, running silently beside me, merely keeping pace. His comforting presence seeped into my being and I let my mind wander. I drifted back, visualizing the landscape of the cemetery again, how the girl appeared so small huddled and hidden in the shrubbery, and how the dirt of the graves had been upturned and tossed aside. Someone had dug up those graves but for what? It wasn’t like there was some buried treasure in those coffins. Evergreen was a middle-class cemetery. The Holy Grail wasn’t in there. So what was? Why dig it up?
“You in the mood to talk?” Dean asked. He wasn’t even out of breath. Bastard!
He stopped, forcing me to stop too. We’d somehow made it to the section of the bike trail under the highway without me noticing, almost two miles. We stood in the only sliver of light that fed down between the two highways crossing above us. Surrounded on one side by the hill and the two wide pillars holding up the overpass then the river with another two matching pillars on the other, I panted in thick humid air and met his gaze.
“Sure.”
“Pat and I have been talking.” His voice was ragged and unsure. I wasn’t used to hearing uncertainty in his voice and it made me nervous.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” I said, smiling. Levity. His ominous tone required levity. “Don’t get me wrong, I like that you’re talking but when you start conspiring, I get nervous.”
“Dahlia, Pat and I talk all the time.”
He stretched out his calves and lifted his arms over his head, showing the bulges in his arms and flexing those muscles. I knew exactly what those arms felt like wrapped around my body. Ugh! Get your mind out of the gutter.
“Yeah, but you can’t deny there’s tension,” I said, stretching out my burning calves too and focusing on the burn of exhausted muscles instead of the fire that had been percolating low in my body all morning at the sight of the two men I loved.
“That’s not what I wanted to talk about,” he growled.
“You can’t deny it’s there,” I scoffed.
“We’re fine.”
“Are we?”
“Dahlia.” His voice was a deep rumble of exasperated warning and I knew I wouldn’t get any farther.
“Fine. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“It’s time to solidify the bonds,” he said.
“What does that mean, exactly?” I narrowed my eyes on him and watched his body language like a hawk. As he moved, he shoved all the best parts of him in my eyeline, trying to distract me with the sheer masculinity of him. Bulging muscles and thrusting his pelvis forward to “stretch his back,” my gaze followed his movements with enthusiasm. Glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, he made sure I was watching.
Uh huh. I’m on to you, mister. I scowled at his blatant attempt to distract me into acquiescence.
“You can keep doing that if you want but it’s not going to distract me,” I said, ogling him like he wanted.
Sighing, he stopped and folded his arms over his chest. “Pat doesn’t trust Saeran. I don’t either,” Dean barked.
“You don’t trust anyone who isn’t Pack,” I rebutted, rolling my eyes.
“True.” He grinned slyly at me, tightening things low in my belly.
“Tre,” I said, unable to hide the concern from my voice. “I’ve seen what happens to vampire servants when the vampire dies—” I didn’t want to finish. The thought of Patrick, bloody and dead, tightened everything in my body with dread. But it was the sound of Smarmy’s muffled screams as his body folded in upon itself that never left me. I still had nightmares where his heart thundering on the outside of a jumbled mound of flesh and gore played center stage.
“That won’t happen to you,” he stated, looking me dead in the eye.
“How do you know?” My voice quavered and I couldn’t stop the shiver that crept its way up my spine.
Emerald Fire (A Blushing Death Novel Book 6) Page 3