Dark Warrior

by Alexis Morgan

  Placing one hand on the brick wall and the other on his talisman, he closed his eyes and slowly entered the alley. Filth and lust and fury burned along his nerve endings, making him queasy and sick to his soul. Oh, yeah—the arsonist had stood right here, cheering on the fire and soaking up the pain and suffering from a safe distance. Ranulf couldn't wait to get his hands on him.

  And judging by the strength of the emotional stain the killer had left behind, the bastard wasn't only Kyth but a Talion as well. One of Dame Judith's personal warriors had started this fire to watch humans die—may the gods help them all.

  The knowledge would hit her hard. He'd like to keep that little bit of information to himself until he stripped the culprit of his stolen energy and safely watched him breathe his last, but he couldn't risk it.

  It was time to go. He'd learned all he could from the scene.

  Chapter Three

  Sandor logged off his computer and stood up to stretch. Normally at the start of a new mission, his energy ran high as plans and ideas swirled through his brain. Right now, all he felt was anger.

  Why in hell had the Dame called in that Viking berserker for backup? She knew they could hardly stand to be in the same city, much less the same room.

  Sandor would do as she asked, of course, but Ranulf was a loose cannon. The man had probably raped and plundered his way across half of Europe before Judith had found him and brought him to heel. And no one fed off the dark energies for centuries and remained stable. But their Dame had a blind spot when it came to Ranulf. Why?

  A soft knock on the bedroom door interrupted his silent tirade. He crossed to the door and opened just as Josiah was preparing to knock again.

  "What?" He grimaced, knowing how surly he'd sounded. "I'm sorry, Josiah. What can I do for you?"

  The butler nodded slightly, accepting the apology. "Dame Judith is holding lunch until you are ready to join her, sir. Shall I tell her that you'll be down momentarily?"

  "I was just coming. Please tell her to start without me." He started to close the door.

  "Mr. Thorsen and I both suggested that exact thing an hour ago, but she insisted on waiting."

  Josiah kept his face carefully blank, but there was a glint of censure in his eye that Sandor didn't appreciate. Hell, it wasn't as if he'd been holed up in his room twiddling his thumbs. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the headache he'd gotten from growing frustration and hours spent staring at the computer screen. At least he had some answers to show for it.

  He headed into the dining room, where the combined scents of coffee and food had his stomach rumbling. Dame Judith once again sat at the head of the table with the afternoon paper spread out before her. Ranulf stood looking out the window, his back to the room, but Sandor knew that the Viking was fully aware of him. The man hadn't survived for centuries by being careless. As Sandor crossed to the table and took his usual place, Ranulf followed suit. Judith put her paper aside.

  She smiled at Sandor. "How has your morning been?"

  "Very productive. I've been digging into Kerry Logan's life. I have her home address and where she works, so later this afternoon I can see if she has reappeared."

  "Was there anything more about her on the noon news?" Ranulf leaned back in his chair to give Josiah room to place food on the table.

  Judith frowned. "Not much. The reporters are all describing her as 'heroic, but elusive.' They won't give up until they find her."

  Which would make Sandor's job harder. She'd definitely be skittish if the press succeeded in running her to ground. "I'll let you know when I find her."

  Ranulf threw in his two cents' worth. "I visited the site this morning. Next I'll check with the authorities to see what they know about the arsonist."

  "Good. I'll feel better once we start getting some answers." Judith poured herself some coffee. "Hopefully we'll be able to identify the renegade quickly, though I haven't found anything specific to point us in the right direction yet. I try to read all of the area newspapers, but with everything else I have to do, I often only have time to skim the headlines."

  Ranulf gave her a rare smile. "And here I thought ruling the Kyth was a piece of cake."

  "Show her respect, Viking!" Sandor clenched his fists in his lap. The Grand Dame deserved to be treated with the same formal courtesy as a member of high royalty. Ranulf never failed to make him crazy.

  Ranulf's eyes burned hot with energy. "And how are you going to make me?"

  "Enough, you two!"

  Sandor needed to leave before he lost complete control. Rising to his feet, he said, "I'm sorry, ray lady. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get back to work. As soon as I know anything more, I'll let you know."

  "Thank you, Sandor." Judith smiled up at him as she patted him on the arm. "Having you here has eased my mind."

  As Sandor walked away, he tried to hide his shock. When had she gotten so thin? Her hand felt way too frail. No one knew the Dame's real age for certain, but she was older than Ranulf, and the Viking remembered events that had happened close to a thousand years ago.

  Dame Judith had always been a force to be reckoned with, but the loss of her Consort had been hard for her. When Rolf had died, Sandor hadn't been the only one to worry that they might lose Judith, too. Slowly, she had picked up the pieces and moved on, but it clearly had been a struggle.

  Back inside his room, he booted up his laptop.

  He'd start with Kerry Logan's finances and go from there, looking for a way into her life. One way or another, he was about to become her new best friend.

  Ranulf watched Sandor leave. He didn't really hate the man, but his presence was a constant itch under his skin. The other Talion had much in common with the knights of the Crusades—too damn noble for his own good. It was a shame the pup had been born too late to be one of the Knights Templar, because he had all the makings of a martyr. Idiot.

  "Stop baiting Sandor!" Judith snapped. "He serves me as well as you do. It would be better for everyone concerned if you two could find some common ground."

  "We have. He hates me and I hate him." He knew he was treading on shaky ground, but he couldn't help himself.

  A sudden jolt of high-powered energy flattened him back in his seat as Dame Judith held her hand out toward him. "That's enough, Ranulf Thorsen! I will have peace in my home!" She kept him pinned for several seconds before easing back on her control. "I am well aware of how hard it is for you to be around crowds anymore, which is why I allow you far more leeway than I do my other Talions. Do not mistake my understanding for weakness."

  "I have never failed you, Grand Dame Judith, and I have given you my oath yet again," he growled, falling back on formality to express his own displeasure. "But I grow weary of Sandor's constant questioning of my control and my honor. I will do my best to work with him, but if he continues to push me, I will push back."

  Judith finally released him, her shoulders sagging with the effort it had taken to hold him. "I will speak to him, too. And I know your honor is my own. I believed that was true when you first swore allegiance to me, and I believe that today." She held out her right hand, where she wore the heavy signet ring of her office.

  Ranulf leaned forward and kissed the ring, just as he had centuries ago. "Don't bother yourself with Sandor, my lady. You can trust him to do his job, and I'll do mine. With luck our paths won't cross any more than is absolutely necessary." He softened the remark with a small smile. "Now, unless you have further need of me, I will see what leads I can find on the arsonist."

  "Thank you, Ranulf. Do you have your cell phone with you?"

  Most of the time he hated the intrusive nature of technology in all its forms, but he accepted the necessity of it when he was on a mission. "Yeah, I've got it."

  She followed him toward the door. "And you understand how it works?" The laughter in her eyes belied the stern look she gave him.

  Judith was the only person who had ever teased him; he would miss that when she was gone. Feeling
daring, he leaned down to kiss her cheek. "I'll promise to keep in touch if you promise to get some rest. The Kyth can get by without you at the helm for one day."

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and allowed that straight spine to sag a bit. "It's a deal."

  Her easy acquiescence worried him. He would've offered to share his energy with her, but his own control was too shaky.

  "Tell Sandor that you need to feed," he told her bluntly. "He might as well make himself useful before he leaves the house."

  "Ranulf, I've already warned you about talking that way." She shooed him out the door. "I'll be fine."

  But she wouldn't be, not for much longer, and they both knew it. He grieved for the eventual loss of his one friend. For their people, the world would be a far colder place when Dame Judith drew her last breath. Once she was gone he would retreat from society, ending his thousand years of service with the solitude of his mountain home. Not exactly freedom, but as close as he was likely to get.

  Outside, he decided to pay a cold call on the man in charge of the investigation. Thanks to the Dame's many connections, Ranulf had an almost endless variety of credentials that would convince the man to share information with him. This time he'd be an independent adjuster for an insurance company. Any number of people could be making claims for damages arising from the fire, making it impossible for an overworked arson investigator to double-check everybody that approached him about it.

  In the Packard, Ranulf rummaged through his briefcase for his stack of business cards, and soon had everything he needed for the part. For the first time, he regretted bringing the Packard instead of his four-wheel drive. How many insurance company employees could afford such a car? But it was too late to worry about it.

  The important thing was to find the Talion renegade and eliminate him as a threat. Just thinking about the man's betrayal had Ranulf holding the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, his fingers burning with the need to fight. With considerable effort, he drew upon the dwindling supply of energy stored in his talisman to regain control. He'd have to replenish himself soon, if he had any hope of passing as normal when he met with the investigator.

  Glancing up at the sun, he prayed to the gods for a quick resolution. Considering the strength of the stain the renegade Talion had left behind in that alley, Ranulf was up against the most powerful opponent he'd faced in centuries. Success would require all of his considerable concentration and control, two things that he was in short supply of and had been for far too long.

  Adding in the temptation of a certain Kyth woman, he was seriously screwed. When the stoplight changed, he peeled out as if the hounds of hell had been on his heels, concentrating on the sweet taste of speed and fresh air. Maybe if he didn't think about Kerry Logan, he could stay focused. He downshifted and headed downtown.

  Once again Kerry found herself riding with Coop. "Thanks for picking me up, but I could've taken a cab."

  "It's no bother. Besides, I needed to talk to you." He jerked his head toward the file laying on the seat between them. "Take a peek in there."

  She opened the file—and found herself staring right into the face of the man from the alley. Next to the picture was the sketch she'd provided to Coop and the police.

  "It's him."

  Coop kept his eyes on the road. "You sure nailed his likeness, right down to that small scar on his chin. We enlarged that from one of the crowd shots we took."

  She studied the picture. How could someone who looked so normal have such crazed eyes without anyone around him noticing? He'd been hovering on the outside of the crowd when the picture had been taken. Even in the grainy photo she could feel the sick intensity of his interest in the fire, as if the flames fed some need inside him.

  "Got any leads on who he is?" she asked. He'd played far too prominently in her dreams last night. She'd sleep much better once he was locked up.

  Coop slowed for a stoplight. "No, but we'll find him." He looked over at her. "Sure you don't have someone you can stay with for a while? I'm afraid you'll be a sitting duck in your apartment."

  "I can't live my life hiding, and I won't put my friends in danger by bringing them to his attention. Besides, if you run his picture in the paper, everyone will know who he is. That will eliminate any need for him to come after me."

  Coop shook his head. "Don't think for one minute that we can predict what a psycho will or won't do. Running his picture in the paper is a crapshoot. Someone might recognize him and come forward fast enough for us to net the bastard before he runs, but he's just as likely to be watching to see if we're onto him. At the first sign that we're closing in, he could go on the attack. And if he was willing to murder a whole club full of people, he won't hesitate over killing one."

  "Well, thanks for scaring me spitless, Coop. But I won't allow this man to take my life away from me. I worked too long and too hard to get where I am, to go into hiding." Despite her bravado, she felt cornered. She yanked on her shoulder restraint, trying to loosen even its small hold on her.

  "Shit." Coop pulled to the curb a block away from her apartment.

  Parked outside her building was a van from the local news channel. They'd found her. Oddly enough, Kerry felt relieved. No more trying to hide. The longer she evaded them, the more determined the reporters were likely to become.

  "Is there a rear entrance? I could drop you off in back and then circle around," Coop offered.

  She patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. I've faced worse things than a few microphones. It's time to get back to real life, and I can't do that if I'm playing hide-and-seek with them."

  "You've got guts, young lady." He pulled back out into the street. "A word of advice, then: don't volunteer anything, keep your answers short, and don't let them push you around."

  Kerry nodded as he parked in front of her building. Drawing a deep breath, she stepped out of the car and walked over to the van.

  She knocked on the driver's window. When he rolled it down, she smiled and asked, "Are you looking for me, by any chance?"

  The startled look on his face made her laugh as three people scrambled out of the van. She stepped back to give them room, then realized more reporters were pouring out of cars up and down the street.

  Feeling exposed, she waited on the sidewalk for the reporters to get set up. Coop hovered off to the side, staying close enough to step in if she needed him.

  "Okay, Ms. Logan, on a count of three the camera will start rolling."

  Her heartbeat ticked off the seconds, and then the inquisition began.

  Sandor watched as the last of the reporters finally drove away. He'd studied her from his parking spot across the street, learning what he could from her body language.

  So far, he was impressed. The press was obviously eating up whatever she said. At first glance there was a fragile air about her, due to her slender build and dark eyes that looked too big for her face, but her looks were deceptive. Even with the crowd of news-hungry reporters surrounding her, she stood ramrod straight and calmly answered all of their questions.

  Finally, she held up her hand to signal she'd had enough. Even from a distance, he could feel the shadows in her eyes and her growing need to bolt for the safety of her apartment.

  An older man who'd been hovering at the edge of the crowd started forward, but when Kerry glanced in his direction and shook her head, he immediately retreated.

  Once the reporters had backed off, Kerry smiled and waved at the unknown man, then headed to her apartment, her head held high. Sandor was willing to bet that she'd collapse as soon as she was inside with the door locked. The amount of energy she'd burned maintaining control in front of the reporters would have left her drained and shaken.

  She was strong, but if she didn't learn to tend to her body's needs soon, she was going to go down in flames. And it would be a damn shame to let a woman that beautiful, Kyth or not, go to waste. This assignment was suddenly a lot more interesting.

  Now all he had to do was plan h
is approach. He'd hacked into her financial records and made an interesting discovery—the woman liked to dance. Her credit card bill showed charges from a variety of local clubs two or three nights a week. She'd also purchased season tickets to a couple of the local sports teams. Interesting.

  She appeared to be unaware of her Kyth heritage, but judging from her predilection for crowds, she'd learned how to meet her physical needs pretty efficiently. The life energy she needed from humans would be thick in the highly charged atmosphere of sporting events and crowded dance floors. Had someone taught her that trick, or had she stumbled upon it on her own?

  A movement at the end of the block made Sandor sit up straight and curse. What the hell was Ranulf doing prowling around here? His assignment was the arsonist, not the woman. Sandor wanted to remain inconspicuous, and Ranulf was anything but, with that red hair and shoulders that would do an NFL linebacker proud.

  It didn't take long for the Viking to reach Sandor's car. He slid into the passenger seat, taking up way too much room as usual.

  "I see she made it home safely." Ranulf's gaze was pinned on the second-floor window of her apartment. "I made a cold call on the arson investigator, Maynard Cooper. He blew me off until later this afternoon, so I staked out his car and followed him to the hotel where he'd stashed her last night, then here." He turned briefly in Sandor's direction. "She handled the reporters well, but I'm betting she's pretty strung out by now."

  Sandor nodded. "I know. She was burning energy like crazy, and her reserves have to be low. From what I can tell, she spends a lot of time in dance clubs and baseball games."

  Ranulf continued to stare out the window. "That'll be your in with her, then."

  "How about your end of things? Any news on the arsonist?" If he hadn't been looking straight at Ranulf, he would have missed the sudden tightening of Ranulf's jaw.

  Ranulf turned his ice-blue eyes back toward Sandor. "He's definitely Kyth. I'm hoping to learn more when I meet with the investigator."