The Kala Trilogy: An Urban Fantasy Box Set

by Teagan Kearney

  “What happened?”

  “Two of the extra deputies we’d put out to patrol the area around St. Raphael’s noticed a girl heading into the woods as if she were going for a jog. Naturally, they followed. They didn’t realize she was a member of the were pack, and she moved faster than they expected. By the time they caught up with her, Forked Lightning and his pack had the girl surrounded but the perp got away. He’s brought her in, and she’s going to work with a police sketch artist. With luck we should be able to get a picture we can use as he didn’t have enough time to glamour her.”

  “And I’m here to…?”

  Bill lowered his voice, “I want you to keep an eye on that young pup and keep him in line if things start to go south. He needs to understand co-operation is how the law operates in the real world. He’ll face serious consequences if he thinks he can play vigilante and by-pass human laws. I don’t expect you to say that, but you being here shows your trust in us, something he clearly doesn’t have. Okay?” He took her arm and walked her into the station. “Dawson.” The officer behind the reception desk looked up, “Anybody needs me, I’m in the interview room.”

  “I’ve no real clout with Forked Lightning,” Tatya kept her voice low, the image of their hands clasped together vowing to help each other as Changing Sky lay dying flashed before her, “but he can’t ignore me either.”

  The temperature in the room could have preserved food for a week. Forked Lightning sat on the far side of the table, glaring at an invisible spot on the wall, and ignoring everyone. An older man with a stoic expression on his face was next to him, along with a defiant looking young girl. On this side of the table, Branton sat waiting, his notebook in front of him.

  The girl looked familiar. Then Tatya remembered. She was one of the teenagers she’d given a protective crystal talisman to in the cabin out in the woods. The older man was her father.

  “Morning, everyone.” Bill was all business. “Ms. Rourke, if you would sit here,” he pointed to a seat at the end of the table, equidistant from both sides, “we can begin.” He’d seated Tatya in between the two groups, indicating her neutrality. Corwin might be blunt but he wasn’t stupid.

  Tatya gulped the rest of the coffee down quick. She’d more than a sneaking suspicion she’d need the caffeine to get through this meeting.

  “Alice Leyon isn’t it?

  The girl nodded.

  “No need to be alarmed, you aren’t in any trouble.” Nobody missed the emphasis on the ‘you’, He wasn’t just soothing the girl, he was informing Forked Lightning where the actual problem lay.

  A quick knock on the door and a red-haired woman poked her head inside the room. “Murphy’s ready when you are.”

  “Thank you. Miss Leyon, if you and your father will follow the officer, we can start work on the sketch.”

  The two of them looked at Forked Lightning as if checking that was okay.

  Forked Lightning nodded, and they left.

  In the silence that followed, Tatya opened her shields. Past experience told her Forked Lightning wouldn’t recognize what she was doing. Seeing auras and reading people’s state of mind and emotions was something she had learned to deliberately shut out, otherwise it was like simultaneously receiving half a dozen television channels. When she hit puberty, and the ability first developed, she’d ended up with violent migraines. Until Aunt Lil figured out why she kept being called to St. Raphael’s emergency room, after sending her healthy niece off to school.

  Corwin knew she’d detect any visible signs of lying as the tell-tale jagged spikes or flashes in auras were easy to spot.

  “Okay, seeing as how you’re in charge of your pack, explain what happened.” Bill paused. “From the beginning.”

  “Sheriff, I hope you’re not harassing me because I live on the reservation, but in the interests of bringing the culprit to justice, and as I’ve informed your officers three times, Alice ignored the instructions we gave to all our young women and went running. She hopes to compete at college level and went out for a practice run without telling anybody. It was pure luck that several of us were in the vicinity. And, again, as I’ve already said before, we were simply good citizens looking to protect any young woman, not just our own, who might be out there forgetful of the danger this killer presents.” Forked Lightning reeled off his speech with the ease of practice.

  “You expect me to believe you and your buddies were what? Just passing by that particular spot when the attack took place?” The sheriff’s voice was flat.

  “Yes. A coincidence, and a very lucky one at that.”

  Forked Lightning presented a facade of calm restraint, but his aura was bright purple; the flashing sparks and red lines expanding and shrinking as he spoke showed he was lying. The brightness of his auric haze told her he was expending a tremendous amount of energy. She suspected he was fighting his beast as it fought to surface and vent its rage.

  Tatya scratched her right hand. She and Corwin had long ago worked out several signals for situations when he needed immediate clues as to a suspect’s emotional state. This one meant he’s lying big time, but don’t confront him.

  “Right. We’re done here.”

  Forked Lightning looked at the sheriff in surprise. “Is that it?”

  “Yes, thank you for coming. We have your statement, and will contact you if we need to ask you any further questions.” Corwin leaned forward till he was eye to eye with Forked Lightning. “But I’m being polite, and today I’m just giving you a warning, young man. If I catch you staging any more stupid stunts, you won’t even have time to blink before I lock you up.”

  Forked Lightning’s mouth tightened at the word stupid, but he swallowed whatever response he wanted to make.

  “I need you to give me your word on this.”

  “Sheriff. You have my word.”

  Tatya wanted to grin at the incongruousness of Forked Lightning’s aura sparking furiously while he calmly sat and gave a promise she would swear he had no intention of keeping.

  “Let’s go see if Murphy’s got something we can use.”

  As Corwin led them along the corridor, Forked Lightning ignored Tatya.

  She didn’t care; he was the one with the attitude problem. It hurt a bit, though. She’d helped him when he asked, and they now shared a link, yet he still regarded her as an outsider. But she shrugged it off. She had more important things to worry about, such as where on earth was Vanse?

  The three of them squeezed into a room where Alice sat next to Murphy at a computer, while her father stood behind her.

  “Got anything useful?”

  “Yes, sir. Printing as we speak.” He offered the sheet of paper to Corwin.

  Bill’s face blanched as he studied the sketch “You’re positive the man who spoke to you looked like this?” He thrust the paper in front of Alice.

  She glanced at Forked Lightning.

  “Tell them if it’s him,” he instructed. “If they know what he looks like, they can catch him.”

  “Yes, that’s him.” The defiance was gone, and her voice was small and frightened.

  “It’s okay. We’ll get him,” Corwin told her. “You did good.” He turned to Forked Lightning. “Do you recognize this man?”

  Forked Lightning glanced at the paper. “Nobody I know kills innocents. But to answer your question, no, I’ve never seen him around town or anywhere else.”

  “And next time, call us. Don’t play vigilante.”

  “I’m not playing, Sheriff. I’m serious.”

  After the three weres left and after instructing Murphy to print out more copies for distribution, the sheriff studied the picture.

  “Well, Bill. Are you going to show it me or not?”

  “Yes, of course. But prepare yourself. This is…”

  “What? Our worst nightmare?”

  “Yes.” Corwin handed her the paper.

  Tatya gazed at the image. Printed in color, the sketch showed a man, his halo of shoulder length red-gold c
urls surrounding symmetrical aquiline features, and a pair of startling crystal blue eyes staring out at her.

  Corwin was right.

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Panic

  “How is this possible, Bill?” Tatya’s voice was barely audible. Seeing Angelus’s face had sucked the breath right out of her body, and she’d have collapsed if the sheriff hadn’t pulled out a chair and guided her into it.

  “You’re the expert in the supernatural. You tell me.” Bill sat next to her, picking the sketch up off the floor where it had fallen. “I mean, that image is pretty distinctive. It’s unlikely she’s made a mistake.”

  Tatya didn’t answer. The Bandrui chorus thrummed louder. She didn’t understand how he accomplished it, but, no doubt about it, Angelus had returned. The sentence repeated itself in her mind as she remembered his hands squeezing her throat, and struggling to breathe as the demon dragged her before the legions he’d gathered in his pursuit of her. She felt his power trickling in hot globules through her skin, his fingers sending pulses of agonizing pain.

  Then Bill shook her. “Tatya! Tatya! You all right?”

  She started. That was the past, this was the present. No. It couldn’t be him. But she shivered at the menacing prospect of a repeat. “Sorry, Bill. For a minute there...”

  “Bad memories. Yeah, I know.” The bags under Bill’s eyes were puffier, and the lines at the edges of his mouth and eyes revealed the toll this business was taking on him.

  “Listen, I’m sending an escort with you, and leaving a deputy to watch your place. Day and night. No buts, Tatya. If this is Angelus and not a wannabe, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything possible to protect you.”

  Orleton was too small for someone not to notice Vanse’s vamps and Bill’s men lurking near her shop. It’d be a wonder if she ever did any more business. But she didn’t protest. Neither of these measures would make any difference if it was Angelus. She had to ask. “Do you think it’s possible someone’s impersonating him?”

  “Until we catch him, we won’t know. There are no signs of any army from Hell and until the evidence is clearer, don’t be too convinced it is him.”

  Tatya breathed out. “I’ll go and see Vanse first. He needs to know about this.” She indicated the paper.

  “Okay. Saves me a visit. How are you two...?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “If I can help, say so, Tatya.”

  A sudden rush of warmth for Bill bloomed. “Will do. You having my back means a lot.”

  Tatya left quickly, not wanting to bawl her eyes out in the middle of the sheriff’s office. It wasn’t till she turned the key in the ignition that the impact of Angelus’s possible return struck her. Vanse. She had to see him, tell him what they’d discovered. Although she’d had a tenuous intermittent connection with the demon, it hadn’t been the same as the bond with Vanse. But the vampire master also had a centuries old latent tie to Angelus. Her breath came in short sharp bursts, and her pulse fluttered unevenly. ‘Breathe,’ she heard Changing Sky’s words in her mind. ‘In slowly, hold, out slowly.’ She managed a few breaths but the tightening tension in her chest could only be relieved by activating the link to Vanse.

  The golden chain sprang to life. “What is it, Tatya. You’re upset. Has something happened to you?”

  As soon as he spoke, she slumped with relief. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” And the morning’s events spilled out in a rush. She wanted to dispense with the formalities, charge over to St. Raphael’s, leap into his arms, and never leave. But she hesitated. The other night, she’d assumed he was delaying the next step in their relationship for reasons of his own, and now saw his unease about his dreams in a different light. After seeing the sketch of the killer, his hesitancy appeared rooted in a reality whose nature they had yet to grasp. “Have you had any more dreams?”

  “No.”

  “Are you at the hospital? Can I come over?” She tried to keep the pleading out of her voice.

  “I will come to you later. I love you, Tatya.”

  Her heart did a weird flip. This was the first time he’d said those words. “I love you too. See you soon.” The words popped out before she had time to think, then the connection faded. She drove home, a great big grin on her face. He said he loved her, and the world was put to rights. It had been her love for Aunt Lil and Sean that got her through the previous year’s ordeal, although the Bandrui and Changing Sky’s shamanic magic had strengthened her power. Yet the plain truth of the matter was she’d never have made it without Vanse’s link. Now he’d declared his feelings, and she’d found the courage to reciprocate. After losing her parents her emotions had frozen, and as she grew up, she’d developed the habit of ending any romantic relationship with a chance at success, because that small child inside was terrified of losing someone else she loved. But somehow Vanse had persevered and surmounted those barriers. Yes, life was often sad, and bad, very bad, but you had to grab those other moments with both hands, the ones that made everything worthwhile, and make the most of them because no one could take your memories.

  She parked outside her shop and checked the street. The black van with tinted windows further along belonged to the vamps Vanse had sent to protect her. One stayed inside the vehicle, with at least one more on patrol. She’d always found their presence annoying, and sometimes even sinister. Now she saw them as signs of his need to save her from harm. Even the numerous times he’d stabbed her to death had been in an effort to defend her from a greater danger. She smiled as a car pulled into the space behind her, Corwin’s escort. She realized that for a lot of her life she’d been too angry at the curve balls Fate threw at her, to appreciate the good fortune she enjoyed.

  One pm sharp, Tatya turned the ‘Closed’ sign around. She’d catch up with the accounts during lunch. She started up her laptop and watched the screen perform its digital gymnastics. By half past four, she’d served half a dozen customers, booked two healings for later in the week, and nearly finished the bookkeeping.

  She’d just sat down, a cup of fragrant steaming sage and rose tea next to the computer, tapping the figures from her calculator into the final column of figures on the spreadsheet, when the connection to Vanse blazed to life. She gasped, doubling over as blinding barbs of agony fired along the bond, overloading her senses with excruciating pain. Then it was over, the connection cut. Vanse. Someone had attacked him. Pulling on her power to banish the throbbing remnants of the contact, she reopened the link. Zilch. No! Not this again. Why did he raise his barriers as if she was a delicate flower that the merest whiff of trouble would blow away? Didn’t he know her better than that by now? Didn’t he remember she’d sent that obscene demon back to where he belonged? She tried again. And again. She kept trying until everywhere she looked a reddish mist floated in front of her eyes.

  She slammed the computer lid down, grabbed the truck keys, and within minutes, pulled out into the late afternoon traffic, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car. The idea of Vanse being hurt in some way had her pressing the accelerator to the floor. A flashing blue light in the rear mirror caught her attention. She slowed and pulled over to the curb. The last thing she wanted was a police car chasing her through town.

  “You okay, Ms. Rourke?” Branton, shoe-brush hair gelled into submission, eyebrows squeezed together, his face a picture of concern, stood at the car window.

  “I’m okay. Honestly.”

  “If it’s an emergency, I can give you an escort, use the siren if you’d like?”

  How like Corwin to spare his deputy to guard her if he couldn’t come himself. “That’s not necessary, but thanks for the offer.” She gave the young man a false smile. The minute he disappeared from the rear mirror, she accelerated again.

  The hospital gates forced her to slow down, but she slewed the truck into a vacant parking space near the main entrance, leaped out and sprinted around to the rear of the hospital. Yes, the door was where she remembered. She shoved it open, and headed for Vanse’s l
air, taking the stairs two and three at a time. Seeing him, knowing he was alive was what mattered. Vampires were difficult to kill. One perk to compensate for needing human blood to survive.

  When she reached the basement, she slowed, walking softly, and listening for the slightest sound. She didn’t want any more hassles with newbie vamps. Flicking her shields up, she extended her senses and scryed for any unwelcome presences. None. She headed toward the hidden doors to Vanse’s lair. Outlined in faint purple flickering lines, Vanse’s wards still held. Good, that was something, though her newfound talent to find and pass through them freaked her out a tad. She crept down the steps, still nothing. Where was everyone? She’d never been in Vanse’s lair when the place wasn’t buzzing with activity. The conference room cum ballroom lay on the lowest level. Along with the hidden escape routes. Perhaps he’d called a meeting to deal with the attack or emergency or whatever it was.

  She kept going. How many levels below ground was she? Three? Four? When she reached what she hoped was the lowest level, she heard a muffled commotion and stopped outside the only door in the corridor. Putting her ear to the door, her heart thundered at the yelling, roars, and screams coming from inside. She tried to quell the sudden fear hammering in her brain. What if Vanse was dead and his followers were in a blood frenzy of bereavement? She wouldn’t stand a chance, even if they remembered he’d named her as consort. The demise of a vampire master traumatized his followers, whose uncontrolled grief could cause a bloodbath if anything disturbed them in the immediate aftermath of their loss. But if she fled, they’d sense her panic. Their predatory nature would rise to the fore, and she’d become the prey. Making it to the top of the stairs and taking them on one by one wouldn’t help because she was here to find out what had happened to Vanse.

  She took a deep breath, rapped loudly, and entered. The room was full of vampires in absolute disorder, and the words Dante’s Inferno flashed into her brain.

  Some were hysterical, screaming their heads off and restrained by others. Most sobbed, their faces streaked with blood tears as they tore at their clothes, and beat their chests. One male stood rhythmically banging his forehead against the wall, and a few more rolled on the floor wailing as if Judgment Day had arrived, found them lacking, and condemned them to an eternity of whatever vampires believed Hell consisted of. Others wept silently in corners, their shoulders shaking with emotion.