Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7)

by Amber Kallyn

  He laid a hand on her forehead.

  At the touch, a zap of electrical energy prickled over his skin. The air stirred, bringing the thick scent of springtime and cherry blossoms.

  Her scent.

  The faintest of whispers circled. Far, far away, struggling to come closer, the words broken and distorted. Ignoring the strange sensations, Matt let his magic wash over the woman.

  She woke with a gasp. Tension sang through her taut form. She jumped to her feet, her smoky blue eyes unfocused for only a second. When her gaze cleared she stared hard at Matt.

  He didn't even see her move.

  A sudden increase in magical power rent the air. A heavy hardness slammed into his chest, directly above his heart.

  Matt flew backward through the air and crashed against the stone wall on the other side of the room. Pain stabbed along his spine. Ice cold tendrils slid through his lungs when he breathed. He shook his head violently to clear a slight dizziness.

  The Rogue remained in front of the sofa, tensely crouched, watching him. Her eyes blazed a furious blood red. She bared her teeth, flashing her fangs in warning.

  "It's all right, Anca." Jordan's commanding tone filled the room with the pressure of his strength. "You're safe now. Back in my home."

  The woman slowly straightened. Her gaze ping-ponged between them. Finally she stopped at Matt. Her lush mouth twisted in a scowl. "You attacked me. What exactly did you do to me?" Her voice held an old European lilt that made Matt think of times long ago.

  With gritted teeth, he pretended there was no stabbing pain in his back, his chest, his ribs. He reached his feet without a single flinch. "I saw a strange vampire in my King's territory. We've had issues with Rogues lately—"

  "I know," she cut him off.

  How could this woman, a stranger, know about their local problems?

  Accent thickening to a husky lilt she mumbled, "Găoază."

  Sending Matt reeling in even more surprise, Jordan chuckled. "The good doctor might be a bit abrupt, but I assure you he is not an asshole."

  She replied, "Forgive me if I reserve my judgment."

  Jordan crossed his arms over his chest and watched her with mock fierceness. "Seems you're not as sneaky as you pretend. I had a report after you left, from the kid you asked about. Robby wanted to ensure my visitor made it to see me. Caught by a youth." Jordan chuckled. "So tell me, Anca, how did they both manage to find you?"

  Incensed at his King's tone making him sound like some weakling, Matt strode forward as if he didn't have a care. Or cracked ribs. Possibly a punctured lung by the flash fire of every breath he shallowly took.

  Right now, he had more important concerns. "Who is this woman?" he demanded.

  "Oh, we'll get to that." Jordan continued to watch her. "So how'd you get caught a second time?"

  Was that glee in his King's voice?

  Her eyes faded from crimson to smoky blue. "They both surprised me. For some reason I couldn't sense your young Robby. You sent me to the blood bank. There was an oddity there, distracting me. This one," she pointed at Matt, "didn't give me a chance to say anything. I will not let my guard fall again. I guarantee you that." She spat the words, shooting Matt another angry look.

  Jordan obviously knew her. Why hadn't Matt been told about the visitor, like usual? A fiery poker jabbed at his gut. Had his King suddenly stopped trusting him? Surely Jordan knew Matt couldn't be the traitor.

  A yawning darkness roiled inside him.

  Surely.

  "When are we clueing me in on what's going on?" Matt managed to ask.

  Jordan rubbed his chin. "Have to tell him something. Might as well be the truth."

  The woman studied Matt intently.

  When they both continued to silently stare, making him feel on exhibit, Matt straightened. Through clenched teeth, he gritted out, "What the hell is going on?"

  The woman's expression tightened. "You would trust this man with the fate of your entire clan?"

  "I would," Jordan stated without hesitation, his tone fully confident.

  Pleasure at his King's trust flushed the worry from Matt's soul.

  Jordan's next word's floored him. "Matt Dixon, meet Anca Fieraru. She's been sent by the Magic Council to deal with our remaining Rogues, and perhaps, ferret out our traitor."

  The Council?

  The words spun in Matt's mind like a flash fire of white hot rage. His muscles stiffened, his jaw tightened. "You're from the Magic Council?" he growled.

  His hands fisted, and he took a step back. Bitterness welled at the back of his throat like sulfurous bile. Anger and hatred coursed through his blood.

  Jordan continued, "Now that the two of you have met, I do believe it would be best for all involved for you to work together."

  Shock thrummed through Matt. Work with someone from the Magic Council? Hell no. He wouldn't work with those murdering bastards if his life depended on it.

  He shook his head, looking at Jordan and silently asking him not to force this. Not on him. His King knew very well, and exactly why, Matt despised the Council and all of their corrupt puppets.

  The sympathy in Jordan's expression wasn't comforting, but only made Matt's gut roil harder. In the man's eyes was the surety that Matt would never break his oath to Jordan, or to the clan.

  And the damned man was right.

  Matt might refuse to work with someone from the Council if his life depended on it. But it wasn't his life on the line, now was it?

  It was those of his clan, and their town. Their home.

  He'd do anything to save those who were his.

  He'd work with the devil if need be.

  Even if that devil came from the Council, and was prettily wrapped in an intriguing feminine package like Anca Fieraru.

  ***

  Still silently cursing herself at getting caught, Anca narrowed her eyes at the local Master and King. "I don't think so. I work alone."

  She did everything alone. It was easier that way.

  Working with someone else meant forced proximity, the necessity of talking, learning about them. She didn't particularly care to know the man who'd managed to sneakily knock her out.

  Over six feet tall and built thick, Matt Dixon appeared stuffy in his dress shoes, custom black suit, boring white shirt and black tie. His dark hair didn't match the meticulous clothes. A longish black-brown, it appeared mussed, as if he had a habit of running his fingers through it. His features were strong, just soft enough not to appear harsh. The set of his eyes, his patrician nose and square chin made her think of some Spaniards she'd known a few centuries ago.

  She considered his aura, a flat dark gray with bright crimson flecks. Age radiated from him, strong power brushing over her.

  Though a shiver tickled the back of her neck she refused to show any reaction.

  The earth spirits surrounded her with their comforting warmth. Surprisingly, two of the small flickering forms zipped around the room a couple times, then settled around Matt.

  Strange.

  From his aura, he didn't appear to have any type of nature magic, which would draw the spirits.

  Startled, Anca took a second, more thorough look.

  In fact, there wasn't any other magic running through his blood. Most Arcaine were a mix of races, with power from hidden ancestries. The fey, witches or sorcerers. Or, like her own Romani magic. For a vampire to have nothing else was extremely rare. Yet, the strength he did have was annoyingly intense.

  "A damn Council lapdog. Wonderful." Matt's voice held a rumbling depth that conveyed a calm coolness. It contrasted with the tight, tense way he stood, as if ready to spring if she dared try anything.

  MacDougal's power surged through the room.

  As it washed over her, it was all Anca could do to keep the cloak drawn tight over her own magic, though hiding herself was an ingrained habit born from centuries as a Judge.

  Matt didn't flinch.

  He was nowhere near the age of his King, but the stagg
ering press of strength didn't seem to faze him.

  What kind of power did he have to be unaffected?

  MacDougal straightened regally, his face hard as if unused to being told no, and pinned Anca with a hard gaze. "Matt is one of the town's few doctors. He knows just about everyone who lives around here. They talk to him. Tell him things."

  Matt watched her with a deep fury sparking his brown eyes. Eyes that held a great intelligence, but also shadows of what could only be called hatred.

  Loathing.

  For the Magic Council.

  And for her.

  Slowly, resignation dimmed his anger at MacDougal's command.

  Anca didn't want to work with him either. Question was, did she have a choice? She thought not.

  She forced a grin to curve her lips.

  Matt's eyes narrowed. His wide mouth twisted in a scowl.

  Her smile turned genuine, taunting the man.

  Matt's stare hardened and bled to red. His fangs lengthened, glinted.

  The King clapped his hands twice, as if wrangling wayward children. "Matt can get you answers and details faster than anyone else I can think of. And if trouble arises, he'll have your back."

  She raised a brow.

  Matt stood straighter, uptight and annoyed.

  MacDougal said, "He's half my age, but nearly as powerful as I. In fact, he could be his own territorial Master if he wanted."

  That much power and he was here as an underling? Her suspicions stirred. She wondered if the man had it in him to turn traitor to his own clan.

  She'd seen more betrayals than she could count, both personally and as a Judge. Some had been driven by hate, some by lust, some by revenge. She'd hunted those who sought grand devastation for things others would consider insignificant, or even crazy.

  "If that's the case," she met Matt's gaze straight on, "why aren't you your own Master?"

  He shrugged, but at a look from his King, harshly answered, "It's not my type of thing."

  Which wasn't an answer at all.

  But perhaps there was something to the idea of using him, at least for a day or two. Take the time to check him out as a suspect. "Well then, if you leave me no choice, perhaps it might be wise to accept the offer of assistance."

  Matt's glare turned so chilly Anca was surprised she didn't shiver.

  She continued, "For a couple of days, only. After that, I'll be fine on my own."

  Something flashed across MacDougal's face too fast for her to read.

  Matt on the other hand, seemed to embrace his coldness, remaining etched in ice. After a very long moment, he looked to his King, then sighed. "Fine."

  With another sharp nod, MacDougal stated, "Take Anca to get food. Back to the hospital for a supply of blood. Then escort her to the camp she has in the forest. Once all is done, return to me."

  The look that passed between the men was easy to read.

  Anca wouldn't be the only one doing some spying. Well, turnabout was fair play, after all. She'd just ensure this vampire had nothing of importance to report back to his King and Master about her.

  Matt shook his head, grumbling, "At least they didn't send a damn Judge."

  Anca opened her mouth to tell him that a Judge was exactly who they'd sent.

  A swift look from MacDougal, full of warning power, snapped her mouth shut. Irritated at following his unspoken order, she considered telling Matt anyway. Not quite certain why, she remained quiet.

  The two men moved toward the open window, speaking quietly though they knew she could hear every word. Supposedly, Matt was to keep her protected from all harm.

  She snorted, uncaring at their glances. She could protect herself. When Matt had come upon her at the blood bank, she'd had her guard down, distracted, as she'd told them. The earth spirits, though fewer in town than the forest, had surrounded her. They'd insistently urged her to go further into the hospital.

  It hadn't been the urgency of something dangerous nearby. This had been new.

  A heavy knock pounded at the door. MacDougal answered, then glanced back at Anca and Matt. "I'll return shortly. Make yourselves comfortable." He slipped out and shut the door, leaving them alone in the large room.

  And the room was very large. So why did Matt stay behind her?

  She walked around the room, stopping at the long antique sideboard to look at the dozens of miniature paintings covering the top. Though most were faded, she could make out features that reminded her of both MacDougal and her fellow Judge, Connor Gregory.

  Matt followed her step for step, though he kept a generous distance.

  Voice thick with sarcasm, she finally asked, "Are you worried I'll try to escape, or try to steal something?"

  "Neither." His honeyed brown eyes remained ringed by crimson.

  "Then why are you hovering?"

  Stiffly he reached up and adjusted his already straight tie, then cleared his throat. Taking a couple large steps back, he pinned her with a look. "Better?"

  Barely refraining from rolling her eyes, Anca turned back to the miniatures.

  The vampire King's family, all lost to him by time. Connor had told her of their past, of the attack on their Scottish clan that had turned the both of them. Left them only each other, and a small handful of others, from a family once numbering in the hundreds.

  "MacDougal had a large family, one he lost long ago." The words slipped from her unbidden. "He's recreated it here, with all of you." She glanced over her shoulder to find a spark of something unreadable in Matt's hard expression.

  Shrugging uncomfortably, he muttered, "Jordan tends to gather the misfits and the lost to him." The red in his eyes faded. "We're a clan and we will protect one another." He threw out the last bit like a gauntlet, as if daring her to harm one of theirs.

  Facing him, Anca crossed her arms over her chest and stared him straight on.

  A buzz fired in the air between them. The room turned a few notches warmer. Her breath caught for a small moment. "You do realize I'm here to help."

  "Help?" His lower lip curled in a way that made her pulse thud a bit faster. "Yeah. We'll see. The only thing I need to know is that you're from the Council." His words were full of so much vitriol she had to bite back a flinch.

  The door swung open and MacDougal strode inside, shaking his head. "I thought we might have some information, but it was a false report." He glanced between Anca and Matt, his face twitching. "Is something wrong?"

  "Nothing," Matt was quick to reply.

  Anca didn't argue.

  The King shot Matt a pointed look, as if cautioning him to behave and be nice. Anca bit back a laugh. Let the cold, uptight man try anything. She wasn't the one MacDougal should be worried about.

  Uncomfortably, Matt tugged at his tie again. "Are you ready to leave?"

  Wishing she could reply any other way, she said, "Guess so."

  His wide shoulders straight and tight, Matt sent his King one last pleading glance. MacDougal watched him with sympathy, but shook his head.

  Matt turned to the door. "Then let's go."

  Anca followed him down a couple long hallways. Like the King's room, the rest of the place didn't resemble the inside a stone castle.

  In the front entrance, the boy, Robby, was flying down a huge sweeping staircase. He saw them, his eyes lighting happily.

  He jumped the last few stairs and hurried closer. "Hey, you're back. Anca right?"

  Matt shot the kid a dark look.

  Robby faltered, then stopped. He asked her, "Are you all right?"

  Swallowing a laugh at the obvious concern for her safety, Anca replied, "I am. Thank you."

  Matt hurried her along. Outside, he stopped at a large, dark SUV, grumbling beneath his breath as he opened the passenger door for her. He drove from the castle down an empty road cut through the forest. As she'd suspected, between hidden sentries and guarded gates, the place was more than well fortified.

  Tracking the security wasn't enough to prevent other questions from c
ircling her mind incessantly.

  And the largest looming question was MacDougal stopped her from telling Matt all who she was.

  Anca finally asked, "Why do you hate the Magic Council so much?"

  When Matt spoke, it was with short clipped tones. "What does it matter?"

  "Because your hatred of them, of me, may affect your ability to stay out of my way," she told him truthfully.

  "I won't get in your way," he replied. "I am very good at what I can do. But we're not here to make friends and chit chat, are we Miss Fieraru?"

  At each guarded security checkpoint, they were waved through without being stopped.

  "No." Thankfully. "But if we're going to work together, even for only a day or two, I need to know how much of a burden you'll be." She could be practical.

  He stared at the road. "I assure you I will never be a burden to anyone, Lady. As for your employers, let's just say I've seen enough atrocities committed in the name of the Magic Council and their Laws that I can't stomach much more. If you work for them, then you're no better than the rest."

  The Council made the laws. Enforced them. When dealing with big, bad nasties, smiling pretty and attempting to negotiate just didn't work every time. Of course, that led to bitterness and some who professed the Council must be evil. But those people tended to be like the mortals' conspiracy theorists. Not many paid them much heed. She certainly knew better.

  Besides, it wasn't the Magic Council, or even the Arcaine races, who were the biggest monsters in this world. Mortals were just as capable of committing heinous crimes. She'd gladly hunted them the same as any out of control Arcaine. Evil was evil, no matter the form it took.

  As a Judge, she was also executioner.

  Some called her assassin.

  While she occasionally regretted certain aspects of her job, she never doubted the necessity. "The Laws and the Council exist to protect peace. Not only between the Arcaine races, but us and the mortals. Without them chaos would reign."

  He grunted. "Yeah. Tell me that once you've seen their damned Judges mow down hundreds of people. Destroy entire villages of mortals, killing everyone, innocent or not, in their path. All of it sanctioned by your precious Council." Dark agony radiated from Matt.

  A familiar companion she herself knew well.