Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7)

by Amber Kallyn

  She more than hoped.

  Except, so far, she was a dozen stumbling steps behind the Rogues, just like everyone else.

  "Good." Shane scratched his chin. "On another subject. You ever fought a siren before?"

  Startled, she forced a neutral expression to her face. "Once."

  He stayed silent, patiently waiting for more.

  "I was part of a team to subdue, capture and relocate a young siren, from a populated inland bay she'd somehow found herself in, to a more secluded island, far from people."

  "How did it go?"

  Anca laughed lightly. "Perfectly to plan." When he began to look relieved, she added, "The Council sent two groups of twenty warriors, plus a contingency of thirteen witches each."

  He grunted. "Tell me honestly. Should we try to call in backup before facing this creature? I'm not letting anyone go on a fool's mission."

  Weighing her words carefully, Anca shared her assessment. "Take every legend you've ever heard about these creatures and multiply it by ten or so. What will happen if, with the sunrise, the siren is let loose once more? Do you think she'll leave this town, or anything—anyone—around it, alone?"

  "Not so easy then?" He raised a sardonic brow. "Guess I better go make the best of the time before the meeting." The Keeper strode off to his truck, shoulders hunched deep in thought.

  Anca glanced at her pocket watch, another memento of days so far in the past even the memories were faded. The clock showed it barely past eleven. The tension of the fight had stretched the sense of time.

  Hours still remained until the meeting with the witch.

  Finding herself alone, with no clues to follow, a sweep of weariness spilled over Anca. The town, so far from nature, was the last place she wanted to be right now. And for the first time in years—decades—centuries—she found herself touched by loneliness.

  Wishing for more than just the stubbornly lingering scent of minty male.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After a restless few hours stuck at home under orders to eat, and impossibly, to relax, Matt hung up the call with his King and left his house. He'd been commanded to stop and speak to the sheriff on his way to pick up Anca and offer her a ride to the castle.

  He drove to Shane Spencer's place, pulling up in front of the narrow, three story house. Though it was nearing midnight, the man was certain to be awake. Shane rarely slept.

  Matt hurried up the stairs to the wraparound porch and was about to knock on the door when his senses alerted him to someone's presence. He spotted the sheriff on the swing at the end of the wooden porch.

  "Shane," Matt said.

  "Glad to see you. Come. Let's speak."

  Matt weaved through the scattered chairs and tables. "Jordan said you needed to talk to me?"

  "I want you to come along when I speak to the pack, sometime in the next few days."

  Alert, Matt leaned back against the porch rail, opposite Shane. "Why? What happened?"

  The sheriff filled Matt in on the near brawl in town. "If Miss Fieraru hadn't been there, blood would have been shed before I arrived." He mumbled something under his breath about impossible shields messing with his magic. "None of my alerts sounded like they should have. Again."

  "Why didn't you arrest the wolves if they started it?"

  Shane leveled his gaze. "If I arrested everyone who tried fighting inside the city, the jail would overflow. And every Arcaine arrest would have to be reported to the Council. You'd wish that on the pack?"

  Matt's stomach roiled. "Of course not." But there had to be something they could do. The wolves were getting more aggressive as time went by. "Don't know how much help I'd be coming along. Ever since Jake left town late last year, most of the pack has drawn lines of silence between them and all outsiders."

  He and Jake Tregas had become friends right after the wolves settled at the opposite end of town. Back then, the truce had been strong, and there were no issues with one of the Alpha's sons being friends with a clan vampire. A few recent years of strained tension didn't break the bonds of a century-long friendship.

  Shane replied, "You're not pack so you weren't included in their circle."

  "Worse. I'm clan." None of the wolves would even tell Matt why Jake had left, where the man had gone. "It's rare anyone from the pack will even come to the hospital anymore, and then, only in dire emergencies."

  Shane shook his head. "Come with me anyway. It can't hurt."

  Matt stared at him incredulously. "You did hear what I just said, right? I'm a vampire. Clan. They're shifters. Pack. We have bad juju between us right now."

  Shane grinned. "But you're also a healer. And since they're not coming to you, I'll bring you to them. As a gift." There was a glint in the man's eyes Matt didn't like.

  "A gift, huh?"

  Shane's grin widened.

  The porch door slammed open and Shane's other half, Niki DeVeraux strode out in a t-shirt, jeans and bare feet. She spotted Matt, and stopped abruptly, her smile fading. "What are you doing here?" Paling a shade, she worriedly scanned Shane as she flashed to his side. "Did something happen?"

  "Nothing." Shane grabbed one of her hands and pulled her down beside him. "I was just talking to Matt about the meeting I want to have with the wolves."

  Relief crossed her face.

  Shane brought her fingers to his lips.

  Niki softened, her usual projection of an angry hardened warrior slipping for a moment as her face flushed. Her eyes glowed with happiness.

  Matt cleared his throat and turned away, but his thoughts circled to Anca.

  She'd stepped in and stopped a fight between the wolves and his clan. Why? Shane sounded so certain she'd saved them from bloodshed, and the escalation it would cause between the pack and clan.

  Niki asked, "Did you hear about the Council Investigator?"

  Her question startled Matt, and for a long moment he was certain he hadn't hear right. "What?"

  The woman shrugged. "She sounds like an interesting woman."

  "She is, believe me," Shane replied.

  Instincts prickling, Matt straightened. This was the second time Shane implied he at least knew of Anca.

  The words spilled out before Matt could stop them. "What did you mean this afternoon?"

  Shane just looked at him. "About what?"

  Stupidly, Matt realized he'd acted like Anca would be the first one on everyone's minds with the intensity that he kept thinking of her. "When you met Anca. You sounded like you'd heard of her. And again, just now."

  "Did I?" Shane watched him enigmatically.

  "Yes. You did."

  The sheriff sat back stiffly. "I've heard of her."

  "Will you tell me?" Matt asked.

  "Why?"

  Taken aback by the question, he could only stare mutely.

  Niki tapped Shane on the thigh. "Why not?"

  "Council investigators require privacy. For more reasons than one, but safety is a top priority. Secrets can be harmful—from undermining their authority to getting them killed." His steady gaze pierced Matt. "So I will ask again, why do you want to know?"

  "I don't know."

  "Don't you?" the man asked so softly it could have been a whisper.

  "Do not mojo me."

  Shane blinked in bear-eyed innocence. "I do not mojo people."

  Looking away, Matt considered all the reasons he wanted to know. Why he needed something, anything, in the search of answers when it came to Anca Fieraru.

  Because he couldn't get her off his mind. Even now, he remembered clearly the feel of her against him, the way her mouth fit perfectly to his.

  Unable to say any of these racing thoughts out loud, he raised his head to look at Shane.

  The man flinched, as if hit by the intensity of Matt's confusion. "All right."

  Tight tension released. Relief made Matt's shoulders sag. "Thank you."

  "Mind you, what I tell you is partly rumor. How much I don't know, but all came from Connor Gregory."

>   "Jordan's cousin?" Matt didn't know the surly Judge well. Had never wanted to.

  "I've heard other things, but what I'm willing to share—and it's not all I know—came from him. I trust the source." Shane shot him a look full of knowing—both why and how badly—Matt distrusted the Council. And by association, Connor.

  But the man's golden gaze also declared that Matt should know well that he could trust Shane, at the very least.

  Matt nodded in acknowledgement.

  After a long deep sigh, Shane said, "She was born in the early sixteenth century. As a Romani in England, she grew up knowing peace, only to have it shattered by sudden sweeping persecution. One by one, her family was taken from her."

  Matt swallowed hard. She'd spoken of those times. Of her family, and genocide. Her voice had rang with love, and loss. The same love and loss he'd suffered.

  Such agony it seemed they both knew far too well.

  Shane continued softly, "A vampire in the Romanian mountains found Anca and her one remaining sibling, a younger sister. They had been brutalized and left in the cold, snowy night, along with others already dead."

  The man paused, closing his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was harder, his words quicker, wanting to be done. "The Master tried to change them both. The sister was only fourteen. She survived—just long enough to rampage through the nearest towns, killing everyone in a surge of bloodlust."

  Matt stared in disbelief. "Fourteen is too young, the Laws—"

  Shane cut him off. "They were forced to deal with her. The Master healed Anca, and when her powers matured, sent her to the Magic Council. Only seventy-eight years after she'd turned."

  Unheard of. The youngest vampire Matt had heard of the council accepting had been nearly two hundred. "She's worked for the Council for over four centuries?"

  It was a wonder she wasn't a Judge by now with her power.

  Something niggled in the back of Matt's skull.

  Before he could catch the thought, Shane replied, "Where else would she go? She's never belonged to a clan, has never had a home. She's a true Gypsy, no matter how much time has passed since she traveled with her family across Europe." Shane paused a moment. "My point is, I want you to understand how much she's lost. Just as you have. But I also want to share a story Connor told me, one I believe sums up who she is as a person."

  Matt sat back, uncomfortably eager to hear anything Shane was willing to tell him.

  "A couple hundred years ago, Connor was assigned to hunt a beast up in eastern Canada, along with Anca. It turned out to be a ravaging pack of rabid shifters. I think you're familiar with the event?"

  Matt's breath stuttered. He could only nod.

  Fate whispered around him once more.

  Matt had been there. He'd even spoken with Connor.

  He'd been that close to Anca?

  Shane continued, "The group from the council found the pack just before they were about to descend on a small village. Connor gave me a near blow-by-blow account, at least on his part, but what is important for you to hear is this. When they were faltering, when it looked like the beasts would sweep the defenses away and flow over the village, it was Anca who drove the fight.

  "Connor said she reminded him of a dark highland priestess that night, screaming out commands, forcing their handful of warriors to stand, even if they died." Shane paused, looking Matt over. "Her cry was to save the people of that place. That they had to defend, even if they were struck down, because there were innocent lives below."

  Matt swallowed tightly. He could almost picture it.

  "Her battle cry that night," Shane said, "Was to stop the tide of evil before it could devour the souls they sought to protect. I know your feelings about the Magic Council. I even know why. But you don't think I'm evil."

  "No," Matt said, though he didn't need to speak the word out loud for either of them.

  Shane stood, drawing Niki to her feet. Matt jumped up as well.

  The sheriff headed toward the door, holding it open and ushering Niki inside. He glanced back before going in. "No matter what your thoughts on the Council, you've judged me on the person you know. Doing the same with her is only fair."

  Matt's thoughts stirred in confusion, his thoughts conflicting, as he got back in his car. He drove out of town along the dark deserted highway.

  To the lake.

  And to the woman he couldn't get off his mind.

  Parking near her tiny compact car, it struck him they still had a few hours before meeting with Jordan.

  Matt should have stopped somewhere. He could have gone to the hospital, gotten some work done. Killed some time.

  He certainly didn't relish the prospect of sitting in his car for hours.

  Then there was the additional fact his King had asked Matt to take care of her. Perhaps they should pick up some food before the meeting.

  His mind continued to spin as he strode through the trees, occasionally feeling small random breezes that seemed to push him faster.

  Matt reached the warded camp and called Anca's name.

  Only the natural sounds of the forest greeted him. He didn't sense her. However that might mean she was gone, or only cloaking herself further.

  The air brushed at his sleeve, pulling at it. He scratched his arm, concentrating on the tent wavering in and out of sight, until it stayed solidly in view.

  "Anca?" he called again.

  Still nothing. The air jerked at his sleeve harder.

  He didn't see any ghosts. Not surprising, since he rarely came across them out in the middle of nowhere, especially within this protected forest.

  The wind stirred some leaves in the distance, dancing them along the ground towards him, then suddenly back to the trees in the direction of the lake. A memory flickered in his mind—of the leaves stirring in the forest near the cave of the wolves. And other flashes, of strange stirrings of wind lately.

  The tug came at his sleeve once more.

  Never one to ignore signs, even from something he couldn't see, Matt followed.

  Short minutes later, he emerged into deep shadows at the edge of the forest. The lake sprawled ahead for miles, its waters a glassy blue-black, flickering with reflected starlight from the clear night sky.

  Twenty feet from the bank, directly in front of him, the surface stirred. Anca rose from beneath the water. Long inky hair wetly clung to her naked shoulders.

  She took a few steps toward the shore, the water dropping to reveal glistening skin. Then she froze, tensing. Her gaze found him. Her eyes lit for the briefest second. Her lips quirked up at the corners. Then her expression turned pleasantly neutral.

  She continued to slowly walk toward him, the water falling millimeter by millimeter. "I thought we were meeting at your clan castle in a few hours." She stopped with the water lapping mid thigh, unabashed about her nakedness.

  Something primitive inside him surged. A fiery rush blanketing all thought.

  He could only stare, his body growing hard.

  Water droplets glinted on her dusky skin. Dotted her bountiful pert breasts like glittering crystals. Her dark nipples puckered from a sudden cool breeze.

  His palms itched to touch. He fisted his hands at his sides.

  Uncontrolled, his gaze dipped down her small waist and the wider flare of her hips, to the dark curls nestled at the juncture of her thighs.

  "Like what you see?" she asked with a heavy sarcasm, settling a hand on her hip.

  He jerked his gaze to the enticing blue smoke of her eyes. "My apologies, I didn't mean to..." To what? Stare at her beauty?

  "Then I guess you came to talk." She took another step forward. The water dropped from mid-thighs to her knees.

  Light danced in her eyes.

  Something inside him clenched tightly.

  "Question is," she asked, her voice lilting, "Do you want me dressed or not while we chat?"

  "Dressed." His hurried answer came out partly strangled. Ignoring the heat in his blood, he spun around, g
iving her his back, and privacy.

  If far too late for his peace of mind. Every inch of her stunning glory was now imprinted on his mind.

  He vibrated from the need to slake his desire. His instincts screamed with things he didn't understand. Whispers came on the wind, words he couldn't accept.

  Especially not with this woman.

  She was practically the enemy.

  His body didn't seem to care.

  Nor did an inner flicker, which ordered him to pay closer attention to everything rioting inside him.

  He refused it all. He didn't want them.

  Not here. Not now. Not her.

  Even if she did seem different from most Council people he'd known.

  She left the lake accompanied to soft splashes of water. Her lilting voice softened. "So you didn't come to spy on me?"

  "Of course not."

  "I mean, I know you'll be spying on me for your lord and Master and all, but while I'm bathing is a bit much, don't the two of you think?"

  The sudden idea of anyone else seeing her naked, even his King, sent anger coursing through his veins. His fangs lengthened. His mouth watered for violence. As if part of him considered her his.

  The thought struck him cold. His blood moved sluggishly, the ice suddenly in the air slipping inside him.

  The wind played at his sleeve, urging Matt to turn back around.

  Instead, he stared into the shadows of the forest and listened intently to the rustle of clothes.

  He breathed deep and thanked the heavens that she was getting dressed.

  A part of him yearned to listen, and obey, whatever was trying to communicate, whatever had led him here.

  That part of him wanted to stare at her a little longer.

  Explore her in much more depth. To touch and taste every last glorious inch he'd seen.

  "I'm dressed." Her voice was a musical laughing caress.

  As soon as he turned, he realized that this time her amusement was genuine.

  Mirth sparked in her eyes, along with the grin curving her mouth. She tapped a finger on her chin, looking at him from only a few feet away. "I do believe you were blushing."

  "I'm not used to coming upon women openly naked in public," he spoke thoughtlessly