Heart of Fire

by Lisa Edmonds

  “Any suggestions on where one might start to investigate the harnad angle, if one were inclined to do so?”

  “Well, you’ve probably heard Amanda Bailey from the Sentinel thinks it’s a harnad, based on testimony from a witness. That might be a good place to start.”

  Lake pondered that. “You’re referring to the girl who supposedly went to meet a group of mages, Carrie Davis.” He saw my look of surprise. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with these case files.”

  “At least someone has.” I didn’t bother to hide the anger in my voice.

  “The police have their opinions; I have mine.” He put his empty mug on the table. “Besides the witness, what else makes you think this is a harnad?”

  “That’s all I’ve got for now.”

  The federal agent crossed his arms. “Why do I feel like that’s not true?”

  “I have no idea why you do anything you do.” I rubbed my eyes and glanced up, looking over Lake’s head.

  And saw my grandfather’s face.

  My spine turned to ice. The surge of adrenaline was so powerful that I almost jumped out of my seat.

  The television on the wall was set on a news channel. The screen showed a recent photograph of Moses, standing at the open door of a limo about to get in. He looked somehow even colder and more cruel than I remembered. His eyes bored into me, hard and gray. Below the photo, the headline read Murphy Cabal Suspected in Deadly Attacks.

  Lake saw me staring and turned to look at the television.

  “What attacks are they talking about?” My voice was surprisingly calm.

  He turned back around. “For the last several weeks, there have been attacks on properties owned by the Bell Cabal in and around the city. From what I understand, there are about a dozen dead and at least twice that number of injuries.”

  My brows rose. “Why would Murphy be attacking Bell? Aren’t most of his interests in the Baltimore area?”

  He drained his coffee and set the empty mug down on the table. “We’ve had no cooperation from Bell or any of his people on the investigation, as you might imagine, but I think Murphy’s softening up Bell’s territory to make a move on it.”

  My throat was dry. “That’s a scary thought. It would be war.”

  “A bloody one, with a lot of collateral damage, if previous cabal wars are anything to go by.”

  The television showed aerial footage of a burned building. The caption identified it as a warehouse belonging to one of Bell’s companies. FBI and SPEMA agents in coveralls combed through the smoking ruin. A half-dozen sheet-covered bodies were lined up in the parking lot.

  My thoughts whirled. It was unlikely my grandfather’s move on Bell’s territory had anything to do with me; he was always striking out at other large cabals with whom he did not have alliances, looking for weak spots and opportunities to expand his web. Regardless of the reason, Moses’s people were moving into the city. If the takeover was successful, Moses himself wouldn’t be far behind. A lead ball of fear formed in my stomach and stayed there.

  Before Lake had any reason to think I was unusually interested in Moses Murphy and his cabal, I picked up my phone and checked the time. “Your five minutes are up. You want me to get the tip?”

  “I’ve got it.” He reached for his wallet as I started to slide out of the booth. “By the way,” he added, “who’s your client?”

  “Why, Agent Lake, you know that’s confidential.”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the Vampire Court.” He tucked a five under his mug as we stood. “I heard a rumor they hired someone to look into it discreetly, but that was a couple of weeks ago, and you were working on a different case then. Irene Miller’s poltergeist problem, wasn’t it?”

  I glared at him.

  “So you’re new to the investigation,” he continued, unfazed by my glower. “Maybe working for the Court’s lead investigator, Mark Dunlap of MDI?”

  I slung my bag over my shoulder and repeated what I’d said to Sarah earlier. “I’m working for the victims. The women down on South Elm would like to know what happened to their friends, and someone owes them answers.”

  “Some answers and some justice,” Lake agreed. He gave me a card. “Call me if you hear anything.”

  The last time he’d handed me his card, I’d torn it up and flushed the pieces down the toilet. This time, I put his number into my contacts and tucked the card into my bag.

  When I looked up, he was grinning at me. “What?” I asked with a scowl. “So I took your card. I still don’t like you.”

  His laugh was sudden and loud. It was a nice laugh.

  “Good night, Lake.” I turned on my heel and headed for the door.

  Lake stopped to pay our check and use the men’s room, so I left alone to walk back to the convenience store. As annoyed as I was with his tendency to pop up wherever I was, I’d be lying if I said knowing he was working on this case didn’t make me feel better. I was skeptical that Diaz was going to give the case the attention it deserved, and if the police wouldn’t even consider the possibility a harnad was involved, then Mark, Lake, and I might be the only real chance of finding out what happened to the missing women.

  When I approached the convenience store, I was relieved to see my car still parked where I’d left it. I started to dig out my keys and sighed. My headache was getting worse, and now I needed to use the bathroom. I said a silent prayer to the toilet gods that the store’s restroom was reasonably clean and went inside.

  “Hello.” Mario smiled at me from atop a small ladder, where he was stocking cigarette cartons on a high shelf. “You’re the driver of the blue Toyota, right?”

  “Yep. Thanks for keeping an eye on it for me, Mario. I’m Alice.”

  “No problem, Alice. What do you need?”

  “Aspirin.”

  He pointed to a shelf behind me. I picked up a box and set it on the counter. “Can I use your restroom?”

  “Sure.”

  I shut myself in the bathroom and used the toilet. After I washed my hands, I dug out my phone and debated texting Mark with an update, but one look at the time and I changed my mind. It would probably be better to call him in the morning.

  As I tucked the phone back into my bag, I looked at myself in the mirror and made a face. There were deep shadows under my eyes and I was almost gaunt. Yikes. No wonder Malcolm and Mark had expressed concern over my appearance. Even Charles thought I looked like I was in poor health, and that was coming from a guy who’d been undead for more than two centuries.

  A bell dinged in the store, announcing a customer. I was about to reach for the doorknob when someone shouted, “Open the register! Open it now!”

  I froze.

  Mario sounded fearful but calm. “I will open it; I will open it. Please don’t burn me.”

  The robber must have either fire or earth magic and was threatening Mario with it. Magic-enhanced, drug-fueled crime wave, Mark had said. It appeared I was about to get a close-up look at what he was talking about.

  The robber was still shouting at Mario to open the register. It felt like hours, but was really only seconds, until Mario said, “Here’s all the money. Now you go.”

  I heard a muffled thump. “Fill these up!”

  “Fill with what?” Mario sounded confused.

  “Cartons of cigarettes, you stupid asshole!” The robber’s voice was increasing in pitch. He sounded young.

  At first, I’d thought the robber would merely take the money and leave, but the longer he stayed, the more likely it was he would hurt or kill Mario or lose control of his magic and burn down the store with us in it. I had to do something now.

  I reached for the doorknob as the robber shouted, “Faster! Do you think I’m playing?”

  Mario cried out in pain. The robber screamed, “Hurry up! Hurry-the-fuck-up!”

  “I’m hurrying,” Mario said, sounding strained. At least he was still alive. It was up to me to see he stayed that way.

  I set my ba
g on the floor, turned the lock gently, and eased the door open to peer out into the store.

  Mario was behind the counter, stuffing cartons of cigarettes into a duffel bag. His sleeve was burned. Another bag, already full, sat on the counter.

  The masked robber, in a black T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, stood on the other side of the counter. His shaking hands blazed with orange flames. The fire magic surged and flickered with his anger.

  I slipped out of the bathroom and crept along the aisle, staying low and out of sight. Mario, busy packing cartons into the bag, had his back to me. The robber was focused on what Mario was doing. Neither man saw me sneaking up on them.

  I took a deep breath and dove forward. My fingers closed around the robber’s upper left arm. He jerked, the fire flaring with a blast of heat that made me wince.

  “Sleep,” I commanded.

  He dropped like a sack of potatoes. The fire on his hands sputtered and went out.

  Alarmed, Mario dropped the bag he was holding. “Is he dead?”

  I shook my head. “Not dead, just asleep. Are you okay?”

  Mario raised his burned arm and grimaced. “This hurts.”

  “I bet. Sit down over there.” I pointed to the chair behind the counter. “I’m going to get help.”

  I opened the front door with my shoulder, trying not to disturb any fingerprints the robber might have left, and stepped outside.

  Lake’s truck was still parked out front. I looked toward the street and saw the federal agent a block away, walking toward the store. I waved at him. “Lake, hurry up!”

  He raised his hand and broke into a jog. I took a step forward, intending to meet him in the parking lot.

  “What the hell?” A kid who looked about sixteen was staring through the front window at the scene inside the store.

  “It’s okay. He was trying to rob—”

  The kid turned on me with a snarl. “You bitch! You killed my brother!” He lifted his hands, palms out, and an enormous flash of uncontrolled air magic hit me square in the middle of my chest.

  I smashed through the front doors in an explosion of glass and metal, sailed across the store, and crashed through a second glass door into a room that was cold and dark. Something whacked me on the back of my head, and everything went black.

  I came to lying on my side and shivering violently.

  Something warm and heavy was draped over my upper body, but it felt as if I were lying on a block of solid ice and I was so cold that it was painful. My ears rang and everything hurt.

  With a groan, I started to roll onto my back, but someone held me still. “Don’t move. You’re hurt.”

  I couldn’t get my eyes open quite yet and my brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton, so it took me several seconds to recognize the voice. “Lake?” My voice was tight with pain. “What happened?”

  “There was a robbery.” His hand moved to my shoulder and squeezed gently. “You got hit with magic. Do you remember?”

  Jumbled bits of memory started to organize themselves in my foggy brain. “So cold,” I said miserably.

  “You’re in the walk-in cooler. I’m sorry you’re cold, but I don’t want to move you in case you injured your spine.”

  I forced my eyes open and blinked slowly, trying to focus.

  In the dim light, the first object I saw clearly was Lake’s shoe as he crouched next to me. I realized the heavy thing he’d draped over me was his leather jacket. I scowled and started to push it away, but it was warm and smelled good and I was freezing, so I decided to leave it be for now.

  “How long was I out?” I asked.

  “Just a couple of minutes.”

  The pain was now concentrated in the back of my head and my back. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a couple of deep breaths.

  When I opened my eyes again, I looked up into Lake’s worried blue gaze. “Where do you hurt?” he asked me.

  “Not hurt,” I informed him.

  He smiled a little. “There you go, lying again.” The smile faded. “You hit the wall pretty damn hard. Can you feel your legs?”

  “I’m okay, Lake. Nothing’s broken.” I rolled slowly to my back with a pained groan. The cold floor felt good on my battered skull and back.

  “Lie still,” he admonished me. “If you hurt your spine or neck, you could paralyze yourself by moving around.”

  “I’m good.” I pushed myself up, but my vision tunneled and I slid sideways down the wall.

  Lake swore and eased me back down to my side. My ears were ringing again. “Stay down.” His voice sounded like it was coming from a long way away. “The ambulance will be here any minute.”

  That cleared the cobwebs almost instantly. “I don’t need an ambulance.” I forced myself to sit up again, and this time I stayed upright. “I’m fine.”

  He held my chin and stared at me. His eyes were very blue. “You are not fine. You went through two glass doors and hit your head hard enough to get knocked out. You probably have a concussion and you’re shocky. You’re going to the hospital.”

  “No, I’m not.” I pushed his hand away. “I’ve got healing spells at home. I can take care of myself.”

  His eyes blazed. “You aren’t thinking clearly.”

  “I’m thinking just fine, Lake. You want me to count to one hundred by twos? Recite the alphabet backward?” I looked out past the walk-in cooler at the store. The front doors were hanging on broken hinges and glass was everywhere. “Where are the suspects?”

  He sighed. “I’ve got them cuffed out front. Do you want to press charges for the assault?”

  I started to shake my head, then thought better of it. “No. The robbery charges should be enough to keep him in jail for a while.”

  “How did you take out the firebug? The clerk said magic.”

  “Basic air-magic sleep spell. It should wear off in about six hours, unless you want me to take it off now.”

  Lake shook his head. “No, leave it. He’ll sleep it off in a cell downtown.”

  “How’s Mario?”

  “He’s going to be fine. Minor burns only.”

  “That’s good to hear.” I gathered up Lake’s leather jacket and handed it to him. Using the wall for support, I slowly pushed myself to my feet. Lake hovered nearby, his brow furrowed as he watched me.

  I noticed a streak of red on the wall and a small puddle on the floor at my feet where I’d been lying. Gingerly, I touched the back of my head and my fingers came away bloody.

  “Alice.”

  I blinked up at Lake. He took me by the wrist and looked at the blood on my fingers. “Please let the paramedics take a look at you.”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks.” I wiped my fingers on my jeans and glanced at the blood on the floor. “You probably want to step back.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “I’m going to clean that up.”

  “This is a crime scene, Alice. You can’t just—”

  Before he could stop me, I crouched and touched the bloodstain with my fingertips. “Burn.” In a flash of white fire, the air magic burner spell reduced the blood on the floor and wall to ash.

  His frown became a glare. “I could arrest you for that.”

  “You could, but you won’t.” When I stood up, my vision swam and I started to fall. Lake dropped his jacket and caught me.

  We’d done nothing but irritate each other from the moment we met a month ago, standing over the body of the half-demon serial killer Scott Grierson. And yet, the instant Lake’s arms closed around me, the feeling changed. His eyes softened and the scowl disappeared. Despite the pain in my skull and back and what was rapidly evolving into the granddaddy of all splitting headaches, I was suddenly aware of the hard muscle beneath his shirt and the warmth of him, so comforting after lying on the cold floor. I should have pushed him away and said something sarcastic, but instead my fingers tightened on his arm. Lake’s gaze moved to my mouth, then back up to meet my eyes.

  Outside, a squad car arrived
, lights flashing. An ambulance pulled up alongside and two paramedics jumped out. Lake didn’t seem to notice.

  “Lake,” I said softly.

  “What?” His voice was a low rumble.

  “Let me go.”

  He released me. I took a step back and leaned against the wall. “You should probably go talk to the cops who just arrived.”

  Lake picked up his jacket and put it on, his face unreadable. “I probably should. You’ll have to give them a statement.”

  “I’ll go sit in my car until they’re ready to talk to me.”

  He frowned. “Can you make it to your car?”

  “Sure,” I said, hoping I was right. “I need to get my bag from the bathroom, though.”

  “Go. I’ll send the detective out to see you when he gets here.”

  I trudged out of the walk-in cooler, my boots crunching in the broken glass, as Lake went to talk to the cops. Mario was outside, sitting in the ambulance while the paramedics treated his burned arm. I fetched my bag from the restroom, fished out a five-dollar bill, and headed for the front counter.

  The kid who’d attacked me with air magic sat on the floor, handcuffed to his unconscious brother with spell cuffs that would keep either of them from using their magic. Someone, probably Lake, had taken the fire mage’s mask off. Neither of them looked more than eighteen.

  “Bitch,” the kid snarled.

  “Watch your mouth,” Lake snapped from the doorway, where he was explaining the situation to a uniformed officer.

  “Fuck you, fed.” The kid spat on the floor next to my boot.

  I ignored him, put the five on the counter, picked up the box of aspirin, took a bottle of water from a cooler, and headed outside.

  An hour later, I was curled up in the passenger seat of my car, holding an ice pack to the lump on the back of my head, while I waited for the detective in charge of the case. I’d given my statement to a uniformed officer, but apparently the detective wanted to talk to me in person, and I wasn’t allowed to leave until she arrived. The suspects were gone, taken downtown for booking.