Heart of Fire

by Lisa Edmonds

  “It would likely be a bloodbath,” Cait said grimly.

  I felt a sharp bolt of anxiety at the thought of Lake in the middle of a battle between SPEMA and H2 and wondered what the hell was wrong with me. I had no reason to worry about Lake. I told myself it was just the thought of anyone going up against high-level blood mages and left it at that.

  “If we can’t find probable cause for SPEMA, what is the Court prepared to do?” I asked Mark. The Court, unlike SPEMA, didn’t need PC to act.

  Mark and Cait exchanged a look. “That I am not sure about,” Mark told me. “As usual, the vamps are pretty tight-lipped about their planning. I’ve spoken to Valas, and the impression I get is the Court is prepared to go in with their own forces if they believe it necessary.”

  I gaped. “You spoke with Valas directly?”

  “In person,” he said wryly. “It was not an experience I would care to repeat.”

  Valas was the head of the Vampire Court. Her age was unknown, but she was rumored to be more than a thousand years old and absolutely terrifying. I gulped.

  “Normally, when the Court has work for me, I meet with one or more of their enforcers. Sometimes I meet with one or two of the Court if it’s a particularly sensitive case. At this meeting, there were four Court vamps, plus Valas.” Mark was grimmer than I’d ever seen him. “That should tell you how seriously they’re taking this.”

  “And now we’ve got another complication,” Cait said. “As if it wasn’t bad enough already.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “There may be another victim,” Mark said. “Number twenty-nine.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Twenty-nine? I thought the count was at twenty-seven.”

  Mark gave her the two new names I’d gotten from Lake and she made a note.

  “When did this latest victim go missing?” I asked.

  “Two days ago,” Cait told me. “We’re not sure yet if it’s connected, but I’ve got a feeling it is. If that’s true, it’s a new victim profile.”

  “What’s her name?” I dug out my list of victims as someone knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” Mark called. As the door swung open, he said to me, “Her name is Felicia Lowell.”

  “Who is she?” I asked him, writing the name at the bottom of my list.

  “She’s one of mine.” The voice from the doorway was tense, deep, and very familiar.

  I froze and looked up at the newcomer. He wore a blue button-up shirt and khakis. Dark eyes, lit from within with a soft golden glow, met mine as we stared at each other.

  “Hello, Alice,” he said finally.

  Sean.

  7

  Mark and Cait stood and my former boss moved toward Sean, hand outstretched. “Mr. Maclin, welcome to MDI. Thanks for joining us here today.”

  Sean shook Mark’s hand, then Cait’s. “Call me Sean. Thank you for the invitation.”

  As Sean turned to me, I rose and held out my hand. Without hesitation, he took it. His skin was warm, his grip strong. His eyes swept over me and his mouth tightened. “It’s good to see you,” he said.

  “You too,” I murmured.

  Mark looked back and forth between us. I got the distinct feeling I was going to have to answer some questions later. “Coffee?”

  “Please,” the werewolf said, his eyes on me. “Black.”

  Mark moved to the side table and I went back to my chair. Sean took the empty chair on Mark’s right, leaving me alone on my side of the table. I busied myself digging in my bag for a bottle of water, while Mark brought Sean coffee and reseated himself across from me.

  “We were just about to tell Alice about Felicia’s disappearance,” Mark told Sean as I took a long drink from my water bottle, wishing it were something stronger. “Since you’re here, why don’t you tell her what you know?”

  Sean turned his attention to me. I took a deep breath and met his gaze. The only way to get through this was to be impersonal. If there was one thing I could do well after twenty years of torment at the hands of my grandfather, it was compartmentalize. If Sean was struggling with his emotions over seeing me, I saw no sign of it.

  “Felicia is only twenty-three,” Sean said. “She’s unmated and has no boyfriend at the moment. Her father was killed by the alpha of their former pack, and she and her mother and younger brother came to us about four years ago. She’s a substance abuse counselor with a degree in social work.”

  I made notes as he talked. “Where does she work?”

  Sean named a local clinic. “She also does a lot of outreach. Some of her clients work on South Elm.”

  “Ah.” I glanced at Mark. “A possible connection. She disappeared two days ago?”

  “Yes,” Sean said heavily. “When she didn’t arrive at work as expected, her boss called her mother, who called me, and we went to her apartment. Her car and purse were there but her phone was gone and so was her house key. Nan—Felicia’s mother—noticed exercise clothes seemed to be missing. It looked like maybe she went for an early morning run before work and never returned.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  Sean’s anger sizzled on my skin. “We did, and we were told an adult can go missing whenever they want. Since there was no sign of foul play, the detective told Felicia’s mother she could file a missing persons report once forty-eight hours had passed. We hit forty-eight hours at nine a.m. this morning. Nan is at the police station as we speak, filling out the paperwork and speaking to a detective, but I don’t think the police are going to do a damn thing about it. When they heard Felicia was a shifter, they went from marginally interested to not interested at all.”

  His eyes bored into mine. “When I realized Felicia has been working with clients down on the Stroll, I wondered if her disappearance could be connected. I’d heard about the Court hiring an investigator, and I contacted Mark last evening.”

  “The circumstances are eerily familiar,” I told Mark.

  “Too familiar,” he agreed. He looked at Sean. “Are you able to sense her through the pack bonds?”

  Sean shook his head. “No, and neither can Nan or David, her brother. I can’t tell if she’s behind a ward or if she’s dead.” Anger rolled off him and I rubbed my arms as the prickling intensified.

  “If Felicia was taken by the same person or persons, it’s a serious escalation,” I pointed out. “They were averaging one victim every two weeks before. It was only one week between the most recent known victim and Felicia’s disappearance.”

  “None of the other victims are shifters as far as we know,” Mark pointed out.

  “The fact that she’s a shifter might be a coincidence,” I replied. “Maybe someone spotted her down on the Stroll, followed her home, and watched for an opportunity to snatch her. It’s the complete change in victim profile that’s bothering me. They’ve jumped from high-risk, low-profile victims to a very different type of target—someone who would immediately be missed and led a low-risk lifestyle.”

  “Regardless, I want her found.” Sean turned to Mark. “My pack and my security company are at your disposal.”

  “Thank you,” Mark said.

  “Do you have any leads?” Sean asked.

  “We have some, but no clear direction right now. We got some new information last night, but it’s going to require some investigation before we know if it’s going to be of any help.”

  “I’ve got some of my people canvassing the area around her apartment for witnesses. Other than that, what can I do?”

  Mark glanced at me. “Alice, do you want to look through Felicia’s apartment to see if you can find anything that might help us?”

  I nodded. “I’ll go.”

  “I’ll take you,” Sean said.

  “Great.” I’d been aiming for a neutral tone, but what came out sounded closer to grim resignation.

  “Let me know what you find.” Mark finished off his coffee. “In the meantime, I’m going to look into what you and I were talking abo
ut earlier.”

  We rose from the table and Sean shook hands with Mark and Cait again. “Thank you for your assistance,” he told them.

  We filed toward the door. Mark opened it and gestured for Sean and Cait to go ahead. When I started to leave, Mark held up his hand. “One minute?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  Mark closed the door, isolating us in the conference room while the others waited outside. “So, an ex.”

  “Something like that,” I said with a sigh.

  “Was it Maclin who tangled with Vaughan in your house?”

  “Yes.”

  My former boss shook his head ruefully. “An alpha werewolf and a member of the Vampire Court tried to tear each other apart over you. And to think, you used to lead such a quiet life.”

  I glared at him. “That’s not what happened. The fight was at my house, but it was wasn’t over me.”

  “It sure sounds like it was.” Mark held up his hands to stave off my angry retort. “Fine. Forget that. Are you going to be okay working with him?”

  “Of course,” I lied. “You know me; I’m all business. Are we done?”

  “We’re done.” Mark watched as I opened the door and stepped into the hall, where Sean and Cait waited.

  “Let’s roll,” I said to Sean, and headed down the hall toward the lobby. The others followed.

  In the reception area, a tall, gray-haired woman waited by Marian’s desk. It was Sharon, Mark’s wife.

  “Alice, welcome back.” She left a stack of papers on the counter and approached me with a forced smile. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You too, Sharon.” Cait and Mark walked to the front doors, talking quietly. Sean waited next to me. “How have you been?”

  “Fine, thanks for asking.” Sharon’s cool blue eyes watched her husband exit the building with Cait, presumably walking the researcher to her car while they finished their conversation.

  As the doors closed, Sharon’s smile disappeared. “You hurt him,” she told me.

  Sharon and I had always gotten along well before I left MDI, but it looked like those days were long gone. “That wasn’t my intention,” I said.

  Marian was typing away at her computer, but she was obviously listening. I strongly disliked airing dirty laundry in public, but I doubted Sharon would let us move this to a private area.

  “Whether it was your intention or not, that’s what happened.” Sharon crossed her arms. “You were more than an employee to him. He thought of you like a daughter, and you repaid him by walking away. He may have forgiven you, but I haven’t.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. For what it’s worth, I only left because I had to. I’m grateful to Mark for everything he did for me.”

  “You had a strange way of showing it.” Sharon regarded me. “I told him to find someone else for this, someone he could trust. He told me if I thought for one minute you wouldn’t have his back, I didn’t know you at all.”

  That sounded like Mark. “I have his back and he has mine. You have my word.”

  “Since I’ve had no luck talking him out of hiring you, I suppose that’s the best I can ask for. But if anything happens to him on your watch, it’s me you’ll answer to.”

  I was starting to think this was about more than just me leaving Mark’s firm, but I didn’t have time right now to figure out what was behind her antagonism. “Don’t threaten me, Sharon. I gave you my word and I meant it.”

  The front door opened and Mark came into the lobby. Sharon smiled fondly at her husband. “You get everything squared away with Cait?”

  “For now.” Mark looked back and forth between us. “Everything okay in here?”

  “We’re fine,” Sharon told him.

  “Just catching up,” I added and glanced at Sean. “Ready to head out?”

  His eyes shone gold, probably from the tension in the air. “More than ready,” he said gruffly.

  Mark and I shook hands. I promised to let him know what we found out, and Sean and I exited the building.

  As we walked toward the parking lot, Sean asked, “Do you want to ride with me to the apartment? I can bring you back after.”

  “I’d rather follow you in my car. I’m not sure where I’ll need to go once we’re finished there.” More to the point, I did not want to share a vehicle with him.

  “Suit yourself, if you think you can keep up.” His voice had a note of humor. He reached into his pocket for his keys and a large black SUV with heavy-duty rims beeped.

  “I think I can manage to follow that tank,” I said dryly. “You trade in the Mercedes?”

  “Company vehicle.”

  “Oh. Well, see you there.” I turned to walk to my Toyota, fishing around in my bag for my keys.

  “Alice.”

  I paused, my back to him. “What?”

  “Have you been sick?” he asked quietly.

  “Something like that.” I found my keys and started walking again. “Let’s just get this over with.” I unlocked my car. Behind me, Sean got into his SUV.

  While I was waiting for him to back out of his parking spot, I reached into my bag and pulled out my sunglasses. “Stay cool; keep it together,” I told my reflection in the rearview mirror. “Get through this, and you can go home and open that bottle of Glenfidditch you’ve been saving for a special occasion.” It sounded like a good bargain.

  Felicia Lowell’s apartment was in a small complex in a quiet neighborhood on the north side. Sean unlocked the door and entered first, stopping just inside the threshold to sniff the air. “Someone’s been here. I smell cigarettes and perfume.”

  I inhaled but didn’t smell anything. Werewolf noses were far superior to human ones. “I didn’t see any sign of forced entry, but you said her house key was missing. They probably just let themselves in. Does anything look different from when you were here the other day?”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure. Let me look.”

  While Sean prowled around, I looked over Felicia’s apartment. The living room was cluttered but not messy, with a sofa, papasan chair, coffee table, and small television on a stand with stacks of DVDs next to it. The coffee table was piled with health and travel magazines, and I saw a notepad with a list of possible vacation destinations.

  It was evident from the contents of her kitchen that Felicia was a healthy eater. She did a lot of shopping at farmer’s markets, judging by the fresh produce and meats in the fridge, all of which would be going bad in the next few days. Everything I saw indicated she’d had no plans to leave for any length of time.

  When I returned to the living room, Sean was on his phone. “So you don’t have it.” He listened for a few moments, looking grim. “I’m sorry, Nan. I know this just makes things worse. Stay home with David. I’ll let you know what we find out.” He ended the call.

  “What’s missing?”

  “Felicia’s laptop and bag are gone. All of her notes for work are on the laptop, according to Nan.”

  “That definitely makes it sound like she was specifically targeted, possibly for something she knew or something related to her work, so this very well might be unrelated to the other disappearances.”

  “That’s a possibility,” he acknowledged. “We installed a camera across the street yesterday to keep an eye on the apartment. I didn’t have anyone watching the live feed, but we should have video of whoever came in here. I’ll get someone to check the video.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Wow. Excellent. How did you manage that?”

  “We got permission from the homeowner in exchange for installing a motion-sensor light on his garage.”

  We stared at each other. I wondered what he was thinking and wondered why I cared.

  “You—” he said.

  “So—” I began at the same time.

  “Go ahead,” he told me.

  I shook my head and headed for the bedroom. “Forget it. I’m going to keep looking around for anything that might help us while you call about the footage.”

&n
bsp; “Alice, wait.”

  I paused in the doorway as he joined me. My nose filled with his familiar scent, which for some reason my brain had labeled “forest.” He didn’t touch me, but I sensed his warmth from a foot away. I remembered the feeling of that hot skin against mine. It had been good, for as long as it had lasted.

  The silence stretched out between us.

  “What?” I asked finally.

  “Have you been sick? You’ve lost so much weight, I barely recognized you. Your scent is different, and you seem almost…fragile.”

  “I’m not fragile.” I flipped on the light and went into Felicia’s room. “I’m a lean, mean, crime-fighting machine. I helped catch two convenience store robbers last night.”

  “That was you, down on Ninth?” Sean sounded surprised. “It was on the news this morning.”

  “Yeah, I know. I certainly didn’t want to make the news. At least they didn’t use my name.” I started looking through the nightstand. Pens, notepads, miscellaneous junk. Nothing that looked like a flash drive or handwritten notes.

  “Since when are you a vigilante? The police said they were high on Black Fire. You could have been killed.”

  I closed the top drawer and opened the next one. “I can take care of myself. They’re in jail and I’m fine.”

  Sean growled. “You are not—”

  I slammed the drawer closed, making the bedside lamp wobble. “Don’t you have some phone calls to make?”

  Sean turned on his heel and stalked out. I took a deep breath and exhaled as he left the apartment, not quite slamming the door on his way out.

  I rolled my shoulders to relieve the tension that had been building since he walked into the conference room and refocused on searching Felicia’s room. The sooner we finished looking through the apartment, the sooner I could get back to my house and that bottle of Scotch.

  By the time Sean returned ten minutes later, I was sitting cross-legged on the couch, flipping through a legal pad filled with writing. “What’s that?” he asked, his voice businesslike.