Heart of Fire

by Lisa Edmonds

  Whoever had sent her after me had funneled energy into her, stabilizing her. It appeared I had made it onto someone’s hit list, but other than the magic trace I’d sensed, I had no leads on who it might be or why I had been targeted.

  As the ringing in my ears faded, I noticed a loud buzzing. I staggered to my feet, found my bag, and pulled out my phone just as the call went to voice mail. The screen read Wolf—5 Missed Calls. I also had two text messages. The first asked if I was all right. The second said if Sean didn’t hear from me in the next two minutes, he was on his way to me.

  I couldn’t fault him for being concerned; I was sure he’d heard me asking who was following me before I hung up on him. If our situation had been reversed, I would have been worried too.

  With shaking hands, I tapped out a message: I’m fine. No backup needed.

  The reply was almost instantaneous. Wolf: Are you sure?

  Me: Yes. After a hesitation, I added, False alarm.

  No response for almost a minute. I could imagine Sean on the other end, debating how to answer, whether to come looking for me anyway.

  Finally, the phone beeped. Wolf: Good night then. See you at MDI in the morning.

  I stuck the phone in my bag and stumbled out of the alley. The Midnite Café was on the next block. I slung my bag over my sore shoulder and limped toward the neon lights of the diner. My face burned and my body felt battered and bruised, my ears warm and sticky. Luckily, the sidewalk was deserted and no one inside the diner seemed to notice me.

  I dug my keys out of my bag with a shaking hand and unlocked my car. The reflection in my driver’s side window revealed three deep gashes across my face and wounds on my throat. My shirt was torn and bloody. I looked exactly as bad as I felt.

  As I reached for my car door, an enormous figure wearing black appeared behind me. I dropped my bag and keys and spun around, my right hand erupting in green fire.

  Special Agent Lake stared at me, his eyes moving from my face to my fiery hand and back again. “What happened to you?” he demanded.

  I took a deep breath and extinguished my cold fire. “Why are you still stalking me?”

  He took two steps forward. “I saw your car and figured you were back to talk to witnesses again. I was inside getting some coffee when I saw you walking up.”

  I pushed on his chest. It was like trying to move a tree. “Back off, Lake. I’ve had a rough night.”

  “You’ve been attacked. Are those knife wounds?” He peered at the side of my head. “Are your ears bleeding? What the hell is going on?”

  I looked at him and didn’t know what to say. For some reason, my usual ability to come up with an easy and convincing lie completely failed me. With Sean, I’d been reluctant to tell him about the poltergeist because I didn’t want him to feel obligated to protect me. In Lake’s case, I didn’t trust him enough to tell him anything about anything.

  He put his hand on the car next to my shoulder. “Talk to me, Alice. If you don’t want to file a report that’s your choice, but I want to know who slashed your face and why you’re bleeding out the ears, and why you don’t want to say who it was.” He stared at me, his eyes full of fury. Tell me whose ass I need to kick, his expression said. The air felt heavy between us.

  “I fell down some steps,” I said lamely.

  He stiffened. “Don’t lie to me, for once.”

  “Don’t interrogate me, for once.”

  “I’m not interrogating you.”

  “Could have fooled me.” I leaned back against my car, trying to put some distance between us. “There’s no reason for a SPEMA agent to be concerned. I’m going to be fine once I clean up and use a healing spell.”

  “I’m not asking as a SPEMA agent.” His voice dropped and he cupped my face with his hand. “This is me, Trent, asking who hurt you.”

  “You’re never not a SPEMA agent.” His touch distracted me and I had to remind myself who I was talking to before I leaned into the warmth of his hand. “You have spell cuffs in your back pocket, a gun under your left arm, and another on your right ankle. Your credentials are in your inner jacket pocket. Don’t tell me you’re just Trent, Agent Lake. You’re a fed. Period.”

  Lake’s thumb ran over my bloody cheek and I shivered. “Is that really what you think? That I’m nothing but a badge?”

  For almost two months, that was what I’d believed. It was far better for both of us if I continued to think of him that way. “Yes.” My voice was almost steady.

  The corners of his mouth turned up. “Lying again.” He tipped my chin up gently and scrutinized my throat. “These marks look like someone grabbed you by the neck.”

  I pushed his hand away, but he caught my hand in his. “Let go,” I said.

  Those ice-blue eyes held mine. “I’m worried about you.”

  I sighed, my shoulders sagging. “Don’t be. I’ve told you before: I’m nobody. Why you persist in thinking differently is beyond me.”

  “You are not nobody, Alice.” His gaze turned fierce as his grip tightened on my hand. Electricity crackled between us. “No matter how much you try to convince yourself of it.”

  I needed to get away from him before things got any more complicated than they already were. I freed myself and backed away. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine after I clean up.”

  I thought he was going to argue, but instead he reached for my door and opened it. “Then go home and patch yourself up. Again.” He sounded resigned.

  His fingers were bloody from touching my face. “Here,” I said. I unbuttoned my shirt and took it off, leaving me in my tank top. I used my shirt to clean his hand as he watched me silently. When I finished, I put the ruined shirt in a plastic grocery bag and tossed it into the back seat. I suppressed a wince as I settled into the driver’s seat.

  He started to close my door, then paused. “Call me if you want to talk about it.”

  “Thank you,” I said softly. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Alice.” He shut the door and stepped back.

  I buckled my seatbelt, turned the key in the ignition, and backed out onto Ninth. I gave Lake a little wave as I passed. He raised his hand, then let it fall back to his side as he watched me drive away.

  10

  A good night’s sleep might have done wonders for both my mood and the headache I couldn’t seem to get rid of, but I tossed and turned all night and woke up for good around six. I rolled out of bed, took some aspirin, and stood in the shower until the pain in my skull faded to a dull throb.

  By seven, I was on my way to check in with my ghost. I stopped for coffee on the way and arrived at my destination by seven thirty.

  I parked down the street from West’s house, turned off the car, closed my eyes, and focused on the familiar trace of blue-green magic in the corner of my brain that was my link to Malcolm. Carefully, I tugged on the thread twice, two gentle pulls that caused a few seconds of disorientation. I breathed slowly and deeply until the dizziness passed.

  A few seconds after my “page,” I sensed Malcolm’s presence as he entered the car. “You’re getting better at that,” the invisible ghost said from the passenger seat area. “You didn’t throw up or pass out this time.”

  “Hooray.” I rubbed my forehead.

  “You look terrible,” Malcolm informed me, as if I didn’t know that already. “Are you not sleeping again?”

  “I had a lot on my mind.” I drank some coffee. “I take it you don’t have anything to report?”

  “Nothing. He had no visitors and hasn’t left the house. I’d love to know what he was doing, but if I crossed his wards, he’d know. I’ve been studying them, and I think they would disrupt my masking and obfuscation spells.”

  “Do what you can from the outside and follow him wherever he goes, unless it involves crossing wards. If we do end up having to get into his house, we’ll go in together when we can unweave or break his wards as a team.”

  “Got it. I’m assuming he’ll be leaving for wo
rk soon, so I’ll tail him and listen in as best I can. No idea where he’ll go after work, but I’ll stick nearby. Where are you headed now?”

  “Over to MDI to talk to Mark and Sean. We’ll probably compare notes and then work out a game plan for the day. I don’t want to tip West off, so I’ll avoid coming by here again. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume that means no news.”

  Down the street, West’s garage door rose and the familiar black BMW backed out toward the street. “There he is,” Malcolm said. “I’d better go.”

  “Be careful, Malcolm.”

  “You be careful. I’m a ghost—there’s not much that can hurt me. It’s you I worry about.”

  “I’m fine,” I said automatically.

  He snorted. “Of course you are.” The BMW headed down the street away from us. “Gotta go.” I sensed him leave the car, moving off in pursuit of West’s vehicle as it paused at the corner, then turned left and disappeared.

  Unfortunately, my route from West’s neighborhood to MDI took me close to downtown, where the morning traffic was predictably terrible. “I have not had nearly enough coffee to deal with this,” I muttered, braking sharply as a man driving a Mercedes SUV cut me off and gave me the finger.

  Traffic thinned out as I made it past the downtown area, but it was already past eight and I was late. I caved to temptation and turned into a Starbucks drive-thru, even though it would make me later than I already was. I needed the caffeine and sugar.

  When I pulled into the MDI lot at eight twenty, both Sean’s company SUV and Mark’s truck were already there. With a sigh, I got out of my car and put my bag over my shoulder.

  “Morning, Alice,” Sean said from behind me.

  I yelped and dropped my coffee. It hit the ground and splashed onto my pants and boots. I stared down at the empty cup as it rolled across the pavement.

  “Shit.” Sean crouched down to pick up the cup. As he stood, he added, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you heard me walk up.”

  “It’s fine,” I said wearily.

  Sean was wearing an emerald-green polo shirt and black khakis. I tried not to notice how good he looked in green, or how it brought out the gold flecks in his eyes, or the lines of hard muscles beneath the shirt. “Let me get you another cup of coffee,” he said. “I’ll make a quick run. What did you have?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Mark’s got coffee.” I popped my trunk and unzipped the black duffel bag that contained a change of clothes and toiletries.

  “I owe you a replacement,” he insisted. “And I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.” He reached for his wallet.

  “Really, it’s okay. I’ll just throw them in the washer when I get home.” I pulled out a pair of clean jeans and tucked them into my messenger bag. “Besides, it was my fault for not paying more attention.” I shut my trunk and headed for the building.

  He fell into step next to me. “I’ll owe you a cup of coffee the next time we’re out.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “What happened last night when you hung up on me?”

  I might have known he wouldn’t just let it go. “Thought I saw someone following me. Turned out I was just being paranoid.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Easy to do, in that part of town,” he said finally. “Did you not sleep well last night?”

  “Yeah, I know I look terrible. Malcolm already told me.”

  “I didn’t say you look terrible.”

  “That’s what ‘Did you not sleep well?’ means,” I said dryly. “But I appreciate your attempt to be diplomatic about it.”

  Sean tossed the cup into a trash can and reached for the front door. “What kept you awake?”

  “Just couldn’t sleep.”

  He pulled the door open and held it for me. “Thinking about the case?”

  “Yup.” That, and the assorted aches and pains that neither the healing spell nor the aspirin could completely banish, and wondering who had sent a poltergeist to kill me.

  We walked into MDI’s lobby. Marian was at the front desk. “Mr. Dunlap is in Conference Room Three,” she informed us. “He said to send you back when you arrived.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “I’ll let him know that you’re on your way back,” she said, reaching for the phone.

  Sean and I headed down the hall. I stopped at the door to the women’s restroom. “Go on ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “I’ll pour you a cup of coffee. Still cream and two sugars?”

  “Yup. Find me the biggest mug they have.” I pushed open the door to the bathroom. He chuckled as he continued down the hall.

  I locked the door to the small bathroom and quickly changed out of my khakis and into the jeans. I wet a paper towel and scrubbed at the coffee stains, but to no avail. I sighed, rolled the pants up, and stuck them in my bag. I used the toilet, washed my hands, and headed for Conference Room Three.

  I knocked on the door. Mark called out for me to enter.

  Mark and Sean sat on opposite sides of the table, notepads in front of them and coffee mugs in hand. There was a full coffee cup in front of the chair next to Sean. I took a seat and pulled out my notebook.

  Mark folded his hands on the table. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

  I guzzled my coffee while I told Mark what I’d found out about Danielle’s last known customer and the red two-door car that picked her up.

  “I’ve asked Cyro to look for images of the red car,” Sean told us when I finished. “So far, nothing.”

  I went to the coffee pot for a refill while Sean told Mark about his “date” with Rachel. As I’d predicted, Mark hit the roof when Sean told him he’d put a tracker on her car.

  “The tracker is about the size of a quarter,” Sean said when Mark stopped swearing. “It’s the latest tech. No one’s going to detect it unless they have very expensive specialized equipment and I doubt they’d be scanning Rachel’s car anyway. She’s probably a bit player in all this, but she’s the second-best lead I’ve got for finding Felicia, after West.”

  “Maclin, you sat here and told me you’d follow my instructions,” Mark snapped. “I specifically said we needed to avoid any kind of surveillance that might put the victims at risk, assuming any of them are still alive.”

  “You and I both know the odds of that are slim to none,” Sean said. “And believe me when I say I am well aware of what’s at stake here. If Felicia is dead, it will devastate my pack. I have to answer to them for what I’m doing to find her. If it were up to me, we’d be going about this very differently.”

  Sean’s eyes went gold. When he spoke again, his voice had a growly edge. “It took every ounce of my self-control not to take Rachel Barrow out to our pack land last night and do whatever it took to get answers. Instead, I put a tracker on her car, and I’m sitting here with my thumb up my ass while my pack is questioning whether their alpha leads them or serves the Vampire Court.”

  Mark sat silently as I sipped my coffee and felt guilty for not thinking more about what Felicia’s disappearance was doing to Sean and his pack. It would feel like they were missing a limb, especially since Felicia was young and female. If members of the pack were questioning Sean’s authority, it could lead to serious trouble.

  Finally, my former boss cleared his throat. “I apologize,” he told Sean, surprising me. “You’re in a difficult position, and I lost sight of that.”

  Sean gave him a grave nod.

  The phone beeped. “Mr. Dunlap?” It was Marian.

  Mark picked up the receiver. “What is it?” He listened, then said, “Put her through.” He hit the speaker button and put the receiver down. “We have a call from Amanda Bailey.”

  The phone beeped twice. “Hello?” It was a woman’s voice.

  “Hello, Amanda,” Mark said. “I’m here with two of my investigators, discussing the case.”

  “I’m glad I caught you,” the reporter said. “I know you’re busy running down le
ads, but I just got a call from the Catholic homeless outreach center on Sixth.”

  Mark’s eyebrows rose. “What was the call about?”

  “There’s some serious concern about some homeless individuals who have gone missing over the past few months,” Amanda said. “The nun I spoke to insists someone took them.”

  I closed my eyes. Next to me, Sean growled low.

  “Has she spoken to the police?” Mark asked.

  Amanda’s voice was bitter. “Of course, several times, but no one will give her the time of day. I know they’ve got their hands full with the Haze and Black Fire users, but you’d think they’d at least be courteous to a nun. A few weeks ago, she spoke to someone in Major Crimes—a Detective Shay—who came out to talk to her, but she says no one has ever followed up, and Shay won’t return her calls. The nun who called me has been following my stories about the missing women in the paper. When she couldn’t get any assistance from Detective Shay, she finally called me directly to see if I could help.”

  Mark tapped his pen on the table. “Do we think this is related to our case?”

  “It makes sense,” I said. “The victim profile is similar and the outreach center is only blocks from the Stroll. If you’re looking for victims who won’t be missed and whose disappearances aren’t likely to attract any attention from law enforcement, you can’t do much better than the homeless.”

  “If and when this hits the news, it’s going to add to the belief that vampires are taking victims off the streets,” Sean said gravely.

  I cleared my throat. “This is going to sound cold, but to anyone who knows vampires, if these disappearances are connected, this is fairly conclusive evidence it isn’t vamps behind it. Unless they’re newly risen and unable to control their bloodlust, vampires are usually very particular about who they drink from.”

  “It’s obviously not new vamps doing it, because there would be bodies and someone would have seen the attacks,” Mark said.

  I nodded. “Homeless people would be near the bottom of any vamp’s list of potential food sources. They may be immune to human diseases, and drugs have little to no effect on them, but every vampire I’ve ever known would consider drinking from a homeless person to be like eating food out of a garbage can. It would make no sense for them to do that, when they have their pick of willing blood meals who are the equivalent of filet mignon.”