Heart of Ice

by Lisa Edmonds

  The SUV turned onto my street. “I’m going to stay and watch the house until dawn,” Matthias told Arkady, catching her eye in the rearview mirror. “If Ms. Worth needs to leave for any reason, we’ll be her escorts.”

  “Good.” Arkady’s attention was out the window as the SUV pulled into my driveway and parked, so she missed the look Matthias gave her. Poor guy had it bad. I wondered if she’d noticed it yet.

  Matthias left the engine running but opened his door. “I’ll escort you into the house.”

  “Wait for us to come around to your side,” Arkady reminded me, opening her door.

  “I remember,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as sullen as I felt.

  They got out. Matthias opened my door and offered me his hand as Arkady kept watch on our surroundings. He flinched when my spooled magic gave him a little zap, but he didn’t let go until both of my feet were on the ground.

  Arkady and I headed toward my front door with Matthias at our six. I opened my handbag and reached for my keys.

  Behind me, I heard four quick, heavy thumps. Matthias grunted, staggered, and fell.

  In the time that it took me to realize he’d been shot, Arkady spun around, her gun raised as she searched for a target. “Take cover!” she ordered me.

  Thump thump. She went down with a pained sound, two neat holes punched in the front of her jumpsuit right above her heart. The bullets hit her vest, but their impact knocked the wind out of her. She lay crumpled on the lawn, struggling to breathe.

  Matthias, bleeding from at least a couple of wounds, crawled to her and shielded her with his body. “Get inside,” he rasped.

  If I went into the house I’d be safe behind my wards, but the shooter might pick me off before I could get the door open. Besides, I wasn’t about to leave Arkady and Matthias wounded and undefended.

  I dropped to a crouch just as bullets hit the sidewalk next to me, pelting me with pieces of cement. The shots seemed to have come from the direction of the carport, but I couldn’t see anyone. More bullets peppered the sidewalk in front of me. Were there two shooters? Did Stevens have a partner, or a whole team?

  I was a sitting duck in the middle of my walkway, so I scuttled behind the SUV just as three or four rounds hit the bullet-resistant glass above my head. I realized now that my escorts were down, all of the shots were directed at me. Clearly I was the primary target. I needed to draw their fire farther away from Arkady and Matthias.

  I got up and ran for the backyard gate as bullets thumped into the grass behind me. I expected to feel shots in my back at any moment as I got the gate unlatched, swung it open, and dashed into the darkness of my backyard. I left the gate ajar, hoping Stevens would follow me and leave Arkady and Matthias alone.

  Sean had told me that the vamps had people watching my house, so where the hell were they? Why hadn’t they found the shooters and taken them out? What were they waiting for?

  There wasn’t much cover in my backyard except for some bushes, a couple of skinny trees, and my new garden. The plants rustled in excitement as I ran around to the side of the garden and put the mass of swaying greenery between me and the backyard gate. I peered through the plants, watching the side of the house and waiting for Stevens to show his face or for the Vamp Court’s team to find Stevens and whoever was helping him.

  I sensed an obfuscation spell break behind me. I spun and raised my left hand, forming an air magic shield, as my cold-fire whip spiraled out of my right palm.

  Kent Stevens appeared seemingly out of thin air, gun in hand, and fired five shots straight at me. All five hit the shield and were deflected away.

  I lashed out with my fire whip, striking Stevens across the chest and throwing him back into the bushes. To my surprise, he held onto his gun and fired several more shots before I could get my shield back in place. Angry hornets tore past my upper left arm and hip. I ignored the flashes of heat and pain and raised my shield, sending the rest of the bullets into the fence on my left.

  Stevens rolled to his feet—

  —and vanished.

  Shit.

  Obfuscation spells powerful enough to make someone invisible were rare and very, very expensive for non-mages. Now I knew how he’d slipped past the Vamp Court team watching the house and made it seem like there were multiple shooters instead of just one.

  These spells were air magic, though, so as an air mage I had a slight advantage. I’d also been practicing engaging an invisible target with Malcolm, and I had a second to be thankful for our recent sparring sessions before I sensed magic to my left. I raised my shield just in time to block three shots. I lashed out with my whip, but missed him.

  Footsteps rustled in the grass to my right; I lashed again and this time my cold fire whip made contact, sending him flying backward. Blood splattered on the fence and something hit the ground and became visible: his gun, a Glock with a suppressor and extended magazine. I lashed it with my whip and the barrel bent, rendering the firearm useless.

  Silence.

  Breathing hard, I backed up against the fence and tried to sense where he was, but it was hard to focus with the pain in my arm and side and the sensation of blood dripping down my leg.

  The sharp point of a knife punctured my right side, just below the edge of my vest. A spell broke and I found myself staring into Stevens’s eyes from inches away. I hadn’t seen him since that day at Robinson’s house, but he looked almost like a different person. His face was a cold mask, his eyes dark and murderous. I was right; he wanted to look me in the eye, up close and personal, when he took me out. That decision doomed him.

  I didn’t wait for him to speak or drive his knife farther into my flesh. I pushed my blood magic out through my fingertips and plunged the wide red-and-black blade deep into his gut, twisting it as hard as I could.

  He grunted and dropped his Ka-Bar knife. Hot blood poured over my fingers. I pulled my magic blade out and hit him on the chest with both hands. Air magic sent him flying back to land on the grass next to the garden. He lay stunned, his hands on the bloody, gaping wound in his stomach. I backed toward my house, watching him.

  Two figures ran through my backyard gate, moving too quickly to be human. A pair of Hunters—one male, one female. They must not have been able to find him when he was using the obfuscation spells, but the smell of blood had drawn them like a magnet.

  They headed straight for Stevens, fangs bared and eyes black. If they got hold of him, they would tear him to shreds.

  I raised my hand. Red, purple, and black blood magic flared on my fingers. I sensed the dark magic of the Hunters and grabbed it with my mind, bending their will to mine. “Stop,” I commanded.

  They stopped, frozen, staring at me in a combination of fury and confusion.

  Arkady appeared, walking unsteadily, her gun still in her hand and her breathing labored. She gave the Hunters a wide berth and joined me in the middle of the yard.

  “The Hunters,” she rasped. “How…why are you stopping them?”

  How was not an answer I was willing to share with her, but the why was important. “Because he’s yours to take down,” I told her. “Two in the kneecaps, remember? For Fortune.”

  She swallowed hard. I saw a flash of something in her eyes—grief, maybe, or pain—and then it was gone. Despite the soreness in her chest, she straightened. “Thank you.”

  Stevens must have moved, because when I’d left him lying on the ground, he hadn’t been within reach of the garden. Somehow, despite his guts spilling out, he was able to move. Maybe he was going for another weapon; maybe he was trying to get back on his feet.

  Either way, he didn’t get very far.

  The plants moved fast. One moment, Stevens was on the ground next to the flowerbed; the next, a thick vine wrapped around his legs and yanked him into the garden. His short scream ended abruptly in a wet gurgle.

  Arkady and I ran for the garden, but it was too late. The plants thrashed wildly and I heard a sound that was somewhere between chewing and sl
urping. The thrashing subsided, but the sound continued. I had a feeling I’d be hearing it in my nightmares for a while.

  Finally, Arkady stuck her gun back in her shoulder holster and studied the plants as they enjoyed their dinner. “I really wanted to shoot him, but I think I like this even more. Do you think the plants will eat everything, or—?”

  The garden rustled and a gloppy wet boot plopped on the grass at my feet, followed by its mate. A thick leather belt landed next to them a moment later, still buckled. It had been chewed in half.

  Arkady turned a little green. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  I pressed a hand to my bloody side and glared at her. “Don’t you dare.”

  We turned and headed for the front of the house. Behind us, the garden slurped and sighed.

  It was a well-planned ambush, and it had almost worked.

  Matthias swore we hadn’t been followed from the bar, so at first it was a mystery how Stevens found me. Not long after we returned to 1792 for medical attention and a debriefing, however, the vamps found Stevens’s vehicle, a stolen truck, two streets away from my house. In it was a prepaid mobile phone with one incoming message from a blocked number that read simply Identity Confirmed: Alice Evelyn Worth and gave my address. They speculated that someone working for Stevens had surveillance in place at 1792 and used facial recognition software to identify me. There wasn’t much chance of figuring out who had sent the text that directed Stevens to my home, but the vamps were on it. They were also looking into where he might have bought the obfuscation spells.

  Charles and Bryan arrived at 1792 at the same time we did. Matthias had taken four shots in the back. Two hit his vest, but one hit him in the neck and the other his upper left arm. He lost a lot of blood, but he lived, thanks to a little luck and Charles’s blood.

  Arkady had a spectacular and very painful bruise on her chest from the bullets that hit her vest. She declined all offers of healing and said she’d be fine with some aspirin and an ice pack. We made plans to meet for drinks soon and she went home to recuperate. Matthias watched her go with a hangdog look, then left as well, headed for Northbourne.

  My own wounds were fairly minor. One bullet had grazed my upper left arm and the second left a slightly deeper trench across my hip. I had an inch-deep puncture in my right side from Stevens’s knife. Like Arkady, I declined Charles’s blood, preferring standard first-aid remedies. I’d heal the injuries myself at home with spells later.

  Bryan, a former Army medic, dressed my wounds, gave me ibuprofen and a bottle of fancy water, and hovered next to me like a very large, very stern mother hen as I reclined on one of the enormous overstuffed sofas in Charles’s office above 1792.

  It was my first visit to the office Charles was using as his primary workspace while his former digs were being rebuilt. This room was more spacious than his office above Hawthorne’s had been, with a large sitting area, a full bar, and an enormous L-shaped desk. The walls were lined with bookcases and display cases full of antiques and artifacts.

  “I like the sofas,” I said, wincing as I adjusted the pillows I was leaning against. “Super-comfy. I could almost fall asleep right here.”

  “You are welcome to do so, or you may stay in one of the furnished apartments upstairs,” Charles said. He’d been in a good mood since he’d heard what had happened to Stevens. He was less happy about my refusal to let him heal my wounds and frowned when I grimaced.

  The ibuprofen took the edge off the pain, but my arm, side, and hip throbbed mercilessly. Bryan had offered me stronger pain meds, but I declined. If Kim called about the cuff, I wanted a clear head.

  I finished the last of the fancy water and handed the bottle to Bryan. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather sleep at home in my own bed. I’ll get up and go here in a minute.” Maybe five or ten minutes. The couch was ridiculously plush and I strongly suspected I was going to need help getting up.

  “There is no hurry. May I offer you a drink?” Charles asked.

  I shook my head. “I better not. Thanks, though, and thank you very much for the fantastic Scotch you served me down in the bar earlier. That was quite a special treat.”

  “I suspected neither you nor Ms. Woodall would find much on the drink menu downstairs that was to your liking.” Charles poured himself three fingers of whiskey and joined me in the sitting area, settling into the armchair across from me so we could converse easily. “What is your assessment of Ms. Woodall?”

  “You knew I’d like her. Crack shot, highly trained, cool as a cucumber under pressure, fearless, driven, total adrenaline junkie.”

  He smiled. “Those words describe someone else I know.”

  I scoffed. “That last thing maybe.”

  He waved his hand. “This is unnecessary modesty. We are well aware of your skills, Alice—though not all of them, it would seem. I speculated that you might be able to control Hunters, but it is quite something else when it happens.”

  Before Charles had bitten me, I’d kept the fact I was a blood mage hidden from him, as well as some of the more unique skills I had developed. He now knew I was a high-level blood mage, however, and some powerful blood mages shared an affinity for the dark magic that bound Hunters to their master. My ability to command Hunters was rare but not unique. I hadn’t planned on revealing it, but I had weighed the value of keeping that ability a secret from Charles versus permitting Arkady the opportunity to take her revenge and decided her need was greater.

  Charles contemplated his Scotch. “As I am sure you recall, the first night we met, five years ago, I engineered an encounter between you and two Hunters. I suspected then that you had blood magic, though you had so carefully hidden it. The Hunters’ reactions to you—and your reaction to them—was further evidence of this. Amira, their Master, thought so as well.” He studied me. “I cannot help but wonder what else you are capable of.”

  “Well, I’ve been known to make a mean grilled cheese.” I shifted position again and stifled a groan.

  At least 1792 had an elevator so I didn’t have to either climb stairs or suffer the indignities of being carried as a result of my injured hip. I hoped Charles had added one to the new Hawthorne’s. He disliked elevators as a rule, but had acknowledged that not all of his visitors appreciated having to climb several flights of stairs to visit his office, especially if they were a bit worse for wear.

  As I was debating whether to force myself to get up or lie on the couch for a few more minutes, my cell phone rang. I dug around in the couch until I found it. The screen read Kim Dade Calling.

  My discomfort forgotten, I sat up and answered. “Hi, Kim.”

  “Hi, Alice.”

  I knew her well enough to recognize that tone. My heart sank. “You have bad news.”

  She sighed. “Well, the good news is that I did find out what that cuff is. The fire magic spellwork you sensed must have been added sometime in the past twenty years or so. The original shifter magic dates back at least a thousand years.”

  So our guess about its age and origin were correct. That was something, at least. “What’s its purpose?”

  “It’s designed to be worn by the alpha of a pack. The original spellwork is supposed to strengthen the alpha and bolster the pack bonds, thus fortifying the pack and assuring strong leadership and dominance.”

  “The hell it is,” I said hotly. “That cuff forced Sean to shift and made him violent and irrational.”

  “That’s because you’ve only got one cuff.” She took a deep breath. “That’s the bad news. It’s one of a pair, Alice. There’s a second cuff that’s supposed to be worn by the alpha’s mate. Together, the cuffs reinforce their bond and provide strength and stability to the pack. That cuff Sean is wearing is not supposed to be used individually. The magic is incomplete, and you know how dangerous broken spellwork can be.”

  Shock left me speechless for a moment. “What will happen to Sean if someone doesn’t put on the other cuff?”

  Her voice was full of so
rrow. “Without a mate to wear the matching cuff, Sean is going to die.”

  18

  My world shrank to the feeling of the phone in my hand and the pain in my chest. “How long?” I asked hoarsely.

  “Days at most. Maybe less. He’s probably weak already and going downhill rapidly. I’m sorry, Alice.”

  And Jack had dosed him with a sedative. I felt a surge of rage and fought to focus on figuring out what to do. “How do we get the cuff off of him?”

  “As far as I know, you can’t. The magic is bound to him. It only comes off if he dies, so it can be passed to the next alpha.”

  That settled that. “Then we have to find the other cuff. Do you know where it is?”

  “I’ve been looking, but there’s no trace of where it might be. It’s not in a museum as far as I can tell, so it’s probably in a private collection. It could be here, or it might be on the other side of the world. I’ll keep trying, though. If it’s out there, I’ll try like hell to find it.”

  “Thank you, Kim. Please call me the second you know something.”

  We disconnected.

  I put my phone in my lap and looked up to find Charles and Bryan standing in front of me. “I have to get to Sean,” I said, struggling to rise.

  “Miss Alice, let me help you.” Bryan took me by my right arm and lifted me to my feet. “You’re in no condition to confront a pack of werewolves.”

  “He’s dying alone in a cage,” I said, pushing Bryan away. I was well aware that he moved only because he chose to do so. “I can’t leave him like that. He needs me.”

  “He needs someone to find the other cuff and put it on,” Charles said. “Are you willing to do that, Alice?”

  I hesitated.

  It made me sick to my stomach, but I hesitated. Sean loved me. I didn’t want him to die. I would give almost anything, do almost anything, to save him. But at the thought of putting on the other cuff and binding myself to him for the rest of our lives, even if it was to save his life, I hesitated.