Fire Within

by Ally Shields

  In Ari’s opinion, Claris was the stunner, and it showed in Brando’s wide grin when he caught sight of her. Five feet eight, three inches taller than Ari, with long legs and a willowy body, Claris was elegant in silvery-blue silk. Even Hernando came out of hiding long enough to stare at her with approving cornflower eyes.

  “If I had known we might have to fight off the competition, I’d have worn something dark. Hides the blood better,” Steffan quipped. That might have been an odd comment from anyone else, but Ari’s date for the night was the leader of the local werewolves. Not that he looked like a rough and tough guy. Steffan was a cool, self-confident redhead with an infectious personality. Ari had known him for almost seven years, as he was a member of the Magic Council. They hadn’t dated until six months ago, and the relationship hadn’t made much progress beyond a good friendship.

  “You won’t have to exert yourselves or dirty your pretty clothes,” Ari teased, grinning at Steffan and trying to get in the spirit of things. “Anyone causes trouble, I’ll give them the evil eye.” She winked at him and waggled a playful finger.

  “That’s enough, you two. There will be no fighting or evil-eyeing of any kind,” Claris said with mock severity. “And no joking about blood. This is a social evening.”

  Although she'd made light of it, Ari wondered, not for the first time, if Claris was ever uncomfortable hanging out with three Otherworlders. Her friend was gentle and naive in many ways. The herb and healing shop she ran reflected her basic personality—restful, spiritual. Claris wasn’t a risk taker, but her loyalty was boundless, and she’d stand fast if ever needed. Good traits, Ari thought. They’d make her a great mom someday.

  On that entertaining thought, she gave a quick glance toward Brando, wondering if he’d given the mom-potential any consideration. He’d been Claris’s honey about a year, but the relationship still seemed tenuous. A wizard by heritage and a scientist by choice, Brando was often absorbed in his work, leaving little time for romance. As if he sensed her scrutiny, Brando turned to look at her, his shock of brown hair fashionably tousled, his gaze twinkling as if they shared some secret amusement. Ari grinned at him. If she had to go to this thing, she couldn’t be in better company.

  * * *

  The auditorium of the Arts Center was packed. The annual Charity Auction always drew a large crowd, not only of bidders but those who came to see and be seen. It was one of the biggest community events of the year. For an exorbitant entrance price, each person earned the right to free appetizers and wine and the opportunity to bid on a lot of things he didn’t need. Ari ran a cynical eye over the merchandise. And, in her case, many items she couldn’t afford. Like the perfectly ordinary-looking granny vase with a starting bid of $3,000. Of course, she could just ogle at all the rich and famous of Riverdale. It was expected. Looking around at the crowd, Ari estimated there were more oglers than bidders, but the auction always met its goal.

  The two couples dutifully filed past the tables and viewed the choices in the silent auction. Brando kept up a running commentary on the city officials and wealthy patrons he recognized. Steffan placed a bid on a case of wine but was immediately out-bid by the couple behind them in line. He grinned at Ari, shrugged, and they moved on.

  Ari paused when she spied a champagne dinner for two from Club Dintero. She wouldn’t be bidding on that. Claris’s attempt to hurry them past, to skip that particular auction item, brought a frown to Ari’s face. Like she wouldn’t notice. Apparently, Claris wasn’t convinced the past was in the past.

  Ari’s frown deepened. She knew she had been a little touchy on the subject of Andreas and his club. Unbidden, a series of scenes flashed through her head: strong arms holding a grief-stricken young witch; a dark figure singing on stage, the crowd captivated; the same sexy figure sipping Chianti; a forbidden kiss. Ari determinedly brushed aside such highly selective memories. Those were only the good things—and there were some not so good. She flashed a reassuring smile at Claris and turned her attention to the next item, a spa package.

  As if Ari’s traitorous thoughts had conjured it, a surge of Otherworld power touched her. Vampire. And not just any vampire. Sensation raced across her skin, her witch magic singing in recognition as the air shimmered with his dark, slightly wicked energy. She whipped her head around, focused on the front entry, and there he was.

  Andreas’s dark eyes captured hers from across the room. Her breath caught, and like always, that compelling swirl of power wrapped itself around her, beguiling, irresistible. She barely registered the presence of the other vampires with him. Seconds, perhaps hours or years, passed with her caught in his gaze. As suddenly as it came, the magic withdrew, leaving a void. Andreas turned away and said something to the woman at his side. His companion laid a possessive hand on his arm.

  Shaken, Ari took a shallow breath. After eight months she’d thought her reaction to him would be diminished. She’d be the last one to deny Andreas De Luca was heartbreakingly attractive, despite being one of the undead. That still didn’t explain his almost paralyzing effect on her. Or her recent ho-hum attitude toward other men.

  Ari’s companions turned to see what had drawn her attention. Upon catching sight of the new arrivals, Claris’s gaze darted to her friend’s face. Claris knew every detail of the shattered relationship, including the violent death that brought it to an abrupt end. Claris’s face registered instant dismay, and for some reason Ari found that irritating.

  “Isn’t that Andreas? And Prince Daron?” Steffan asked, seemingly oblivious to the tension in their group. He’d met Andreas when they’d worked together on a case last fall. Steffan hadn’t known much about the stormy relationship between Ari and Andreas, and she’d never told him how badly things ended.

  Ari pulled a smile from somewhere and nodded. “Yes. Everyone seems to be here tonight.” She made an effort to keep it casual and was relieved how steady her voice sounded. Nothing like how she felt. The butterflies in her stomach were beating against the walls.

  “Who are the women?” Steffan’s open face was still unaware.

  Up to that moment, Ari had ignored the female vamps. She’d been too busy noticing how Andreas’s Italian good looks were enhanced by his black Armani evening attire. A tempting package. She pulled her focus to the companions. “That’s Carmella with Prince Daron, but I’ve never seen the other vampiress.” Ari didn’t like her looks. Plunging neckline, skin-tight red silk. Even for a vampire, her dress was far too slinky and seductive for a charity event.

  Ari could have explained that Carmella and Andreas were two of the top lieutenants in the vampire leader’s court, but she’d been sworn to secrecy. She didn’t want to find out what happened to people who broke their oath with the powerful vampire prince.

  Ari had never seen Carmella and Prince Daron together in public. Was Carmella on duty? Or was she dating Prince Daron now? In Ari’s book, he was far too old for comfort, somewhere between 500 and 1000 years, and scary in the extreme. She couldn’t imagine having a date with him.

  Her focus drifted back to Andreas. He was another matter, in spite of his two centuries’ head start on her. Despite their many differences, at one point Ari had thought they might…well, it didn’t happen.

  She became aware that Claris and Brando were watching her.

  “She’s probably a bodyguard,” Brando offered, obviously referring to Ms. Slinky hanging on Andreas’s arm. “Doesn’t Prince Daron have his own secret service? Hey, look there’s the Mayor,” he said. He pointed in the opposite direction. His effort was effective, if not subtle, in changing the subject.

  Bless him, Ari thought. She couldn’t wait to get out of the building. She had avoided Andreas for months and still wasn’t ready to meet him. When Claris declared she’d had enough of the auction and suggested they go somewhere to eat, Ari eagerly agreed.

  As soon as they were away from the Arts Center, Ari relaxed. She told herself she was glad for the encounter. It was bound to happen, and now it was behind h
er. She concentrated on the attractive man at her side, and the four friends passed the evening in easy camaraderie at a local restaurant, assisted by the French cuisine and an excellent vintage wine.

  * * *

  Ari dreamed of Andreas that night.

  The dream setting was her apartment. She sensed his presence immediately, the magical power that always surrounded him, and smelled the exotic cologne he used. Strange, how she still recognized those things. A thick, silvery mist hovered in the room, highlighted by moonlight from the window. As the mist parted, she saw him sitting there, dressed in total black. Armani, of course. He wore nothing else. Andreas lounged in her red chair; a slow, lazy smile crossed his face. His unreadable eyes met hers, one eyebrow cocked, as if he waited for something.

  When Ari woke, he wasn’t there. It was just a dream, and she stifled a shiver.

  It was all too real. The images, past and present, blended in her head. Before the auction, her last sight of Andreas had been a violent scene. In the heat of battle, they had clashed over the right to kill an enemy she-wolf, an assassin sent against them by Sebastian, vampire prince of Toronto, Canada. Andreas had pre-empted the kill, and his primitive reaction, with fangs extended, was a memory Ari wasn’t likely to forget. But she wasn’t kidding herself. It wasn’t the killing that really spooked her into ending their relationship. It was the magic. Earlier that night, during a moment of crisis, her magic had blended with his to rouse him from his vampiric sleep cycle—and he’d seen the images of impending danger inside Ari’s mind.

  She was afraid of that magical link.

  Ari stared at her empty red chair. She figured tonight’s dream had been triggered by seeing him at the auction, but it wasn’t the first dream. In spite of her best efforts to block them, there had been four dreams, almost identical, two within the last month.

  Ari got out of bed and crossed to her cedar trunk. As a general rule, she tried not to call on her witch magic for everyday living. She worked closely with the human community, and magic made humans nervous. These dreams were a different matter. She had warded the windows after the first dream, and that helped for a while, but now the visions were coming more often. Was this some mind thing Andreas was doing? If he wanted to talk, why didn’t he use the damn phone?

  She rummaged in the cedar chest until she found the purified water and candles. She performed a cleansing ritual and strengthened the wards with a protection spell.

  Gracious Goddess, hear my plea; Take from this room his energy; Hold fast the barriers, lock the key; Deny his presence, so mote it be.

  Ari frowned as the candles flickered. It was easy to blame the dreams on Andreas. In truth, she was more worried about the family legend. If the dreams were connected to the old stories, Ari was in trouble. She knew she should visit Rosalina, the family seer. Ask the questions. Find the answers. But for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear them.

  Ari sighed and blew out the last ceremonial taper. If the protection charm failed, if he found a way into her dreams again, then she would consult Rosalina.

  * * *

  By the time Ari reached her office, she had shaken off most of the uneasiness left by the dream. She’d forced herself into a lengthy morning run. Something about stretching and pushing weary muscles recharged her energy. With the addition of two strong cups of coffee from a new office pot, she was ready to show the rest of the day at least a neutral face. She settled in her office chair to review files before her first client arrived.

  It was Monday, the day she reserved for what her bosses loosely termed “counseling.” She thought of it as trouble-shooting. Her primary duty as a Guardian was to keep the peace and act as a liaison with the human community, but the Magic Council had a rather broad interpretation of that duty. In her role of liaison she had become a screening and referral service—and part-time counselor—for all kinds of Otherworld problems, from where to find certain types of exotic foods, including rare blood types for vampires and fresh eels for the gnomes, to domestic disputes. When Yana, her deceased mentor, had retired and Ari was first appointed Guardian of Olde Town, her cell phone rang non-stop at all hours of the day and night. She’d finally arranged to route many of the calls through the Cultural Center and had established an appointment schedule.

  As an offshoot of this routine, the office Ari once thought she had no use for had become a second home. Even when she had no appointments, she often stopped in to write reports, make private phone calls, or have a quiet cup of coffee. Her prized coffee pot sat on top of a file cabinet, and whenever present, she kept it constantly on and filling the air with a tempting aroma.

  Her assigned office, situated in the modern Otherworld Cultural Center, attached to the gothic-looking Magic Hall, was an unpretentious rectangular room. A conference table stood under the double windows to the east, the gray metal desk and file cabinet sat against the opposite wall, and a worn wooden bookcase on the south. To Ari’s satisfaction, she had begun to fill the bookshelves with works on witchcraft and reference materials on the seven major magic races—sorcerers, elves, lycanthropes, vampires, fairies, dwarves, and demons. Since there were no treaties with the demons, only the first six belonged to the Magic Council.

  This morning’s schedule was busy. At 9:00, a weretiger father brought in his troublesome teenage son for staying out all night, not following family rules. Sounded pretty normal to Ari, but definitely not her area of expertise. She referred him to an Otherworld runaway center. At 10:00, a mid-forties human woman sought a support group for parents of newly infected lycanthropes. Tomorrow night her son would face his first full moon since being bitten by a werewolf. Although most werewolves were natural born and infection much rarer than humans thought, it was a nervous time. Ari made a few calls, including one to Steffan. Since he was not a natural born, she trusted him to ease the way. The 10:30 domestic dispute between two elves failed to appear, and Ari hoped they’d worked things out. The 11:00 and 11:30 appointments wanted Otherworld appropriate housing, and Ari kept a referral sheet of willing landlords.

  By noon she was hungry, restless, and glad to be done with the warm, fuzzy stuff. She grabbed a sandwich from the deli down the street and returned to make a phone call from the privacy of her office. In between appointments, she’d been thinking about the call all morning. She couldn’t put it off any longer, but the simple act of making contact would bring back a whole host of memories she didn’t want to face.

  “Security office.”

  Ari recognized the voice. She was in luck. Lilith, the female werelion on Prince Daron’s security team, answered the phone. Of the four lycanthropes, Lilith would probably be the easiest to talk with. At least Lilith would understand the issues. Ari had worked with the team for two weeks, almost a year ago. The parting had been abrupt, and not the team’s fault. They’d been too closely associated with Andreas.

  “It’s me. Ari.”

  “It’s been a while.” Lilith sounded cautious. “Thought we might hear from you when you got back from rehab.”

  Ari suffered a moment of guilt. She should have tried to explain long before now, or at least called to let them know her injuries had healed. She pictured the woman on the other end—frowning, her lengthy, well-endowed frame would be lounging against a desk, a wall, or sprawled on a chair, her short dark hair slightly tousled, her expression intense. Somewhere close by would be two semi-automatic pistols.

  “I meant to call,” Ari said, “really. But, well, it just never happened. How is Russell? And Mike? And Benny?” Lilith’s husband Russell and their friend, Benny, were werelions; Mike was a werewolf. They were ex-mercenaries and experts in various weapons and martial arts. Ari had missed them all. Something about fighting together inevitably formed a unique bond.

  “Everyone’s doing good. How’s the arm? Did they get you fixed up?”

  “Yeah, it’s good as new.” A bullet wound to the arm was one of the injuries Ari had received during last year’s batt
le with a pack of werewolves. Just part of her job. “I was hoping you could help me with some information.” Ari forged ahead. “I need to locate a vampire named Rayden. Any idea where I should start?”

  Lilith hesitated a second. “Is this about Jules’s murder?”

  Ari was taken aback until she realized she should have expected it. News of the vampire’s murder would have spread like flood waters throughout the magic community. Not only was a vamp murder rare, especially with a human as the prime suspect, but his death was a rude reminder that supernatural beings weren’t really immortal. “Yep, I’m looking for answers. I understand Rayden was an ex-girlfriend.”

  Lilith snorted. “Not ex, if you listen to her. She and Jules have been shagging for decades. What do you want with her? Didn’t some human confess?”

  “Still have to talk to her.”

  A short pause. “What are you not saying? You think she’d hire some human to do her dirty work?”

  “No, not that. But I’m not sure the confession’s legit. I need to look at other possibilities.”

  “Really. It won’t be Rayden. She’d have taken out the girlfriend.” When Ari didn’t comment, Lilith added, “If you still want to find her, that’s easy. Try the Second Chance Saloon. She’s there most evenings. But I wouldn’t go alone. Even for you, it’s a rough place.”

  “Rough place” was a mild term for the Second Chance. Ari had been to the Olde Town vampire bar before, but only with the police or Andreas. The vampires who hung out there were the least civilized, the worst of the worst. It was kind of a biker bar for vamps. Large numbers of them. Not a safe place for humans and potentially dicey for a Guardian witch.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Lilith. Thanks for the tip.”

  Ari had almost hung up, when Lilith spoke again. “You’re going anyway, aren’t you?”

  “It’s my job,” she said. “Rayden might be able to tell me something helpful.”