by Keri Arthur
Kat gave him a long look. “And you didn’t think to mention it before now? Or were you simply planning to do a little solo exploring later on tonight?”
“Neither,” he said, ignoring the sarcasm in her voice. “I didn’t remember because I had more important things to worry about.”
He held her gaze. After a few seconds, heat touched her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze to the directory again.
Gwen pulled her hand free of his and flexed it lightly. “You have a nice touch, wolf. And you didn’t tell us you were empathic.”
He put the lid back on the oil bottle. “I’m not.”
Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then why do you seem to be catching Kat’s emotions?”
He kept his face expressionless and raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m catching Kat’s emotions?”
Her cheeks dimpled. “Because I’m a nosy old witch who can sense these things.”
“Well, in this case, the nosy old witch is way off course.” He rose to put the oil back on the coffee table. “We going to call in the sheriff on this one?”
Gwen studied him a second longer, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. Still trying to figure him out, obviously. He had a feeling he’d better be long gone before she did.
“No,” she answered. “We won’t need to if we can stop the mara before it gets to the kid.” She looked at Kat and added, “Did you manage to make those charms earlier?”
Kat nodded and disappeared into the bedroom. Gwen grabbed his hand, her strength surprising him. “Be honest with her, wolf,” she whispered, her voice as fierce as her expression, “or I’ll make damn sure you regret it.”
She was half his size and half his weight, but he had a sudden feeling this fierce old woman could take on a hundred men his size and still come out on top. “I’ve been nothing but honest with her.”
“Then be honest with yourself, or it’s going to cause problems.”
“I have no idea—”
“You have every idea,” she said angrily. “Don’t you lie to me.”
Anger rose, a tide so strong the effort to control it left him shaking. “I haven’t lied to anyone,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm. “And Kat’s a big girl who doesn’t need her grandmother’s protection.”
Gwen snorted and released his hand. He resisted the urge to flex his fingers as she leaned back in the chair.
“Who says I’m trying to protect her? You’re the one who’s going to regret it if you don’t wake up to yourself.”
“You can’t hurt what you haven’t got,” he said bitterly.
“Oh, you have it, wolf. You’re just too blinded by the perceived hurts of the past to realize it.”
He clenched his fists and took a step toward her, then realized what he was doing and walked across to the window. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?”
Gwen’s voice, though soft, still reached him easily. And though his hearing was naturally better than any human’s, he had a vague suspicion there was something supernatural—or magical—in the fact that he was hearing her now. And that Kat obviously wasn’t.
“In the meantime,” she continued in that same soft but angry tone, “I’ll just leave you with a warning. If what is freely given is rejected, it is never offered again. We Tanners tend not to forgive nor forget.”
“What the hell is going on in here?”
Ethan glanced around sharply. Kat stood in the doorway, her gaze jumping between him and Gwen.
He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Nothing. We were just talking.”
“Yeah. Right. Tell that to someone who can’t feel the tension.”
His gaze slid to Gwen’s. The older woman only raised her eyebrows, as if daring him to deny the possibility. He turned away from them both and stared out the window again. He couldn’t explain why the old woman seemed to be catching his emotions any more than he could explain him catching hers.
“Are we going to go save this kid or not?” he said without looking around.
“We will as soon as you put this on,” Kat replied. He heard the air stir and raised his hand, instinctively catching what she’d thrown. It turned out to be a leather thong threaded with three stones. He turned around. “What’s this?”
“It’s a necklace. You put it around your neck.” She didn’t even glance at him as she began tying an identical strip around hers.
Two of the stones felt warm against his palm; the third felt colder than the Arctic. “I mean, what is it meant to do?”
“Protect you.”
“How are three stones supposed to do that?” He tied the necklace on regardless, then grabbed his shoulder harness and strapped it on. He’d left it in here earlier, and it was just as well. If the captain had realized he still had his gun, he would have been in real trouble.
“The red stone will stop the mara from sensing your presence unless she’s looking right at you. The green stone provides a shield that’ll help stop her from entering your mind to take control.”
“And the blue stone?” he asked when she hesitated.
Heat touched her cheeks, but her gaze met his defiantly. “It’s a last-minute warning that the mara is about to steal your soul.”
Anger stirred through him again. “She’s never going to get that close.”
Her eyes mocked him. “But the moon is full, and you’re a werewolf in heat. Who knows what’ll happen if push comes to shove?”
He knew. No matter how much the fever raged in his blood, he would never lie with the mara. No matter what form she took. “Are we going or not?”
“As soon as I change into jeans.” She disappeared into their cabin and did that, then grabbed her coat from off the sofa and went over to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “Be careful. Use the warding stones until we get back.”
“It doesn’t know about me yet. Its attention is still caught by you two.” Gwen’s gaze ran past Kat and met Ethan’s. “Concentrate out there, or it could be fatal.”
“The wolf doesn’t rule me yet,” he said grimly and walked out the door.
KAT TOOK A CANDY BAR OUT OF HER POCKET AND UNWRAPPED it. The wind was almost unbearably cold, and the smell of rain touched the air. The bright light of the moon had long ago been blanketed by a heavy layer of clouds, and the night seemed unnaturally dark. But lightning flashed in the distance—an indicator of the storm she could feel approaching.
She bit down on the candy and wished she had something more substantial to eat. Chocolate might be one of the five essential food groups, but right now she could have done with something a whole lot more warming. Like a good, thick stew. Or even a meatloaf.
As she munched, she studied the house that sat in the small clearing below. It was a big, old ramshackle building that had seen recent renovations and was absolutely beautiful. What wasn’t so beautiful were the two Dobermans who roamed the confines of the main house’s fenced yard—a fact they’d found out the hard way when they’d first tried to get near the house. Both she and Ethan had barely gotten back over the fence in time when the ruckus the dogs raised had brought out the weapon-bearing homeowner.
But dogs certainly wouldn’t stop the mara, which meant they had to stop it before it got anywhere near the house and the dogs.
She moved her gaze on, studying the line of trees to her right. Ethan was in there somewhere, padding through shadows as restlessly as the dogs in the yard. He’d barely said two words all night, and she’d long ago decided she was going to have a long talk with her grandmother when they got back. Gwen didn’t usually interfere in her relationships, be they casual or not, so to do so now meant Ethan must have said or done something that had raised her protective hackles. And Kat had a feeling that any interference from her grandmother could prove deadly to any hopes she had of a relationship with him.
She frowned at the thought. He’d made it clear from the beginning he didn’t want any relationship beyond sex, so why did she
keep thinking of them in terms of something more permanent?
She didn’t know. All she knew was that she liked him. A lot. And while they were dynamite together sexually, it was more than that. There was an empathy between them—just beginning, but there nonetheless. She’d never felt anything like that before, and she had a feeling it could be a whole lot deeper, a whole lot stronger, if only he’d let it.
And that was the problem. He was never going to let it be anything more—because of the woman who’d stolen his heart long ago.
The chocolate lost its taste, and she shoved the half-finished candy bar back into her jacket pocket. Rising, she brushed the dirt from her jeans, then headed through the trees. Lightning flashed, closer than before, caressing the air with electricity. Underneath her jacket, the hairs along her arms rose on end, then the aroma of evil hit her so strongly that it snatched her breath and left her gasping.
She pulled a white ash stake from her jeans pocket and ducked behind the nearest tree. The wind was coming from the right, blowing the sounds of heavy footsteps toward her. Zombies. At least five of them, if those steps were anything to go by. She crouched down and studied the barely visible sweep of trees. Ethan was down there, moving away from the sounds. Obviously, the wind was snatching away the scent of death long before it reached his nose. She couldn’t call to him, couldn’t warn him, and in some respects, didn’t want to. If the mara knew he was here, she might go after him rather than the kid. And while they were here to save the child, she wasn’t about to risk Ethan’s life to do so. Because if Gran and she failed, he might be Janie’s only hope.
The heavy steps drew closer. She closed her eyes for a minute, gathering strength, then rose and stepped from the cover of the tree.
The dead stopped, surprise flitting across their decaying features. The mara was in the lead, her gown as flimsy as smoke and revealing more of the woman than Kat ever wanted to see. Obviously, it wasn’t only the child the soul-sucker hunted tonight.
“Sorry, folks,” Kat said, raising the stake, “but kid and soul are off the menu for tonight.”
The mara screamed—a sound that sliced through the night. Her form began to melt into air as the zombies crowded forward. Kat hit them with a wide beam of kinetic energy, thrusting them on their bony backsides as she ran at the soul-sucker.
Smoke condensed and began to slither away. Kat slashed it, and the soul-sucker screamed in pain. She raised the stake to strike again, but was hit from behind and thrust face-first into the ground.
She grunted, battling for breath and spitting out dirt as bony knees pressed into her back. The zombie chuckled, his breath washing dead things past her cheek. Bile rose. She swallowed heavily and hit him kinetically. Before she could rise, something else grabbed her and dragged her upright. Kinetic energy surged again, but a second before she released it she realized that the smell had changed, had become the scent of freshly cut wood combined with the tang of earthy spices. Ethan, not one of the zombies.
“Go,” he said, his face grim as he pushed her toward the house. “Stop the mara.”
She didn’t argue, just ran hell-bent for leather down the path toward the house. The dogs were barking furiously, and the owner was outside, gun in hand, yelling at the dogs to shut up.
She skirted the fence line and climbed into the yard on the opposite side of the house. The mara was at the window and beginning to seep inside. Kat lunged forward, slashing the smoke with the stake. The soul-sucker screamed, and blood as black as the night sprayed across the glass.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kat saw movement. She spun and raised the stake, then saw it was the dogs, not a zombie. She hit them kinetically, tossing them across the picket fence. It wouldn’t stop them long, but her only other option was hurting them, and she wasn’t about to do that.
The mara had seeped through the window. Kat swore and hit it kinetically, drawing the glass backward rather than pushing it forward and spraying the room. Inside, a child began screaming—a terror-filled sound that was quickly cut off.
Because the soul-sucker had her.
“Don’t you be moving, little lady.” The harsh warning was overridden by the sound of a rifle being cocked.
Kat swore again and hit the man kinetically, thrusting him onto his ass. The gun went off, the shot blasting the house dangerously close to her head. Wood splintered, tearing past her cheeks. She dove through the window, hit the carpet, and rolled to her feet in one smooth movement.
Neither the child nor the mara was in the bedroom, and the trail of evil led into the hall. A nightie-clad woman was hurrying toward the bedroom, but she froze, eyes widening in fear when she saw Kat.
Kat threw out her hands to show she held no weapons. “Did you see anyone run past here?”
The woman’s gaze flickered. In that instant, Kat realized someone was behind her. She spun, but it was too late.
Something smashed into her head, and the lights went out.
“THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS GET ME A WET CLOTH TO clean her face with.” Ethan’s tone was brusque, and it seemed to be coming from a great distance.
“No one is doing anything until the sheriff gets here.” The second voice was harsh and low and filled with so much anger it quivered. But it was a voice Kat recognized. It was the homeowner who’d tried to shoot her. The father of the little girl the soul-sucker had taken.
She opened her eyes and blinked several times, trying to get her bearings. She was still lying on the floor, but she was no longer in the hall. Her head was cradled on muscular thighs, and warm fingers touched her cheek, gently caressing. There was so much pain in her head it felt like her brain was about to explode, and the same could be said for the air, which was sharp with anger and tension.
She tilted her head and met Ethan’s gaze. “You’re here.” She hadn’t expected him to be. She’d thought he’d be chasing the soul-sucker.
“I am.” There was concern in his voice, but the fury she could feel in the air was visible in his nut-brown eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit. What about the mara?”
“Gone with the kid.”
She struggled to rise. “We have to go after them—”
Ethan put a hand on her shoulder, but it was the sound of a rifle being loaded that made her freeze.
“We’re being held at gunpoint in the living room by the father and the oldest son,” he explained, voice clipped. “They called the sheriff.”
Her gaze met his again. “Have you told them you’re a cop?”
“Yeah,” he said dryly. “They aren’t buying it.”
“You showed them your badge?”
“They’re not buying that, either. And they took my gun.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And you let them?”
He hesitated. Something flashed in his eyes. “They had a gun to your head. I had no choice.”
“Ah.” She was tempted to ask why that had stopped him, but she knew the answer would be anything other than an admission of caring. “Is there a football swelling on the side of my head? It feels like it.”
A smile touched his mouth and did strange things to her pulse. “It’s more like a golf ball.” His fingers moved from her cheek to her head, gently probing her scalp just above the temple. “Nasty-looking, but there’s no cut.”
“Good.” She’d had more than her fair share of cuts already on this case. She raised a hand, touching his stubble-lined cheek. “We’ll find her. Before the three days are up, we’ll find her.”
Just for a moment, his anger and fear and torment surrounded her, strong enough to almost taste. Then it shut down, as he shut down emotionally, until all that was left was his cop face. “Don’t promise.” His voice, though soft, was harsh. “Because promises like that are almost never kept.”
“Mine will be.”
“Don’t.” The sound of sirens touched the air, and he asked, “Are you up to trying to track down the mara’s scent once the sheriff releases us?”
Sh
e nodded but couldn’t help wincing in pain. “Don’t suppose anyone would give me a painkiller?”
Silence greeted her request. If it weren’t for the heavy breathing, she might have thought Ethan and she were alone in the room. She certainly couldn’t see anyone else from where she was lying.
The sheriff and his men arrived about five minutes later. The big man’s gaze swept the room, hesitated on them briefly, then moved on. “Jesus, Frank, put the gun down. What in hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Karen’s gone.” The homeowner’s voice was defiant but shaky. “And these two know about it. They broke into my house—”
“These two are part of a special task force trying to stop the kidnappings. Deputies, grab those damn rifles.” The sheriff strode toward them. “You two okay?”
Kat nodded and sat up with Ethan’s help. “Do you mind if we look around? There’s still a chance we can find the kidnapper’s trail.”
“Sure. Just come back and give me a full report. I particularly want to know why you didn’t call for help.”
She nodded again and tried to ignore the pounding ache in her head. She needed painkillers and rest, but she wasn’t likely to get either of those anytime soon. Ethan helped her rise and kept hold of one hand as he led her past the white-faced trio near the hall door. His fingers felt good against hers, warm and strong.
He stopped near the little girl’s bedroom. “Is this where you were knocked unconscious?”
She nodded, then took a deep breath and completely lowered her shields, seeking whatever emotions might lie in the hall. Death was a slither of darkness staining the air. She couldn’t feel anything from the little girl, but then, she wouldn’t. Not until Karen was dying.
“This way,” she said, untangling her fingers from his.
She followed the trail through the kitchen and out the back door. The dogs barked, but someone had chained them, and they were no longer a threat.
Rain began to fall, big, fat drops that hit with the intensity of hail. Overhead, thunder rumbled. If the heavens opened up, she’d lose the scent completely. She hurried across the yard and leaped the fence. The storm hit as they entered the trees, and within minutes, the thread of evil had evaporated. She stopped, cursing long and loud.
