by N M Thorn
The situation in Arizona also wasn’t the calmest. Every day, either Hawk, Jamie or Luc de la Crosse reported strange unrest in different supernatural communities, but none of them could point out the source of turmoil. With rogue vampires crawling out of the woodwork, Cole had a hard time controlling his Court, and Ruslan was positive a dangerous opposition was forming in the shadows.
Between trying to maintain peace in his state and keeping River safe, Damian felt at the end of his rope, the extensive use of his magic and sleep deprivation taking a toll on his body. But today, while sparring with Cole and Ruslan, for the first time, he truly realized the extent of his exhaustion, and how it affected him physically and magically.
A soft hissing noise told Damian that Cole expanded his fangs ready to bite, and he grabbed his arm.
“Make it hurt, Cole,” he muttered warningly.
“I think you had enough pain for one day,” replied Cole as he tilted Damian’s head to the side and sunk his fangs into his neck.
A short ping of pain spiked through Damian, and the metallic scent of blood touched his nostrils. But before he could react, a wave of sticky, mushy weakness spread through him, and he moaned, leaning heavier against his brother’s chest. He wasn’t sure if it was the effect of the vampire bite or his general condition, but all he wanted was to close his eyes and forget about everything. All he needed was a few minutes of peace and oblivion. When Cole let go, he didn’t move, refusing to open his eyes and return to his painful reality.
“Dima, are you ready?” asked Cole, gently slapping his cheek.
“Not at all, but let’s do it anyway,” he whispered.
Cole bit his wrist, pressing it to Damian’s lips. Damian grimaced at the sweet taste of the vampire’s blood but forced himself to drink until his brother stopped him. As the fog in his mind started to clear, taking away the aches and pains of his worn-out body, he unlocked Cole’s arms and lay down flat on his back, allowing his element to take him over. The earth trembled slightly beneath him, and small stones rose a few inches off the ground. Damian smiled a drunk smile and lifted his hand, making a circular motion. The pebbles danced around him, responding to his command.
“I never get tired of watching a Child of Earth in his element,” murmured Ruslan, his eyes following the movement of the stones.
The shrill ring of Cole’s cellphone made Damian jolt upright, dropping all the pebbles. Cole pulled out his phone and swiped his finger across the screen, answering the call. Then he showed the screen with River’s name on it to Damian and put the call on speaker.
“Cole?” River’s voice sounded strangely distant. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Hey, River,” Cole replied lightly. “What’s up?”
River sighed and fell silent for a moment. “Is your brother with you, by any chance?”
“He’s here,” replied Cole, giving Damian a pointed stare. “Do you want to speak with him?”
“Not really,” she replied, her voice turning dull. “But I seem to have no choice in the matter. We received a call from Flagstaff PD. They have a strange case on their hands…” Something fell with a loud thud and after a moment River continued, “Anyway, I have no idea why or how they found out about his existence in the first place, but they demand Damian on this case. Since your brother is registered with Blue Creek PD as my consultant, the captain is sending both of us to Flagstaff to assist with the investigation.”
Listening to River’s flat, emotionless voice, Damian dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Let me put him on the phone,” offered Cole, ready to give the device to Damian.
“No, it’s okay,” objected River. “Frankly, I wish I could work with you instead. You know, with someone who has more brains and balls… Someone I can trust not to vanish at the first sign of trouble… But it is what it is.” She sighed audibly. “Just tell him to be in Paradise Manor in thirty minutes and to keep it magic-free. I have a new partner, and I’m sure Commander Blake doesn’t want to get flogged again for exposing the World of Magic to an unsuspecting human.”
“I’m coming with Damian,” said Cole in a tone of voice that left no place for objections.
“Good idea,” replied River. “I’ll see you soon.”
Cole hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket, offering his hand to Damian. As he got to his feet, Ruslan approached him, a sly grin on his face.
“Your big chance to fix the situation, boy,” he said, tapping him on his shoulder.
“Or, knowing my brother, he’ll destroy any hope for reconciliation,” interjected Cole, snickering. “That’s why I’m going with him.”
Damian threw a menacing glare at Cole and grabbed a handful of hair on the back of his head, giving it a good yank. Then he placed his hand on Ruslan’s shoulder, teleporting all of them back to the Brown’s Estate.
Thirty minutes later, Cole drove through the gates of Paradise Manor and parked his car on the driveway in front of the main entrance. River was already outside, waiting for them. She stood next to her Charger, speaking to a young woman in a business suit. She was slightly shorter and a lot curvier than River, her dark, brown hair falling to her shoulders in soft strands. As Cole and Damian stepped out of the vehicle, she took in their appearance, and her brown eyes rounded for a split second. But then a wide, friendly grin split her round face, and she waved her hand at them.
“You’re Cole Adams, aren’t yah?” she asked with a barely noticeable southern drawl, curiosity twinkling in her eyes. “Rich entrepreneur, Arizona’s most eligible bachelor, yadda yadda yadda. I remember seeing your photo in some newspaper a while ago.”
“Yes, I am,” replied Cole, returning her smile. “This is my brother, Damian Blake.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” said Damian, making sure that his eyes didn’t light up with the energy of his magic as he carefully scanned her with his other sight. As far as he could see, she was human—not an ounce of magic in her. Nevertheless, he decided to err on the side of caution until he was sure. There were enough supernatural beings who knew how to suppress their magical energy signature to the point where it wasn’t detectible at all.
“Oh,” she mumbled, narrowing her eyes at Damian. “You two are biological brothers?”
“I know. It’s hard to believe, but these two are in fact siblings,” chimed in River. Her eyes halted on Damian, and his heart skipped a beat. But she quickly switched her attention to Cole and proceeded with the introduction. “This is my new partner, Detective Alison Twain.”
She walked around Damian and opened the back door of her car, gesturing at it. “Get in. We have a slightly over two-hour drive, and I want to get on the road as soon as possible.”
Damian swallowed, thinking about spending two hours in a tiny, cramped car with three more people inside, and cold sweat beaded his forehead. But he clenched his teeth and slipped inside, following Cole. As soon as River and her partner got in and shut the doors, his claustrophobia made its presence known, and he leaned back, closing his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to keep it under control.
River punched the address into the car’s GPS and drove out of Paradise Manor. As soon as she merged into the traffic on I-17, she glanced back in the rearview mirror. Her gaze landed on Damian, and she frowned.
“Damian, we have two more hours of driving,” she said flatly. “You look a little… um… uncomfortable. Are you going to be all right?”
“I’m fine,” he replied, but before he could say anything else, she switched the subject.
“The case we’re going to be working on involves theft,” she said, staring at the road ahead.
“What is so mysterious about a theft that the local police department can’t solve it?” asked Cole, throwing a sideways glance at Damian.
“Good question,” River murmured, switching lanes to pass a truck. “As far as I can see—absolutely nothing. The house in question is located a few miles north of Flagstaff, literally in the mi
ddle of nowhere. The owners—husband and wife—are rich collectors who travel worldwide, collecting rare ethnic artifacts of different cultures. Once in a while, they appear on archeological summits and conferences and lecture in universities all over the world. Since both have a Ph.D. in Archeology, they know exactly how rare and valuable every item in their collection is.”
“Aw, River, come on, girl.” Alison gave River a light push on her shoulder as if they were two schoolgirls, gossiping about boys during one of their sleepovers. Then she twisted in her seat so she could see Damian and Cole and continued, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Everything River said is true, but so bo-o-o-ring! Here is the fun part, boys. Someone has gone through every corner of their house, obviously searching for something. Everything was thrown on the floor, all drawers were opened, and furniture moved. Besides ethnic artifacts, the owners have a lot of modern valuables in their home. Yet”—she paused, raising her index finger with a mysterious look—“the husband is positive nothing was taken. He said every item is accounted for.”
“So…” Cole mused, his eyebrows rising. “If nothing was stolen, why are we going there?”
“Because,” Alison continued eagerly, ignoring River’s stifled sigh, “the wife disagreed with her husband. She said one item is indeed missing—” She cut herself off and rolled her eyes. “Well, not exactly. The item is still in the house, but she’s positive it has been replaced with a replica.”
“This is where it gets really confusing,” River took over, glancing at Cole in the rearview mirror. “The local specialist in archeology and their insurance company appraiser checked it, and both said it’s an absolutely authentic, original item.” She chewed on her lip, her eyebrows drawing together. “They’re rich and influential people. You know how it is, Cole. Money talks, right?”
Cole nodded with a nonchalant smile, but the stiffness of his shoulders told Damian how uneasy his brother felt about this story.
“Anyway, I don’t know what kind of generous donation they’ve made to the local PD, but when the wife demanded Damian’s assistance, they called my precinct right away, and here we are—searching for an artifact that hasn’t been stolen,” River continued, tones of annoyance in her voice.
“They requested Damian’s assistance,” repeated Cole, flabbergasted. “They actually said his name.”
“Exactamundo!” Alison sang, throwing a curious glance at Damian. “She said the only person who can find the missing artifact is Damian Blake and refused to deal with anyone else or give any details.”
“Dammit,” Damian cursed, projecting his thoughts to Cole. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” replied Cole. “Whoever these collectors are, they know your supernatural identity.”
“I have no idea why they would want me,” said Damian aloud, glancing from Alison to River. “I know absolutely nothing about historical artifacts or their value. My area of expertise has nothing to do—”
“Yeah, I know. Long-distance running is your area of expertise,” River interrupted him, the pained tones in her quiet voice making Damian do a double-take. But then she shrugged as if nothing happened and switched her attention back to the road ahead of her. “I guess we’ll find out soon.”
Already on edge, Damian clenched his teeth to stop himself from saying something he would most certainly regret later and looked out the window. With Koschei’s threat hanging over him like the sword of Damocles, and the situation in his state thickening by the day, he already had more problems than he could handle. The idea of some rich archeologist knowing his supernatural identity just added to his overall feeling of unease, sending chills down his spine.
Dammit… When it rains, it pours…
Teaser: The Burns Fire
(The Fire Salamander Chronicles Book 1)
~Zane Burns, a.k.a. Gunz~
Modern Day, South Florida
The restaurant was nothing special, just another tiny hole-in-the-wall located on one of the countless South Florida canals. There wasn’t anything noteworthy about its limited menu either. The only thing special about this place was its relaxed atmosphere. The restaurant had an open porch with three tables facing the canal. But the regulars were never sitting on the porch. They preferred to stay inside, leaving the romantic view to tourists and lovey-dovey couples.
Gunz had discovered this place shortly after he moved to South Florida, and since then he had become one of the regulars, visiting the restaurant at least a couple of times a week. He liked the laid-back atmosphere and easy-going crowd. It was a place where he allowed himself to relax and drop his guard. To a degree.
The inside room of the restaurant wasn’t big, just a few tables and a bar. A big screen TV was hanging on the wall behind the bar, next to a few shelves with liquor. The air was infused with the smell of alcohol and fried food, and a heavy curtain of cigarette smoke was hanging under the ceiling. The room was relatively dark. Out of six wall lights only three were on, but no one ever asked to turn up the light.
Gunz walked through the room, quickly surveying every corner, and sat down at the bar. Tonight, besides a few regulars, there was no one new. A pretty young woman in her mid-twenties approached him right away. Here, she was everything—the owner of the restaurant, a bartender, a waitress—all-in-one, cross-functional queen of Missi’s Kitchen.
“Usual, Mr. Burns?” she asked, smiling at him. Her skin, the color of dark chocolate, was smooth like silk and her large gray eyes framed with thick black eyelashes looked unnaturally bright on her face. Her long black hair was braided into countless thin braids and pulled into a ponytail on the back of her head, calling attention to her elegant neck.
“Yes, Missi, thank you,” said Gunz.
She put three small shot glasses on the bar table in front of him and filled them with vodka. “I’ll be back with your food in a moment,” she told him, heading toward the kitchen door.
“Take your time, Missi,” muttered Gunz, picking up the first shot glass. “I’m not in any rush tonight.” He took a deep breath and downed the vodka without flinching. Placing the empty shot glass on the table, he exhaled and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the harsh burning liquid rushing down his throat.
For a few minutes, he sat quietly staring at the TV. It was set to the local news channel, but he didn’t listen to the news, his thoughts far away. Then he sighed and picked up the second shot glass. He gulped the vodka and put the empty glass next to the first one.
“Hard day, Mr. Burns?” asked Missi, placing a plate with a burger and steaming pile of french fries in front of him. “You seem to look broodier than usual.”
Gunz smirked. He picked up a hot french fry with his fingers and nibbled on it. “You could say so,” he said finally. “Just one of those days… This day a couple of years ago, I lost… someone.”
“Your friend?” asked Missi, gazing at him with sympathy in her bright eyes.
“Yeah… friend. Vladislav Kirilenko,” he replied absentmindedly, taking the next burning-hot fry from his plate. “I lost him to the world of magic. He’s never coming back.”
“The World of Magic,” she repeated in disbelief, her eyebrows rising. “What is that? A fantasy novel? There is no such thing as magic. You’re making fun of me, Mr. Burns.” She shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her full lips.
Gunz smiled tiredly and picked up the last shot glass, squeezing it in his fist. “Third one for the fallen,” he murmured and drank it quickly, returning the empty glass to Missi. “You know, Missi, I’ve been coming to your restaurant for over a year. Don’t you think it’s time you stop calling me Mr. Burns? I don’t think I’m that much older than you. You know that you can call me Zane, or even Gunz, if you prefer to use my nickname.”
“I know. I don’t like nicknames. You’re a man, not a pet,” she said lightly, taking away the empty shot glasses and wiping the tabletop with a white towel. “Zane Burns…” She pronounced his name slowly, like she was
sizing it up. “Sounds good, but I prefer to call you Mr. Burns. For some reason, it seems to fit you better.”
Gunz felt someone’s hand on his elbow and a hardly noticeable wave of magical energy swept through him. He snapped his head to the right and found a fake blond sitting next to him. She was devouring him with her eyes, her lipstick-enhanced lips stretched in a sensual smile. Her hand unceremoniously traveled up his arm, following the shape of his biceps, and stopped at his shoulder.
“Yum,” she said, gently probing him with her magic. “I’ll call you anything you want, hon.”
Gunz gave her a frosty once-over, turning his senses up. He had no doubt that she was something other than human. Her fingers softly massaged his shoulder, sending a stronger wave of magical energy through him. For a moment, his mind became clouded with desire and his body responded to her salacious magic with more eagerness than he expected.
Succubus, concluded Gunz, channeling the Fire, burning the poison of her magic out of his body. Her hand traveled down his arm, landing on his inner thigh. He seized her wrist, prying it off his leg and sent some fire toward his hand. Her skin blistered like from the touch of a hot stove and she yelped in pain.
“Who are you? What are you?” she whimpered, trying to free herself from his smoldering grip, but he didn’t let her go.
Gunz glanced around, making sure that no one, including Missi, was watching. “I’m a man who is not looking for company,” he growled, sending some fire toward his eyes. The bright flames went up in the depths of his eyes, and she gasped. “Especially not the company of your kind.” He released her wrist, observing red spots of burns and blisters on her skin. “Leave this place and forget about its existence. You understand?”
She nodded, fear making her every move jerky, and rushed out of the restaurant, nursing her burnt wrist. Gunz sighed, releasing the Fire, and turned back to the bar.
