Magicstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 4)

by Amber Kallyn

  As she studied it, another mark, further down the alley, caught her eye. “Daily, with me.” He followed her to the second mark, this one a triangle with an eye in the center. They found a third rune and followed it like a trail of breadcrumbs.

  This was new. “Call this in. Get someone taking pictures,” she said, drawing the symbols in her notebook.

  They spent three minutes finding the next mark, then another.

  Celeste realized she could no longer hear the crime scene. An itch crawled down her neck. She opened her mouth to tell Daily to call for backup.

  Three men dropped to the street with loud thuds. She glanced up. Her mouth dried and her heart thumped loudly.

  The only place they could have come from was the roof, but the buildings were both over forty feet tall.

  Impossible.

  “Hey, little pig. What we got here?” one man crooned.

  Smoothly, ignoring her confusion and the growing, deeply rooted fear, Celeste drew her Glock. “Freeze, all of you.”

  Reaching for her belt, she studied the three men. Something was off about them. She clicked the radio, shouting, “Officer needs assist--”

  The radio was jerked from her hand. Something sharp raked over her fingers. She bit back a hiss of pain.

  “Stop right there,” she called, trying to come up with an explanation of how her radio had disappeared when she hadn’t even seen them move.

  Tall and over-muscled didn’t intimidate her. It was when one of them smiled, revealing a mouth full of teeth sharpened into points, that made the itch on her neck explode down her spine.

  One man shot out his hand, nearly too fast for her to follow. Daily flew through the air, slamming into the brick wall on the other side of the alley.

  Crumpling to the ground, Daily moaned weakly.

  “Back up against the wall, away from the officer,” she ordered.

  The men smiled at her, their eyes freaking glowing. Some trick.

  Her stomach quivered as the hair on her nape stood straight up. “Now.”

  “Little pig, little pig, let me in,” a gravelly voice came from behind her.

  She spun, sidestepping to put her back to the nearest wall, cursing herself that she hadn’t even heard the fourth man coming.

  “All of you, against the wall. Hands above your heads.”

  The newcomer, this one a redhead, raised his hands high and spun in a circle like some demented ballerina.

  The other three guys inched closer to Daily.

  “Last warning. Get away from him and backs to the wall.”

  Before she could blink, one man lifted Daily. The rookie screamed as his head was slammed against the brick wall, then fell silent.

  She fired at the man holding him.

  He disappeared, only to reappear further down the alley, Daily still dangling from his grip like a rag doll.

  Red Hair stepped towards her. She turned and fired in one smooth motion. She missed. Not possible. She shot again, this time catching a wavering motion as the man stepped out of the path of the bullet.

  “Impossible,” she whispered. Her stomach flipped.

  “Try again, piggy. Pain is such a wondrous feeling. See if you can hit me.”

  She fired. Missed, as he once more moved faster than the bullet.

  He ripped the gun from her hands so fast she didn’t even see him reach her.

  Pain exploded over the side of her face and she spun, falling against the wall. Clutching the brick, she inhaled deeply against the grayness edging into her sight.

  Something sharp dug into her shoulders, spinning her around and slamming her back against the wall. Red Hair stared at her, leering as his gaze traveled down her face and chest. “Yummy. Never knew bacon looked so good.”

  “Back the fuck away,” she gritted out through the pain.

  “Ah, no.” He tilted his head. “Don’t think I will.”

  She fisted her hands, striking his nose. Bone crunched. He howled, hands cupping his face as he stepped back.

  It gave her an opening. She slammed her boot into his groin, then grabbed his wrist, twisting it violently.

  Before she could blink, the others were on her. Nails dug into her skin, ripping her clothing. A fist tangled in her hair, jerking her head back and bringing tears to her eyes.

  She bit her lip, tasted blood, held back the cry of pain.

  Red Hair drew closer, his face only inches from hers. Blood dripped from his broken nose, but he merely grinned. His eyes were pure red, shining with unholy light.

  “Madre de dios,” she whispered a prayer to the Mother Mary, her heart skipping a beat. “What the hell are you?”

  He leaned closer, whispering, “Your nightmare come true, piggy.”

  Chapter two

  Brandon Wulfgar hunched at the edge of the roof as four vampires terrorized the female cop. She was a spitfire, fighting for the other cop’s life, and her own, with no hesitation.

  She raked her nails down the cheek of one vamp, jerking from their claws as she tried to get away. She shouted a scream of curses in what sounded like Spanish.

  Brandon jumped to the alley, silent, deadly. The other vampires didn’t even notice him, the power of his age cloaking his presence as his dark duster helped him blend into the shadows.

  He grabbed the closest vamp by the shoulder and rammed him against the brick wall. The guy hit with a scream. Brick crumbled.

  Spinning, Brandon tore the others off the woman.

  Their leader was occupied with drinking from her neck. Brandon ripped him away.

  He was unprepared when the woman clawed at him, then kicked a damn heavy boot into his kneecap.

  “Get back,” he growled.

  She met his gaze, shivered, then cursed once more in Spanish.

  “I’m here to help, unless you’d like me to leave you to them.” He waved at the vampires rising to their feet, fury etched in the lines of their bodies.

  The woman glanced at them, back to him. She blinked, understanding dawning.

  Brandon drew his claymore from the sheath strapped across his back, ignoring her gasp as she stared at the four-foot-long broadsword. Tyrfingr vibrated in his hand, thirsting for the kill.

  He didn’t like putting his back to the woman, but a mortal couldn’t possibly do much damage.

  “Brother,” the leader sneered. “Don’t worry. We’re happy to share.”

  “Idiot,” he muttered under his breath. He swung his sword with an ease learned from centuries of practice. His blade bit cleanly through the necks of two of them. Their bodies fell, smoke rising as they decomposed.

  The other two vamps stared at him, the leader’s eyes flashing with fury.

  “Want more?” Brandon asked pleasantly.

  The leader hissed, baring his fangs, and leapt. He barreled into Brandon. They flew back, crashing against the wall.

  Claws dug at his chest as the vamp tried to reach his heart. He slammed Tyrfingr’s hilt against the leader’s head.

  The vamp jerked away, eyes unfocused.

  Brandon lifted his blade and swung, decapitating the weaker man. The fourth vamp had disappeared.

  With a sigh, he turned to the woman, only to find himself staring down the barrel of her gun.

  He reached up, pushing it aside.

  She blinked, her mortal vision unable to follow his movements.

  “You seem to be forgetting I just saved you,” he said archly, taking in her wide brown eyes. High cheekbones were flushed with exertion, giving her tanned skin a glow.

  “Wh-what the hell is going on? Who were they?” Her gaze jumped to the piles of ash now littering the alley, long black hair swinging over her shoulder.

  “Vampires, what else?” he replied, returning his claymore to its sheath.

  She licked her lips, her hand trembling as she pointed the gun at his chest. “Vampires don’t exist.”

  “Don’t they?” he replied, glancing over her wounds. Blood dripped from the bites on her neck, and she ha
d some bad bruises developing, but she’d live.

  “No, they don’t.”

  “Then why don’t you tell me what they were?” He let his power fill him, turning his eyes red, his fangs descending.

  She met his gaze, her eyes widening. “You’re like those pendejos?”

  He didn’t know what it was. Maybe her strength of will to stand over a fallen friend. Or the fact that she was now ready to shoot him. The woman intrigued him.

  Flashing her some fang, he said, “Vampire, yes. Asshole? Not quite.”

  Sirens rose in the air, drawing closer. “It’s about freaking time,” she muttered.

  Which was his exit cue.

  When she glanced down the alley toward the other cop, Brandon jumped, catching miniscule handholds in the brick, climbing the wall to the roof. He looked over the edge, watching her as she glanced around, surprised at his disappearance.

  “Damn it,” she muttered, heading for the other cop.

  Keeping her gun up, she bent over and checked the man’s pulse. Brandon could have saved her the trouble. The man’s heartbeat was slow, weak, but still there.

  With a curse, she rose once more, searching the shadows as she waited for the cop car barreling down the alley.

  Assured she’d be safe, Brandon raced along the rooftops, following the last vampire’s scent. Yet she lingered on his mind. He’d not met a woman with such will, such strength, in a long time. And he couldn’t stop being intrigued, regardless he’d never see her again.

  ***

  The rising sun flashed through Celeste’s bedroom window, shining over the orange striped kitten curled by her feet. Hercules purred in his sleep. She rubbed her stinging eyes and closed the case folders scattered over her bed. She’d been going over them most of the night, but nothing new had jumped out at her regarding the three recent murders.

  Last night, after the ambulance arrived and she’d finally been able to think clearly, the captain had needlessly ordered her to the hospital against her will. She’d quickly been cleared and sent home to rest. Rubbing the soreness in her chest, she sent up a quick prayer Daily would pull through. The doctors had said head trauma.

  She got ready for the day, calling the hospital. Daily was holding strong.

  Once at the station, she grabbed a hot cup of coffee from the thankfully empty break room, then, straight and tense, strode through the rows of desks towards her tiny office.

  Mutters rose. She could barely make out most of the words, but overheard Detective Kurtz comment, “That’s why women shouldn’t be on the line.”

  Heat rose in her chest, but she continued on, refusing to show weakness in front of other officers.

  “Captain wants to see you,” White, another detective, said kindly. Even though he was older than most, he didn’t keep to the old-school mentality of some cops.

  She nodded her thanks and weaved through more whispers to Michaels’ office. She knew not all of them were hostile, some were just curious, but the pressure in the room felt thick, hard to walk through.

  Pushing the door open, she met the commander’s steely gaze.

  “Made it through the gauntlet, I see.” Captain Wes Michaels was built like a linebacker, tall and wide, yet his high-pitched voice would be better suited to a petite woman.

  “Well enough,” she replied, knowing at least here she could let her guard down a bit.

  The man had graduated from the academy with her papa. They’d been partners until he’d fallen in the line of duty.

  Not that the captain ever treated her special. She braced for the coming lecture.

  Michaels pounded one fist onto his desk. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  She explained how they’d followed the runes drawn on the pavement, through the maze of alleys.

  He cut her off. “We’ve had how many murders in the past month? And you’re going to leave a scene, taking only one officer with you?”

  Her throat burned as the heat pushed higher. “I didn’t feel there was any danger, sir.”

  His mouth thinned. “Obviously you felt wrong.”

  “Yes, sir.” She bit the inside of her bottom lip, holding in the urge to argue.

  With a sigh, he leaned back in the chair. “I have people demanding I take you off this case.”

  She narrowed her eyes, hiding fisted hands. She could guess exactly who a couple of those people were.

  Watching her closely, Michaels added, “Kurtz and Johnson want to take this case.”

  She wasn’t surprised at the names of two of the most insufferable jerks in her department. “They’ve wanted this case the entire time.” She met the captain’s gaze. “They can’t have it. Daily’s hurt, but what I did followed protocol. You have no right--”

  He interrupted. “No right? Both of you could have died last night.”

  The memory of glowing red eyes and mouths full of fangs flashed in her mind. “I took care of it,” she hedged.

  Michaels leaned back, rubbing his chin. “Did you, now?”

  “The men attacking us were gone by the time the cruiser arrived, weren’t they?” she asked, staring above his head, unable to look him in the eye.

  He slapped his desk. “All right. You’re still on the case. But you’ll be working with someone.”

  She bit her lip. Arguing would be futile. “Who?”

  “His name’s Brandon Wulfgar. He’s a... specialist... from Moss Creek.”

  She blinked. The name of the town was familiar. It hit her. The place their previous suspect had supposedly been killed in a shoot out.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  Michaels said, “Enter.”

  “You asked me to meet you here?” The voice, smooth as silk, masculine and amused, shivered down her spine.

  She stiffened as the man from the night before strode in as if he owned the place. He stopped beside her, towering over her six-foot height, something she was generally unused to.

  Her nails poked painfully against her skin. “Captain?”

  Michaels watched her. “Meet your temporary partner, Brandon Wulfgar.”

  For a long second, she couldn’t speak out of disbelief. Stepping forward, she waved at the giant. “Do you know what he claims to be? This guy is seriously disturbed.”

  The giant raised a brow, crossing his arms against his over-muscled chest.

  “What does he claim to be?” Michaels asked.

  “A... a vampire,” she sputtered.

  Michaels looked at the man. “Are you?”

  “Aye,” Brandon replied.

  “Hmm. I was curious what you’d be, coming all the way down here.”

  Celeste looked from one to the other, unable to comprehend she was hearing this being discussed as matter of fact.

  Michaels’ gaze flickered to her. “He kept you safe last night. He’ll do the same while you’re working together.”

  Still stupefied, she looked around the room, trying to figure out at what point in time she’d walked into Wonderland. Then, latching onto the rays of the sun shining through the window, she said, “He can’t be a vampire. It’s daylight.”

  The man beside her chuckled, a rumbling sound from deep inside. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

  The fact they were both serious, and seriously delusional, made her breath catch. “Captain?”

  His lined face softened. “You saw the other side last night. If you want to deny it, that’s your right. But I can’t let you keep working on this case unless you can deal with knowing there really are creatures of the night out there.”

  Her legs felt weak, her arms stiff. She opened her mouth, closed it, not sure what to say. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let this case slip through her hands. Whoever was out there killing people had to pay. She’d be the one to get justice for Baby, and all the others. If she had to work with crazy people to do it, well, she’d worked with worse in her life.

  Her teeth snapped together as she embraced her anger, pulling herself together. “I’m sta
ying on this case.”

  She glanced at Brandon, meeting his gaze. The blue of his eyes were surrounded by a circle of red. She didn’t know what the hell she was getting herself into, but there was no other choice she could live with.

  Chapter three

  Celeste led Brandon through the bullpen, barely noticing the assessing looks from the other cops at their desks. She could feel the giant stalking behind her.

  Her hand drifted to the bite marks on her neck before she caught herself. Stiffening, she walked faster.

  His very presence was an electrical pulse crawling over her skin. She scowled at the annoyance.

  In a room off the back hall, far from her office, the files from the earlier case had been stacked over a long conference table. The walls were bare, had been since the Moss Creek Sheriff confirmed killing the murderer.

  Now it was time to go over everything again and find some clue to figure out who was really behind it all.

  She shot a glance at Brandon as he nudged the lid off one of the boxes. He glanced at the top paper, then turned to her. “How do you expect these to help? The demon responsible for the earlier killings is dead.”

  “Demon?” she asked sarcastically.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You still don’t believe, even after what you saw last night?”

  “I don’t know what I saw last night,” she replied, determined to hold onto her sanity.

  “Then let me show you.” His eyes glowed, the blue disappearing behind a mask of red. He grinned, two fangs elongating to curve down past his bottom lip.

  Then he was gone.

  She tried to turn around, but his vise-like hands clamped on her shoulders. A shiver crawled down her spine at the strength of his grip. She struggled against his hold as her breathing shallowed.

  ***

  Brandon stared at Celeste’s exposed neck, a strange heat surging up his chest at the sight of the healing bites from the vamps he’d killed the night before. He could hear her heart pounding, feel the small tremors racing through her.