Blood Heat

by Maria Lima

  He hung his head and refused to look at me.

  “Yes, go on, feel shamed. You deserve to.” I knew I was brutal and hurtful, and I damn well meant it. “Now get out of here and let us tend to Jacob and to your mess.”

  “Mess?”

  “If you hadn’t wanted to fit in so badly to the community at White Rock—which is rotten to the core—no one would be dead. No one would have been a target. I’m not taking you to task now on this, not doing anything more until we finish, but consider yourself on notice, Marcus.”

  Egad, I was sounding like the bitch from hell, like Gigi, even. I almost retracted my angry words until Adam caught my eye and shook his head. No, I was right, angry and perhaps a little overboard, but right. A leader must lead. If I’d learned anything at Gigi’s knee these past few months, it was that. Before my Change, I’d been a child, adult in human years but frankly, left to play, enjoy, whine, and bitch all I wanted. No more. I might not have chosen this path, but thanks to my Clan leader’s genetic machinations, I was heir, and I’d be damned if I didn’t act it.

  “C’mon, Tucker, Adam, I think this calls for the cavalry. We’re going to—” Before we could leave the room, Tucker’s knees buckled and he fell to the floor. His head rose, mouth falling open in a tormented howl. I felt the agony, destruction, and anguish in the wordless sound, emotion a bean sidhe could not match. The hollow, screaming cry surrounded me, swept me up in its desolation. The knowledge slammed into me a second later. Niko. Niko was taken. Adam rushed to me and Tucker and grabbed us both in an embrace, his eyes full of rage and tears. “Niko,” I whispered, my own voice echoing the pain in my brother’s. Our companion, his partner: hurt, taken somewhere dark. He called to us.

  “Go, now,” Adam commanded, vampire voice and Sidhe energy entwined, power rushing through us, building, merging, forcing a pressure so strong it crushed the very sound from the air. Our surroundings shimmered and danced as we somehow moved through the In-Between, the spaces belonging to Faery, outside the realm of humanity and their earth. My bones ached with longing and disgust: the part of me that was birthed in Faery needed it like a drug, the part of me that was Kelly rejected it. I held my breath against the alienness as Tucker’s howl echoed in the empty infinite, surrounding us and keeping us anchored to him.

  Reality popped back in a furious rush of air and sound. We were at the Ashkarian property, in the same area where those boys had been practicing target shooting.

  “Nice aim,” I said, my voice shaky as I took my bearings, trying to shed the lingering effects of Faery. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

  Adam stood, his movements slightly awkward, not his usual graceful self. “Neither did I,” he admitted. “Where are we?”

  “Back end of the Ashkarian land.” I crouched next to my brother, still hunched in a miserable ball. “Tucker?”

  His head tilted up, his eyes red-rimmed, pupils blown large. With a sniff, he announced, “Blood.” Tucker stood in one powerful stretch, all six foot four of him alert and alive, hair no longer bound in a neat braid, red tresses waving like a matador’s cape in the breeze—my brother, the hunter at the ready. “There,” he growled.

  We looked where he pointed. Just below the piled rocks and empty beer cans used as targets, two bodies … or what was left of them.

  “That’s—”

  “The two security staffers we sent with Niko,” Adam finished.

  I stepped closer to the bodies, partially burned, cut, and otherwise abused. My fists clenched. I whirled around. “Let’s go, let’s get those bastards.”

  “Niko’s blood is also here.” Adam rose from a crouch, where he’d been examining the ground. “Signs of a struggle. He’s still alive. Bound in silver.”

  “As were they,” I said of the two bodies. “Garroted, the both of them, with silver razor wire and bound in silver chains.”

  “They know,” Adam said, fangs extending.

  “They must,” I agreed. “They knew what to use. Heads nearly severed.”

  Tucker no longer listened but paced the ground, sniffing and whimpering behind his low humming howl. I’d never seen it before, but I knew what was coming. I knew what my brother had been, so many centuries ago. “Adam, I’ll need your help focusing him.”

  Adam simply nodded and like me, closed in on Tucker, not touching him. My brother’s T-shirt was ripped as if someone had clawed across his chest. He’d taken a strip of the cotton and tied it around his forehead to keep the hair out of his eyes. Those eyes. Normally a clear, amused blue, twinkling with kindness, now dark and vicious, the red no longer just irritation from tears but a sign of warning, crimson glowing in the light of the waning moon. Barefoot, he stalked past the empty beer cans once used as targets, up over the ridge, and into the mesquite and oak-riddled ground that belonged to the church. Up ahead, the lights of the building shone clear in the hot night, no sign of people. No sign of anyone.

  We followed, silent in our determination.

  “What is he doing?” whispered Adam as Tucker gained ground ahead of us.

  “Going Berserk,” I answered in equally quiet tones. “I’ve never seen it, but he’s told me about it. He sees nothing and no one now. He’s only focused on one thing.”

  Adam increased his pace as did I. We were nearing the landscaped area of the property, just behind the church buildings. “He wants revenge.”

  I nodded. “It’s not going to be pretty and I’m not planning on stopping him.”

  “Nor am I.”

  The eerie quiet wrapped around us, dark corners and shadows in the sporadically illuminated church campus. Niko had to be here, but where?

  Sweat dripped down my forehead as the oppressive heat made itself known. I’d ignored it, my concentration on Tucker and saving Niko. Like my brother, I ripped the bottom of my T-shirt and tied the strip around my forehead. My hair was already in a high braid.

  Adam arched an eyebrow at me, then motioned to my shirt. “May I?”

  I nodded and he tore another strip off the bottom. My shirt now skimmed my waist, an inch or so above my shorts. I’d not come prepared to fight, wasn’t wearing my sparring attire, but that no longer mattered. Adam took the torn cloth and twisted it around his hair, tying it back from his face. Vampires didn’t sweat, but loose hair in a fight could blind or be grabbed by an enemy.

  Tucker stopped in his tracks and dropped down, his fingers brushing the rough concrete of a sidewalk. Head shaking and muscles quivering, he raised one fist, a command for us to stop, breath coming in short huffs. Not completely in Berserker mode yet, I thought. He was still capable of rational action. He bent low to the ground and sniffed around again. With a jerk, he stood and ran.

  Adam and I broke into full-out runs, our own more-than-human speeds no match for my brother’s. “Why doesn’t he shapeshift?” Adam asked as we wove through the buildings, heading straight for the main church.

  “No idea,” I said as I rounded a corner. “Berserker mode is human, don’t know—”

  With a howl and scream of rage, Tucker tore off the remains of his shirt and stormed the church’s office door. He pulled on the handle and flung it open. If it had been locked he would have torn it off its hinges. He raced into the building, Adam and I close on his heels. I stumbled on entry, Niko’s pain reverberating within me. He was close, so close. I grabbed Adam’s arm as we ran.

  Two corridors later, we turned the corner. Four men faced us, rifles at the ready.

  They fired.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  I HIT THE FLOOR, reactions enhanced by fight training and my heritage. Adam leaped over me, reaching at least one of the attackers. Tucker’s body shook with the impact of bullets, his enraged howls echoing in the small hallway. I barely made out the sign behind the men, above a set of double doors: BIBLE STUDY ROOM. I laughed at the irony.

  With a crack, Tucker snapped the neck of one man as Adam did the same to another. I rolled and pointed with my hand. “Cover!” I shouted as I let l
oose a flashbang spell. Tucker ignored me, but Adam complied, shutting his eyes and sliding past the last two men to the doorway. Tucker, eyes tearing, tore the weapons from the men’s hands, tossing them in my direction. I pushed them away, and as my brother killed one man, I snapped the neck of the other.

  We burst through the doors, Tucker tearing one of them off its hinges. Robert Earl Miller, his wife, Janey, and two others, both men, not high school boys. All of them faced Niko, his body tied to a small child’s chair, long legs bent awkwardly, ankles fastened to the chair’s short legs. He was unconscious. Bruised and a little bloody, but alive.

  Tucker led the way, his howls louder now as he could see his mate, helpless and still bleeding. He pulled out the first man, kneeing him in the crotch, then the face, kicking him to the side before breaking his neck.

  “Wait!” Miller yelled, a rifle forced against Niko’s head. “The bullet’s silver.”

  I held my position, just inside the door. Adam, who’d grabbed the second man, held him tightly but did not move. Tucker quivered on the verge of pure animal rage, enough of his humanity still present for him to hold.

  “I will blow his head to pieces,” Miller warned, his demeanor as calm as if he were stating the day’s crop prices.

  His wife shook next to him, her mouth trembling as if she were ready to cry. “Rob, no,” she whispered. “Let him go.”

  “And then what, Janey?” Miller threw out the words in fury, all his composure disappearing. “They’ll just let us go? Do you think I’m that stupid, woman?”

  No one uttered a sound. Tucker’s muscles still twitched, he was that close to pouncing. His energy held tight only by force of will. I sent out a soothing pulse to him, trying to let him know that no matter what, we’d save Niko and destroy these people.

  “We didn’t mean for this to go so far, Rob. Please.” Janey’s pleading voice did nothing to sway her husband.

  Miller growled a human wordless sound of disgust at his wife. “Yes, I did. These people are unnatural. They can’t live here.”

  “Even though we’re as white as you are?” I taunted. “Niko’s heritage is purer than yours, I’d wager.”

  “We only wanted to make those foreigners leave,” Janey tried to explain. “The Ashkarians. Tried to hurt the boys in school … then—”

  “Then what? You saw wolves on their property and you just thought you’d shoot them? Nice tactics you have there. What the hell did that prove?”

  Her husband gave me a brutish grin. “Target practice. Then that one half-turned into human after it was shot. Freaked my boys out. We’d seen some dog-wolves with them folk one day out to the lake. I put two and two together—”

  “And came up with murder?” I spat at him. “Did your boys enjoy blowing up the building? Will they sleep well tonight knowing they’ve killed a man, nearly destroyed a boy? Will they?”

  Miller squirmed a little under my gaze but didn’t back down.

  “They’re evil,” Janey stated flatly. “Creatures of the devil.”

  “No more so than you are,” I countered. “Evil lives in humans as well as in those not of your species.”

  Her eyes grew wide. Miller jammed the gun’s muzzle deeper into Niko’s skin. “I don’t know what you people are, but silver hurts you.”

  Tucker’s low growl reverberated throughout the room, its sound almost outside human hearing range. I sent him a wordless plea. No matter how fast he could move, how fast Adam could, Miller’s trigger-happy finger could easily jerk, sending a deadly bullet into Niko’s skull—something I wasn’t capable of fixing.

  Behind Miller, a poster of an extremely Caucasian Jesus in bright blue robes caught my eye. The Jesus bent over a sleeping child, some verse or other inscribed below. The words themselves hidden by Miller’s head. How could I break this stalemate? I’d fought standoffs before, in sparring, in training only, never when real lives were on the line. Flashbangs, mage-fire, wizarding spells—all those I knew and could use, but any of them relied on noise, light, fire, and could just as easily condemn Niko as a physical attack from the three of us.

  Adam’s captive twisted in his grip, a useless struggle. He whispered into the man’s ear. “You destroyed those who were mine. Now, you pay.” Adam snapped the man’s neck and let the body drop to the floor.

  To my right, Tucker whined, muscles tautening for a spring. “No, brother,” I said in a calm voice. “Not yet.” He wriggled and twitched, all sense of humanity stripped from his eyes and expression. Was he on the verge of shifting?

  “Well, then, what do we do now?” Miller taunted. “I’ve got you-all by the short hairs.” He chuckled and traced the gun barrel down Niko’s cheek. “He is a pretty one, if you like that sort of thing.”

  My own lips drew back into a snarl. “Short hairs, my ass,” I said, perhaps unwisely. “You’re not getting out of here, Miller.”

  “Neither is your pretty boy,” he tossed back at me. “If I go, he goes.”

  “Why this far?” I had to ask. “Why take it so bloody far as killing? I thought you Christians believed in saving lives, not ending them.”

  Miller spat on the ground. “Not for your kind,” he said. “You’re not even people.”

  Here we go again, I thought. Why did it always come down to some sort of ridiculous prejudice, based on nothing but assumptions and hatred? No sense in arguing with a madman—or a fanatic, either description would do.

  I scanned the room for some way out of this mess. Tiny child-size chairs, a teacher’s scratched wooden desk. Colorful children’s drawings pinned to a bulletin board. Printed Bible verses decorating another wall, interspersed with common child’s prayers.

  Honor thy father and thy mother …

  God in heaven hear my prayer,

  keep me in thy loving care …

  Now I lay me down to sleep,

  I pray the Lord my soul to keep …

  One poster showed Jesus, a lamb in one arm, crook in the other, shepherding a flock of sheep. Sheep, that’s exactly what these people were, following a dogma of hatred, teaching found nowhere in their New Testament. They disgusted me, these blood purity advocates, caught up in twisted beliefs, fanatics nearing the evil of Hitler, of the Young Turks, of all those who destroy people who are not like them. My own people were no saints free of bloodshed, but our wars tended to be based on true hatreds, revenge, territory—not that any of those reasons mattered more, but they seemed less tenuous than basing hatred on something so very untrue.

  Hear my prayer …

  Indeed. I hoped someone somewhere heard their prayers and could salvage their souls, because they weren’t surviving this day.

  Now I lay me down to sleep …

  Then it struck me: a sleep spell. Not one used as offense or defense, simply a way to help enable sleep when it eluded you. How well would it work on humans? No idea, I’d never tried, but no time like the present to try.

  Sleep, I thought. Rest, relax, sleep. I focused my attention on both the Millers, letting my facial muscles relax, my expression morphing into a less aggressive one. “Mynd i gysgu,” I whispered under my breath. “Go to sleep.” Adam’s brow rose as he recognized the words. Tucker twitched in place, his brows narrowing. I didn’t want him to be affected, though in Berserker mode, I doubted he would be. I sent out wave after wave of energy, directing it toward the Millers. Janey’s eyelids fluttered. Miller’s brow wrinkled, his hold on the rifle tightened. A few breaths more. Silently “pushing” the spell, I kept a sharp eye on Miller’s gun and its position. Tucker, to my right, did the same. A heartbeat, two, three, four. Miller swayed, only a brief movement, but the barrel of the gun dipped down, and in the space of half a breath, my brother pounced, becoming wolf as he leaped, mouth closing over the gun barrel and flinging it across the room. Adam went to Niko. I jumped and grabbed Janey Miller’s arms, pinning them to her side.

  “Surrender, I surrender,” she said in a whine. “Leave my husband alone!”

  Tucker was
on top of Robert Earl Miller, his jaws around the man’s throat. He stopped at her plea, eyes glancing once to her and then to me. I blinked and nodded to him. Janey Miller slumped against me. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then Tucker tore out her husband’s throat.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “YOU PROMISED,” Janey wailed, sagging in my hold. I let her fall to the floor. Tucker, now shifted back to human, his rage spent, went to Niko’s side, tearing away the silver chains binding him. Adam stepped away, allowing Tucker to take over.

  “I promised nothing.” I kept my words brief as I watched Tucker gently laying Niko on the floor, holding him, whispering words of love, his big hand stroking Niko’s hair. I turned my attention to the cowering woman. “You and your group shot and killed three innocent people. You wounded a boy, sixteen years old. You blew up an apartment building killing at least one and maybe more. You kidnapped my brother-in-law. Why? For the sake of your stupid blood purity, your white supremacy? Stupidity, arrogance. You and your kind poison those people in this community who wish only to be kind, true Christians. I have nothing to do with your so-called faith, yet I know its tenets are not to kill, to wound, to hurt. To do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Aren’t you supposed to love, despite others’ failings?”

  Janey Miller crouched by the remains of her spouse and sobbed, her face hidden in her pale hands. “My husband.”

  “A killer.” I turned away from her in disgust. “Is he all right?” I asked Tucker.

  Tucker nodded and buried his head in Niko’s hair.

  “He’s still unconscious but will be fine,” Adam said. “He’ll need to feed, regain his strength.”

  I surveyed the blood-spattered room, the rich iron tang now making its way into my senses as I came down from battle-ready, the bodies. “What the hell are we going to do with this mess?”

  Adam eyed the dead and one living. “Greta and Boris?”

  I shrugged. “Good a plan as any.” I pulled my phone out of my shorts pocket and dialed my brother Rhys. “Heya,” I began, intending to ask him to bring Tucker’s van so we could get everyone home.