Circle of Fire

by Keri Arthur

  He didn’t ask by which road, simply because she would have told him if she knew. It was a start, and certainly a whole lot more than he’d gotten. “Well done, Maddie.”

  A slight blush crept across her cheeks. She looked pleased and so very, very kissable. He cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. It was well after midnight. “Why don’t we turn in for the night and get an early start tomorrow? With any sort of luck, we’ll find them quickly and get you all out of here.”

  Her gaze skittered across the beds and evaded his altogether. “You don’t want to check the road maps or something first?”

  She was avoiding going to bed, avoiding any appearance of intimacy. “I won’t pounce on you,” he said with a wry smile. He might want to, but he wouldn’t. Self-control was one thing he’d learned all too well. “I’m a fast learner. No woman has to reject me twice.”

  Heat stained her cheeks again, and a hint of annoyance flashed through her eyes. Then she rose and walked across the room to her bag.

  He watched her until she shut the bathroom door, then stripped and got into bed. He turned off the light, listening to the night and the wind whistle through the trees outside the window. A soothing sound, if it weren’t for the fact that he was a bare ten feet away from a woman he wanted and couldn’t have.

  After a long delay, she came out and climbed into bed. He didn’t look at her, didn’t need to. The smell of roses surrounded him, and her emotions filled his mind with color. He couldn’t block her out even if he tried.

  He crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. After a while, her breathing slowed, though something told him she wasn’t asleep. He waited, wondering if she would ask the one question he feared.

  “Jon?” she said softly into the silence.

  “Hmmm?” This was it. And he had no choice but to answer her, whether or not he hurt her in the process.

  “What do you really feel for me?”

  I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman. I want you for more than just a night. But that was not the question she was asking.

  “I don’t know,” he replied quietly. “I just don’t know.”

  And that was what worried him the most.

  JON WAITED UNTIL HE HEARD THE SOUND OF THE SHOWER door closing, then rose from the table and walked across to the phone.

  The old witch answered straightaway. “It’s a bit early, cowboy. Don’t you ever sleep?”

  Not last night he hadn’t. And he knew by the tone of Seline’s voice that he hadn’t woken her up. He smiled. In all the years he’d known her, she’d rarely seemed to sleep for more than a couple of hours a night. “I think we have a lead on the kids, Seline. If luck’s with us, we’ll have them out in a couple of hours.”

  “Don’t depend on luck, Jon. It’s a fickle friend.”

  “So I’ve discovered. Have we any records of shapeshifters living in this area?”

  “None recorded, but that don’t mean a damn. Most of you lot are a migratory bunch.”

  Most, but not all. Wolves and hawks tended to be more settled than most—probably because, like the animals whose shape they took, wolf and hawk shifters tended to mate for life. He glanced at the bathroom, then scrubbed a hand across his eyes.

  “What did you find out about Hank Stewart?”

  “Nothing much more than what’s on file. He was born in St. Helen’s nearly forty years ago—”

  “And he barely looks thirty.”

  “—and he was an only child. Moved to Taurin Bay ten years ago. Lives by himself and rents a small house on Maxwell Street. Never married as far as I can find, and has no living relatives.”

  “Did he have a brother?”

  “Not alive, no. He died just over eight months ago in a car crash.”

  Which tallied up with what Hank had already said. What was the betting that it was no accident, though? They certainly wouldn’t have wanted a relative around who could raise the alarm about an imposter. And the real Hank had obviously been something of a loner outside of his work at the inn, or someone would have picked up on the fact that the man was missing and someone else was using his name. “No unidentified bodies have been found in the area?”

  “None yet. We’re still sifting through police reports from various states.”

  Which could take days. They didn’t have that much time—and in the end, it wouldn’t make that much difference. “I’ve found our killer, Seline. I think she’s using blood magic to extend her life and the life of her bodyguard—the man now masquerading as Hank Stewart.”

  “Anyone we know?”

  “No. Her name is Eleanor Dumaresq, and I have a feeling she’s seen more than a couple of centuries go by.”

  “Then wear the damn amulet I gave you. It will protect you from the worst of her spells.” She hesitated, and an edge of concern crept into her voice. “Do you need help?”

  His gaze went to the bathroom door again. Maddie kept insisting he couldn’t cope with Eleanor and Hank alone, and maybe she was right. But he also knew there was no one in the Circle close enough to help him at the moment. “Mack’s turned up in Taurin Bay. I’ll use him if I have to.”

  “I have a feeling you will need him, cowboy. I suggest you call him now. And keep in touch.”

  “Will do.” The tone of her voice told him her suggestion was more an order.

  He hung up and glanced at his watch. Six o’clock. Mack should be awake by now. He punched the agent’s number.

  “Yes?” The gruff tone told him he’d been correct in his guess, but only just.

  “Mack, Jon Barnett here.”

  “Really? What’s wrong?”

  The sarcastic edge to Mack’s voice made him smile. “You asked me to call if I got any information. I’m doing so.”

  “Wonders never cease,” Mack mused dryly. “What have you got?”

  “I think you’d better check the background of a woman called Eleanor Dumaresq. She slipped a drug into my drink last night and tried to pump me for information. It might be worth finding out what happened to her late husband, as well as what properties he owned in the area besides the Sherbrook Inn.”

  “You think she’s involved with the missing kids?”

  “I think it’s likely, but I’ve no evidence to prove it at this point.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “You might also want to keep an eye on Hank Stewart. He runs the Sherbrook Inn and, I’m pretty sure, works for Eleanor.”

  “Will do.” Mack hesitated, and Jon could almost hear the mental gears shifting up a notch. “I heard there was a fire at the inn last night.”

  The big man’s voice was neutral. He knows, Jon thought. “Really?”

  “A young woman fitting the description of Madeline Smith was rescued by a man remarkably similar to yourself.”

  “I wasn’t staying at the inn last night.”

  “Maybe not. But I checked the register, and a Madeline Smith was.”

  Jon swore under his breath. He’d forgotten about the register.

  Mack continued on. “And two nights ago, you were also registered at the inn—and staying in the same room.”

  Jon ran a hand through his hair. He knew he’d better give Mack some information, or the agent would haul the two of them into the station for questioning. Another delay was not what they needed right now.

  “She’s not involved with the kid’s disappearance. She’s trying to find him.”

  “Then why disappear?”

  “She didn’t disappear. She’s been here all this time. She’s a psychic. And from what I can gather, she has a somewhat strained relationship with the kid’s father.”

  “And a somewhat strained relationship with the police, too. The kid’s father isn’t the only one convinced that she’s responsible for her husband’s death.”

  Husband? Maddie had been married? Jon swore softly. “What was the official reason given for his death?”

  “Died in a fire.”

  Jo
n closed his eyes. It explained so much—her fear, her need to retreat. He wondered if she’d loved the man she’d married and killed. Wondered whether the fire had been a mistake or intentional.

  “Mack, I need her help. Can you keep everyone off our backs for a couple of days?”

  “I could—if you agree to let me know when you discover any new information.”

  “Agreed.” When he’d let the agent know was an entirely different matter. Despite Seline’s warning, he didn’t want to bring Mack in just yet. The FBI agent wanted the justice system to take care of Eleanor and Hank, and that simply wasn’t an option. Justice wouldn’t understand the likes of Eleanor, and it certainly wouldn’t be able to hold her.

  Only death could do that.

  “Good,” Mack growled. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Jon hung up. At least now they could move around without having to worry about the police spotting Maddie. He frowned and leaned a shoulder against the wall, staring at the bathroom door. Now all he had to do was convince her that the intensity of their kiss had been nothing more than a result of the drug. That it had meant nothing to him, just as she meant nothing to him.

  After the attack on her last night, it was obvious that both Eleanor and Hank suspected she was working with him. The longer she stayed in Taurin Bay, the greater the danger to her life.

  Acting cold hadn’t succeeded in driving her away so far, but he had a suspicion it would eventually. Something in her eyes told him it brought back memories of a past she’d much rather forget. And maybe those memories were of a husband she’d feared enough to kill.

  He pushed away from the wall and moved back to the table. Before he did anything else today, he had to get back to his truck and the weapons stashed there. After last night, Eleanor would be waiting for his next move. He had no intention of walking into a fight without the means of protecting Maddie.

  MADDIE TILTED HER FACE UP TO THE SHOWERHEAD AND LET the spray massage her skin. She was a fool—a fool to kiss Jon, and a fool to ask that damn question. What had she really expected him to say? If she wasn’t certain of her own emotions, why should she expect him to be any different? They were strangers thrown into a dangerous situation by chance. When it was over and Evan was safe, they would go their separate ways. Why would she ever expect anything more?

  Because when I’m with him, it almost seems as if I’ve found the other half of myself. She turned her back to the spray. Maybe she felt so attracted to the man simply because he seemed to understand. For the first time in her life, she’d found someone who didn’t mock or belittle her abilities. Only death had stopped Brian’s viciousness.

  Memories rose unbidden. She clenched her fists and tried to stop them—but to no avail. Once again she felt the pain of Brian’s fists smashing into her body, her face. Felt fire burn uncontrolled through her body. Heard his laughter turn to screams as the flames engulfed him.

  She shuddered and leaned her forehead against the shower wall. In the worst of her dreams, she could still see him burn, could see his flesh blacken and peel away, smell his death in every pore of her skin. In reality, though, she’d run the minute he’d let her go. She’d never seen him die—hadn’t wanted to, despite everything he’d done to her. But neither had she called for help, not until she knew he was well and truly dead.

  I’ve killed, and I’m still a risk, because I can’t control my abilities. That she’d managed to control those same abilities long enough to see the location of the cabin in which Evan was a prisoner meant nothing. They might help save Evan, but that would never really ease the weight of her guilt.

  It was all very well for Jon to suggest she find help, but what if it was too late to make any true difference now? What if her fire-starting had grown so wild it could never be truly contained? Being with Jon wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. It was safer to stay alone—and lonely. At least then she could kill no one but herself.

  If only Jon’s kiss hadn’t stolen her breath and her heart, and made her want him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

  If only she didn’t have to face him this morning and pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  She sighed and stepped out of the shower. Maybe they’d get lucky and find Evan and the other teenager this morning. Then she could leave before she did something foolish.

  Like admit her feelings to a man who just didn’t care.

  She dressed quickly and ran a comb through the thick tangle of her hair. Then she took a deep breath and eyed her reflection in the mirror. The woman looking back had dark rings under her eyes and a figure well hidden by a loose, vibrant green sweater. Not her most attractive outfit, which was probably just as well. If he gave her one of his heated looks, she might just melt.

  Only he didn’t even bother looking up from the newspaper he was reading when she walked out of the bathroom.

  So much for worrying about any lingering tension, she thought with a scowl. She sat down at the table. Maybe all the heat had been little more than fallout from the drug—at least on his part. Maybe he couldn’t even remember it.

  “Eat up,” he said, picking up the coffeepot and pouring her a cup. “It’ll be light soon, and we don’t want to waste too much time, in case they move the kids.”

  She picked up the coffee to warm her hands and looked at the toast and cereal. She suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore. But she picked up some cold toast and ate it anyway.

  He looked up only when she’d finished, and there was nothing but polite interest in his face. “Ready to go?” he asked, pulling his gaze away from hers.

  But not before she’d seen the shadows under his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t slept as soundly as she’d first thought.

  She rose and collected her purse and keys. “Can we take your truck? That way I can study the map and look for the place I saw last night.”

  He hesitated. “It’s still parked near the inn. I walked to the restaurant to meet Eleanor, remember?”

  “Oh.” She frowned, not wanting to think about him and Eleanor. Even if he hadn’t succeeded in seducing her, the thought of them together still churned her stomach. “It’s just that I’m worried about my brakes—they’re not really safe at the moment, especially if it rains, as they’re predicting.”

  “The inn’s not that far away, Maddie. We can walk there, or catch a cab.”

  “What about Hank? And Eleanor?”

  “With an inn full of guests to worry about, and the cleanup after the fire, I doubt they’ll be spending too much time staring out windows. Besides, the truck is parked on a side street.”

  There was more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I was only asking a simple question.”

  “And I was answering. What do you want to do?”

  “Walk. The sun is out.” And she didn’t have enough spare cash for another cab ride.

  “Are you going to be warm enough in that old coat of yours?” he asked, following her out the door.

  She glanced up. The sun might be out, but it didn’t look as if it would hold for long. Dark clouds were racing across the sky, and the wind was ice cold. She shivered and quickly zipped her coat. It barely kept out the wind’s chill. Against heavy rain, it would be useless. But she’d be damned if she’d admit it. Not when she wanted to be seen as a useful member of this partnership rather than a burden.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He made a sound suspiciously like a snort of disbelief and slammed the door closed.

  She ignored him and marched up the street. He was beside her almost instantly, his stride long and loose, his arm casually brushing against hers when he shoved his hands into his coat pockets. They walked in silence for several long minutes, but she was very aware of him watching her.

  “I think we need to talk about last night,” he said softly.

  Last night was a nightmare she’d rather forget, which he was no doubt about to tell her to do. “Don’t worry,” she said, her
voice holding an edge of annoyance she just couldn’t help. “I know you were drugged. I took advantage of it, and I’m sorry.”

  He lightly touched her elbow, guiding her across the street. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

  Heat flushed her cheeks. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Pulling away from his hand, she strode on, keeping her gaze well away from him.

  “It’s what I’m talking about. I realize that what happened between us was just a result of the drug, nothing more.”

  He didn’t answer straightaway. Almost against her will, she found her gaze drawn to his. There was a hint of wry amusement in his smile that just didn’t make sense.

  “Took the words right out of my mouth,” he murmured, then grabbed her arm, pulling her sideways. “Dog shit,” he explained when she glanced at him. “Not a smell I recommend in the confines of a truck cabin.”

  “Thanks,” she muttered, and once again pulled her arm from his grasp. It felt too good, too comforting. Too intimate.

  They walked on in silence. Ten minutes later they reached his truck. Jon opened the door for her. She climbed in, carefully avoiding his touch and his gaze, then reached for the road map shoved down the side of the seat.

  “Head up the freeway. According to this, the turnoff to Jewell is about twenty miles out of Taurin Bay.”

  He nodded as he drove off. “When we find this cabin, I want you to stay in the truck—with the doors locked.”

  “No.” She crossed her arms and stared out the window. She felt his annoyed gaze flicker over her.

  “Maddie, we have no idea who will be in the cabin with the kids. It’s safer if you stay here.”

  His voice held a barely controlled edge of impatience. She ignored it and shook her head. “You can’t handle both Hank and Eleanor alone.”

  “You only saw Hank last night.”

  Last night seemed little more than a bad dream. Suddenly weary, she pushed her hair back from her face. “Eleanor has had plenty of time to get there, you know.”

  “I know.”

  His answer seemed ground out between clenched teeth, as if he didn’t like to be reminded of it. She glanced across at him. Dark stubble lined his cheek, and tiny crow’s feet edged the corners of his eyes. He looked tired. And worried.