Circle of Fire

by Keri Arthur

  “They’ve had plenty of time to arrange a trap.”

  “They don’t know we’re coming,” he replied reasonably.

  Too reasonably. Tension surrounded him, edged with anger.

  “After last night, they’d suspect the worst. They’d plan ahead.” She watched his fingers flex against the steering wheel and knew she was sitting next to a volcano ready to explode.

  How often did he come this close to losing control of his emotions? Last night she’d thought he’d been just as surprised by the passion of their kiss as she, but now that she’d had a chance to think about it, maybe he was more surprised over the fact that he had lost control.

  I need you, he’d said. The words made her heart tremble, even now. She had a feeling that he rarely admitted to needing anything, or anyone—even for something as basic as sex.

  They passed a road sign, and she glanced down at the map to check their position. Her stomach tightened. They were close.

  “We’re almost there.” She glanced at him. There was no mistaking the worry she saw in his blue eyes this time. Her heart did an uneven little jig.

  “I can’t let you go in alone,” she continued, and glanced out the side window. “And I won’t run, no matter what you do or say.”

  “And I can’t let you endanger yourself needlessly.”

  She met his gaze and steeled her heart against the brief flash of emotion she saw in the bright depths of his eyes.

  “What are you going to do, hit me? Knock me unconscious too?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You know I could never do anything like that to you.”

  “I know nothing of the sort. We’re partners, nothing more. Remember?” She paused and watched the chill steal through his eyes. “You have no right to stop me from doing this.” No right to act as if you care, when we both know you don’t.

  He didn’t reply, so she returned her gaze to the side window and watched the scenery grow more familiar. Her fingers clenched, crushing the map. This was it. This was the area. Her dream had been correct.

  “Slow down,” she whispered, her throat dry with fear.

  He did, pulling off the road slightly. After a few minutes a mailbox came into view. Malkin Cabin was painted on the side in big bold letters. Jon stopped the truck.

  “How far up the road is the cabin?” he said, leaning his forearms against the wheel.

  She studied the muddy track. It showed no sign of recent disturbance. Hank was still up there, then. She swallowed. “A fair way up. It was a bit hard to tell.”

  He nodded. “Any place to hide the truck before we get there?”

  She sifted through the images in her mind. “There’s a pine grove about halfway up.”

  “Good. Then that’s where we’ll park.”

  He switched to four-wheel drive, then drove forward. The truck pitched and jerked, almost tossing them into the line of trees crowding the edges of the track. She held onto her seat and hoped they didn’t meet Hank or Eleanor coming back down the mountain. There was no room to maneuver, no room to turn and run on such a narrow road.

  They reached the beginnings of the pine grove. Jon drove the truck in deep, until there was nothing to see but the grayish-brown trunks of the pines, then stopped.

  She undid her seat belt and reached for the door handle. He touched her thigh. Warmth leaped through her leg, through her soul. She licked her lips nervously but didn’t move.

  “Maddie, stay here. Please.”

  Her gaze met his. Something shivered deep inside her. “I can’t,” she whispered. I don’t want anyone else to die because of me. “Evan’s my nephew, and my responsibility.” She hesitated, then added, “I can look after myself.”

  “If that’s what you want, fine,” he muttered and let her go.

  She climbed out of the truck. The wind shivered through the trees, its touch like ice as it whispered around her. She hastily zipped up her coat again and shoved her hands into the pockets. Should have brought gloves, she thought. Jon spent several minutes at the back of the truck, then walked up behind her.

  “Stay behind me,” he said shortly. “And if I say run, you run. Right?”

  Running was the one thing she was very good at—and something she’d sworn to stop doing. But she stared at the bleakness in his eyes, then nodded wearily.

  “Good. Follow me quickly, but quietly.”

  The ground was a thick carpet of needles, and the silence through the trees was absolute. She kept close to his heels, not wanting to lose him in the dusky green light that filtered through the pines.

  The ground became steeper, rockier. Moisture dripped slowly from the branches above, splattering around them. She glanced at the green twilight above them and hoped it wasn’t raining. Her foot slipped out from underneath her, and she came down hard on one knee. She hissed in pain and blinked back tears.

  “You okay?”

  She glanced up. Jon was standing on top of a small ridge, no emotion in his expression. Though his hands, shoved deep into his jacket pockets, looked to be clenched.

  “Yes,” she muttered, and knew the answer would have been the same even if she’d broken her leg.

  “Then get up. We haven’t much time.”

  He was back to being a bastard. She pushed upright. Her knee protested vehemently, and she bit her lip. I don’t need your help, she’d said in the truck only moments before. And she’d be damned before she’d ask for it now.

  Limping slightly, she followed him up the hill. He stopped when they reached a ridge and silently pointed downward. A small valley was visible through the pines below them. The cabin lay nestled in the middle of the clearing, smoke drifting lazily from the chimney.

  Her stomach clenched. They were so close to rescuing Evan. “Wonder if Hank’s still there,” she said softly.

  “Hard to tell. I can’t see any cars, but they might be parked around the back.”

  “What’s the plan, then?”

  He gave her a hard-edged look. “You stay here while I look around and see if it’s safe.”

  “I thought we’d already argued about this. I’m not going to be left behind.”

  “Maddie, be sensible.” He touched her cheek, his hand warm against her cold skin. “I’m a shapeshifter—and I have the senses of a hawk. I’ll call you down once I know it’s safe. Just trust me and wait.”

  As much as she hated to admit it, what he said made sense. Hank was down there; she was sure of that much. And despite her brave words, it was an inescapable fact that she’d rather face an army of Eleanors than one Hank. Which was odd, considering that Jon believed Eleanor to be the more dangerous of the two. She swallowed heavily and nodded.

  His hand lingered a moment longer, his gaze dark with some indefinable emotion. “Here, take this for me.” He tugged the ring off his finger and pressed it into her palm. “It’s my father’s, and I don’t want to risk losing it.”

  A shiver of alarm ran through her. She frowned and glanced down at the ring. “Why would you lose it?”

  “It’s made of silver and won’t shift shape with me.” He stepped away, and his eyes became hard again.

  “I’ll be back in a moment,” he continued, then turned, making his way down through the trees.

  She slipped the ring onto her middle finger and watched him until he’d become one with the shadows. The silence slowly became stifling and seemed to hold an edge of expectancy. She shifted uneasily, her gaze darting through the trees. Though she’d heard no sound, she suddenly felt as if someone was watching her. She glanced back at the cabin and saw Jon move through the shadows crowding the porch. He hesitated at the far corner, then slowly edged around out of her line of sight.

  A twig snapped behind her.

  She spun. Dust danced through the odd, soft-green light, stirring to life in the wake of something passing. Had that something been human or animal—or something in between?

  She glanced over her shoulder. There was no sign of Jon; maybe he’d entered the cabin. She
shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then crossed her arms. If he didn’t hurry up, he’d find her down there with him, whether he liked it or not.

  Another twig snapped. She jumped, staring at the silent line of pine trees. A shadow stirred. Her stomach flip-flopped, and she licked suddenly dry lips.

  Something was moving—and she had no intention of hanging around to see what it was.

  She headed down the hill. Brush rustled to her left, then something small and brown darted out near her feet. She bit back a yelp and jumped away, her heart thumping loud enough to wake the dead.

  The furry form scurried off through the trees. A rabbit, she thought in relief. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and grinned at her own foolishness. Thank heavens Jon wasn’t around to see her so jumpy.

  She studied the cabin for a moment, then continued on down the hill. Surely he wouldn’t object to her moving down to the edge of the pines?

  Something snapped to her left, and her heart rate leaped again. She hesitated, then saw the fluffy white tail of another rabbit as it ran away.

  “Pests,” she muttered, and ran her hand through her hair. At this rate, she’d be gray by the time she got down to the cabin.

  “I do hope you’re talking about the rabbits, my dear.”

  She spun around, her heart in her mouth and a scream caught somewhere in her throat. She’d been right—someone other than the rabbits had been in the forest with her.

  Hank stepped out of the shadows, brown eyes gleaming with triumphant malice. “I rather object to being called a pest. I try to be so much more.”

  Maddie backed away. She tried to scream again, tried to warn Jon, but no sound came out of her fear-frozen throat. She spun again, but Hank jumped forward and caught her arm. His fingers dug down deep into her flesh and jerked her backward.

  “Don’t run. I have so much fun planned for us this afternoon,” he said, then leaned forward, brushing a kiss across her right ear.

  She shuddered and swung her fist. He caught it with his free hand and laughed. It was a hollow, cruel sound.

  Images of Brian flooded her mind. She had a feeling Hank’s idea of fun was very similar to her ex-husband’s. Force was something that seemed to excite some men. Panic stirred the embers in her soul to life, burning through her veins. She kicked out, struggling against his grip. No matter how evil Hank was, she didn’t really want to be responsible for his death. And if she didn’t get away, she just might be.

  Something cold and hard touched her throat. “Stop fighting,” he warned, “or I’ll cut your pretty throat.”

  He smelled of sweat and dirt and death, and bile rose in her throat. She swallowed heavily. Being sick would not help her cause right now—though the thought of vomiting all over Hank was certainly appealing.

  “Let me go,” she pleaded softly. The fires burned brighter, heating her skin. She clenched her fist, desperate to keep them under control. She couldn’t kill Hank. He might hold the clue to Evan’s whereabouts if the teenager wasn’t in the cabin.

  Hank laughed, a soft sound that sent chills running up her spine, then clamped a callused hand over her mouth.

  “Can’t do that, sweetheart. But hey, why don’t we go down and surprise the boyfriend?”

  THE ONLY SOUND WAS THE WIND WHISPERING THROUGH THE trees, yet something felt out of place. There was an edge of expectancy to the silence that worried Jon.

  He frowned and edged around the corner of the cabin. Hank’s old car was parked a few yards away. He ducked past the window and touched the hood. It was cold; the car hadn’t been driven in the last few hours. He quickly scanned the trees. Hank wasn’t inside the cabin, so he had to be out in the forest somewhere. Worry snaked through his gut. Maddie might think she could take care of herself, but she wouldn’t stand a chance against the likes of Hank.

  He took a step toward the trees, then stopped and clenched his fists. This might be the only chance he got to rescue the teenagers—if they were in the cabin as Maddie predicted.

  He swore softly, then moved back to the window and looked inside. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished. On the side closest to the fire were two chairs and a sofa. A box full of canned food sat underneath the table in the center of the room, and on the far side of this was an uneven clump of blankets.

  He reached into his boot and dug out a knife. Slipping it into the small gap between the window and the frame, he forced the catch open.

  After a quick look at the trees to ensure he was still alone, he climbed inside. Heat assaulted him. It was hot, stifling hot, in the cabin. Did Hank prefer it like this, or was the heat some weird requirement for the lead-up to their ceremony?

  There’s too much we don’t know, he thought with a grimace. He shoved the knife back in his boot, then walked across to the blankets. Kneeling down, he flipped away one edge. Red hair gleamed at him. Evan. The other teenager, a girl with brown hair, lay quietly beside him.

  He felt for a pulse. Both were alive, though obviously drugged. All he had to do was get them out of here.

  He studied the room for a moment. He couldn’t risk using the door. It was the only entrance and likely to be alarmed, especially given that Hank was wandering around outside somewhere. Which left the window he’d forced open.

  He wrapped Evan in several blankets and carefully lifted him. The kid was light, considering how long he was. Built slender like his aunt, Jon thought, and felt a pang of anxiety run through his soul. He had to get back to Maddie—something told him she needed him.

  He slid the teenager through the window, lowering him carefully to the ground before climbing out after him. The wind moaned lightly through the pines, and tension ran through him. Something was definitely wrong.

  He scanned the hillside. Every sense told him Hank was near and closing in, that he didn’t have the time to make one trip up the hill to Maddie, let alone two. The teenagers’ safety had to be his first priority. And if Hank was closing in on him, he certainly had no desire to lead the fiend back up to Maddie.

  Jon studied the pines a moment longer, noticing a ridge of rocks to his left. Maybe there was a cave or something nearby. He picked up Evan and ran across the clearing, following the ridge deep into the pine forest. Several minutes later he found what he was looking for—a shallow cave, half hidden by bushes. Certainly not good enough to conceal the teenager from Eleanor, especially if she was hunting in her cat form, but secure enough from the likes of Hank.

  He hid the teenager, then used a tree branch to erase any sign of footprints before quickly returning to the cabin. There was still no sign of movement as he climbed back through the window. Maybe, just maybe, luck was with him.

  He bent next to the second teenager and wrapped the blankets around her.

  “Shapeshifter!” Hank’s harsh voice grated across the silence.

  Jon cursed softly under his breath but didn’t answer. Maybe Hank would believe he wasn’t there.

  “I know you’re here, shapeshifter. Come out.”

  He swore again. Five minutes more—that was all he’d needed. Five lousy minutes.

  “If you don’t want to see your girlfriend’s pretty neck sliced open, I suggest you come out real soon.”

  For a moment, Jon froze. Maybe Hank was bluffing …

  “She’s bleeding as you wait, shapeshifter.”

  Rage rose, so deep and powerful it shook him to the core. Maybe he wasn’t as uncertain of his feelings for Maddie as he’d first thought.

  He took a deep breath, then quickly rearranged the blankets to make it look like there were still two bodies carefully wrapped inside. Maddie’s chances of survival now depended on making Hank believe he hadn’t had the chance to rescue the teenagers. He moved back to the window and climbed out, then slid it shut and walked around the far end of the building.

  “What do you want?” he said, turning the corner.

  Hank stood in the middle of the clearing, a knife held to Maddie’s neck. Even from where he stood, Jon coul
d see the slight trickle of blood down her throat.

  His gaze met hers. Deep in the amber depths of her frightened eyes he saw the fires burning. She was close to losing control, and if she did, she’d kill not only Hank, but also the remaining teen.

  Hank’s smile was slick and victorious, but the relief in the fiend’s eyes was unmistakable. Maybe, just maybe, his bluff had worked.

  “What I want, shapeshifter, is you dead.”

  Jon flexed his fingers. “Then why don’t you release Maddie and attempt to make your wish come true?”

  Hank grinned. “I’m not that foolish, shifter. I’ve seen your type fight before. Until I have got a better weapon, I’ll settle for you leaving this area and not coming back.”

  Jon kept his gaze on Maddie, watching her struggle for control. If she lost, he’d have to move quickly to stop the fires from consuming her too. If he could stop them.

  “And what about Maddie?”

  Hank grinned—a lizard enjoying its brief time in the sun. “She’s my insurance against your return.”

  Hank obviously didn’t suspect Evan was gone, or he wouldn’t have been so keen to get rid of Jon before he’d gotten the teenager back. If Jon left now, he could still ensure the teenager’s safety. And that, he thought, studying Maddie’s frightened eyes, was all she’d care about.

  “Then you’d better take real good care of her, hadn’t you?” he suggested softly. “Because your insurance will only work for as long as she’s alive.”

  Hank’s smile faded, and his knuckles went white against the knife. Maddie gasped slightly, and another trickle of blood ran down her neck. Leave, her eyes seemed to plead. Leave and be safe.

  He had no other choice. He couldn’t risk any sort of attack with the knife held so close to her neck—and he had to get Evan to safety. She’d never forgive him if something happened to her nephew now that he was so close to freedom.

  He caught her gaze again. “Don’t do anything foolish,” he warned softly. Just hold on until I can get some help.