Awakening the Fire

by Ally Shields

  “That’s crazy. You don’t know what yer talkin’ about. And I don’t have time for it.” He swung his feet down and stood. “I’ve got things to do…” He let the sentence hang.

  Ari met his dismissal with a challenge of her own. “I’m not done with you, wolf. You’re going to see me around every corner.”

  Molyneux bristled, his body snapped to attention, his yellow eyes gleamed with malice. Ari’s heartbeat jumped with a spark of recognition. She had seen that predatory look once before.

  “When were you last in Goshen Park?”

  He hesitated. “Never heard of the place.”

  “No? Big park on the edge of Olde Town? There’s a funny story going around about a red wolf who hunted in the park for children. One day a woman came along, whipped his ass and scared him away. Ever heard that story?”

  Molyneux’s face turned red. “A stupid story!” He caught himself and continued with less vehemence. “No wolf would run from a woman. Now get out. Or I’ll have you thrown out.” The two wolves behind him came to attention, and Steffan straightened in the doorway.

  “I’ll go,” she said. “But one last thing—the tall, brunette she-wolf who’s been seen in your company… I’d like to talk with her. Is she around?”

  He showed her his teeth. “She’s gone. Sheila got bored and went home. Local company’s too tame down here.” Molyneux looked at his wolves. “See they find the door.”

  “Sorry to hear she’s not around,” Ari said, not moving. “Maybe you can deliver a message. Tell her that her friend Angie died. You know the one, the reporter.”

  Yep, that hit home. Now that Ari knew what to look for, she saw the telltale flicker in his eyes. Satisfied, she turned, brushed by the wolves in the hall, and strode out the front door. Steffan followed. She didn’t stop until they had collected the weretigers and were back on the street.

  Steffan hadn’t said a word since they’d left the library. Now Ari heard choking sounds that turned into a chuckle. He responded to her look of inquiry with a wide, wolfish grin.

  “I thought you were going to get us killed in there,” he said, his shoulders starting to shake with laughter. “He was such an arrogant prick. And you kept poking him. The drugs, the wolf who had his ass whipped. Almost lost it on that one. And when you brought up the reporter, he nearly turned purple.”

  Yeah, well, Molyneux had been an easy target. Steffan’s amusement was contagious. It wasn’t really that funny, but an adrenaline hangover does strange things. They stood in the middle of the street snickering like a pair of idiots. The weretigers watched in confusion. Steffan tried to explain, reciting parts of the encounter, but the tigers still looked bewildered. It was one of those times when you had to be there.

  * * *

  On the drive home from Steffan’s, Ari called Ryan and filled him in. It didn’t take long for him to check police records and identify Sheila as Sheila Montgomery, Molyneux’s long-standing girlfriend. Assaults, disorderly. Ari was glad to put a name on their suspect. Ari was positive Sheila had been in the house today, and that they’d meet again.

  Ryan’s other news was not so welcome. The police department’s case on the vampire attacks was officially closed. Unless she found new evidence that allowed Ryan to reopen, Ari was officially on her own. In anticipation of the order, Ryan had spent the morning calling around the country, talking with other law enforcement jurisdictions about Fantasy. And he gleaned some unexpected results.

  “Say that again.” Ari thought she must have misunderstood him.

  “It’s true. No one else has heard of the altered formula. The Otherworld hasn’t been affected, except in Riverdale.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Why us?” Ari demanded. “What makes our town a target?”

  “If we knew the answer, we’d have the case solved.”

  “Molyneux knows. The smug bastard. Maybe his next move will give us a hint.”

  * * *

  Instead, as hour after hour passed, Ari became more puzzled. She’d expected a response from the wolves, but not the one she got. Nothing happened. Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate; whatever had been going on, suddenly stopped. There were no fights, no new reports of drugs among the Otherworlders. The Canadian pack was laying low. The rest of Monday, then Tuesday, came and went. The Otherworld community stayed quiet, as if holding its breath.

  Except for the vampires. In the wake of the attempted assassination, they were squabbling among themselves. Ari talked with Rita and heard all about the whispers of a secret rebellion. Negative propaganda about the Prince and his so-called democratic court warned of a fascist takeover. Rita said she was staying out of it, and Ari agreed that was a good idea.

  Ari heard nothing from or about Andreas. She spotted Victor one evening at a rival club, talking with a big tattooed vamp. He didn’t see her or pretended he didn’t. Ari didn’t approach him. She thought maybe Lucien was right about one thing: she didn’t like vampires much. At best they were annoying.

  During patrol Wednesday night, Ari thought about the events of the last few days. She realized she was driving her friends crazy. Obsessed with solving a case that seemed unsolvable, she’d bent Yana’s ear twice and bored Claris over coffee and innumerable phone calls. Despite these mental and verbal gymnastics, she was no closer to an answer.

  Ari reached the end of her normal patrol route and turned onto the tree-lined street that led to her apartment building. The case replayed in her head for the umpteenth time. The four attacks: Goshen Park, Angela, Were Fest, the Second Chance Saloon. The werewolf presence. And Riverdale’s unique status as the only market with the altered Fantasy. She knew they fit together, in some way. In some mad scheme. And Molyneux was the key.

  Alerted by a sudden breath of familiar magic, she spun around. Her pulse jumped as he moved toward her from the trees. “Why are you following me?” she demanded.

  “My congratulations,” Andreas said as he drew near. “My presence is not usually noticed until I wish it.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “No,” he agreed. “It was a compliment. Wasn’t that what you wanted the night we met?”

  Ari refused to be baited. And to show he couldn’t intimidate her, she turned her back and walked away. He caught up easily and fell into step. A soft, feathery sensation slid over her skin, a distinctive energy that flowed from him like a seductive fragrance.

  “I heard you visited the club.”

  “We came for the performance. My friends say you’re good.”

  “You should return and judge for yourself. Any Thursday night.” His voice was measured, impersonal. In spite of his civil words, or maybe because of them, this didn’t feel like a social call. Something was up. Why was that always the case with Andreas?

  “You weren’t there last Thursday,” she said.

  “Unavoidable business. Not likely to happen again.” The subject was closed.

  They continued in silence for two long, uncomfortable blocks, until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Ari stopped and turned to face him. “Why are you here?”

  “Do you wish me to leave?” he countered.

  “I wouldn’t mind. But do whatever you want.” She turned away. Why hadn’t she told him to go? Every past meeting had been awkward, potentially dangerous. Yet something about him continued to interest her. Her magic stirred. Yeah, that too.

  “A young waiter from my club is missing,” he said, catching up with her again. “I thought you might be able to tell me what happened to him.”

  “Me? How would I know? I don’t know any of your waiters. Or anyone else at the club, except you and Victor.”

  “Marcus waited on you and your friends Thursday night. You were observed talking to him,” Andreas insisted.

  “About the menu or drinks, maybe. I don’t remember him. What do you mean he’s missing?”

  “He disappeared. Hasn’t reported to work or returned to his nest. Marcus is normally responsible, reliable. This is not like
him.”

  “And you think something bad happened?”

  “The thought crossed my mind.”

  She glanced at him then. “I still don’t get it. Why ask me?”

  “It was suggested as a…possibility.”

  “What kind of possibility? By who? I haven’t been notified of unidentified remains, bones or otherwise, if that’s what you mean.”

  “That is good to know. But not exactly what I had in mind.”

  “Then what?” She stopped and tried to read his face. She’d heard something off in his voice. “What are you trying to say?”

  The vampire threw up his hands. “To be honest, I don’t know. This has been a bad week, and now Marcus has vanished. I feel responsible.”

  Ari later wished she’d let it go, but she didn’t. “And you thought what? That I’d killed another vampire?” she asked with sarcastic brusqueness.

  When Andreas didn’t respond right away, the truth hit her. Slapping one fist against her hip, she glared at him.

  “That’s it. That’s exactly what you thought, isn’t it?” Her face flushed with sudden anger. “Who would suggest such a thing?” Her voice had risen. “Damn you, Andreas. That’s the real reason you’re here. You’ve decided I’m some sort of crazy vamp killer. It’s almost funny.”

  Even in her anger, she recognized the irony. While she’d been stressing about his dark side, he’d concluded she was a vampire hunter. Time had not improved his view of the incident at the Second Chance Saloon. Any hope for trust between them seemed to be slipping away.

  Andreas started to answer, but, stung, Ari lashed out. “For the record, I don’t know anything about Marcus. And I certainly didn’t kill him. I don’t go around indiscriminately killing vampires. Although you’re seriously making me reconsider that. Get the hell away from me, Andreas. And take your freaking accusations with you.”

  She stalked off, and this time he didn’t follow.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The days began to run together and most of the next week passed without drama. Molyneux’s girlfriend, Sheila Montgomery, hadn’t surfaced yet, and the wolves rarely left their house on Vine. The noticeable tension in the lycanthrope community settled down. Steffan and Ari met for lunch toward the end of the week to talk over the situation. The upshot was that anxiety still simmered under the surface, awaiting some trigger to set it off. That didn’t help Ari’s sense of frustration.

  The young vampire, Marcus, was still missing. Ari heard Andreas had been all over the city asking questions without finding a solid lead. Even 200-year-old vampires had their limitations.

  As far as she knew, there were no new attacks on Prince Daron, but the vampires were restless. Convinced the would-be assassin had not acted alone, vampire leaders were still questioning everyone, trusting no one. Rita said her friends were watching each other, afraid the enemy might be in their own nest. Vampire paranoia had reached a new threshold.

  In spite of the tension in the city, or maybe because of it, Ari drove to her grandparents’ home in the hill country on the night of Mabon, the fall equinox. Visiting relatives was a bonus, but she’d come to reconnect with the twelve sisters of her coven.

  Mabon was a sacred night of ceremony, feasting, and meditation. Over a harvest meal, served on Great-Gran’s best china, they downed half a dozen bottles of vintage wine, offering thanks to the Goddess for their achievements and toasting the tasks unfinished. Afterward, with hugs and good wishes, each witch went her separate way, renewed by the assurance they were not alone. It was a reminder Ari had badly needed.

  She spent the next day with her grandparents, relaxing, setting her responsibilities aside for just a few more hours. When her parents died, her grandparents had raised her two siblings, and Ari had visited whenever her training schedule allowed. Mostly holidays, plus four weeks in the summer. Next to Great-Gran and Yana, they’d been the primary influences in her life. Grandpapa walked with a cane now, and Grandma’s hair had turned white. Ari vowed to call more often.

  On the drive back to Riverdale that evening, she was still feeling mellow when the ring of her cell phone dragged her back to reality.

  “Ari? You gotta help me.” The voice on the phone was female, high-pitched with stress, somehow familiar. Ari couldn’t quite place it.

  “Who is this?” Then immediately, “Rita?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. Please help me. Somebody’s got him!”

  “Who? Got who?” Ari asked.

  “G-G-Gordon.” Rita’s voice shook so badly she struggled to get out the words. She choked on a sob.

  “Who’s Gordon? Calm down and talk to me.” Ari pulled to the side of the road and gave Rita her full attention.

  Rita sniffed, hiccupped. “My man. Number one dude. He’s missing.”

  Ari sat up straighter. Another missing vampire? Well, this had a familiar ring. At least Rita didn’t automatically assume Ari had killed him.

  “What makes you think he’s missing?”

  “He’s not here. We’ve seen each other every night for two weeks, like regular. And his friends say he never came home Friday night. They got him, Ari. And I’m s-scared.” She choked up again on the last words.

  Ari’s first thought was Rita might have overreacted, that the new boyfriend could be shagging with someone else. Two weeks did not make a lifelong commitment. But this was the second missing vampire, and Rita’s voice held panic.

  “Where are you?” Ari asked.

  “I can meet you somewhere,” was the response.

  Which meant she was calling from her nest. Whatever their sleeping abode—apartment, cave, or crypt—vampires never revealed the home address for a logical reason: sleeping vamps were defenseless to attack. It was a rule so deeply ingrained that Rita had followed her instincts even in a crisis. They agreed on Maurie’s Bar in an hour.

  * * *

  An unhappy Rita was still slutty. The yellow silk pants and matching top left nothing to the imagination. Ari rather liked the boots, but not in vivid lime green. A neck scarf, color-coded to the boots, completed the eye-popping outfit. Rita’s face was deeply shadowed; lines creased her forehead; her shoulders slumped. A neglected drink stood on the table. Ari cringed. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.

  Ari pulled out a chair. “Rita?”

  The vampire looked up. “I called his friends again. While I was waiting,” she said in a monotone. “Still no show.”

  “Well, that’s good you checked. Now, let’s see if I’ve got this right. You met Gordon, another vampire, right?” Rita bobbed her head. “Two weeks ago, and…”

  “No, months ago. We hooked up two weeks ago.”

  “So when did you last see him?”

  “Friday. Well, Saturday morning, I guess. He left just before dawn. But he never got home. I didn’t know that, until Saturday night.” She looked at Ari. “Someone snatched him.”

  Or staked him, Ari thought. Only something drastic would keep a vampire from the safety of his nest when the sun rose. “What makes you so sure someone took him? Couldn’t it be an accident or a fight, maybe?”

  Rita started shaking her head before Ari finished. “Uh-uh. It’s just like the other vamp. The wolves got him.” Rita shivered.

  “What other vamp?” Ari demanded, leaning forward. “Are you talking about Marcus? Do you know what happened to him?”

  Rita nodded eagerly. “Gordon told me. Killer wolves are using voodoo to capture vampires. And making them slaves. Now they’ve got Gordon too,” Rita wailed.

  Ari tried to sort out the grains of truth. She suspected the tale had grown with the retelling. “Where did Gordon hear this?”

  “His nest mates told him.” Rita was positive on this part. “Two nestlings saw it happen. The wolves were after him, and Marcus never got home. Just like Gordon,” she whispered, her eyes round.

  “What wolves? Where?”

  Rita’s mouth turned down. “I don’t know.”

  As Ari absorbed this unforeseen
answer to Marcus’s disappearance, she fired off follow up questions, but the young vamp had told all she knew. “What did Andreas say about this?”

  Rita ducked her head. “Nobody told him. Bad things have been happening. Andreas could be part of it. We were afraid somebody else might disappear if he thought they knew too much.” Confusion deepened the lines of Rita’s face. “Gordon said to keep my mouth shut. But that was before…” She stopped, swallowed hard, and finished in a rush. “But I’m telling you. I have to trust someone.”

  In a way, Ari was flattered. Vampires didn’t trust easily, and Rita’s faith in her was rather touching. But Ari wasn’t sure she could live up to the expectations. If Molyneux’s wolves were behind this, Gordon and Marcus were probably dead.

  They talked awhile longer; mostly Rita talked, about Gordon. Ari sipped a glass of seltzer, her head only half in the conversation. Why would anyone kidnap vampires? And almost as interesting, how would they even do that?

  She stole a glance at Rita. Having unburdened herself, turned over the problem, the vampire was sitting a little straighter, sipping her drink. She’d quit sniveling and had noticed the cute guy who’d walked in the door. It was a distinct improvement in attitude, and Ari figured it was a good time to leave.

  On the walk home, she considered her best course of action. Should she call Andreas and tell him what she’d heard? He was worried about Marcus. On the other hand, she didn’t owe him anything. He didn’t trust her, might not even believe what she said. And the potential fallout of repeating Rita’s story was something to think about. She didn’t want to set the vampires against the wolves. Not without proof. For the present, she’d keep the information close, confined to a select number of people. Which did not include Andreas.

  A twig snapped, and Ari spun into a crouch.

  “Who’s there?” Her eyes searched both sides of the street. She’d been aware of the faint smell of wolf for five or ten minutes but not close enough to be alarming. She’d assumed it was a passing stranger. Now, she wasn’t so sure. When no one answered, she walked on home. Maybe it was nothing, but she vowed to be more alert in the coming days.