The Fire Within

by Dana Marie Bell

  “Alien forces have taken over Romanov’s brain and he’s the one behind the plot. Or, rather, the aliens are.” Elizabeth winked at Dante.

  “I didn’t think of that angle. If Romanov were brainwashed... But it takes time to be brainwashed...and from what I’ve heard, he’s got a pretty strong will...”

  Beth grimaced. “Sam.” The indulgent impatience in Beth’s voice told Dante this wasn’t the first time Sam had gone off on a tangent while working with Beth.

  “Oh. Right. Sorry.” Sam giggled. “Um, I’d ask you to guess what I found, but I already did that, didn’t I?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Yes, Sam, you did.”

  “Okay.” Dante heard Sam take a deep breath.

  “Who, Sam? Who is it?”

  “Bryan Cranston.”

  Dante grinned. Cranston had left a paper trail after all. If he’d planned on hauling him before human authorities he’d have enough for a search warrant, and possibly an arrest warrant. Everything was pointing to Cranston being their man. “Damn.”

  Elizabeth nodded toward Dante. We got him, she mouthed.

  Sam continued. “He worked for Romanov Enterprises and left under less-than-auspicious circumstances. I don’t know all of the details, but it had something to do with missing funds.”

  “Tell me what you’ve got.”

  “It seems as if he might have been involved with money laundering, but no charges were ever filed. Just a note of investigation from Romanov himself.”

  Elizabeth pushed her glasses up her nose. “Damn it, I asked Piotr if he knew anyone who worked for the Blessing campaign.”

  “He may not have known. After all, Cranston isn’t the head accountant or anything like that. He’s just a regular Joe working under Sylvester Oates.”

  Dante was absolutely positive Romanov had known. “Tell us the rest.”

  “Hi, Dante.”

  Dante smiled. Sam actually sounded happy to speak to him. “Hello, Sam.”

  “Okay, so. He’s had a lot of activity on his computer, and I’ve been able to trace some of his activities. Guys, a lot of them coincide with the movement of the stolen funds.”

  Dante frowned. “How did you track his online movements?”

  Sam’s voice was small, uncertain. “If I tell you, can you be prosecuted too?”

  Dante winced. “Okay. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” So much for a search warrant. Good thing he was almost positive Cranston was the Shem. He’d take the bastard down the Nephilim way.

  “Thanks.” The relief in Sam’s voice made him chuckle.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I gotta go. I have a job interview this afternoon.”

  “I thought you were going to continue doing freelance work.” Elizabeth sounded surprised.

  “This promises to be...interesting.” With a soft goodbye, Sam hung up.

  Elizabeth holstered her cell phone. “I hope she’s not getting into trouble.”

  “Does she get into trouble often?”

  Elizabeth snickered. “You have no idea.”

  “Want me to ask Damien to keep an eye on her?”

  She glanced up at him with a smirk. “Why, what a clever idea, Detective Zucco.”

  “I have them occasionally.”

  “Just tell him she’s probably going to get a job with Romanov Enterprises.” At his shocked look, she laughed. “Andi put in a good word for her.”

  “Shit. He’s going to go ballistic.”

  “Good. That’s what he gets for firing her without real proof.”

  Dante’s grin was wicked. “Agreed.”

  They reentered the office to find Cranston reaching for an oversized white parka. He slid it on and zipped it up. Reaching for his briefcase, he said, “I’m sorry, I really must be going now. There’s a storm coming in.” He shivered and smiled weakly. “I’ve stayed too long as it is.”

  For a second, Dante could see Jennifer Blake’s death scene. The huge white parka Elizabeth said she saw on the person running away from the body, the blood on the snow and the briefcase lying open next to the body. He stared at Cranston, noticing that the oversized parka made him look twice as bulky.

  Elizabeth reached out and grabbed Dante’s hand tightly. Tugging on him, she pulled him after her, following Cranston out onto the street. With the light snow falling, the street had taken on a glow, soft and gentle.

  Cranston had carried the miasma out of the office with him. He was the Shem they’d been hunting, but with so many people around them Dante couldn’t act on the knowledge. Cranston shivered as he pulled the hood up on his parka. “Well, I must be going. Have an enjoyable evening.”

  Elizabeth, who couldn’t see the miasma, was studying Cranston with an odd expression. “Mr. Cranston? I don’t believe I’ve seen you wear that parka before.”

  Shit. She would ask him about that.

  With luck, Cranston would walk away. If the Shem attacked now Dante would be forced to defend Elizabeth, no matter how many humans were bustling about. And now that Cranston was out of the office, the stench still clung to him, marking him as the skunk who’d panicked and stunk up the rooms.

  Cranston hesitated a moment before moving forward toward the parking lot. “Yes, I just recently purchased it. I’m not all that fond of the snow, you know.”

  She smiled, a cold one that sent shivers down Dante’s spine. “Have a good night, Mr. Cranston.”

  He nodded, an odd little half bow with his head alone. “Good night, Ms. Rand. Detective Zucco.” He turned and walked briskly through the parking lot. He got into his green Ford, started the engine and drove slowly out of the parking lot, obviously conscious of the light dusting of snow already on the ground.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Dante asked, staring down at her.

  “Nope,” she replied, grinning savagely. “He’s the one.”

  “I know that.” He walked her briskly toward their car. He didn’t like this one little bit. Cranston’s expression had turned far too calm before he left. The man’s nervous energy had disappeared.

  “What I want to know is how he hid what he was from Piotr.” Dante slid into the passenger seat, waiting calmly for Elizabeth to climb behind the wheel. On the inside, his fire burned, ready to do battle to protect Elizabeth from Cranston.

  The man knew. He had to. Simply allowing them to see him outside the office had sealed his fate. He was either going to fight, or flee.

  Dante planned on forcing him to fight.

  “Yet another thing to ask Piotr about.”

  “I’ll have to get the others together to search for him. He’s going to run.”

  “He had that look about him, yeah.”

  “Seth and Damien should be at my place by now.” They’d help him hunt Cranston down, leaving Elizabeth safe and sound at home.

  “Maybe we should call in Piotr as well. This affects him more than anyone.”

  He stared at her for a moment before nodding. “You’re right.” He pulled out his phone and dialed.

  “Romanov Enterprises. How may I help you?”

  “Mr. Romanov, please. Tell him it’s Dante Zucco.”

  “One moment, please.”

  Most of the drive home he spent on hold, but soon enough Piotr answered. “Zdravstvuy, moĭ brat.”

  “Um. Hello.” Dante sighed. “Elizabeth suggested we should call you. It looks like the Shem is an ex-employee of Romanov Enterprises.”

  Silence, then the car filled with the sound of rapid Russian obscenities. “Where is he?”

  Dante was surprised at the vicious rage in Piotr’s voice. “Do you want to know who?”

  “Da.”

  “Bryan Cranston.”

  The rapid intake of breath sounded surpri
sed. “Andrea had been investigating him for embezzlement, but couldn’t find anything on him. I was about to step in personally when the head of his department fired him.”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “That I had a Shem working for me? No.” Piotr sighed. “My company is very large, and spread over several states. He did not work in my office, or I would have detected his presence.”

  Elizabeth nudged him. “Didn’t Blessing say Cranston was used to a warmer climate?”

  “Shit.” That explained how Piotr hadn’t known. For the most part, he ran his business out of Wilmington and Dover, but he’d jet to his other locations frequently. “He stole the money from the Blessing campaign.”

  “How did you find out?”

  Dante could hear Piotr moving around, possibly preparing to leave his office. “Sa... Elizabeth’s friend got the information for us.”

  “Ah.” Dante clearly heard a door closing. “I’m on my way, moĭ brat. Keep your woman safe.”

  For the first time, Dante offered Piotr the traditional parting words with no reluctance whatsoever. “Stay safe, my brother.”

  “Prebyvaniem bezopasny, moĭ brat.”

  Elizabeth pulled into his driveway and they got out of the car. “Do you think the three of them can find Cranston?”

  Dante stared at the front porch of his home, his heart in his throat. He couldn’t be seeing this, couldn’t be feeling the terror that raced through him.

  But that fall of dark hair against the white snow didn’t disappear, no matter how he wished otherwise.

  Dante took a deep, cleansing breath and tried to push back the fear. “I don’t think they’ll have a problem at all.”

  Cranston, his white parka zipped against the snow and wind, stood there. He held a silenced gun in his hand. Dante’s mother lay at his feet, unconscious. Dante couldn’t tell if the Shem had killed her or not, but Dante couldn’t see any blood spotting the pristine white parka Cranston wore.

  Cranston sighed. “I’m sorry, Detective. I truly am. But I knew you wouldn’t let me go without a fight.” The sorrow in Cranston’s voice was audible. “I wish it didn’t have to come to this. I had no desire to tangle with you. I just want to leave.”

  “Let my mother go.” Dante allowed his inner fire to coat his hands.

  Cranston shook his head. “I can’t do that. She was here when I got here, and she knew instantly what I am. Now I have to kill her too.”

  Dante started to move, only to stop at the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. “Don’t do it, Cranston.”

  With a shrug Cranston replied, “In for a penny.”

  Dante thought his heart would stop beating then and there when he heard the gunshot. His first wild thought was, What do I tell Dad?

  His second thought was to remember the silencer.

  The third, that Elizabeth had probably been the one to fire.

  Cranston stumbled back with a cry as red dusted fluff burst from the arm of his jacket. Elizabeth had hit her target, but hadn’t taken him down.

  Dante dove for Cranston, determined to get him away from his unconscious mother.

  Cranston leapt over the railing and onto the grass at the edge of the house, running as if his life depended on it. Which it did. Dante was going to fry him for laying a hand on his mother.

  “Cranston!”

  Where the fuck were Damien and Seth? They should have been here by now, should have had his back. His breath misted in the cold evening air as he chased Cranston through one front yard after another. He spared a brief thought for Elizabeth and his mother, and hoped they were both in the house, safe and sound. He trusted Elizabeth to take care of his mom. She’d stay by the fallen woman’s side, protecting her as best she could.

  He could feel his breath rasping in his throat now, his heart pounding in his ears as he ran and ran. Still Cranston didn’t stop, leaping at one point over a tricycle one of Dante’s neighbors had left out of their garage. Cranston never looked back, never stopped to check where Dante was. He just kept moving. The white parka made it easy for Dante to follow Cranston.

  When Cranston headed into the small copse of trees behind one of the houses, Dante followed the flashes of white. Finally away from humans, the Shem turned on Dante, showing his true colors.

  The Shem had once been partly human, like Dante and his brothers. But the Shemyaza chose a different path in life, turning their backs on their heritage and clinging to Shemhazai’s teachings instead. Their monstrous appetites were reflected in their appearances, turning them into monsters.

  Like Dante and all of the Nephilim, Shemyaza could disguise themselves, hide their inhuman sides behind a human facade. But unlike Dante, when that disguise was dropped, what the Neph were faced with was a horror out of a human being’s worst imaginings.

  Ooze dripped from Cranston’s black lips, the same green miasma that filled the Shem’s aura. His skin was blotched, bruised and diseased. His hands were tipped with black, jagged claws that Dante knew from experience were far sharper and stronger than they appeared. Rotted, fanged teeth filled his mouth to overflowing, stretching his jaw obscenely. And unlike Diana, who’d fed off of fear until the soul was gone, this Shem fed off the flesh of its victims, absorbing the soul through the victim’s physical pain.

  “It’s over, Cranston.” Dante’s flame erupted, turning him into a being of living fire.

  “I don’t think so, Nephilim.” Cranston dropped into a combat crouch, surprising Dante. He didn’t think Cranston had it in him. “I tried to leave. I would have gone away, and you never would have seen me again.”

  Dante’s gaze narrowed, sharpened on the creature he intended to kill. “You hurt my mother and tried to kill Elizabeth.”

  The Shem looked confused. “I didn’t try to kill Ms. Rand.” Then it grinned. “Although she would have been tasty.” He shook his head. “But I’d be crazy to target the mate of a Nephilim.”

  “But not too crazy to target my mother.” And for that, the fucker would burn.

  Cranston shrugged. “She’s Nephilim. She knows the risks she takes when she hunts us.”

  Dante gestured with his hands and flames engulfed the Shem.

  He screamed, dropping the now white-hot gun, his lips pulled back in an inhuman snarl of rage. “You’ll pay for that, Neph. Your precious Elizabeth will taste so sweet when I take her.”

  Dante grinned viciously. “Bring it, Shem.”

  The Shem’s claws lashed out, but Dante danced out of the way. He returned the favor, scoring a hit on the Shem’s parka.

  The Shem shrieked as the parka caught on fire, tearing it off before Dante’s fire could touch his skin. “Damn it. I liked that jacket.” The Shem shivered violently. “That’s one more I owe you.” The Shem, a monster in black slacks and a green sweater vest, swiped at him again. This time its claws hit the mark, and dark fire raced along Dante’s already injured arm. The Shem’s claws broke the straps of the sling and his arm dropped hard.

  Dante saw stars as agony ripped through him. “Figlio di puttana bastardo!”

  Blue light shone down on them, and suddenly Seth was there, his blade drawn, standing between Dante and the Shem. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Dante gritted his teeth. “Elizabeth?”

  “Safe. Damien’s with her.”

  Fear Dante hadn’t even realized he felt dissipated at Seth’s words. “Good.”

  The Shem held up his hands. “I have no desire to fight you too, Neph.”

  Seth grinned. “Too bad, Shem, because you need to die for your crimes.”

  “I see.” The Shem sighed. “A man has to eat, you know.”

  “No. I don’t.” And Seth attacked with all the viciousness of a man whose mate had almost been killed by a Shemyaza. His blade flashed as he dueled with the Shem, drawi
ng blood as he scored a hit on the Shem’s stomach.

  Dante joined the fight, trying to ignore the throbbing hell his arm had become. Damn it, he’d need to take one of those damn pain pills once he got home. Using his good hand, he flung fireball after fireball at the Shemyaza, trying to trace where he would dodge away from Seth’s blade. It was a delicate dance the two men had perfected over time, Seth’s blade moving in such a way as to force the Shem into the path of Dante’s fire.

  The Shem’s claws grew to six inches long and gleamed in Seth’s light. Seth cried out as the Shem scored a hit on his wings, staggering back as the appendages of light proved they were vulnerable to attack. Seth bled from the wound, real blood that would prove fatal to the Angelus should they not get it under control.

  Dante did something he’d never tried before, determined to get the Shem off his brother. He pulled at the fire within him, calling it with everything he had. He dug deeper than he ever had before, pulling energy until nothing was left but Dante and all-consuming heat. His flame grew and grew, blazing against his senses until he was blind to everything but the heat and the light.

  Dante carefully released that flame, that blazing fire, and opened his eyes.

  Seth was staring at him in awe. “Holy shit.”

  The Shem was backing away, his expression horrified.

  Dante grinned. Anything that horrified a Shemyaza was good enough for him.

  Seth whistled softly. “Dude. You have wings.”

  Dante paused in the act of chasing down the Shem. “What?”

  “Wings, Dante. Made of pure fire.”

  Something bright and red and hotter than hot fluttered past his shoulder. Seth was right. It was a wing. “Whoa.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  Dante shrugged. Apparently, it was.

  The Shem darted off into the darkness, and Dante took off after him. He wasn’t going to risk flight, but the wings seemed to give him speed as they fluttered at his back. He wasn’t sure, but at one point he thought he did leave the ground.

  He managed to catch the Shem before it could break through the trees. “It’s over, Shem.”