Psychic Storm: Ten Dangerously Sexy Tales of Psychic Witches, Vampires, Mediums, Empaths and Seers

by Deanna Chase

  “The generator has been damaged. According to Jon, it will take days to fix.”

  “Crap.”

  “He also reports the same vampire from room six was here at Gen-One. He thinks the power was sabotaged.”

  “We’ll be there in ten minutes,” Rafe says, speaking way more quickly than usual. “Tell Jon to call the maintenance guys and Jerry out. We’ve got a big job ahead of us.”

  Rafe clips the phone to his waist and looks at me. “If that bastard is going after the power, what’s next?”

  I think back to what I know of Ivan before answering. “He’s setting the stage. He wants us scared.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  After working outside for several hours, moving aboveground cables, I’m feeling stiff and cranky. Jerry, our sixty-something engineer, has successfully directed us on how to reroute the primary power supply. Everything will come through the backup system until the repairs can be made.

  “Looks like someone came in and pulled out cables with their bare hands,” Jerry says. “Guess the power don’t hurt your kind?” He raises one eyebrow with his question.

  Jerry’s a sharp old bastard. He’s been here since we opened and not much gets past him. Good thing he’s not at the main building often or I’d have to tamper with his keen intellect more than necessary when he retires.

  “No, you’re right, it doesn’t. We act like conduits and pour the energy back into the ground.”

  Jerry nods to himself, like another piece of the puzzle snaps into place for him.

  “Four days, Jerry, that’s what you said, right?” I ask.

  He looks around at the mess, nodding his head. He runs a hand through his short hair, mussing it up as he thinks. “Yup. I’ll need some strong backs and nimble fingers working ‘round the clock.” He looks back at me with a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “It’ll get done, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

  I smile at the sentiment. Nice to know someone can get a complex job done without my help. “Great. You need anything, let Rafe or me know.”

  Leaving Jerry to his job, I venture to Jonathan’s secluded cabin. It’s closest, so Asa, Jon and Rafe, have gone there to warm up. I pull the hood up on my subzero parka, stomp the circulation back into my feet, and head off into the darkness on the paved walkway. A gut-wrenching howl rips through the air. The fine hairs on my body stand at the eerie sound. Tones of remorse and sadness filter through on the long note as it dies down.

  Ahead in the darkness, the door to Jon’s cabin whips opens, slamming into the inside wall. Pounding footsteps on the wooden porch echo into the darkness. The rectangle of light from the cabin briefly illuminates a man running away. Reaching out with my senses, I connect with the frantic emotions of the runner.

  It’s Jonathan. The energy pouring off him feels chaotic. That howl meant something only he knows. Two more figures, taller than the first, emerge from the cabin in pursuit. I change my course, angling through the woods at a run. Trees stream past me in the black. Outdoor spotlights, attached to Jon’s large heated kennel, wink behind tree trunks and bounce up off the hard-packed snow.

  Sprinting past the buildings, I hear movement ahead and dive deeper into the woods to reach it. The lights no longer touch the snow in front of me. A faint glow from the moon illuminates the pines as I dash and dodge between them. Bursting through the trees, I slam to a halt a few feet from Jon’s hunched form on the ground. He’s cradling something to his chest. A ring of six wolf crossbreeds pace around his kneeling body as he rocks back and forth. A high keening sound rends the air as Jonathan tosses his head back, yelling out his despair.

  Rafe and Asa break through the woods, into the small ten-foot clearing. They skitter to a stop and take in the scene as well. Jon kneels in frozen gore, holding the remains of one of his wolves. The compacted ground reveals no obvious signs of a struggle, but plenty of night-hued blood. Jon’s dog must not have been out here too long, or the carcass would have been frozen to the snow.

  “Jon, I…” my voice trails off. I’m not sure what to say.

  There’s nothing I can say to ease his pain. These half-wolves are his pack. Jon looks up at me, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

  “It had to be him,” Jon chokes out. “That bastard,” he says while lowering the dead half-wolf to the ground, “must have caught her when she was coming back from patrol.”

  “I’m so sorry.” The words aren’t enough.

  I approach, closer than the wild eyes of the wolf dogs want me to, and drop to my knees next to Jonathan. My arms go around him and I pull him close in a hard embrace.

  I whisper in his ear, “Nothing I can say or do will ease your pain. But I can promise you this—we will kill this son of a bitch.” Jon’s arms come around me and he returns my hug.

  “Damn right, we will,” he whispers back.

  Rafe moves forward. “Jon, let me take her body to the shed by the kennel. I’ll wrap her in a tarp and you can decide what you want to do later.”

  Jon eases back from my hold. He takes a jagged breath and lets it out slowly, head bowed. “Thanks.” He reaches out, placing a hand on the blood-free fur between her ears, giving her one last pat. “She was a good bitch. I’ll bury her this spring when the ground lets me.”

  Rafe kneels and takes the stiff form in his arms. Rising, he trails through the woods in the direction I came.

  “Asa, go with him,” I direct. “I don’t want him alone with this killer out.”

  I heard that, Rafe calls in my mind.

  I snap back, Good. Still doesn’t change anything. “Asa, do you have your gun?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Take it out and have it ready. The bullets won’t kill Ivan, but the silver should slow him down long enough—if your aim is good.”

  “No worries on that end. I qualified for sniper status in the Army and only got better when I turned.” Asa unholsters his Smith and Wesson 500, following Rafe into the woods.

  “Jon,” I coax, “come on. Let’s get you up.” I put my hands under his arms and pull him up with me, giving him little choice in the matter. “You’ve got no coat on.”

  “I’d say give me a kiss and that would warm me up, but you’re a damn cold bloodsucker so I don’t see how it would help.”

  I smile at his attempt to bait me. I know he’s hurting and this is his way of coping, so I let it slide. “On that note, here…” I remove my coat and hand it to him. “Not like I can’t take a little cold better than you, furball.”

  “Yeah,” he agrees while slipping on the arms of my coat, “being an icy bitch does have some advantages.”

  “Watch it, bud,” I say with a small smile. I’d rather see him joking with me than wallowing in the pain I know he’s feeling.

  I glance at the silent dogs as we leave the clearing. “What about them? Do we need to get them back in their kennels?”

  “I’ll lock the building remotely from the cabin. I don’t want them out again ‘til this guy’s caught.” Jon turns to the six dogs, giving them a hand signal and a firm, “Go home.” The half-wolves race off into the night, sending a chorus of short barks back and forth to each other as they run.

  We trudge through the woods, heading for the light of the cabin. It’s a long, slow walk back. The quiet leaves us in our own thoughts, but the dark and what lurks within it draws us closer to one another. I reach out and hold Jon’s hand.

  “Man alive! Your hands are like ice,” he says.

  “Quit your bitchin’.” I squeeze his hand a little harder. “My gloves are in my coat pockets.”

  “You want them?” he asks half-heartedly.

  “No.”

  After ten minutes, we finally reach the cabin. We enter through the front door to the rich aroma of fresh coffee brewing. Jon drops my hand to remove my coat, while Rafe pretends not to notice.

  Asa clears his throat. “Uh-umn.” He waits until Jon looks up. “I know I’m new and don’t know much about you, Jon, but I want t
o say I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks, man.” A shadow of the regular Jonathan rears its head. “She was a fine bitch. And she listened well.” He smirks at the last and shoots me a sideways look.

  I find ignoring these types of comments works best, so I take a seat at the kitchen table. “Pour me a half cup of that too, please.”

  Rafe turns from the counter, two steaming mugs in his hand. “Already figured you’d want a cup.”

  Asa and Jon help themselves to coffee as well, coming to settle at the table with us.

  “Ever notice we sure do drink a lot of coffee?” Rafe asks.

  I smile. “Well, it is freakin’ cold in Alaska. You have something against drinking coffee?”

  He shakes his head, a sad smile on his face. Anything to put off talking about this latest disaster a few seconds more.

  “Where does this leave us?” Jon voices what we’re all thinking. “We’ve got roughly fifteen square miles with dozens of buildings. He’s been here at least since yesterday and we know he’s fed from one guest so far.”

  “I still think its Ivan,” I say. Rafe and Jon exchange a look. “Screw yourselves. Last time I checked, I was the oldest vampire here.” Remembering Jon’s fresh pain, I try to soften my voice on my next words. “I know you both have your doubts. But your trust in me right now is key. Please.”

  “All right, people,” Asa tries to steer us back on track, “let’s plan our attack.”

  “Attack? Don’t you mean ‘defense’?” Rafe questions. “How can the four of us possibly ‘attack’ him on property this size?”

  “I’d have said the half-wolves would have made great herders and could drive him to us, but I’m not willing to risk losing anymore,” Jon says. “Besides, they aren’t werewolves. They can’t hold themselves against a crazy vampire, even in a pack.”

  “But your old alpha, Romeo, can.” Saying his name brings the unforgettable man into sharp focus in my mind. He’s of Italian descent, as charismatic as Casanova and deadly as all hell. The compact frame on the one hundred and fifty year old werewolf still looks like a fit and fabulous forty-year-old male in his prime. It’s a good thing his pheromones don’t work as well on vampires or the master in his city would be in big trouble.

  Jon’s surprise shows clearly on his face. “You want me to call in my old pack and see if they can fly out to help?”

  “I’m not sure yet. What do all of you think?” I look around the table at the others.

  Rafe glances off into the distance before replying. “I think it’s a good idea. I have a feeling things will get worse before they get better.”

  “More bodies will help us track this guy faster,” Asa adds.

  Jon stands and paces the room. “There are a lot of variables in play here. We still need you to call the Tribunal to confirm,” he looks my way as he says this, “it could be Ivan.” He stops pacing, looking at the whole group at the table. “Or, we could set a trap.”

  He’s mirroring what I bet a lot of us have already thought of, but what or who to use as bait?

  “I’m not risking Dria’s safety. She will not be bait,” Rafe’s firm voice declares in the ensuing silence.

  I snort out my nose. Like I have anything to fear from this whack job. Rafe knows that, so I wonder what his show of worry is all about. “I prefer to remain on the sidelines, and protect what’s mine. Not to worry, dear. How about using Drew? I’m pretty sure he’s the one that led Ivan here.”

  Asa perks up at that. “By chance or on purpose?”

  “I’m not sure,” I reply. “It does seem a bit coincidental, but my gut says by chance.”

  “I’m going to check on Drew’s whereabouts before he arrived to be sure.” The spark of excitement in Asa's voice is unmistakable. It’s clear this is a man who enjoys action above all else. “I’ll put in a call to Cy and we can work on it together.”

  “I’ll call Romeo and see how soon he can get here with his wolves.” Jon looks pensive.

  “You okay with including him?” I ask.

  “Yes.” Jon looks me dead in the eye. “I just don’t want him too close to you.”

  Rafe shifts in his chair. That furry fucker. I’m not going to tolerate another randy wolf drooling after you.

  My peal of laughter diffuses the tension that sprang up at Jon’s statement. “Not to worry, I think I've got all the alpha males I can handle right now.”

  Asa clears his throat. “Do you have a weapons cache here?”

  I raise an eyebrow as I look over at him. “I’m the weapon. We’ve never needed anything more.”

  “Uh-huh, yeah. Well, fifteen miles is pretty damn big and you can’t be everywhere at once. We need more.”

  He’s right, but it is what it is, and I’ve got nothing to give him.

  “We’ve got the sparring room. It has the weapons locker for the full combat matches.” Rafe smiles in my direction. We almost never draw blood when we fight, but we have a damn fine time trying to hack our clothes off each other to the grand finale on the floor.

  “No projectiles?” Asa clarifies.

  “Nope,” Rafe answers. “Guns aren’t usually something we’d use in combat sparring.”

  “What about the guests?” Jon reminds us all. “You going to tell them what’s going on?”

  Three sets of eyes swing to me. “No. Not unless I have no other choice.”

  Jon sighs. “All right, it’s your call. I don’t agree, but it’s good enough for now. Here,” Jon reaches for his cordless phone and hands it to me, “might as well make that call to the Tribunal.”

  Crap! I reach to accept it, scrambling for a suitable comeback to get myself out of having to make the call. I find none. In the retelling of a story, the heroine always sounds like she knows what she’s doing at all times. In reality, when things are happening, did she really know? Or did she fly by the seat of her pants a lot like I do? Sometimes I wish my life were like that. Then I could sit back, write it all out and wrap it up with a happy ending.

  Realizing I have no other option, I dial the Tribunal. A glance at my watch confirms it’s after seven. I know it’s way past nightfall in Argentina. Unfortunately, I shouldn’t have any trouble reaching someone. Damn, sometimes my luck wears out.

  After several minutes and three transfers, an inner circle Tribunal member comes on the line. “Yes? Am I correct in my information?” Warm, flowing Spanish-accented tones reach through the phone and wrap around my senses. “Is this the famous Alexandria the Great?”

  I’d recognize the sultry voice of Rolando anywhere. He’s a little older than me and worked as a gopher for some of the great ones when I was an enforcer. “Yes, Rolando. It’s me.”

  Asa’s eyes go round at the title, but I’m guessing he’s still too young to have heard the tales. Rolando gave him something new to look up and research. Great.

  “To what do we owe the pleasure of your call?” Rolando asks.

  “I’m calling to check on a verdict the tribunal made on a criminal from eight years ago.”

  “Hmmm… interesting. A name would help narrow it down.” I can hear his sexy chuckle come over the line. He’s really good with his voice. Too good. I’d almost forgotten.

  “Ivan. The one who tortured his mate for over a year, took her free will from her, and raped her repeatedly?”

  “Ahh, yes, that one.” His voice holds a hint of disgust. “He was sentenced to a decade in silver, but was released early for good behavior.”

  My blood boils. Even though I expected to hear it, it doesn’t make it any easier. “Why wasn’t he killed? And why wasn’t I notified of his release?”

  Rolando’s voice turns firm. “It was a decision of the ancients not to kill him. He did not violate the edicts of exposure to our kind with his actions, nor did he kill a fellow vampire unprovoked. No matter how gruesome his actions, the old ones felt he could be corrected and were not willing to destroy him.”

  “Correct him? How? It’s not like they offer coun
seling down in that hole.”

  “He did have visits from members associated with the tribunal.” Vampires I call flunkies of the ancients, who hope one day to make it to a seat in the inner circle. “Some of them had the ear of quite a few senior members.”

  Insert here: The flunkies were screwing them.

  Damn.

  “Anyone I know?”

  His laughter reaches across the miles. “You always were the clever one, two steps ahead of the other killers. We haven’t had an enforcer like you since you left. No one ever got away from you. You still hold the record for the highest number of kills, you know.”

  I couldn’t care less and his rambling is revealing way more to Jon and Asa’s super hearing then I want. “Names, please?”

  “Well, Dimitri’s still here. You know how he feels about you.” Dimitri was very, very close, and I do mean in a biblical sense, to one of the old ancients I convinced to walk into the sun. As far as I knew, he still couldn’t connect Victor’s death to me. Dimitri knew I hated that son of a bitch with all of my heart. I certainly wasn’t sad when Victor committed an assisted suicide, but Dimitri sure was. He saw the pedophilic ancient vampire as his ticket to a seat on the circle and I delayed his plans by a century. “And then, there’s Jonah. Whatever did you do to that man?”

  I accidentally stole his heart and crushed it, but I’m not going to tell Rolando. It was centuries ago and I had hoped Jonah would let bygones be bygones sooner or later.

  “Neither would have overseen Ivan’s release. Do you know who did?” Someone pointed Ivan in Angie’s direction and I’m betting Dimitri is too smart to get his hands dirty.

  Rolando is quiet for a few seconds. “It was an enforcer. A newer one, she has been in service for about five years. Her name is Emiko. I don’t know her well.”

  “Would she have been privy to Ivan’s records prior to his release?”

  “If she requested to see them, yes. I don’t think she would have been denied. But you know as well as I do that not all enforcers care about the details. Some simply follow orders. That was nearly two years ago.” He finally comes around and asks what I thought he would have asked sooner. “Tell me why you need to know this now. What has happened?”