Harlequin Nocturne January 2014 Bundle: The Vampire HunterMoon Rising

by Michele Hauf

  The woman was a miracle worker. She winked at him.

  Kaz exhaled, melting with relief into the couch. Every muscle seemed to let go. Dodged a bullet, he did.

  Make that a faery flechette.

  “I’ve heard that before,” he muttered. “Sidhe Cortège? Where have I heard that?”

  She carefully set the weapon on the table. As the bloody metal landed on the wood surface, the metal prongs snapped back and resumed the original flat star shape. Kaz flinched, then checked his skittish reaction by sweeping a hand over his face. He didn’t want to pick it up to inspect. It had a mind of its own.

  Zoë moved her fingers over the wound on his hip, pressing together the serrated skin. That smarted, but at the same time, nothing in this world would make him ask her to stop. He wanted her touch.

  “Sidhe Cortège operates out of FaeryTown,” she said. “I think they are renegades from Faery, or they may even have been sent here by one of the sidhe courts. Not sure about their origins. Like I said—”

  “You don’t believe in them.”

  “Exactly. But for those who do believe, the Cortège is like, hmm...a faery mafia, if you will.”

  Ah yes, Vaillant had told him about them. “Great. A freakin’ winged mafia. What? Will I find a unicorn head in my bed next?”

  “Well, that little five-pronged present was your first strike.”

  “Three strikes and I’m out?” Kaz guessed.

  “More like three strikes and you’re dead.” She beamed at him, and then blew something he could not see from her palm onto his hip. More magic, probably.

  “Zoë, you just smiled when you said that I’d be a dead man come strike number three. Smiled.”

  She shrugged and dusted her hands together as if to signal the end of her operation. “In order to keep my magic pure and effective, I impart it with positive imagery. I was thinking about when we met that first night in the alley. You were so commanding, pulling me to you and kissing me silly.”

  He sat up on his elbows and met her dazzling gaze. “Silly?”

  “Best first kiss I’ve ever had.”

  A smile twisted Kaz’s lips. He had known that first night when she’d stood in his arms. And even though he didn’t know how to define that knowing, the feeling of knowing was what kept the smile on his face.

  Zoë picked up the flechette again and traced a finger along one of the prongs. “Oh, no. This is not good.”

  “Zoë, what are you—”

  Suddenly dizzy, Kaz’s head landed on the couch. The ceiling above him spun. Nausea curdled at the back of his throat and behind his eyes.

  “One of the glass tips is cracked. The poison may have leaked out.”

  Chapter 8

  “Are—are you sure?” Kaz’s tongue tingled and felt three sizes too big.

  “Shh. Close your eyes. Conserve your energy. You, uh...feeling okay?”

  “Define okay.”

  “Shit. I’m going to have to bring in the big guns.”

  “You have...guns?”

  “Don’t speak. Just try to stay conscious. I’m going to spread healing magic over you. Big-time. This will take a lot out of me.”

  Kaz wanted to argue against her doing anything that would “take a lot out of her,” but he wasn’t in any position to argue. Feeling as if his head was filled with helium, he lay there, at her mercy.

  A man didn’t often find himself at the mercy of such a sexy woman. So why not go with it?

  Zoë began to hum, not really a tune, but more a continuous vibration that he sensed birthed low in her throat. He cracked open one eye and saw she had closed her eyes. Her hands moved over his hip, not touching, but he could feel her heat permeate his body. So he closed his eyes and followed the movement of that warmth. As with the tone of her voice, it seemed to penetrate deeply, like some kind of focused massage combined with one of those mentholated heat wraps.

  Except it didn’t smell awful. Apples, cinnamon, herbs and even a trace of his aftershave scented the atmosphere. The air shimmered about his skin now, and he truly understood the power of her magic. It was as if particles of him—perhaps his very molecules—were sitting up and paying attention, because the command from the witch said such awareness was required for some super-duper healing.

  That was how he imagined it, anyway. Drifting into the resonance of her melodious voice, Kaz floated up from his body, leaving behind the pain. Soaring, as if with wings, he didn’t want to descend.

  Zoë let out a gasp and her hair swept his bare stomach, tugging him back to reality with a scream of red pain. It was as if the poison had zapped his entire nervous system one last time, just for good measure, and then— complete relaxation.

  “Whew!” Gathering her tools, she said, “Now you can rest.”

  Rest? He was no expert in witch magic, but he’d be damned if his body didn’t hum with endorphins right now. He felt invigorated, no longer lightheaded and ready to jump up for action.

  Had she just saved him from sure death by poison?

  “Be careful. The skin at your hip sparkles, but I’m not sure if it’s from the usual faery dust or the poison. Is this going to become a regular thing? You getting wounded and me fixing you up?”

  “I hope not.” Then again, what better excuse to return to her house for some one-on-one attention?

  “Really?” Her head bowed, but then she looked up, sweeping the hair from her face and forcing a smile. She looked tired. “Because I don’t mind the spell work. I like to practice my molecu—er, healing skills. And I certainly don’t mind touching you.”

  “I don’t mind you touching me at all. You wield a powerful touch.”

  “I should bandage that. Don’t zip up your pants yet. No undies,” she commented as she strolled from the room. “I like that.”

  Having forgotten that he normally went commando, Kaz felt his neck grow warm. Another part of him rose to attention, oblivious to the excruciating pain he’d just experienced. He tugged the zipper up most of the way, keeping the wound free from the jeans as best he could. He sat up. The wound didn’t pain at all. Must have been a numbing spell. Whatever she’d done, he felt great, so he stood and gave his hips a testing wiggle.

  “Good as new?” Zoë asked as she returned with a box of bandages. She stifled a yawn behind her hand.

  Kaz looked at the box she set on the coffee table. He’d thought she was going to do the medical gauze and tape. But the Band-Aid she now wielded reduced his injury to a boo-boo. “Is that it?”

  “You want me to cast it and put you on a stretcher?” she deadpanned.

  He chuckled and spread his arms to give her access. “Make the boo-boo better, witch.”

  She placed two bandages over the wound and pronounced him slightly damaged but certainly capable. Kaz gave his hips another shimmy. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can—”

  “I’ll take a kiss for the medical aid.” She tilted up on her tiptoes, closing her eyes as she awaited her payment.

  Kaz stroked her mouth with his thumb, thinking a kiss paltry payment for the kindness she had shown him. And there was that word again. Kindness. It occurred so little in his life. And yet, since he’d met Zoë it had become common. His thumb wandered up to the scar on her cheek, and he wondered if he could crack open his meager stores of kindness to make it better. Leaning down, he kissed the raised line of skin.

  Zoë gasped as she pulled from him, a tear glinting in her eye. “Why did you do that?”

  “Just wanted to make it better, I guess. Will you ever tell me how you got that?”

  “What’s done has been done.” She stroked her cheek.

  He kissed her cheek again, resolved to not press, but he would never let her off scot-free from an explanation. “Thank you, Zoë, for saving my life.”

&n
bsp; “I may have done just that. The spell countered the faery poison. It may also have given you a high when I transferred my vita to you.”

  “You transferred your—” He wasn’t sure but he guessed that meant she’d given him her energy. She did look tired. “Sit down. You deserve a rest.”

  She sat on the couch and he knelt before her.

  “I promise I’ll pay more attention next time I’m in FaeryTown. I brought along an iron blade, but wasn’t in a position to use it.”

  “You’ll never see the Sidhe Cortège coming for you until it’s too late. But keep the iron on you. If they show themselves to you, it could be a powerful weapon. Where did you get it?”

  “Order arsenal.”

  Zoë’s smile was tired at best. “The Order of the Stake fascinates me. Knights who take life-and-death vows. An arsenal of paranormal weapons. Bladed collars and secret brands. I don’t suppose a witch could ever garner a tour?”

  “Absolutely not. You already know too much.”

  “Hmm, then perhaps you should attempt to steal that knowledge from my brain with another kiss.”

  “Can I do that? Take away your memory with a kiss?”

  She spread her hands up his bare chest and met his lips with hers, brushing softly. “You can certainly make it blurry. When you kiss me I forget everything except the joy of standing next to you. Your strong, hard chest.” She stroked her palms over his chest. Kaz sucked in a breath. “The pulse of your heart against mine.”

  The press of her breasts against his skin cooled his fleeting desire to leave. What for? He’d just had surgery. Certainly he needed to rest a bit. He leaned forward, putting his hands on the back of the couch behind her.

  Her lips parted, but inches from his. “Beguile me,” she whispered.

  Beguilement sounded too wondrous for a simple man like him to accomplish. So Kaz put aside that request and decided if he could kiss her breath away, that would do.

  As their mouths joined, Zoë’s body melded against his, seeking, finding, relaxing. He swept an arm around her back, supporting her weight, because he sensed she was really tired. Her kiss was lazy yet lingering, slow. She pulled back and yawned.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “If my kisses bore you—”

  “I’m exhausted from the healing. I should—” She fainted.

  Kaz caught her head and shoulders and laid her on the couch. “I’m the one who took all your energy from you. Vita,” he recalled her saying.

  She had given so much to heal him. And for what reason? He’d done nothing to earn her kindnesses. A few kisses meant little.

  Hell, they meant a lot to him, but he didn’t imagine a kiss meant much in the greater scheme of giving one’s very life essence to save a man from death.

  “I owe you a lot more than just the one kiss,” he whispered.

  Sid hugged his ankle, rubbing his tiny head against the leather of his boot.

  Kaz tugged a blanket from a nearby chair and laid it over Sid’s mistress. “Keep an eye on her, Sid. She’s good stuff. Really good stuff.”

  Too good for him.

  He kissed Zoë’s lips, and suddenly odd images he’d once chased as a child invaded his thoughts. It was about the faery tale of the sleeping princess and her rescuing knight. He’d kissed her and brought her back to life.

  Knight that he was, Kaz didn’t know the first thing about chivalry. He couldn’t give life, or even bring a person back from death, as she had done. His only skill was in taking life. Probably staying away from her would be best for them both.

  “Can’t do it,” he muttered. “I like you too much, witch.”

  * * *

  Kaz’s phone rang to the tune of Ride of the Valkyries. He’d programmed each ringtone according to who was calling.

  He answered, “Rook.”

  “I need you in the eighteenth right now,” Rook said without preamble.

  “I’m close.” Kaz turned and started walking east. He hadn’t gotten more than a quarter of a mile from Zoë’s house. “What’s up?”

  “Another victim of Magic Dust madness. A human was attacked by a vamp. She’s still alive. I’ve sent the location to your phone.”

  “Be there in five minutes.” Kaz picked up into a run down a darkened residential street, while he brought up the address Rook had sent.

  It must be after midnight. No one was out on this street but he could hear traffic and the nightlife two or three streets away. Remarkably, his hip didn’t hurt. That spell had jacked him up like six cups of coffee.

  He rounded the corner and entered a residential area populated with centuries-old houses stacked close and low. The coordinates Rook had given him led up a narrow path overgrown with long grass that was near to hay length. Likely an older resident lived within the limestone-fronted, two-story house.

  Kaz rushed through the open front door, using caution as he entered. He stopped, pressed his back to the foyer wall and pulled out a stake. If the victim had just been attacked the vamp could still be in the area.

  “Kaspar?”

  He raced up the stairs toward his supervisor’s voice. To the left of the landing, an open door revealed the bed sheets pulled to the floor and a scatter of jewels everywhere. Kaz avoided stepping on a tumble of diamond rings that glinted in the moonlight and snuck to the bedside where Rook stood over a woman. She was eighty, maybe ninety. Her long, gray hair strewn over a pink satin pillow was stained red, and her throat was drenched in blood. Her eyelids fluttered at the sight of the men standing over her, then closed and her jaw fell slack.

  “Almost dead,” Rook confirmed with no emotion. The Order leader was dressed casually in slacks and a sweater. He rarely went out on the hunt, though he did wield a stake in one hand. “I was strolling down the street when I heard her scream. Couldn’t not investigate, right?”

  “So this just happened.” Alert, Kaz looked out the door. “The perp must have attacked her while she slept. There’s too much jewelry lying around.”

  “The vamp must have been scamming for something that sparkles,” Rook said, standing back from the old woman and looking over the floor.

  “So why attack the woman? She couldn’t have gone to bed wearing jewelry.”

  “Maybe.” Rook inspected the woman’s throat without touching her. “Some of them tend to wear their valuables if they have a lot of meaning to them. Madame may have worn her finest to bed.”

  “Okay, I can buy that. But the vamp didn’t get what he came for, save some blood.”

  Rook nodded, confirming they should investigate the rest of the house. He bent to scoop up a diamond necklace from the floor. “Bait.”

  “I’ve got something even better.” Kaz displayed the small glass vial of faery ointment he’d gotten from Zoe.

  “What the hell?”

  “Not Magic Dust, but something more alluring to a vampire than cold, hard diamonds, I’m betting. I’ll take the lower level.”

  Knowing that if a vampire were still in the house he must be aware of the two hunters, Kaz decided he was a smart dust junkie. Most would not be able to remain so quiet or hide. Either that, or the attacker was gone. But he’d not risk letting down his guard without thoroughly checking out the place.

  The woman would not survive the ambulance ride to the hospital. Unfortunate, but he’d seen lesser wounds and had watched the victim die.

  Stepping into the foyer before the opened front door, Kaz silently closed it, then turned down a narrow, dark hallway that led toward the back of the house. Moonlight beamed through the far window. Reaching the window, he held up the glass vial. The black ointment caught the moonlight and sparkled madly.

  “Got something for you,” he called. “You like the sparkly stuff?”

  Kaz stepped into the kitchen, vial held high.
A hand grasped for the vial. Kaz snatched it away, and spun, slamming the vamp against the wall, his hand squeezing its throat and the stake finding its place against the vamp’s thudding heart.

  “Where do you get your dust?” Kaz demanded.

  The vampire sputtered blood at him.

  Rook rounded and entered the kitchen, stake at the ready.

  Kaz tucked away the vial in a coat pocket while the vampire squirmed against his hold. He wasn’t strong, very weak, in fact, and that made Kaz guess he was not high on the dust, but desperate to get more.

  “You can have all the dust you can inhale if you tell me who sold you the Magic Dust,” Kaz insisted.

  Rook pressed a hand to the vampire’s shoulder. He kept his stake down. This was Kaz’s kill. “Answer the man,” he prompted.

  “Don’t have a name!” he eked out. “Give me the magic!”

  “Why’d you go after that woman upstairs?” Kaz asked. His anger forced a cocky stance. “She look like a dust dealer to you?”

  “Just want the sparklies. Searching all the houses. Found some.”

  “You’re not going to get anything from this one,” Rook said.

  With a heavy exhale, Kaz nodded agreement. “Hell’s waiting, asshole.” Squeezing the paddles pinioned out the stake into the vampire’s heart. Within seconds, he began to ash.

  Outside, police sirens sounded and flashing red lights glanced off the kitchen walls. A neighbor must have called after hearing the woman’s screams.

  “Back door,” Rook said.

  The men ran out the back as the police were entering the front. With luck, the emergency team would transport the woman to the hospital in time. But Kaz believed she was already dead.

  Faeries and dead humans. He believed in too much, and none of it good.

  “You touch anything?” Rook asked as they dashed through the dark alley away from the scene.

  “Just the longtooth. No prints. Do you even have to ask?”

  Slowing, Rook stopped in the middle of the cobbled alley, the darkness revealing his narrow face in shadows. “I’m not sure what I need to ask of you anymore, Rothstein. What the hell are you doing with faery ointment? Is that the same stuff under your eyes?”