Harlequin Nocturne January 2014 Bundle: The Vampire HunterMoon Rising

by Michele Hauf

  She could tell the truth about the accident with Sid sneezing, but she didn’t want the argument right now. Not when the phone call may have wakened Kaz and he could be thinking of searching her out.

  The vampiress wheeled the suitcase around, but didn’t have an empty to offer in return, as was the usual deal.

  “Where’s the other?” Zoë asked.

  “I’m supposed to tell you Mauritius will be in touch later today. See ya.” She spun and headed down the flower-lined path to the waiting car across the street.

  Zoë stood before the open door, baffled at this new development. Did Mauritius not want more of her blend? Had he found someone else who could concoct the same for a cheaper price? She didn’t ask for much, just enough to pay her bills and to buy some pretty things. She was doing this to help vampires and didn’t want to make the product too expensive, but she did incur operating costs.

  There had to be a reasonable explanation.

  Closing the door, Zoë decided she would worry about it later. Because who could worry when a naked man smelling of warmth, sex and sweet dreams lay in her bed?

  * * *

  “Sorry to call you so early, man, but I’m up with the baby so...”

  “That’s fine.”

  Kaz sat up on Zoë’s bed, surprised not to find her next to him. Her pillow still felt warm. The cotton sheets were rumpled where she had lain next to him. He’d felt the reassuring weight of her arm draped across his back all night. She must have just gotten up before the phone rang. Maybe she was making him some chia oatmeal. Yuck.

  “What do you have, Va—er, Dark One?”

  “I got you a name.”

  “Of the witch making the dust? Excellent. I owe you one, man. Who is it?”

  “First, you have to know that a witch who can alter faery dust is a very powerful witch. In fact, my source seems to think the only one capable of such magic is a warlock.”

  “A warlock? Isn’t that a male witch?”

  “No, it’s any witch who has been cast from the Light for crimes against their kind, like, for example, altering faery dust.”

  “Altering faery dust is a crime against witches? I don’t get it.”

  “It’s not against the witches, per se, but it uses such powerful magic that it actually changes the molecules of a living thing. That’s what’s warlock about it.”

  “I get it. I think. So who is it?”

  “Some witch who lives in the eighteenth. Pretty little thing. I’ve never met her, but she was pointed out to me once at a Halloween party. Don’t even ask, man.”

  Kaz would not ask why vampires and witches went to Halloween parties. All he wanted was the important details.

  “I’m surprised she’d be involved with something like this,” Vail continued. “Didn’t think she was warlock material. But you can’t judge a person by the outside, can you?”

  “Vail—”

  “Dude, no names!”

  “It’s the name I’m waiting for. Give me the witch’s name. Or warlock, if that’s the case.”

  “All right, all right. Chill, man. Witch’s name is Zoë Guillebeaux.”

  Kaz dropped the phone by his leg as Zoë wandered into the bedroom. Casting him a sweet smile, she climbed onto the bed, shedding her robe to reveal rosy nipples and full breasts, and snuggled up next to him.

  Zoë Guillebeaux? His throat instantly drying, Kaz tried to swallow, but instead he cleared his throat roughly. Zoë was a common French name for girls. He didn’t know what her last name was. He certainly hoped it did not start with a G.

  “That was no one at the front door,” she offered, trailing a finger down his thigh.

  Vail’s voice could be heard through the phone. Kaz flipped the phone shut. But Vail had always been a reliable informant. The vampire wouldn’t grab any old name out of the ether.

  But a warlock?

  “Lover?”

  As well, Vail couldn’t know Kaz had been seeing Zoë, and for some ulterior reason, may have decided to use that against him.

  Zoë snuggled against him and wiggled sweetly. “Want a morning quickie? Or even a slow one—”

  He stood abruptly from the bed, finding her touch suddenly chilled him. He had to ask. “This is weird but, what’s your last name?”

  She shrugged, unaware of his concern. “Guillebeaux. Now about that quickie...”

  Suddenly, all thought of sex felt...creepy.

  Grabbing his pants from the chair, he said, “We need to talk.”

  * * *

  Zoë watched Kaz pace the floor, gathering up his jeans and shirt. He moved like a predatory feline, all sinuous and sleek. She couldn’t figure why he was so determined to dress, especially when she lay nude on the bed, and had suggested they have sex again.

  Was that it? They’d spent the night together, now on to the next witch?

  He had claimed to be a love-’em-and-leave-’em sort. And what did she really know about him? He slayed vampires. He liked to dance. He had a habit of collecting injuries like she collected bits and bobs from the people she met.

  He’d also said he liked to run away from things. Like...relationships?

  She’d thought they’d taken it slowly but perhaps last night had been a fast race over a cliff? It had been so romantic dancing in the twinkle of the Eiffel Tower, and then sharing secrets while they had waited for the train. She’d thought they’d grown closer that night, so when he’d shown up last night at her door she had been so ready to take the next step to intimacy.

  Was he getting cold feet? Skittish? She’d thought what they had shared last night had cemented the beginning of something great.

  Kaz shoved his feet into his leather pants and pulled them up, buttoning them hastily. Zoë could feel anger waver throughout the room, and that disturbed her.

  Had he overheard her conversation at the door? She hadn’t said anything that should make him angry. And he couldn’t have known she was talking to a vampire.

  “What’s wrong, Kaz? I go downstairs for three minutes, and when I return you’ve changed from sweet, loving sex god, to uptight and angry, and I’m having trouble figuring you out right now.”

  Glancing at her, he fisted the air, winced, then spread out his fingers, as if fighting some inner anger.

  “It was the phone call,” she guessed. “I heard your phone ring a few minutes ago. What was it about?”

  “Zoë.” He stopped pacing and eyed her with such a serious gaze, she flinched. The predator, indeed.

  Spreading out his fingers again and clenching them, he then said, “You know I’ve been investigating vampires who are selling faery dust. Stuff that messes them up and makes them go after innocent humans?”

  He paced before her, hands on his hips and face tight. His forehead wrinkled, and she decided his concerned look did not appeal if it had anything to do with her. But how could it?

  She nodded. “Yes, you explained it all. I witnessed it on the Metro.” The phone call. He must have gotten a lead on his investigation. “You need to leave for the hunt? I understand. You can return later and—”

  He lunged toward her so suddenly, gripping her shoulders in a less than gentle squeeze that she let out a frightened gasp. She sat there completely naked, and his aggressive touch stirred up the hairs on her arms, and not in a sensual way.

  “Zoë.” He opened his mouth to continue, but snapped it shut. Shaking his head, he seemed as if he was trying to not say something. And then he did. “The vampire informant I work with, and trust implicitly, gave me the name of the witch who has been manufacturing Magic Dust.”

  “A witch?”

  “Or possibly a warlock.”

  “Hmm, that makes sense. Someone would have to possess great skill to alter faery ichor in the manner you’ve descr
ibed to me.” And she knew that firsthand.

  He squeezed her shoulders and she winced. “You’re hurting me, Kaz. I can understand your anger, but don’t take it out on me.”

  “Are you going to play innocent with me now? After everything we’ve shared?”

  “What are you implying?”

  “I know, Zoë. And I can’t believe you could bring yourself down to such a level. It’s despicable.”

  “What?” She breathed out. Her heartbeat thudded and her skin grew warm. She couldn’t understand why he was blaming her—or what for, exactly. “I don’t have anything to do with what you’ve been investigating. How could you think to accuse me of such a thing? I abhor violence. I’ve spent my life working against it. The work I do now is—”

  “Is killing humans, Zoë!” He shoved her away, and she landed on her elbows on the bed.

  Pulling the sheet up around her breasts didn’t help to close her off from his anger. She felt as though he’d smacked her across the cheek and the sting burned.

  Kaz paced. He fisted the air. Something that he believed was so wrong, and yet—

  “Wait. You can’t mean...” She wrapped the sheet around her torso as she slid off the bed. “You’ve got it all wrong. The dust I’ve been making is a cure, Kaz. It’s not the Magic Dust you’ve told me about.”

  “So you admit you’ve been manufacturing dust?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Following a particularly harsh breakup with a vampiress he’d hoped to marry, her friend Luc had been imbibing in faery dust for about six months. He’d wanted to get off the stuff, but couldn’t. So Zoë had set out to produce a form of dust that would not cause addiction, and perhaps, allow a vampire to slowly wean off the drug.

  It had worked. Luc had called to report he was feeling much better, yet didn’t want her to see him until he was completely clean. Give him a month. But he’d also mentioned her project to his tribe leader, Mauritius, and things had proceeded from there.

  “Is that your lab up there?” Kaz swung a fist toward the third floor. “I need to take a look.”

  He ran out and onto the stairs before Zoë could sweep up the sheet to chase after him.

  “That’s my spell room,” she called from the stairs. “You are not invited to enter it. It’s sacred!”

  He stood at the fuchsia door, hand twisting about the pink glass knob. “You’re hiding a crime behind this door, Zoë.”

  “No, I— Kaz?” Shaking now, she slowly ascended the stairs. “Last night was so perfect. You and I— I thought...”

  She thought he had fallen in love with her. Because she had fallen for him sometime between the waltz at the Trocadéro and slow dancing arm in arm with him to the chanteuse on the gramophone.

  But now?

  “I don’t know what you’ve been told, or by whom,” she said, “but you need to calm down and tell me everything. Then I’ll tell you everything, and you’ll realize this argument is silly and has nothing at all to do with vampires killing humans.”

  He remained stoic, determined to stick with his anger. “Give me permission to open this door.”

  “No. It’s a blessed area. I never allow outsiders in, and would never dream to allow a mere—”

  “Human? You don’t want a human stumbling onto your vicious magical laboratory? You ever see that show on TV, Zoë? The one with the meth dealer who makes the vile drug? Is that what I’ll find behind this door? Some kind of Magic Dust lab?”

  Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Zoë couldn’t summon words to defend herself. She hadn’t been prepared for this. It shocked her that he could believe she would be involved in such a vile enterprise. She sank to the top step and sat, turning away from him.

  “Do whatever you want,” she managed, sniffling back tears. A snap of her fingers unlocked the door. “You’ve made up your mind about me. It’s apparent you don’t want to discuss this.”

  She hoped the fun-loving and gentle Kaz would settle onto the step next to her, take her hand in his and kiss it, then offer a discussion. But her spine stiffened as the doorknob turned and the hunter intruded upon her sanctuary.

  No one was allowed in her spell room. She had smudged it and consecrated the space and it remained pure because of that. Anyone, whether human or paranormal, touching things or walking the floor, would contaminate that purity. It was comparable to him spitting on her food.

  Zoë dropped her head into her hands and fought against tears. She, a drug manufacturer? Never. His accusations tore at her heart. She didn’t know how to feel beyond attacked and beaten. It was a similar feeling to the night she had been cut on the face by the vampire, the blade dragged slowly across her flesh in revenge.

  Kaz shuffled about inside for only moments before coming out and showing her his fingers. On them glittered the faery ichor that her spell had reduced to purple dust. She’d left an open bowl of the blend on the spell room table, remnants she’d rescued after sweeping up the broken glass.

  “It’s reduced ichor,” she offered flatly. “I designed it as a cure for the addiction to faery dust. The vampire who uses it can slowly wean himself from dust and be clean ever after.”

  Kaz squatted beside her and she sensed the noise he made in his throat was more a growl than a surprised agreement. “What kind of faery tale do you live in, witch? Or is it warlock?”

  “No, I’m not—”

  “This is Magic Dust.”

  “No, it’s—”

  Kaz swung around in front of her, stepping down onto the staircase, and thrust his dust-coated fingers before her face. “This is the stuff I’ve seen on the necks of the victims. We found a vial full of it abandoned near my friend’s dead wife. Vials like the ones you have lined along your table.”

  “No, that’s impossible—”

  “You are not curing vampires!”

  “It’s not a cure, but it seems to—”

  “Zoë, you are turning them into dust-crazed monsters who destroy human lives in an insane quest for anything that sparkles.”

  She shook her head adamantly, refusing to believe his lies. She had helped Luc. He’d told her he was getting better. Though she’d yet to see him in person. Could he possibly have lied? But why? They’d come to terms over the years. They were true friends now. He had no reason to want to hurt her again.

  “No,” she said firmly, unwilling to distrust the loving friendship she had honed with Luc. She’d known him a decade. Kaz, she had known a week.

  “My friend said it worked for him. Luc wouldn’t lie to me. He’s no reason to. But I don’t know you at all right now, Kaz, and maybe it’s you who is lying to me for some reason. I don’t know. Do you need a scapegoat? Is that it? Someone to drag into your Order and claim as the villain?”

  He gripped her chin between his fingers. “I cannot believe that you can be so ignorant of your actions.” He splayed the dust-coated fingers before her. “Look at this! This is death! You are a fine actress, Zoë. It sickens me to stand here.”

  And he trundled down the stairs, turning into the living room, and moments later flying out with his stakes and Order jacket over an arm.

  “Get your story straight,” he announced as he shoved his feet into his boots. “I’ll be back.”

  The front door slammed, and Zoë felt the creaking wood shatter her heart.

  * * *

  Seething, Kaz marched down the street from Zoë’s house. That she’d had the audacity to deny what he’d so plainly discovered in her lab chipped at his heart. Yes, a lab, not some silly little spell room, as she would have him believe. There had been vials and glass beakers and measuring instruments and scales—all tools of the drug trade. The witch was manufacturing a dangerous drug up in her glass tower.

  She’d really pulled a number on him. She’d seduced him into her bed, and th
en thought to lie to keep him. To think he would believe she was making a drug that would cure the vampires? Couldn’t the woman come up with a better excuse than that?

  He rubbed his fingers on his coat, attempting to wipe away the purple dust, but it clung tenaciously. He sniffed it and it gave off the sweet odor with which he was familiar from his visit to the ichor den.

  Kaz stopped in the middle of the street. What was he doing walking away from the witch? She was the person he had been seeking. He needed to march back through the cerulean door and take her into custody for questioning.

  A smart black limo cruised past, and Kaz twisted his head to watch as it slowed to a stop before Zoë’s house. Switch got out, clad in a long, black leather dress slit up to her thigh. She strode up the sidewalk.

  “Her contact,” Kaz muttered.

  He clasped the stake at his hip. They had been working together all this time? His fist squeezed the stake and the paddles compressed, ejecting the deadly tip.

  “Chill, Rothstein,” he coached, and watched as the vampiress stood waiting at the front door.

  Zoë would have wards against vampires. If the vampiress could cross the threshold then Kaz’s gut would really twist. As well, his chipped heart would shatter and break in two. But she didn’t. The door opened and Switch and Zoë exchanged words. Zoë had thrown on black slacks and a white shirt and now shook her fist at the visitor. He’d never seen her act so aggressively. Anger was not her thing. She was always forgiving. Even to a fault.

  Suddenly, the vampiress grabbed Zoë by the arm, tugging her onto the step, and punched her. Zoë dropped into the vampiress’s arms.

  Strange way to do business.

  Switch shoved Zoë’s limp body into the back of the vehicle and got in on the passenger side. He wasn’t sure what he’d witnessed, but Kaz would not let the car out of his sight.

  The vehicle turned the corner and Kaz took chase.

  Chapter 15

  Zoë woke from her forced unconsciousness and worked her jaw side to side, wincing at the aching muscles. The vampiress had wielded a terrific right hook.

  After Kaz had stormed out, Zoë had felt she needed to get some answers about what she was really involved in—from the big man on top. Only she didn’t know where Mauritius was, so she had intended to go looking for the pink-haired vampiress in FaeryTown.