UNCONTROLLED BURN

by Nina Pierce

  “Alex, you here?” he called into the barn. His horse’s whinny and a snuffle or two from the pigs were his only response. The stench of death hadn’t come from here.

  Glenn’s fangs pulsed as he went around the side of the barn and scanned the darkness. Nothing except creatures of the field scurried in his vision. Glenn focused on the breath of night surrounding him, hearing only the sound of the brisk September wind rustling through the leaves. Moving with the stealth of a shadow, he followed the scent of blood into the woods behind the barn. His fangs lengthened and even after all the years of living off the wine, Glenn felt the beast clamoring to share the carnage. The goats bleated out calls of hunger from the barn, but he ignored their summons. Stalking deeper into the forest, he caught the unmistakable essence of vampire. Someone was feeding on his property.

  “I know you’re here. Show yourself,” he called into the night. “If you’ve come for sanctuary, I freely offer it.” This wouldn’t be the first time a vamp had sought refuge, bringing their last victim to him as a sacrifice. The nearly imperceptible whoosh and swell of movement vibrated the air and Glenn wanted to follow it. But a low keening of pain garnered his full attention and forced him down the hill. A body lay curled in on itself, the heart barely pumping blood to its organs. Glenn’s own heart nearly stopped when he rolled the body over, only to see Hope’s vacant expression staring up at him. Puncture wounds at her slender throat were raw and swollen. Fresh blood covered her neck and chest.

  Despite his anger, Glenn forced his fangs to retract. Cradling Hope against his chest, he rushed back to the barn, not sure whether she had enough life within her to survive.

  Large lights, hanging from the wide-beamed ceiling, washed the wide hall and numerous stalls in yellow light. The sweet grass and animal odors replaced the tempting aroma of fresh blood. Glenn laid her gently on the hay in an empty birthing stall and ran to the cooler in the back office. Grabbing a bottle of blood wine, a couple packets of pig blood he kept on hand for these types of situations, a syringe and bandages from the medicine cabinet, Glenn prayed it wasn’t too late. Perhaps with Josh’s help, Hope wouldn’t see immortality as the curse of saving her life.

  When he returned to the stall, Hope’s skin had become translucent. Blue veins marked roadmaps of death on her face. There wasn’t time for the syringe. Glenn dropped the packets of blood and bit into his own wrist, gashing the vein. He held it over Hope’s face, letting the thick fluid drip on her mouth, painting her lips a syrupy scarlet.

  “Drink,” Glenn implored Hope. “Help me save you, damn it. Drink.”

  Prying her lips open, he let the life-giving blood fill her mouth. Hope’s tongue moved and she began to swallow. Glenn threaded his fingers into the tangled mat of her blonde tresses, lifting her tenderly to his wrist. He wondered again if Hope would forgive him for all the complications that came with the cure.

  Obviously, Alex never had.

  Hope’s instinct overpowered the repugnance of her actions and she finally latched on, drinking hungrily from his wrist. Though there was no guarantee he would save her, Glenn relaxed in the knowledge that Hope had taken the first step in survival.

  Sadness tripped over guilt. Glenn hadn’t been the one to rip open Hope’s throat and carry her to death’s door, but he understood his generosity condemned another young person to a never-ending night. Even though genetic evolution in the vampire DNA over the centuries had made sunlight bearable, it wasn’t like the kid would ever again feel its rays warm upon her face. Glenn would teach Josh how to wean her directly onto the blood wine and at least make her survival humane.

  Maybe they’d even be happy sharing the centuries together. He understood what a lonely and long existence it could be. The thought of what he was doing pinched his heart. This decision should have been hers. Glenn had lost count how many humans he’d pulled into his world. But letting them die seemed a worse fate.

  “There. Lie back and sleep.” He eased his wrist away from her hungry lips. Rest and intravenous pig blood would complete the rescue. Glenn licked the wound, his skin closing and repairing itself as if the flesh had never been ripped open.

  “It’s all right now,” he murmured to Hope, running a hand over her hair. But it wasn’t and Glenn knew it. There was still so much explaining and teaching ahead. The only blessing is that the rest of the responsibility no longer rested with him. But even that worried Glenn. He didn’t know how serious Josh’s relationship was with Hope. The concerns weighed heavy on his shoulders, making the task of pulling together the rest of the supplies difficult. When would it all end? How much more did he have to give to a new generation of vampires?

  Focusing on his melancholy and the effort of threading the syringe into Hope’s frail arm, Glenn didn’t feel the push of air or smell the stench of vampire until the beast was on his back. Sharp nails and fangs dug deep into his flesh. He stood and turned, trying to dislodge his opponent, but the vamp’s legs had clamped around his waist. Glenn reached up, tangling his fingers in its hair, intent on flipping his adversary to the floor. But hatred, rage, jealousy or some combination of the three made the vampire stronger. With a growl that echoed through the barn, the beast swung a wooden stake, coming down hard in front of Glenn’s disbelieving eyes.

  Like lava pouring from a volcano, pain seared through Glenn. It erupted from his chest, scorched down his stomach and arms, oozed slow paths of torture along his thighs and finally buckled his knees. There weren’t many things that could take down a vampire, but the wood protruding from Glenn’s chest definitely did the job.

  He went down heavy on his shoulder, his head slamming onto the wooden planks of the barn. Gasping for air, Glenn’s mouth filled with a sickly mixture of straw, dust and his own blood. He only needed to rid his chest of the stake and his body could repair itself. But when his brain tried to engage his hands, they wouldn’t move. Nothing moved, save for feet pacing in small circles.

  Glenn ignored the darkness creeping along the edges of his vision. He focused on the boots in front of him, the curl of the toe and the elegant sweep of the leather around the ankle. He recognized them immediately. He’d seen them countless times walking the floors of the tavern. Sadness mixed with anger as he wondered why this vampire would murder his own kind. It didn’t make sense. None of what he’d learned in the last few hours made any sense.

  He fought against the pain welling from his chest, ebbing and flowing as if it were breathing inside of him and filling him. His vision pulsed red as it continued to grow and consume him until Glenn’s skin tingled from the heat of it.

  He fought for control, but the blackness rolled like a tidal wave, tumbling him into unconsciousness.

  * * *

  Reese dragged ass out of the tanker, already feeling used up after only one call. Not that he was tired, just completely out of sorts after hearing the damning information Hope had given to Josh. He’d spent the afternoon going over every scrap of information they had on the fires, working to find another explanation and trying to reach Glenn.

  He hadn’t had any luck with either task.

  Fortunately, the alarm had rung minutes after he’d arrived at the station for the night shift. It had been nothing more than a diesel fire on a farm tractor. One fire engine. One tanker. Five men. Routine. He’d volunteered to stay behind with McLeod and the tanker when the engine was no longer needed. He had no reason to feel as heavy as he did.

  But as he pulled off his bunker gear, rolling the pants over the boots, hanging the jacket and stowing his helmet on the rack above him, readied for another call, he couldn’t help but think of the pixie-haired woman. A woman who was now suspect in killing nearly two dozen vamps and a handful of humans. It’s not at all where he wanted his thoughts to travel.

  He’d rather remember the way she’d responded to his touch. Reese could still taste the salt of her satin skin on his tongue, smell the fruity aroma of her silken hair as he grazed his teeth over her neck and feel the heat of her pressed agai
nst him.

  His body’s reaction hadn’t surprised him. But the way his emotions had swelled when she’d melted in his arms had thrown Reese completely off-kilter. His mind kept reminding his heart he’d made a solemn vow never to fall in love again—especially with a vamp. It was just too damn dangerous. Now, that didn’t seem to matter. Months of innocent flirting had obviously broken his resolve and the woman had wiggled her way into his heart. That thought shook him to his core.

  Shit. He needed to get Alex out of his head. There were lots of hours between now and when he would see her again. The only question was whether he’d spending the hours lounging in the rec room or out in the community battling dragons. It was how he’d come to understand fire, a living breathing beast, devouring for sheer pleasure and enjoyment.

  For himself, he hoped the alarm would continue to send the engines screaming into the night. He had no desire to contemplate how the new information Josh had brought to their cabin would impact a relationship that had only just begun. For the residents of South Kenton, he hoped this Friday dragged by with them sitting around the fire station talking trash, lifting weights, and playing cards. That thought darkened his already foul mood.

  “Hey, Colton, Sykes said to head up to his office as soon as you got in. Burkett and Timmons are already up there,” the dispatcher called from her office. “He didn’t sound too happy.”

  Reese lumbered up the stairs, hearing Sykes’s irate voice long before he got to the office door. He sure as hell was in no hurry to listen to a tirade. He had no idea what he’d done and would gladly have heard it secondhand from Josh and Timmons, but they were a team. They fought fires as a team. They broke bread as a team. They hung by their balls as a team. Go team.

  “… I have no fucking idea what you three were doing at the professor’s mansion, but I’ve got the fire marshal chewing me a new asshole saying someone tampered—”

  At Reese’s soft knock on the smoky glass, the deputy chief’s rant stopped.

  “Colton, that’d better be you!” The door swung open. Frank Sykes’s normally placid features were taut and glowed a sickly red. His thick mustache twitched in time with his fingers pulsing in and out of a fist. “It’s about time.” He waved him into the small office. Timmons and Josh sat in the two chairs across from the deputy’s desk, which left only the door to lean against.

  “What the hell did you three do after we left?” Sykes stalked behind the desk, but didn’t sit.

  “Burkett and I already told you,” Timmons said. “The body was transported to the morgue. We pulled down what was left of the walls and soaked the hotspots.” Timmons turned to Josh and Reese, who nodded in confusion. Reese was fairly certain, though he and Josh had been thorough in their search, they hadn’t disturbed anything that would have the fire marshal upset enough to call their boss. Every firefighter understood the scene was only theirs until the fire was out, then possession returned to the owners or, in the case of a death—the fire marshal.

  Though it happened, firefighters weren’t supposed to return to the scene.

  “Didn’t they get the photos and collect everything they wanted early this morning?” Josh asked.

  Sykes stared him down. “Obviously not, Burkett. With the number of fire deaths, he’s making sure he doesn’t miss anything. Imagine his surprise when he went back this morning and the place was torn apart. And not just from axes and water. The only obvious people on the scene were you three.” He paused, his narrowed eyes probing for guilt. “I’m talking the master suite, a guest bedroom and the living area. You sure you three didn’t see anyone or do a little investigation on your own?” None of them moved. With serious deliberation, the deputy chief flattened his palms on the desk and leaned forward. “Seems some things he wanted were missing. Not the least of which was the computer from the office.”

  “What the hell would we do with a piece of melted plastic?” Josh asked.

  The alarm was his only answer.

  “Attention South Kenton fire,” the dispatcher called. “Repeat. Attention South Kenton fire. Report of structure fire. One-seventeen Chestnut Hill Road, a tenth of a mile past Goughan’s bridge …”

  Literally saved by the bell.

  Reese took the shortest route to the bay, pounding down the stairs in front of Josh, Timmons and Sykes. Stepping into his boots, he pulled up his bunker pants, sliding the suspenders over his shoulders in one sweeping motion. He shrugged into his coat, grabbed his helmet and lumbered toward the engine. Routine. His thoughts focused on what lay ahead, his muscle memory did the rest. He pulled the lanyard, releasing the air tank tucked in the seat’s back before his butt ever hit the vinyl. His seat belt and air tank straps snicked into place as adrenaline filled his veins and sharpened his senses.

  He’d get through this long night one fire at a time.

  * * *

  Ronan pressed harder on the gas pedal of the Volvo, sending it hurtling along the treacherous mountain road leading up to Glenn’s farm. Weaving in and out of the forest, the asphalt rising and falling with the rocky California terrain, he had a hard time keeping the car on his side of the road. The headlights bumped along the low-hanging trees, the shadows opening only long enough for him to pass, then closing quickly behind him. No doubt this section of forest held tight to its secrets.

  The car bounced over the rise on the picturesque bridge and the chassis slammed down hard on the road. The Volvo screeched with the impact. Ronan didn’t care. He pushed the needle of the speedometer to a chilling angle.

  He needed to find Alex.

  The woman may have charmed Burkett and Colton, but Ronan knew she was guilty for crimes committed against vampires and he was determined to make her pay. Despite what his cohorts thought of her innocence, Ronan had every intention of bringing her to justice. That’s why he’d been sitting at the tavern waiting for the woman when the call about the fire at Glenn’s had blared over the firefighters’ pagers.

  Every off-duty firefighter at O’Malley’s had answered the call and he’d left with the surge. They’d headed to the station. He’d driven up the road. He wanted to stop her before she got away.

  Ronan had wondered for months exactly where her loyalties lay. After this morning, he no longer had any doubts.

  He’d measured her every move in the cellars. Listened for any subtle nuance of deceit in her words. He’d been so close to breaking through her tough exterior, when the unthinkable had happened. Ronan slammed his fist on the steering wheel, imagining it was Reese Colton’s face. The man’s timing had pissed him off. But then, he hated Colton and everything he did.

  Hating his boss wasn’t good for his career with RISEN. Ronan didn’t really care. He’d work with the asshole only as long as it suited his needs. Then he’d move on. Competing for a woman’s attention, even if he only wanted to use her, was just bad politics. Still, it raised his hackles that she’d lost focus the minute the firefighter had entered the cellar. It was obvious Colton was sniffing around Alex looking for more than wine and friendly banter. Ronan had been trying to gain her trust for the last several months, but she barely gave him the time of day.

  He may have backed off in the wine cellar, choosing not to fight a battle he couldn’t win, but when Josh had brought the proof of Alex’s crimes—proof RISEN hadn’t been able to find—it had pissed him off beyond reason that Colton hadn’t seen beyond his dick. The facts had been laid out in plain sight and both of his colleagues had turned a blind eye.

  Didn’t matter. He didn’t need either of them. He could bring Alex to the tribunal without them. Who cared if going over the heads of his superiors put a black mark on his career with RISEN? Making Alex pay for her atrocities against vampires and shoving the whole case up Colton’s self-righteous ass would be a twofer.

  The drive from O’Malley’s had taken no more than fifteen minutes. And even before he’d crested the last hill, Ronan knew there’d be little left of Glenn’s farm worth saving. The forest around him glowed an unnatural or
ange, the shadows of the trees dancing along the road as if celebrating the carnage.

  When he rounded the final turn, his suspicions were confirmed. Flames lapped out of broken windows, reaching up to taste the siding and lick the sill of the roof. Sparks danced in merry wonder upon the black smoke billowing into the night and shadowing the fat disk of the moon, watching from high above.

  He pulled his car to the side of the road, opening his door before he’d fully stopped. He killed the engine and jumped out. Running across the road and into the yard, he passed Alex’s car and Glenn’s truck and nearly tripped over a couple panicked chickens spilling from the open doors of the barn and scattering in fear.

  “Alex! Glenn!” Ronan yelled, running toward the barn. His voice was swallowed by the fire as it roared its power and shook something within the building. The heat and destruction were overwhelming “Alex! Glenn! Are you here?” he yelled again. Someone was here. Below the thunder of the devastation, like a muted drum beat, Ronan felt the unmistakable rhythm of a vampire. But who?

  He hoped Alex hadn’t been caught in the fire. The female vamp needed to pay for what she’d done, but not until the tribunal had a chance to pass judgment in front of the whole vampire clan. She needed to be taken alive. He was still a hundred feet from the blaze, the heat pressing angrily against his skin and snatching his breath. Even an immortal couldn’t survive that beast.

  Ronan registered the sound of sirens. He wondered if Colton would be one of the first firefighters on the scene and be the one to save her. Wouldn’t that be rich? Rescued from the flames only to be found guilty and destroyed by the fires of justice.

  He watched the silhouette of a person running from the woods, then along the side of the building. Lumbering and clumsy, she stumbled and went down. He’d studied Alex far too long, not to know the lithe form was her. He was upon her before she could recover. Liquid fire dripped into the grass around them as the metal of the roof fed the flames. Grabbing her arms, he hauled her weak form upright, aware that the vampire within her hadn’t taken control.