Slowly, she turned her head on Eric’s chest and looked at Nina’s pale face. Her cheeks and eyes were sunken, her lips dried and cracked.
“Do you know what killed her?” she asked, her voice only catching a little.
Argus stood on the other side of the gurney. “I am terribly sorry for the shock.” His eyes shone with sympathy, but she didn’t quite believe the truth of it. “We found her... what is her name?”
“Nina,” she replied, reluctantly stepping from Eric’s embrace. Cold hit her and she rubbed her arms.
Eric watched Argus closely. “So, cause of death?”
The doctor blinked, then nodded. “Oh, yes. Same as all the others. There’s nothing I’ve been able to find. No marks. She hasn’t been drained of blood, so no apparent cause for the dehydration. I’ve searched for signs of magic, different types of sorcery. There’s nothing that I recognize.” His eyes sharpened and he glanced at the smaller table at the foot of the gurney. “I’ve been around a while,” he said with a dry laugh. “I’ve seen a lot. But this... I can’t explain it.”
Cat wanted to scream. To cry. To throw all the things off the little table, smash them to bits on the ground. At the disappearances, these deaths. At her own helplessness.
But mostly, she wanted to claw the doctor by his throat—be damned he was a gorgon who could kill her, turn her to stone with one glance—and force him to tell her how her coven members had died.
She gripped her hands together, her nails digging into flesh. The pain pulled her mind from the brink.
As if sensing her inner turmoil, Eric grasped one of her hands, holding it in his own.
That helped even more.
Taking a couple deep, calming breaths filled with Eric’s scent, she looked away from Nina before she lost it. She was supposed to protect the girl. Yet another failure.
How many more would die under her useless watch?
“How can you not know who killed them?” Eric asked.
Argus shook his head as he assessed them sadly. “I don’t know that, either.”
Chapter Eleven
After a few more unanswered questions, Cat headed upstairs. In the office, she slipped her shoes back on, then strode out and down the hall, nearly running. Eric easily kept up, but worried about her psyche. Pain and guilt radiated from her, so deep were her wounds, it was nearly agonizing from the shadows in her eyes.
“Will you be all right?” he asked quietly.
She laughed humorlessly, the sound making him cringe. “Eventually.”
Outside, the snow had stopped, and most of what had fallen had melted.
As they walked through the parking lot, Eric watched Cat. She was pale, her brows drawn. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, flashing a bit of fang every now and then.
At least the icy air brought some color back to her cheeks. They were almost to the SUV when he decided she needed to keep moving around for a little while.
“When’s the last time you ate?” he asked.
She shrugged. “When I woke up.”
“Is there somewhere good within walking distance?”
Cat glanced at him, then waved at the street. “Take your pick if you want food. The nearest blood pub isn’t that far either.”
“Let’s go.” He knew he’d made the right choice when the corners of her lips quirked.
As they passed the SUV, Cat stumbled. He grabbed her, held her steady.
She glanced up at him and the sorrow in her gaze was nearly devastating. Her lips parted on a gasp as she laid her hands over his chest.
It felt so natural, so comfortable. So welcoming, like coming home to where he belonged.
He didn’t stop to think, wasn’t sure he could have, as he lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers.
She was warm, sweet, and he groaned at the taste of ambrosia. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, savoring her taste, then raised his head.
Pink tinged her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. “What was that for?”
He blinked, realizing what he’d done. “I don’t know.”
She smiled, though it was only half-hearted. “Thank you.”
He stepped back, uncomfortable as all the hells. What had he just done?
Heading for the street once more, her burdens seemed lighter. At least there was that. He, on the other hand...
The night was filled with revelry. A jazz band played, people laughed with an air of happiness tinged with drink. They headed down the street. A small bit of color pinkened Cat’s cheeks, but her eyes continued to shine with unshed tears.
And there was nothing he could do to save her from the pain, though something inside screamed at him that he should be stopping it. Protecting her from all hurts.
The other part of him felt the need to brood over that kiss. What in all the hells had possessed him to do such a fool thing?
This wasn’t like him. The way his body had reacted—seeing her in the nearly transparent gown the other night and the uncontrollable urges to strip her bare and see her more fully—to now, trying to ease her pain and comfort her with a kiss.
Hells, being here with her was starting to feel so... right.
He snorted his disbelief at that sentiment. Cat glanced at him, but he waved her to continue walking.
Then, thankfully, his thoughts were jerked from their confusing swirl to the shadows across the street. Someone was there.
Watching them.
Keeping pace.
The hair on his arms rose, as if the presence was dark and malevolent. Full of evil.
“Do you feel that?” Cat whispered, rubbing her arms.
“Yeah. Keep going.” He resisted touching the handle of his axe for comfort.
Near the end of the block, a red brick building stood in shadow, though there was plenty of light from the street. A large glass window spread across the front, but he couldn’t see through it.
The name Marie’s was painted on the darkened glass in scrawling blue letters.
It took him a minute before noticing the mortals on the street around the building. They passed by, imperceptibly—and, he thought, unconsciously—easing to the outer limits of the sidewalk as if Marie’s repelled them. None of the people glanced at the building, like they didn’t know it was there, couldn’t see it, only felt the force telling them instinctually to stay away.
“Is that place spelled?” he asked, incredulous that someone would, first, want to do that to an entire building and, second, have the power to sustain such grand magic.
Cat nodded. “Marie’s is for Arcaine only. Humans aren’t welcome. It makes it easy when they don’t even realize it’s there.”
“Who owns it?” he asked.
She smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “A dragon. Marie, if you meet her, will inform you she’s no descendant of our famous Marie Lavaue, but the other way around.”
As they approached the door, they passed through a field of heated air, nearly too hot to progress. Just before they exited the other side of the barrier, Eric’s stomach clenched as the feeling of being watched turned malevolent.
* * *
Cat headed for the maître-de. His eyes lit when he spotted her. “Lady Bienville, it’s been a while.”
“Good evening, Taylor.” As protocol dictated, she held out her hand.
He took it, bowing and placing a light, warm kiss on the back. Straightening, his gaze fell on Eric. His face darkened. “And your guest?”
She glanced at Eric, finding him scowling back at Taylor. “Eric Wulfgar. He’s visiting from Arizona.”
“Ah,” Taylor replied. “Welcome. I hope you find our city pleasant during your short stay.”
“Well, now,” Eric replied, his accent heavy. “Might not be all that short.” He laid his hand on Cat’s back, and she sighed silently at the show of male hormones.
Taylor blinked, but he merely turned back to her. “Your usual table is available.”
“That would be lovely, tha
nk you.”
He smiled brilliantly, then led them to the back of the room. The restaurant was half full with a multitude of Arcaine creatures relaxing, chatting and eating.
Those who couldn’t pass for mortal were able to relax here and be themselves, allowing their glamour to fade. A few saw her and waved in greeting. She nodded back.
The table was in a corner, as she preferred. She sat with her back to one wall. Unsurprisingly, Eric took the chair next to it, so he too could have a wall at his back.
Taylor laid two menus down, then with another bright smile for her, turned and headed back to the front.
“One of your toys?” Eric drawled sarcastically.
She couldn’t stop the thin sliver of amusement as she shook her head. “Only if he’s dating every woman who comes in here. He’s a bit of a flirt.”
Eric raised a brow, still scowling. “That was more than flirting.”
She studied him, the darkness in his eyes, his fists on the table. The man couldn’t possibly be jealous... could he? It amused her, and helped push back the pain in her heart, at least a little.
She concentrated on the now. With a small smile, still hard to form, she told him, “Taylor is a ghost. He’s tied to this place, couldn’t leave if he wanted to. So he takes his small pleasures where he finds them.”
Eric’s head snapped up and he glanced across the room at Taylor, who was now greeting another woman, bowing over her proffered hand. “A ghost?”
“Yup.”
“Why’s he so... substantial?”
She shrugged. “It’s the magic of this place, I suppose.”
“Magic,” he muttered. Shaking his head as if trying to clear an errant thought, he picked up his menu and began browsing. One of the waitresses, Kellie, saw her and held up a hand, one finger, then two.
Cat held up two fingers, and a moment later, Kellie brought over a couple mugs of warm spiced blood.
“Thanks, sweetie,” Cat told her.
She smiled before heading back to the bar.
Eric paused reading the menu long enough to take a drink, then glowered at his cup. “What is it with you people? What’s wrong with blood, straight up? Got to go and make it taste different with whatever you add.”
“Maybe different, but not bad.”
He merely grumbled under his breath. He finally set his menu down as if decided on what he wanted to eat, then he pierced her with a stare.
“What?”
“You will eat.” It was a command, not a question.
She almost argued, just out of contrariness, but she needed the fuel to keep up her strength. It didn’t matter that, at the back of her mind, she saw Nina’s pale face. She couldn’t think of the girl right now or she’d lose it. Later, she could break down. In the privacy of her own home, she’d be allowed to pour out the heartfelt pain... and the guilt. She said softly, “I planned on it.”
He inched her menu closer as Kellie appeared at their table once more.
The young vampire grinned at them, her fangs showing. “Your usual, Cat?”
“Yes, please.”
She turned to Eric as he ordered prime rib, a roasted chicken, the lobster bake with shrimp on the side, a fresh salad, and two orders of French fries.
Kellie didn’t blink an eye at his appetite. After she left, an uncomfortable silence fell between them.
Cat played with her napkin ring, turning it round and round. She should say something. Be polite, keep her mind off the pain and anger trying to swamp her emotions. But she didn’t have a clue what to talk about. Bringing up the weather was inane, all one had to do was glance out the large front window and see it was dark, though thankfully not snowing.
Finally, she settled on saying, “So what do you do in Arizona?”
He grunted, turning from studying the restaurant patrons to stare at her. “I’m my king’s guard.”
She met his blue gaze. “And that’s a full time job?”
“Aye. We have a large clan.”
“Is your king usually in danger?”
He blinked. “No. But it’s my job to settle disputes he’s judged on, and such.”
“Your clan doesn’t get along?”
“When you have hundreds of vampires in a semi-small area, most of them very old, personalities clash. Feuds last a long time.”
She took another drink, relishing the strength filling her from each swallow of blood, bolstering her confidence. “How old are you?” It was one of the rudest questions one vampire could ask another, she knew, but couldn’t help herself.
Eric answered absently, as if unaware of her faux pas, “Nearly a thousand years.”
She almost choked. She’d known he must be older than Jacques, but... Studying him, she realized why she hadn’t guessed the extent of his age. While power and strength radiated from Eric, it was subtle. The few vampires she’d met around his age had given off their power uncontained, like storm clouds raining on everyone around them. Instead, Eric held it in. Not hiding it—at least she didn’t think it was intentional. He was just more... self-contained.
Their food arrived. Her plate, with a steak, baked potato, shrimp and a salad, looked paltry compared to the six plates required to hold Eric’s dinner.
They dug in, the silence slowly changing from uncomfortable, to more relaxed. She finished her food, got a refill of her cup, and sat back, sipping the spiced blood.
She tried not to watch Eric, at least not blatantly, but he ate with such gusto, as if this was his last meal on earth and he wanted to savor it.
Thinking about the shadows usually lurking in his eyes, she wondered what had happened to him to put them there.
* * *
Eric kept his senses attuned to Cat as he ate. She seemed better, though he knew it wouldn’t last. She had to be feeling guilt, despite the fact she’d done everything she could to protect the foolish girl, Nina.
Plates cleaned, he sat back, looking at her directly. She fidgeted under his gaze.
Her green eyes dulled as she asked, “How are we going to get any information? Everyone we talk to has no idea what’s going on.”
Eric cleared his throat, concerned at the hopelessness in her voice. “There are plenty of places we haven’t looked yet. This is a big city.”
She shook her head, gaze on the table. “I’ve been searching for weeks. You’ve been looking for days. We have nothing but more of my people dead.”
“But you didn’t have my help.” He wanted to bite his tongue at the words. He didn’t want to offer such a thing as working with her. He did better on his own. But he couldn’t call them back as she looked at him, a spark of interest returning to her eyes.
“Oh? You’re not going to keep trying to be the big bad male, ordering the little woman to stay in the kitchen?”
The derision in her tone nearly made him cringe. She seemed to think he had an aversion to her being a female, rather than the fact he just didn’t want to deal with anyone.
There wasn’t any reply he could think of that wouldn’t make him look like an idiot, so he simply said, “No.”
She searched his face for something, and apparently found it, because she nodded. “Fine. What do we do next?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not the person watching us earlier is still outside.”
They had a quick argument over who was going to pay the bill. He solved it by snatching it up and taking care of it. As they headed toward the front door, he laid a hand on her arm, stopping her. Moving toward the glass window, he studied the street for any sign of their watcher.
There was nothing visible, but a heaviness twanged against his senses, directing his attention to a dark alley across the street. There was something there, a presence he couldn’t ignore.
Reaching up, he caressed BrynTröll’s handle, and glanced at Cat. “Do you have a weapon, if the need arises?”
“I’ll be fine,” she replied.
He drew th
e dirk from the sheath on his belt and handed it to her. “Take this, just in case.”
She rewarded him with a brief, small curving up of her lips.
He watched in approval as she tested the weight and balance of the blade.
Holding it by her thigh, unnoticeable at first glance, she nodded her readiness.
Eric proceeded outside.
The wind had picked up while they’d been inside. He inhaled the air in great breaths and smelled them immediately.
Wolves.
Cat stiffened, her gaze zeroing in on the alley across the street.
“We can’t fight them here. There are too many mortals around,” she said.
He started down the street, toward the morgue’s parking lot. She stayed at his side, occasionally glancing behind them.
He could smell the mangy beasts, moving behind the opposite buildings, matching their pace. Then the dark scent of vampires mixed with that of the wolves, coming from the same direction.
Chapter Twelve
“Do you smell the vampires?” he asked quietly.
“Yes. I don’t recognize them.”
So, more foes, potentially.
As they reached the parking lot, Eric glanced around. Figuring it was safe enough, there weren’t any mortals nearby to become hysterical at the sight, he drew BrynTröll.
Part of him worried. While he’d gotten in some practice since waking, he hadn’t been in a real fight since before he’d been taken and tortured. His skills were bound to be rusty.
He glanced at Cat.
It didn’t matter. Above all, he must protect her.
The stench of the wolves grew overpowering. “If something happens, take the car and get out of here.”
“Absolutely not...” her words trailed off as they reached the SUV.
On the driver’s side, both the front and back door handles were wrapped in barbed wire glowing with a misty blue light.
“Magic,” he stated, furious.
Not just at whoever had done this, but at himself. He’d been so busy concentrating on lightening Cat’s mood, he hadn’t considered someone might try to prevent them from leaving.
Firestorm: Heart of a Vampire #5 Page 8
