She shoved the injured man at the tall stranger, shouting over the chaos, "Get him out of here while I go back for another look."
Before she'd gone two steps, his hand snaked out to catch her by the arm. "I'll be back to help."
"Fine."
With a renewed burst of energy, she made another foray back into the club. The dim hallway was no longer clear of smoke and fire, and heat licked its way along the ceiling, rolling in blue and red waves. Dropping to her hands and knees, Kerry crawled and coughed her way back into the dance floor, where she spotted four people huddled behind the bar. Were they waiting for an engraved invitation, for God's sake?
"You've got to get out of here!" she shouted, frustration and a growing fear threatening to overwhelm her.
When they didn't respond, she tried again. "Come on, get moving! I'll take you to safety."
A boy who looked far too young to be in a bar shrank back farther into the corner, his eyes huge with panic. "NO! We're waiting for the firemen to come get us."
"You won't live long enough for them to find you." Running out of time and patience, she gave his arm a solid yank. "Now get moving, all of you!"
"You heard her, boy. Move or we all die."
Kerry jumped at the deep voice barking orders from right beside her. The stranger was back, just as he'd promised. With him standing beside her, the fear that had been lapping at her control faded to a manageable level.
He shoved the boy and his friends back toward the exit, then leaned in close to yell over the roar of the fire, "Better get out of here. The rest of the roof is about to go."
"I'll be right behind you."
"You better be." Then he was gone.
Dimly aware of the shouts behind her, she realized that the fire department had arrived and was sending in the troops. At last.
Before she'd gone more than a few steps toward the exit, she heard a sound that chilled her despite the boiling heat surrounding her.
Closing her eyes to listen, she hoped to hear nothing but the mad cackle of the fire's fury. But there it was again—a whimper coming from off to the left. Common sense told her to leave any more rescues to the pros. But she had to live with herself, even if that meant dying right along with whoever was still trapped inside the inferno. Praying for deliverance or, failing that, a merciful death, she worked her way farther into the room.
Part of the ceiling crashed in, sending up a shower of sparks as the front door of the club was axed open and the first spray of water hit the flames. A rush of steam hissed and boiled through the room, and she instinctively flattened onto the floor. If the fire didn't finish her, the superheated water would.
From the floor, she spotted the source of the agonized moans. A woman lay curled up on her side a few feet away, cradling her badly burned arm. From the unnatural position of her foot, it looked like she also had a broken ankle. Kerry lurched to her feet, then muscled the woman up off the floor and over her shoulder. She wasn't sure how far she could carry someone who was both taller and heavier than she was; hopefully that huge guy would reappear.
The smoke had too much substance now for her to see clearly, so she was forced to trust her instincts. Through the darkness, she fought her way toward the exit one last time. It felt like it took an eternity before she finally staggered through the door.
Outside she was dimly aware of the crush of people and the scream of sirens as ambulances pulled into the parking lot. She turned in their direction, going only a few steps before EMTs were there to relieve her of her burden. As they gently settled the woman on a gurney, she grabbed Kerry and held on tightly.
Squeezing her hand lightly, Kerry offered what comfort she could. "You'll be fine. They're going to take you to the hospital."
"What's your name?" the woman rasped, her voice damaged by the smoke.
"Kerry. Kerry Logan."
"Thank you. Without you, I'd be dead." A tear streaked down the woman's sooty face.
"We'll take her now, miss." The EMT wheeled the gurney toward a waiting ambulance.
Kerry stared after the flashing lights long after the ambulance streaked out of the parking lot. The adrenaline rush left her buzzed and unable to concentrate, with no outlet for the energy coursing through her. Where was that tall guy? She wanted to thank him for his help and make sure he'd made it out of the fire safely. Odd that just his presence had helped her remain so calm.
Before she could spot him, a uniformed man approached her. "Miss, I'd like to talk to you if you wouldn't mind."
Kerry blinked several times, forcing her eyes to focus. "Yes, Officer?"
"From what I've been hearing, a lot of folks are alive here because of your efforts. So far it looks like no one died, in large part thanks to you. Tell me what happened in there."
Kerry shuddered as images of flames and fear flooded her mind. "There was music and dancing, and then suddenly there was fire everywhere."
He looked up from his notebook. "Can you describe it in more detail? I'm the arson investigator for the fire department—Maynard Cooper, although most folks just call me Coop. I'll be in charge of the investigation."
"I'm Kerry Logan, but I don't know how much help I can be. Most of it's just a blur." She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets. "Right now I just want to go home."
"You'll get there, but first I need your contact information. Then you need to get checked out by the EMTs before we can release you. You took in an awful lot of smoke tonight."
She was reluctantly following him across the parking lot when Coop abruptly steered her back the way they'd come.
"The vultures have landed." He glanced over his shoulder. "Listen, unless you want to be grilled by a mob of reporters, why don't you wait by my car over there? I'll send one of the techs to check on you."
"Thanks." The last thing she wanted was to face the flash of cameras and a bunch of stupid questions.
While Coop fended off the press, she watched the firefighters swarm the club, pouring on more water and checking for hot spots inside the remaining walls. Had anyone been left inside? God, she hoped not. What a horrible way to die! Visions of that fiery hell would terrorize her dreams for weeks to come.
As she waited, she could feel the weight of someone's gaze. She looked around, at first seeing no one, then spotted a man standing back in the shadows of a nearby alley. Though she couldn't see his face, she could feel him staring directly at her. She tried to ignore him but found it impossible to look away.
As if sensing her interest, he stepped forward into the glow of a streetlight and met her gaze head-on. His mouth turned up in a predatory smile that chilled her to the bone. Glancing toward the door to the club, he held out his hand. With a quick flick of his thumb, he lit his cigarette lighter, then lifted it up as if he'd been making a toast.
His smile broadened and he bowed, then faded back into the shadows as quickly as he'd appeared. Kerry stood frozen, unable to move, grasping for words to describe what she'd just seen. Only one fit.
Death.
There wasn't a doubt in her mind that this man was responsible for the fire. Closing her eyes, she did her best to recall ever)' detail about him, then ran straight for Coop.
He was still fielding questions from the reporters. She caught his eye and gave him a pleading look. Abruptly he cut off the interview, promising the reporters an update as more information became available. Kerry waited impatiently for the press to start moving off.
When they were out of hearing, she leaned in close to the arson investigator and whispered, "I need to talk to you, but not here."
After one look at her face, he nodded and took her arm. "Let's get in my car."
There, he asked, "What's up?"
Bracing herself, she met his gaze head-on. "I know who started the fire."
The investigator jerked upright, all signs of exhaustion gone. "What makes you say that? Where is he now?"
"Gone." Her teeth began to chatter, and cold chills raced through her body. "Can I borrow
your notebook and a pencil?"
He handed them over.
With trembling hands, she started sketching the face she'd seen, closing her eyes periodically to remember more detail. It took her several attempts to get the mouth right, but finally she was satisfied.
And scared all over again.
Coop leaned over to look at the picture. "Who is he? And what makes you think that he's the one?"
"While you were talking to the reporters, I felt someone staring at me." She pointed toward the alley. "He was standing in the shadows between those two buildings. As soon as I spotted him, he smiled and held up his cigarette lighter and flicked it. As if he was making a toast to celebrate the fire."
She shivered. "His smile was the scariest thing I've ever seen."
Coop merely nodded. "How come you draw so well?"
"I'm a graphic artist. That's a pretty rough sketch, though."
He studied the picture. "Looks pretty damn good to me. And it's a helluva lot more for my team to work with than we had a few minutes ago. I had one of my guys taking pictures of the crowd. Maybe we'll get lucky and find him in one. I'd like to take you into headquarters to make a statement."
She ached all over, but she couldn't find it in her to refuse. "If you think it will help."
He pulled out a cell phone. "I need to let my men know where I'm heading. Do you need to call anyone?"
She shook her head. No family, few friends, and she'd told her boss that she was going to work at home tomorrow. Glancing at the digital clock on the dash, she realized that it already was tomorrow. She'd been up for almost twenty-four hours straight and felt every minute of it.
As they drove out of the parking lot, Coop opened his mouth briefly, as if to say something but then closed it when he thought better of it. Whatever it was, she'd be better off knowing what he had to say, especially considering the worried look on his face.
"Tell me, Coop. I'd rather know."
He gave her a sidelong glance. "I didn't give the reporters any information about you back there, but they're bound to interview some of the people you saved tonight. If any of them know your name, the media will be on your trail, wanting your story. Your name and picture will end up splashed across tomorrow's headlines."
It didn't take a genius to add two and two and come up with a scary answer. "He'll find out who I am."
Coop nodded grimly. "I can request some protection for you, but until we get a fix on who this guy is… Hell, he could be anybody, anywhere. I won't lie to you, Miss Logan. It could be dangerous, because so far you're the only one who can place him at the scene."
"How mad will he be that I screwed up his plans?" It was a hard question to ask, but she preferred to have all the facts, no matter how grim.
Coop stared out the windshield as he considered his answer. "It depends. Chances are he loves fire like most men love a woman. If that's the case, he might be happy with burning the place to the ground. But if he wanted more than that, then he's crazy as a bedbug and there's no predicting what he'll do."
"Either way, I have to do this. I couldn't live with myself, knowing what I saw and not doing anything about it."
"You're a brave young woman, Miss Logan."
She laughed shakily. "I'm not so sure about that."
"Like they say, being brave is being scared and doing it anyway." He gave her a reassuring smile. "And a lot of people are still breathing today because you kept a cool head in that fire, Miss Logan." The respect in his voice came through loud and clear.
She managed a small smile. "Thank you, Coop, and call me Kerry. I suspect we'll be seeing more of each other."
"Yeah, and I'm truly sorry about that." Coop patted her on the shoulder just before turning into the fire department parking lot.
"Me, too, Coop. Me, too."
"Sonofabitch!"
Ranulf kicked a rock, sending it skittering down the street after the car disappearing down the block. He'd been too busy trying to trace the elusive scent of the renegade to realize that the woman was about to be whisked away by someone in a uniform. For her sake, he hoped the man really was part of the fire department. The renegade Kyth's scent had faded away at about the same time, so it was possible that the bastard's fun wasn't over for the night.
He turned back to where the fire crew continued battling the blaze. Soon there'd be only charred wood and a few nightmares for those who had lived through it. Which brought him right back to the woman in the fire. She was Kyth. He hadn't known that until he'd grabbed her arm.
His hand still tingled from the burn of energy that had arced between them. Had she recognized him for what he was? Probably not. She'd been too intent on hauling that human's sorry ass to safety to notice anything else. How many of those trapped in the renegade's fire party owed their lives to her cool head and clear thinking?
The Dame would want to hear about the woman's exploits in the club. Thanks to the fire and smoke, he couldn't provide many details about her other than she was on the small side and had dark hair. And that she'd displayed far more strength and courage than anyone he'd met in a long time.
The renegade would be hunting for her, but Ranulf wasn't going to let him get to her. Not on his watch.
With the fire department and police still crawling all over the scene, there wasn't anything else he could do now. First thing in the morning, he'd return to study the scene and start tracking down his target. He'd do better after he'd rested and fed.
After one last look at the smoldering ruins, he walked back to his car. Time to report to the Dame.
Chapter Two
Though the shower had washed the lovely scents of smoke and burned flesh from Bradan's skin, it hadn't taken the shine off the fun he'd had watching the dance club burn. In tomorrow morning's paper, there would be an accurate count of how many had died screaming as the bright, dancing flames had consumed them.
It had been his first effort at arson on such a scale, and it had been an overwhelming success. He slid between the sheets of his king-sized bed, relishing the feel of the cool, clean cotton against his skin. Closing his eyes, he relived each moment, from the first screams right up until the moment the firemen turned off the last hose.
The only fly in the ointment was that little brunette who'd led the charge out of the back of the club. If there'd been more time, he would've figured out how to block that door, too. Oh, well, live and learn. When he'd first seen her carry out a burn victim he'd been seriously pissed.
But when she'd done it again, he'd become curious. Who was she? Whenever a human did something extraordinary, they always assumed that the adrenaline coursing through their bodies was responsible. But no amount of adrenaline could account for how much she'd accomplished.
When everyone else had been choking on all that luscious smoke, she'd barely noticed it. Could she possibly be one of his people? After all, the Kyth thrived off of human life force. The heady perfume of fear and pain had rendered the night air an elixir fit for the gods, but ordinary humans lacked the ability to utilize it.
Which meant she had to have Kyth blood in her veins, even if she didn't know it. His body stirred in response. Once the newspapers got wind of what she'd done, he'd know her name. From there, it was a short step to finding out where she lived.
The two of them would have a lovely time together. If she was as pureblooded as he suspected, she would make a perfect mate for him. And if she didn't like that idea, she'd make a good plaything until she broke like all of his other toys did, bleeding and screaming for mercy.
Maybe he'd keep her alive long enough to bear him an heir. His brains and good looks, combined with hers, would definitely create a superior product. A son to follow in his old man's murderous footsteps, or perhaps a daughter who liked the joy of pain as much as her dad did.
A huge yawn surprised him. He'd meant to wait up for the early morning news, but his body was demanding rest. He needed sleep to allow his body to process all the energy he'd taken in, otherwise he'd lose m
ost of it.
When he woke up, he could buy the daily papers. The coverage on the afternoon news wouldn't be as extensive, but it would have to do. Once he had the girl's name, he would make plans.
Thinking of her big dark eyes, he slid his hand under the sheet, imagining her in his bed, under him as he rode her hard. A few strokes was all it took to have him arching off the bed, his body shuddering in release. Someday he'd be spilling his seed into his future mate. But for now, it was the perfect ending to a perfect day.
Judith impatiently listened to the clock in the hallway tolling the hour. "Where is that man?"
Sandor shrugged and poured himself another brandy. "Ranulf thinks he is a law unto himself. Perhaps we cater a little too much to him."
Dame Judith was well aware of the animosity between Sandor and Ranulf, and rarely asked them to work together. This time she had no choice.
"I don't coddle the man, Sandor. His needs are different than yours and mine." She sipped her sherry, missing the strength and support of her beloved late Consort, Rolf.
She glanced up at his portrait hanging over the fireplace. Rolf's eyes seemed to watch her no matter where she stood in the room, as if he'd been keeping an eye on her from the afterlife. It was a silly fantasy, but she drew comfort from the knowledge that he was there, waiting for her to join him when her work here was done. That time was coming soon. She knew it, even if those around her didn't want to see it.
Some nights the burden of her many years weighed her down, and tonight was worse than most. Once Ranulf appeared, she would give him and Sandor their marching orders, then retire to the sanctuary of her rooms.
Josiah, who served as both her butler and messenger, appeared in the doorway.
"Yes, Josiah, what is it?"
He approached, stopping a few feet away to bow slightly. "Talion Thorsen just pulled in and is getting out of his car."
"Please ask him to come straight here."
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