by Keri Arthur
“Do you want backup?”
Fuck yes, I wanted to say, because while I might be a fire spirit, I was neither stupid nor entirely immortal. I could die in this lifetime, which would be damn dangerous when Rory wasn’t yet up to full strength and might struggle to call my ashes to him.
But Rinaldo’s warning kept the words locked inside. “No. Besides, isn’t PIT stretched to its limits at the moment?”
“Yes, especially after the mess you made of Brooklyn.” There was no hint of censure in her voice. While she might not have given official approval for our actions there, she’d certainly been well aware of our plans and had made no move to stop us. “Which reminds me, I need you and Jackson to meet me there later today. Several fires continue to burn out of control, and we need you to go in there to see what the hell is going on.”
I frowned. “After three days of uncontrolled burning, I can’t imagine there’d be much of the place left. And why don’t you just water bomb the entire area?”
“Believe me, we’ve tried, but there’s a magical barrier of some kind protecting that particular section. The water just sluices off it.”
“So what makes you think I’ll be able to do anything?”
“Intuition.”
“I have no knowledge of magic, Inspector.”
“Perhaps, but you have very intimate knowledge of fire. You can go places the rest of us cannot.”
“You’d still be better off calling in a witch.” They’d at least be able to circumvent the spell, even if they couldn’t entirely unravel it.
“We’ve tried that.” Frustration edged her matter-of-fact tone. “But the spell’s source is situated within Brooklyn. So again, we can do nothing more until you get in there and uncover what is going on.”
I blew out a breath. We really didn’t need additional work on top of everything else, but it wasn’t like we actually had a choice. I had no doubt the inspector would force us there at gunpoint if necessary. “What time do you want us there?”
“What time is your meeting with Rinaldo’s people?”
“Three.”
“It would be preferable if we could access the place at dawn. The cloaks are less likely to be active at that hour, but it will still be dark enough that we should be able to avoid overt interest from the public.”
Not to mention the press. Though I’d kept away from both the TV and newspapers over the last few days, I could imagine they’d had a field day speculating what had happened in Brooklyn. Especially since PIT wouldn’t have told anyone but senior government officials the truth.
But meeting the inspector at dawn meant leaving Rory unprotected for an even longer period, and I wasn’t willing to do that. I needed to check that he was safe, that he was refueling his spirit on the flames and his flesh on the food. And nothing, not the red cloaks or Brooklyn or even revenge, was more important to me than he was.
“I’m sorry, Inspector, but I can’t.”
She was silent for a moment, then said, “Why not?”
“Because of what I am, and because there are certain matters—certain responsibilities—I cannot escape.”
“Which tells me nothing.”
“It tells you more than you know.” And it was all I was willing to say. I had no idea just how much PIT knew about either Rory or me, or even phoenixes in general, but from the bits and pieces Sam had mentioned, it was obviously more than most. But I was betting what they didn’t know still far outweighed what they did, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Especially when I was pretty convinced there was a mole somewhere in their organization.
I’d initially thought it had been Rochelle—Sam’s lover, and a PIT operative who, like him, had been infected by the Crimson Death virus. And while Sam had never been under the control of the hive or his brother, Rochelle’s position had been a little more tenuous. She had, in fact, killed herself rather than be forced to turn on both Sam and PIT. And for a dark fae, that was a pretty desperate action.
But Rinaldo had also intimated that he had a line into PIT. Whether that was true, I had no idea, but right now, with Rory so weak, I was taking no chances.
“I’m sorry, Inspector, but I have no choice.”
“It would seem that I don’t, either, short of dragging your ass there personally.” She paused, and a hint of amusement crept into her voice as she added, “And after that rather impressive demonstration in Brooklyn, I suspect that might not be possible. Or even wise.”
Surprise ran through me. I’d been expecting a threat rather than a backing down. “You could be right.”
“Meet me tomorrow evening, then—nine should do. The peak-hour traffic will be gone by then, and the area will be quiet.”
“Fine. But send the fire brigade away. I don’t need any more witnesses than necessary.”
“Nor do we,” she said heavily. “The crew will be at your location in twenty minutes.”
“Thanks.” I hesitated. “Have you got Jackson’s blood results back yet?”
“I chased it up with the lab yesterday. I’m assured they’ll have them to me within the next day or so.”
Meaning we’d soon know if the virus had been burned from his system.
“Thanks,” I repeated, and hung up.
I bent down and checked the two vamps Jackson had knocked out for signs of awareness, but both were still unconscious. I tightened their leashes anyway, then headed out the now-broken front door. The night remained quiet, and the moon was hidden behind a bank of clouds. What few stars could be seen were unusually muted. It was almost as if they’d dimmed their brightness in respect for the death in the room behind me.
I couldn’t see Jackson anywhere, and if he was moving about, then he was doing so quietly. You found anything?
Pain slithered through my head even as I asked that question—a sharp warning that using our connection was indeed taking a toll. Nevertheless, it was stronger—more reliable—than it had been a few days ago, and that meant it was still gaining strength. It made me wonder just how far it would go—would we, perhaps, be able to do more than merely mind talk? Would we perhaps be able to sense the other’s presence, no matter where that person was? Rory and I certainly had that capability, though it was one we rarely needed or used.
Jackson didn’t reply, but after a few minutes, he appeared from the house next door. “Sorry for not responding, but all the mental talking is giving me one hell of a headache.”
“Did you find the wolves?”
“Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand across his chin, the sound like rough sandpaper. “Baker isn’t going to be happy.”
“They’re dead?”
“Not just dead, but absolutely torn apart. I found a dart near one of the bodies. The poor bastards didn’t have a chance.”
I thrust a hand through my hair. “How the fuck did Rinaldo know about the werewolf guards?” Because he had to have, if his men had come here prepared with darts.
“Baker either has a spy in his midst, or his office is bugged.”
“I can’t imagine it’d be a spy. He’s dealt with vampires for years; he’d be well aware of their tricks.”
By the same token, I couldn’t imagine he’d be naive enough to believe no one would bother bugging him. Not when it seemed to be a very common practice here in Melbourne. The lab I’d worked for—as well as many other private organizations that had governmental links—was regularly swept of bugging devices.
“We need to ring him.” Even as I said it, I pulled the phone out and did it. The minute he answered, I said, “It’s Emberly Pearson, and I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”
He was silent for a moment, and then said, “My men are dead, aren’t they?”
“Yes. And they were darted before they were killed. Someone knew they were watching Shona and came prepared.”
“Who did you
tell?” His voice was flat, angry, but whether the anger was directed toward us or was because of the loss of his men, I couldn’t say.
“No one. Not even PIT knew.”
“Suggesting I have a leak in my own organization. I’d feared that.”
“Rinaldo seems to have a finger on the pulse of all the major players in this city,” I said. “But he’s an extremely strong telepath, so it might simply be a matter of reading the mind of someone close to you.”
“Just as telepathic wolves are a rare find, it’s also rare for wolves to be telepathically invaded. We are somewhat immune.” He was silent for a second, and then said, “I’ll check, however. Thank you for the call, and please remember to pass on any information you get on this bastard.”
He hung up. I blew out a breath. “Rinaldo is dead meat if Baker ever gets his hands on him.”
“That can be applied to us, PIT, the rats, and whomever else Rinaldo might have crossed.” Jackson caught my hand, tugged me close, and kissed me. It was as much about grief as an affirmation of life. After a few moments, he added, “What did PIT say when you called?”
“A crew will be here shortly.”
“Good, because we need to get moving if we’re to meet Rinaldo on time.”
I hesitated. “I don’t really think—”
“Do not try to stop me from coming along.” His expression was hard. Determined. “Because you know that’s not going to happen.”
“But he won’t be at the meeting. He won’t risk it.”
“I don’t care. I’ve already lost Shona. I’m sure as hell not going to risk losing you.”
I smiled and brushed my fingers down his cheek. “I have one advantage over Shona, remember.”
“The point remains.” He took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder as the sound of a siren began to invade the night’s stillness. “We should tie our captives up more conventionally. Just because your ex and Richmond knows we’re fire capable doesn’t mean the rest of them need to.”
“Does Shona keep rope or wire anywhere?”
“No, but I saw some packing tape in one of the open boxes. I’ll grab that.”
He did so. We taped all three up and, given the woman’s proclivity for biting people, shoved several additional layers over her mouth.
PIT arrived a few minutes later. I didn’t know either of the operatives, and they certainly didn’t say much. Once they’d checked our IDs—both our driver’s licenses and the associate badges PIT had handed us just before the Brooklyn battle—we were allowed to go.
Jackson immediately left the house, but I hesitated. “Watch the female vampire. She has a nasty habit of using her teeth.”
The taller of the two women flashed me a grin. “I doubt she can even open her mouth with the amount of tape you’ve wound over it, but she’s most welcome to try.”
Considering the anticipatory edge to that comment, if my former captive had any sense, she’d be a model of good behavior. But I had a vague suspicion she wouldn’t.
“Oh, and before I forget,” she added, “the inspector said you might need some weapons—you’ll find them in the trunk of our car. Help yourself to whatever you want.”
I nodded and headed out. There was a veritable arsenal in the trunk of the car, and not just guns, but silver knives, good old-fashioned stakes, and several vials of what I presumed was holy water. I grabbed a small backpack and shoved in half a dozen semiautomatics, ammunition, two knives, and some of the holy water. The inspector might not have literally meant “help myself,” but I wasn’t about to forgo the chance to be fully armed. Not when every other bastard after us seemed to be fully kitted up.
Jackson had jumped into the driver’s seat, so I tossed him the keys and placed the backpack on the backseat.
“What’s that?” He started the car up and drove off.
“A mini armory, courtesy of the inspector.”
“You know, I’m actually starting to like that woman.”
I snorted. “I’ll like her more if she actually keeps her word and lets us walk away once this is over. Until then, I’m reserving judgment.”
“Well, at least we now have more of a chance of walking away from tonight.”
“Not to mention something to fall back on if the witch is present and our fire fails.”
It didn’t take us all that long to get into the city. At this hour of night, the traffic was light, even when we’d pulled off City Link and made our way down Flemington Road to Victoria Street.
Jackson slowed the car as we neared the gardens. “Did Rinaldo say where we were supposed to meet him?”
“No, but the old fountain is the most logical place. People have been meeting there for years.”
“I’m not entirely sure Rinaldo applies logic the same way as the rest of us.” Jackson pulled into one of the empty parking spots and killed the engine.
“That’s to be expected, given he’s a very old vampire. He doesn’t see the world the same way you and I do.”
Jackson’s grin flashed, and though it was a somewhat pale imitation of its usual self, I was nevertheless glad to see it. “I’m not sure that sentence applies, as you’re vastly older than I am and fae in general think very differently to most.”
A smile touched my lips. “You could be right. After all, you’re not only a fae but also a male. And it’s a well-known fact just what occupies a male’s thoughts every seven seconds.”
“That claim has repeatedly been proven false.” He leaned forward and crossed his arms over the steering wheel, his gaze on the park. “Though in my case, it is quite possibly true. I can’t see any movement beyond the two possums arguing at the base of that elm.”
“If there are vampires there, we wouldn’t see them anyway.” My gaze swept the shadows gathered around the trunks of the century-old elm trees. The moon might have finally escaped the cloud cover, but much of its silvery light wasn’t getting through the thick canopy of greenery. It was the sort of cover vampires intent on no good just adored. “How do you want to play this?”
“Straight.” He reached for the backpack. “If Rinaldo has arranged a vampire-greeting party, we’re better off protecting each other’s backs.”
I glanced at the time. Ten to three. “I guess there’s no point in delaying the inevitable. Let’s get this over with.”
I accepted one of the guns and some ammo, then climbed out. As I strapped on the weapon, Jackson slammed his door shut. The sound echoed across the stillness, and the two possums scurried up separate trees.
Jackson paused beside me. “Ready?”
“No, but it’s not like we have a choice.”
I shoved my hands into my pockets, my gaze moving past the bollards that separated the street from the wide path that led directly to the old French fountain. It was a warm beacon of light at the very end of a long arch of tree branches and shadows. No one appeared to be waiting for us, but the stillness now ran with tension, and not all of it was coming from the two of us.
Someone—or something—was definitely out there.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Jackson murmured, and strode purposefully toward the fountain.
I hastily caught up with him, my gaze sweeping the surrounding area and looking for some sign of movement. But there was absolutely nothing to indicate there was anything or anyone out of place in the park.
Nothing except that gathering wave of tension.
Our footsteps echoed across the night, Jackson’s—for all his size—far softer than mine. Heat burned across my fingertips, and I clenched my hands tighter, not wanting the glimmer to show through the layers of the coat’s pockets.
We were about halfway down when energy began to crawl across my skin, its touch foul and dark.
Can you feel that? Pain lanced through my brain as I said it, but it was a warning I ignored. I had no
idea what would happen if I kept pushing this developing talent of ours, but right now I had no other option. I couldn’t voice the question out loud—I had no desire to inform whoever might be waiting out there that I could feel the caress of their spell.
He glanced at me, a frown creasing his forehead and a glimmer of pain gathering in the brightness of his eyes. Feel what?
Magic, I said. It has the same feel as the stuff that was used in Brooklyn.
I have no sense of it, but we did theorize that Luke’s witch might be a Rinaldo plant.
I’d certainly theorized that, but I hadn’t realized he’d caught those thoughts. If it is, then we should be protected.
We’d be protected, theoretically, because of the spell blockers we’d gotten from Grace Harkwell, the witch who’d asked us to find her missing friends. While said blockers resembled simple, multicolored string necklaces, they’d been designed to counteract any spell created to either restrict our fire or stop my access to the earth mother. It had certainly worked brilliantly in Brooklyn; I just had to hope it did so here.
But this spell had a stronger feel than that one. The witch had obviously amped things up in an effort to negate a possible repeat of the Brooklyn events.
Even if that is the case, it shouldn’t affect me, Jackson said. I’m not a phoenix.
No, but your fire is phoenix sourced, so that may not necessarily be true.
He grunted and continued on. The closer we got to the fountain, the stronger the spell became, until it felt like I was walking through a wall of razor blades that tore at my skin and sliced through my brain. Then warmth flared around my neck and the sensation fled. Grace’s charm, once again coming to my aid.
I continued to keep a tight leash on my flames, not allowing even the slightest flicker to escape. I’d done exactly the same thing in Brooklyn, so the witch might well be aware of the ploy, especially since he’d ramped up the strength of his magic. I wasn’t about to give him any indication that once again it wasn’t working.
I returned my attention to the gorgeous old fountain ahead, and awareness surged. Someone was there. I could feel them, even if I couldn’t see them.
