Circle of Fire (18 page)

“Yes.”

“And Eleanor is one of those things?”

“Yes.”

Sweat beaded his forehead. How much of the truth drug had he ingested? How much time did she have before he came out from under its influence? What would he do or say to her when he did? “What is Eleanor?”

“A shapeshifter, and old magic. Evil incarnate.”

And she had Evan, for God only knows what purpose. “Old magic? What do you mean by that?”

His fist slammed down on the bed. “Damn it, Maddie, just stop. You’re putting yourself in greater danger by asking all this.”

She crossed her arms and ignored his warning. “Just answer the question.”

He made a sound that was almost a growl. “It means she can control magic. The older the magic, the older, more powerful the person.”

“And Eleanor is both?”

“Yes.”

A chill ran down her back. She clenched her fingers to stop their sudden shaking. Eleanor didn’t look any older than
she
was, so how could she hold the sort of power he appeared to be talking about? “She doesn’t look to be either.”

“No, she doesn’t. And that makes her all the more dangerous, in my estimation.”
And damn you for continuing this
, his eyes seemed to add.

She licked dry lips. “But what would someone like that want with the blood of teenagers?”

Several seconds ticked by before he answered. “Blood rituals create powerful magic. It has many uses.”

Blood rituals
. It was all too hard to believe … and yet, staring into his eyes, she saw only the bleakness
of the truth. He couldn’t lie to her, as much as he wanted to protect her from this information. She shivered and half wished she hadn’t begun this line of questioning. He was right. There were some things she was better off not knowing. Still, she felt compelled to continue.

She rubbed her arms lightly. “What sort of uses?”

“It can be used to raise the dead, to extend life, and to enhance the power of certain spells.” His replies were becoming more abrupt, the time between her questions and his answers longer. Maybe the truth drug was starting to wear off.

She pulled her gaze away from his and studied the end of the bed. The tension level in the room seemed to leap several notches in the ensuing silence. She took a deep breath, then asked the one question that really mattered. “Why couldn’t you seduce Eleanor?”

He didn’t answer right away. The silence seemed to stretch, jarring against her nerves. A whisper of sound made her look up quickly—and far too late to back away.

He stopped inches away, blue eyes unreadable and yet somehow compelling. She swallowed heavily. The heat of his body rolled over her, mixed with the rich scent of his aftershave. Warmth spread through her. He was close—so close that her breasts brushed against his chest and sent flames of desire shooting through her soul.

It was time to retreat, to stop asking questions and just move away from him, but she couldn’t. Something in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat and held her immobile.

“Tell me why,” she repeated almost hoarsely.

And wondered if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.

“When I was doing this to Eleanor—” He ran his knuckles down her cheek, his touch branding her skin even though it was butterfly light. “I wanted it to be you.”

He cradled her chin with one hand and moved his head slowly toward hers. “And when I was doing this—” He brushed his lips over hers, then lifted his other hand to frame her face. “I wanted to be doing this to you.”

His lips captured hers; his tongue parted them and gently explored her mouth.

Heat exploded deep in the pit of her stomach, then burned swiftly through her veins. Dear God, it had been so long since she’d been held, been kissed, with any sort of warmth … and never in her life had she craved someone’s touch as much as she now craved his. She moved into his kiss, deepening it, savoring the taste of his mouth as she molded her body against his.

His hand moved down her side and tugged up her shirt, then splayed against her lower back. He held her close, as if he never intended to let her go.

Heat and desire ran through her soul. She wanted this man to caress her, become one with her. Wanted him with such aching fierceness it was almost frightening. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tasting the salty sweetness of his neck, his ear.

“I need you,” he whispered into her hair, his breath warm as it brushed along her neck.

His words jarred through her mind.
Need
, she thought with sudden clarity. Need was a long, long
way from love.
Oh God, I think I’m falling for this man, and he just doesn’t care
. It was a nightmare she’d sworn never to relive.

She wedged her arms between them and pushed. She couldn’t do this again. She
couldn’t
.

C
AUGHT UP IN THE HEADY KISS
, J
ON
’
S ARMS TIGHTENED
around Maddie—until it registered that she was pushing him away. He hesitated a moment, then reluctantly let her go.

“I can’t do this,” she said softly. She was breathing just as hard as he was, and she looked just as shocked by the sudden intensity of their kiss. “Though I won’t deny I want to …”

He took a deep breath, then ran a hand through his hair. He’d basically said the same thing to Eleanor less than an hour ago. And he didn’t like having it flung back at him.

The red haze of desire still clung to her. Damn it, if she wanted him as much as he wanted her, what in hell was stopping them?

“This has not been my night,” he muttered, then smiled wryly and stepped back. “But hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Anger and hurt spun through the swirl of her emotions and made him regret his words. But only for an instant. No matter how attracted he was to her, it could never amount to anything more than a fleeting moment or two of pleasure. It was too dangerous to want anything more.

She tore her gaze away and edged past him before retreating to the small table.

He sat back down on the bed. The farther away from her the better, he thought grimly. He was already aching with desire for her. The last thing he needed was to smell her perfume, the scent of her skin. To feel the close warmth of her body …

She cleared her throat, and he met her wary gaze. Her cheeks were still flushed, her mouth soft and inviting …

He grimaced. One way or another, this was not going to be an easy night to get through. Particularly if the truth drug continued to linger in his system.

“You might not have had much luck finding Evan, but I did,” she said quietly.

There was an endearing mix of wariness and pride in her expression. “Tell me,” he said. He knew she must have used her clairvoyant abilities, which was a big step for someone so afraid of her skills.

“I got tired of waiting,” she said candidly, “so I used my clairvoyance.”

He nodded. She met his gaze for a moment, then ran a trembling hand through the red-gold tangle of her hair.
Nerves
, he thought, and wondered if it was her father who was responsible for making her so afraid of her gifts.

“He’s in a place called Malkin Cabin. It’s about fifteen miles from Jewell.”

He didn’t ask by which road, simply because she would have told him if she knew. It was a start, and certainly a whole lot more than he’d gotten. “Well done, Maddie.”

A slight blush crept across her cheeks. She looked pleased and so very, very kissable. He cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. It was well after
midnight. “Why don’t we turn in for the night and get an early start tomorrow? With any sort of luck, we’ll find them quickly and get you all out of here.”

Her gaze skittered across the beds and evaded his altogether. “You don’t want to check the road maps or something first?”

She was avoiding going to bed, avoiding any appearance of intimacy. “I won’t pounce on you,” he said with a wry smile. He might want to, but he wouldn’t. Self-control was one thing he’d learned all too well. “I’m a fast learner. No woman has to reject me twice.”

Heat stained her cheeks again, and a hint of annoyance flashed through her eyes. Then she rose and walked across the room to her bag.

He watched her until she shut the bathroom door, then stripped and got into bed. He turned off the light, listening to the night and the wind whistle through the trees outside the window. A soothing sound, if it weren’t for the fact that he was a bare ten feet away from a woman he wanted and couldn’t have.

After a long delay, she came out and climbed into bed. He didn’t look at her, didn’t need to. The smell of roses surrounded him, and her emotions filled his mind with color. He couldn’t block her out even if he tried.

He crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. After a while, her breathing slowed, though something told him she wasn’t asleep. He waited, wondering if she would ask the one question he feared.

“Jon?” she said softly into the silence.

“Hmmm?” This was it. And he had no choice but to answer her, whether or not he hurt her in the process.

“What do you really feel for me?”

I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman. I want you for more than just a night
. But that was not the question she was asking.

“I don’t know,” he replied quietly. “I just don’t know.”

And that was what worried him the most.

J
ON WAITED UNTIL HE HEARD THE SOUND OF THE SHOWER
door closing, then rose from the table and walked across to the phone.

The old witch answered straightaway. “It’s a bit early, cowboy. Don’t you ever sleep?”

Not last night he hadn’t. And he knew by the tone of Seline’s voice that he hadn’t woken her up. He smiled. In all the years he’d known her, she’d rarely seemed to sleep for more than a couple of hours a night. “I think we have a lead on the kids, Seline. If luck’s with us, we’ll have them out in a couple of hours.”

“Don’t depend on luck, Jon. It’s a fickle friend.”

“So I’ve discovered. Have we any records of shapeshifters living in this area?”

“None recorded, but that don’t mean a damn. Most of you lot are a migratory bunch.”

Most, but not all. Wolves and hawks tended to be more settled than most—probably because, like the animals whose shape they took, wolf and hawk shifters tended to mate for life. He glanced at the bathroom, then scrubbed a hand across his eyes.

“What did you find out about Hank Stewart?”

“Nothing much more than what’s on file. He was born in St. Helen’s nearly forty years ago—”

“And he barely looks thirty.”

“—and he was an only child. Moved to Taurin Bay ten years ago. Lives by himself and rents a small house on Maxwell Street. Never married as far as I can find, and has no living relatives.”

“Did he have a brother?”

“Not alive, no. He died just over eight months ago in a car crash.”

Which tallied up with what Hank had already said. What was the betting that it was no accident, though? They certainly wouldn’t have wanted a relative around who could raise the alarm about an imposter. And the real Hank had obviously been something of a loner outside of his work at the inn, or someone would have picked up on the fact that the man was missing and someone else was using his name. “No unidentified bodies have been found in the area?”

“None yet. We’re still sifting through police reports from various states.”

Which could take days. They didn’t have that much time—and in the end, it wouldn’t make that much difference. “I’ve found our killer, Seline. I think she’s using blood magic to extend her life and the life of her bodyguard—the man now masquerading as Hank Stewart.”

“Anyone we know?”

“No. Her name is Eleanor Dumaresq, and I have a feeling she’s seen more than a couple of centuries go by.”

“Then wear the damn amulet I gave you. It will protect you from the worst of her spells.” She hesitated,
and an edge of concern crept into her voice. “Do you need help?”

His gaze went to the bathroom door again. Maddie kept insisting he couldn’t cope with Eleanor and Hank alone, and maybe she was right. But he also knew there was no one in the Circle close enough to help him at the moment. “Mack’s turned up in Taurin Bay. I’ll use him if I have to.”

“I have a feeling you
will
need him, cowboy. I suggest you call him now. And keep in touch.”

“Will do.” The tone of her voice told him her suggestion was more an order.

He hung up and glanced at his watch. Six o’clock. Mack should be awake by now. He punched the agent’s number.

“Yes?” The gruff tone told him he’d been correct in his guess, but only just.

“Mack, Jon Barnett here.”

“Really? What’s wrong?”

The sarcastic edge to Mack’s voice made him smile. “You asked me to call if I got any information. I’m doing so.”

“Wonders never cease,” Mack mused dryly. “What have you got?”

“I think you’d better check the background of a woman called Eleanor Dumaresq. She slipped a drug into my drink last night and tried to pump me for information. It might be worth finding out what happened to her late husband, as well as what properties he owned in the area besides the Sherbrook Inn.”