Firestorm: Heart of a Vampire #5 (17 page)

He looked between the two women.

Cat blushed, avoiding his gaze.

He let go of her hand as if burned. He’d known she was keeping a secret from him, but not in a million years would he have guessed it could be this.

His throat tightened and he forced himself to ask, “What magic?”

Chapter Eighteen

J
ezamine snapped her fingers in front of his face. He hadn’t even heard her move. “Not the question to ask. Ye blind, boy? Not be noticin’ the state of the world this past year?”

“What?”

“Vampires and shifters, working together. Truces held for decades, even centuries breaking down. Evil getting stronger. Ye seen it around yer home, now ye be seeing it elsewhere. War be coming. Again.”

“What war?” Cat asked.

“Every so often, powers ye know not about, from both the heavens and the hells, use yer kind to fight their battles. Evil be winning this time.” She poked him in the chest. “Will ye let pride rule, or will ye fight for the girl?”

He shook his head, not knowing the answer, not able to think. Cat was just like those from his past? Magic?

Had everything he’d been feeling been a ruse, a spell she used to wrap him under her control?

As if reading his mind yet again, Jezamine said, “She not be that kind of magic, idiot. Girl, show him.”

Cat stepped back, her gaze panicked like a deer facing down a barreling eighteen-wheeler on some dark stretch of highway. “He hates magic,” she whispered.

Triumph filled him. So she had been hiding it from him. Why did the knowledge make him feel so hollow?

“Show him,” Jezamine repeated.

With a listless shrug, Cat raised her hands. A ball of fire erupted from her palms, hovering in the air. Her face, already pale, turned ghostly white as if it took all her energy to conjure.

“You’re a witch too,” he barked out.

Cat shook her head. “I’m part fey.”

“Fairy?”

“Yes. Someone, far back in my family’s history, married a fey. The bloodline, though weakening through the generations, has been passed down. I have no magic other than this affinity with fire. I don’t do spells, or anything else.”

“The girl speaks true. She don’t have no power like me.” A breeze rose and lashed across his cheek.

He rubbed his face, disbelieving. The witch had just slapped him with the air.

“Ye answered my question earlier. Now, ye shrink with fear. The warrior refuses to face his past,” Jezamine croaked. “I ask again. Be she worth it?”

He glanced at Cat, who let the flames flicker out and dropped her hands, then looked back at Jezamine. He couldn’t answer.

He didn’t trust either of them. How could he believe her magic was limited to fire? There was no way he could deal with being around Cat. Not right now, maybe not ever. Not after what they’d recently shared, and the way this knowledge shattered something deep in his chest. He felt like he was bleeding inside, from a wound that would never heal.

Jezamine stared at him. “Then ye cast her to her death.”

With a cry of despair, Cat raced from the cavern.

The lights blinked out. When his vision adjusted to the dark, both women were gone and he was once more standing in the tunnel. The entrance to the cavern had disappeared.

Behind him, he heard Cat’s heavy steps as she fled.

* * *

Cat reached the graveyard and didn’t slow down. Her vision wavered from the tears burning at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

She stumbled over a headstone and fell into the grass. Clawing to her feet, she ran on, not knowing, not caring, where she was going. She felt lost.

Alone.

As if something inside had shattered beyond repair.

And she was amazed how much Eric had come to mean to her in the short time he’d been there. How deeply she cared.

But it was all lost now.

She hadn’t exactly hidden her magic from him... she just hadn’t told him.

The icy wind slapped against her as she raced between two tall mausoleums and into a deep stretch of shadows.

He’d never get past the fact she had elemental magic. Never believe she wasn’t witch or sorceress, trying to bespell him to her will.

Shoulders slumping, she bit her tongue until blood welled. She refused to cry. Not over a jerk like him.

She had no one to blame but herself. She’d seduced him, knowing nothing could come of it.

Something clattered nearby and she slowed, glancing around. A part of her hoped it was Eric, coming after her, but as long moments passed in silence, she knew her wish was futile. Someone with magic had damaged him badly. Obviously, he’d never be able to get past that, to see the difference between her fey heritage and a witch’s powers.

She stopped, fisting her hands and staring up at the cloud filled sky as snowflakes began to fall around her. This wasn’t the time to fall into a pity-trap. She had too many people depending on her.

So she’d go it alone.

She’d been whining about how hard it was to find out any information, but if she had to burn every damn building in New Orleans to the ground, she’d find some answers.

She took a step toward the city, determined that tonight there would be no stopping until she found something, anything. She would damn well not let any more coven members down. Find those who were missing. Keep the rest safe.

A low growl rent the silence a second before a large, furry body slammed into her, sending her flailing. She slammed head first into a gravestone. The rock crumbled and pain blazed over her forehead.

Howls rose as more wolves surrounded her. She blinked, blood dripping into one eye. Her thoughts spun dizzily and her head pounded.

She scrambled to her feet as the wolves circled, yipping.

* * *

Eric wandered the graveyard aimlessly. Snow fell once more. Cold. He felt chilled to the bone in only his jeans and t-shirt. He didn’t care. His chest hurt, he felt like he was breaking.

The sorceress and his king’s sister laughed, ready to torment him for eternity. He heard the flick of a whip and fire seared over his skin. It didn’t cut through the ice in his blood.

He felt betrayed. By the witch. By Cat. They’d made love, and he’d felt... like coming home. As if they belonged together.

“Damn you, Fates,” he cried out to the dark, empty tombstones and mausoleums.

A soft hand brushed the back of his neck a split second before long, sharp nails sank deep into his skin. The decaying, flowery scent of the sorceress surrounded him. His strength fled.

“As if one such as she could ever care for a weak, useless coward as yourself,” she whispered, her laugh filling his head, echoing until he fell to his knees.

Covering his ears, though it didn’t help—the damn ghost was in his fucking mind—he shook his head against her words.

“Weak,” Fiona’s voice swirled around him.

“Useless,” the sorceress joined in. He felt the agony of her beasts sinking claws and fangs into his skin.

“Coward.”

Being eaten.

“Unable to save anyone you’ve ever loved.” Fire whipped over his back. Once more the blazing heat of the sorceress’s brand seared against his leg. “Not even your brother. How do you know he’s not lying dead somewhere? And
you
didn’t save him.”

“No!” he screamed, slamming his fists against the ground.

Jumping to his feet, ignoring the pain nearly crippling him, Eric drew his axe and swung at the sorceress’s image. It cut through her without effect and slammed into stone. The wing of an angel, watching over a grave, shattered.

The sorceress crooked an eyebrow at him, her grin widening.

“The woman put you under her spell. She’s just like us,” she whispered over and over. “Too busy dallying with a witch to save your brother.”

Sweat beaded on his brow as his insides convulsed. His blood boiled, poison from rowan slivers suddenly embedded in his skin waged war on his strength.

“Doomed to fail. Again and again. Until the day you join us in hell.” The sorceress laughed, unending shrieks of glee.

He swung
BrynTröll
at her again. She didn’t care. She wasn’t truly there. Just a remnant from his hellish past.

He was trapped. Trapped in his own mind.

He was insane.

And there was no way out. Nothing to save him.

His heart yearned to seek Cat out, to be with her once more. Yet, it felt like it would be selling his soul. His brother...

Brandon couldn’t be dead.

He hated it. Hated what she was. Hated his king, who’d sent him into this mess.

But most of all, he hated himself.

And he knew deep inside, that if anything had happened to his brother, there’d be nothing left for him in this world to hold on to. His memories would take him, keep him, forcing him to relive his tortures.

The witch’s words whispered to him, cutting through the sorceress’s laughter. “Ye must fight the past. Cathrina is the only one that can save ye, and ye must save her. Right now, her life hangs on the edge.”

At Jezamine’s voice, the voices from his past became whispers, the pain wavered.

In the distance, wolves howled. A woman screamed.

Cat.

The thought of her in danger sent his pulse spiking. He had to help her.

He struggled to rise to his feet, but a gust of wind slammed across his back, knocking him to the frozen ground.

The sorceress and Fiona began to laugh once more, their voices drowning out the rest of the world. His vision wavered, showing him images from the dark dungeons of the past. His mind grew hazy from agonizing heat slashing over his skin.

He couldn’t fight this.

Hadn’t ever been able to.

In his mind, he heard Cat’s whispered words, calling him a brave, strong warrior.

It snapped him back to the graveyard, and the sound of attacking wolves.

The sorceress stood over him, eyes lit with glee as fire lashed over his back.

He gritted his teeth, pushing against the wind to try to rise. “You are not here. You have no power over me,” he screamed, surging to his feet.

The vision of the sorceress wavered and he stepped toward her. Then she was gone.

It hit him then. He hadn’t seen or heard his memories, experienced the nightmares, while being around Cat.

That couldn’t be right though, could it?

But his haunted memories had returned as soon as she left.

Had to be a coincidence. There was no other rational explanation.

Yeah. A coincidence.

That was all.

The snow stopped falling. The wind continued to blow in a gentle breeze, swirling the white flakes around like he’d been trapped in a snow globe. He shuddered, glancing around the graveyard.

More howls came.

Another scream, full of Cat’s pain, her fear.

He didn’t think about what he was doing, just tightened his grip on his axe and raced toward the fight.

Chapter Nineteen

T
wo wolves lay dead. Many more circled. Her jeans were shredded from teeth and claws. Still dizzy from hitting her head on the gravestone, Cat knew she was moving slower than normal. Drenched with blood, hers mixed with the wolves, the ground was becoming slippery.

She stabbed her dagger into a passing wolf’s side. It squealed, jumping back.

A faint scent of vampire joined that of the wolves and she searched the shadows, hoping it was some of the guards stationed around the city coming to help.

From the darkness, a woman emerged. Blonde hair framed a familiar pixie face.

“Abby?” Stunned, Cat took a step towards her best friend.

Taking advantage of her distraction, a wolf barreled into her from behind. She careened forward, barely keeping her feet.

“Abby! Run!” she screamed, turning to face the beast.

She had to keep Abby safe. Couldn’t let the wolves get her. Cat didn’t know how the girl had escaped, but she felt only relief to find her alive.

Something niggled at the back of her mind. The stench of decay filled the air, trying to distract her from the wolf. She slashed her dagger, then, knowing she was running out of time, called on her fey blood.

“
Incendium
,” she whispered.

Flames erupted, a barrier between her and some of the beasts. She spun, racing through more wolves to reach Abby’s side.

And the wrongness finally dawned on her. Always pale, Abby was now ghostly white. The grayish film of death covered her pupils. Before Cat could react, Abby reached up and grabbed her around the throat, then flung her at a mausoleum.

Stone shattered as she crashed through the wall, crumpling on the ground against a concrete tomb. Sharp pain raced along her ribs and her left arm. Something was broken.