Firestorm: Heart of a Vampire #5 (18 page)

Even deeper and more painful, she realized her Abby was dead. Yet she still walked.

The scent in the air was that of the man they’d taken to Jezamine. Voodoo, the witch had said. Abby stepped through the hole in the wall, hands outstretched, her gaze empty with death.

Zombie.

Controlled by another. Moving, killing, unthinking and unable to feel pain.

She didn’t understand why, what the purpose of doing this to someone could possibly be.

As Abby drew closer, reaching once more for Cat’s throat, she didn’t care about the whys. Her friend was now forever beyond her reach.

* * *

Eric silently stalked through the shadows, hurrying towards light from a fire. Wolves circled a stone mausoleum. From his angle, he spotted a hole in the wall. Something moved inside.

The air was heavy with the scent of blood and the stench of decay. He couldn’t smell Cat.

Something inside him cracked, breaking into shards of agonizing splinters. She had to be all right. He desperately searched the unmoving lumps littering the ground, silently praying, promising Odin anything the god wanted, if only Cat was still alive.

The wooden door to the mausoleum slammed open and Cat stumbled out, holding his dirk up as she slowly backed away. A woman followed, hands outstretched.

The scent of death grew stronger on the wind. Not even the snow could dampen it.

“Cat,” he called.

She glanced at him, her eyes filling with hope before quickly turning to devastation. Her face was covered in blood. Her clothes were soaked in it.

He raced forward, but three shaggy wolves blocked his path. He swung
BrynTröll
without hesitation. The axe bit deeply into one, and with a squeal, it collapsed. He kicked at the second one as it tried to bite his leg, then slammed his axe into the creature’s throat, removing its head.

The third wolf didn’t blink, didn’t even seem to realize two of its pack members were dead, as it leapt at him.

Eric fell backward. With his dagger, he sliced along the beast’s belly as it flew overhead. Soundlessly, the wolf landed in an unmoving heap.

Jumping to his feet, he searched for Cat. She was surrounded by wolves. The blonde woman stood at her side, hands clenched around Cat’s throat.

Cat stared at her, dirk ready to fight, yet she didn’t kill the woman.

Without time to consider what exactly was going on, Eric barreled into the fray.
BrynTröll
drank the blood of more wolves as he cut a path to Cat’s side. Reaching them, he swung for the woman’s neck. Cat turned to him, her face pale, on the verge of passing out. Her gaze was pleading, for what he didn’t know.

He decapitated the woman and her body fell to the ground at Cat’s feet.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Wordlessly, Cat sank to her knees and laid a hand on the corpse. “Abby,” she whispered. “What did they do to you?”

She turned to the surrounding wolves and Eric realized how wrong the whole thing was. They didn’t make a sound. Wolf packs, while hunting and fighting, made quiet calls to each other. Growls, yips. Here, there was only silence.

Cat’s eyes darkened as she glanced around. She raised her arms, her palms facing one large group of wolves. They burst into flames.

Eric stumbled back, his gut twisting at her use of magic. Yet, a part of him was thankful as the silent wolves died.

Confusing. Contradictory. Thoughts he didn’t have time to examine.

Cat turned in a slow circle, the fire licking over more beasts until they were all dead. Then she sat back down by the woman, tears streaking over her face.

And facing her, seeing her magic up close, he didn’t feel disgust, only relief that she was safe.

* * *

Cat stared at Abby’s body, feeling strangely numb. The girl was dead, had been before showing up tonight. It made no sense. A dark Bokor turning wolves and vampires into zombies with Voodoo? Why?

Eric ran to her side, checking her over for wounds.

She absently slapped his hands away, unable to look away from Abby. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re covered in blood.” His hands fisted and he scowled at her. “What were you thinking, being out here alone?”

Something inside her snapped. Anger and devastation boiled so hot and fast she could barely contain it.

Smiling sweetly, voice dripping sarcastic honey, she replied, “Well, you see, I wasn’t alone earlier. But the kind gentleman who brought me here disappeared. Woe is me.”

His eyes narrowed and he turned away, taking a couple deep breaths. His shoulders bunched with tension. After a few long moments, she realized he hadn’t come after
her
. He’d merely been drawn to the fight. She stiffened as hurt coursed through her. His duty. That’s all she was to him. It was almost too much to bear.

As she turned back to her fallen friend, everything seemed to rush over her. Blood loss, pain. She’d used more magic tonight than ever before. The world tilted and spun. As if watching herself from a great distance, she raised her hand and touched Abby’s cold, stiff arm.

Then she blinked and everything dissolved in a haze of darkness.

* * *

Eric jumped forward as Cat started to fall. He grabbed her tight, tipping her head back. Her eyes were closed, though tears continued to fall. Even unconscious, he could feel her intense pain. It was etched in the tense lines of her face. And it broke something deep inside him.

He scooped her up, not thinking twice before sweeping her up into his arms. He trudged from the graveyard, carrying her through the snow. It fell faster. Near his SUV, it was almost a foot deep.

After laying her gently in the passenger seat, though he felt a deep reluctance to let her go, he moved around and got in, then started the car, turning the heater on full blast.

Cat moaned, a pitiful sound of desperation and sorrow. She must be exhausted. Like any warrior after a battle, once the adrenaline wore off, the shock hit.

He flinched at the thought.

It dawned on him that, perhaps, he was still somehow stuck in that same place from the tortures he’d recently suffered. He’d not gotten over it yet. Before, he hadn’t liked magic, but his hatred hadn’t been as all encompassing as it was now.

Pushing that idea down, to dwell on later, he concentrated on his driving. The roads were treacherous.

He headed straight to her home as snow continued to swirl.

At the turn to the plantation, he stopped the SUV and got out, staring at the drifts of snow, some thigh-high. He engaged the four-wheel drive and hoped they wouldn’t get stuck. They reached the house after only two near misses.

Parking as close to the door as he could get, Eric jumped out and hurried to the passenger side. He carried Cat into the warm house and upstairs to her bedroom.

She remained unconscious as he stripped off her clothes. Holding her tight, he stepped into the warm shower, letting the water sluice off all the blood. After drying her, he laid her on the bed, checking her wounds.

They weren’t closing as fast as they should.

He shook her, trying to get her to wake. Finally, her eyes opened, but she stared into the distance as if not all there.

After starting a fire, he slid a chair to the side of the bed and bit open his wrist, then let his blood seep into her mouth. For a long moment, she didn’t respond. Finally, instinct kicked in and she grabbed his arm, drinking greedily.

When she finished, her eyes slid closed once more. He covered her with the blanket, then sat back, staring at the woman who had turned his world upside down.

He didn’t know if he could deal with her being magical, but at the same time, he couldn’t leave her.

His insanity had encircled him completely.

* * *

Cat woke to sunlight pouring into the room. She was burning up, and shoved the blanket off, relishing the air hitting her damp skin.

Beside the bed, Eric stirred.

She smiled, reaching for him. Then froze as he opened his eyes, watching her warily. Memories hit. His response to finding out her secret.

His betrayal.

Abby. Dead.

Her chest tightened, pain beyond belief filled her. “Get out of my room,” she stated quietly. “Out of my house.”

“Cat, we need to talk,” he replied, reaching for her.

She rolled over the bed, sliding off the other side. “We have nothing to discuss. Now get the fuck out!” she screamed.

He flinched, but bulled on, pointing at the table near the bed. “There’s food and blood.”

“I said leave.”

With a sigh, he stood and left the room. She listened as he headed downstairs, moving into the bathroom and started the shower.

A quick glance in the mirror showed a haggard, drawn appearance. She slipped beneath the hot spray, letting it beat over her as her thoughts whirled.

She couldn’t be around Eric. Not now. The pain of his rejection was too fresh. She didn’t want to face Abby’s death, either.

Failure.

Defeat swamped her. She slid down the tiled wall to curl up into a ball on the floor.

Everything was crashing down around her. So many deaths. So much destruction.

And she felt dead inside. A numb haze swathed around her, dimming the pain, the sorrow out.

She couldn’t cry. Her tears refused to fall. Dry-eyed, she laid there until the water turned cold. Sluggish from the haze dampening her emotions, she finally got out and began to dress.

Her cell phone rang. She answered shortly, then listened to Jeremiah on the other end.

“Malia found where the matador will strike next. Whispers say this is his last ball, he’s leaving town directly afterwards.”

“When and where?” she asked, her anger at the man kidnapping her people dim, as if far removed from herself.

Jeremiah gave her the information and she hung up the phone, then turned to her closet and began to dress for a ball.

Chapter Twenty

E
ric grabbed some food, then headed for the drawing room. He started a fire, but couldn’t sit still. He paced the room, listening to the sounds of Cat moving around upstairs. And he struggled to push back the niggling doubts about her that remained in some small, deep part of himself. She’d hidden her magic. What if she was hiding more?

With a shake of his head, he stopped pacing and stared at the fire, the colors bringing her hair to mind. He’d been so busy picking at his past, he hadn’t seen what was right in front of him. He’d been trying to deny their connection.

Call it coincidence, call it Fates—he was lost.

Cat held no malice within her. He knew it, though he’d been hard pressed to see past his own deranged mind, his haunting memories, and truly see her. Hells, it had taken him far too long to realize that being around her helped him deal with his fractured mind.

He’d acted like an ass, thinking her the same as the sorceress and his king’s sister as soon as he realized she had magic.

Upstairs, a door slammed. He hurried to the stairs, only to scowl as Cat came down.

She strode onto the foyer, her face an emotionless mask. She wore a ball gown dusted in gold that set off her tanned skin in a delectable way. He swallowed hard, his gaze rising to the bountiful swell of her breasts. Her nipples were barely covered. One bounce and she’d be popping out of the silky material. Her face was painted in blues and purples, matching a set of fake butterfly wings she carried.

And her hair, so like flames of a fire, curled wildly down her back to her waist.

“What in the hells are you doing?” he demanded.

She stared at him, her face remaining a blank mask. “I fail to see how that is your business.” She headed for the door.

He followed, grabbing her arm to stop her. As soon as he touched her smooth skin, his body fired to life. He wanted to take her upstairs and rip those clothes off, make love to her until she forgave him. Feel the same sense of belonging as before, making his aching loneliness disappear.

Only she could do that for him.

She arched a brow. “Yes?”

“You can’t go out. The wolves are still searching for you, as is the vampire sorceress. Or have you forgotten? Besides, I need to talk to you.”

She lifted her chin haughtily. “Again, I fail to see how any of this is your concern. You’ve made it perfectly clear you despise my presence.”

“We need to talk. You can’t just leave.”

“Can’t? You are not my father, so kindly refrain yourself from giving me orders.” She turned back to the door and swept outside, heading for her tiny car.

With a sigh, he followed. “Then I’m going too.”

She stopped, regally turned. “I’m certain you don’t have a costume.” She waggled her fingers at him in dismissal. “Besides, you’re no longer welcome here. Pack up and get out while I’m gone.”

The damn stubborn woman hopped in her car, started it up and gunned the engine as she sped down the driveway, the tires flinging gravel at him.