Frozen Desires (Asylums for Magical Threats) (4 page)

you know if I see or hear anything that could help you.”

Even though she wanted to yell at him for dismissing her wishes and intelligence yet again, she stayed

still and said nothing. She would stick to her plan.

Marco frowned down at her. “While I’m happy you’ve stopped resisting my help, I find it hard to

believe you have nothing to say.”

She remained silent, and as he shrugged and turned away, she knew her tactic had worked. She tugged

at her ice restraints to maximize her range, and then she lifted her leg back and kicked him with everything she had. As her foot made contact with the back of his knee, she felt a sense of satisfaction at surprising the bastard.

He cursed as he lost his balance. But even as he tumbled to the ground, he must have maintained his

concentration, because no matter how hard she tugged, the ice restraints stayed in place.

Shit.
That should’ve worked. Between the twirling ice rings and the restraints, she started to wonder if there was something more to this man than his charm and muscles. His elemental magic was like nothing

she’d ever seen.

Marco jumped up and faced her with a satisfied smile, almost as if he was pleased that she’d failed.

Again.

Cam decided it was time to ask him point blank about his abilities. “That fall should’ve broken your

concentration long enough for me to get free. Are you going to tell me why it didn’t work?”

“Are you going to ask nicely? Considering you tried to slit my throat, and then bust my knee, I think

that’s a fair exchange.”

She made a noise of frustration. “If you think I’m going to be nice to you after what you’ve done, then

you’re insane.”

He shrugged. “Then I’m not going to tell you anything.” He turned and raised a hand. “See you

tomorrow, beauty.”

Cam watched him fade into the jungle and decided that Marco Alvarez had just been added to her shit

list.

Chapter Four

As Marco rode his motorcycle toward the village of Pistè, his mind kept replaying the fight he’d had

with Cam. He was more than a little irritated that she wouldn’t accept his help, but a part of him had

enjoyed the challenge. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to show the extent of his powers.

It’d been even longer since his temper had affected his playboy persona act, to show the man he was

beneath the façade.

Of course, he needed to be careful. She’d proven to be both smart and observant with her little silence

and kick-him-in-the-knee move. He couldn’t risk her finding out about the Elemental Masters.

If she knew about shadow-shifters, she might just know more of the old, outlawed
Feiru
legends.

Maybe even those about him and his friends. He’d adopted his playboy routine to keep anyone from

guessing the true extent of his powers. And no matter how much he enjoyed tossing aside that routine, he

would never put his fellow Elemental Masters in danger. If that much power fell into the wrong hands, bad

things would happen.

He finally entered the village of Pistè, and focused on finding the correct street. He parked his

motorcycle, and started walking.

As he passed the restaurants and small shops full of customers, he couldn’t help but notice all of the

people talking and laughing with one another. They were living their lives unaware that any of them could

be the next victim of the attacks he was here to investigate.

A group of unknown arsonists was targeting
Feiru
houses and businesses. All of the
Feiru
victims had one key thing in common, namely that they all had concrete connections to AMT compounds. Until

recently, the fires had been amateurish and riddled with mistakes that had ended in innocent casualties,

including the death of at least eight children so far.

Marco clenched his fist.
Who fucking killed children?
Just like his cousin Isa, those other children’s lives had been stolen, leaving behind only grief for their families.

Anyone who targeted the weak was weak themselves, and since he couldn’t rush down to Colombia to

help his family find Isa’s killer, he could at least find the people responsible for the deaths of the children here.

He flexed his hand and pushed down his anger. He needed to question a witness about a fire that had

happened here in Pistè, and it was easier to get people talking if you didn’t look like you wanted to rip off their heads.

By the time he reached the restaurant he was looking for, his face and demeanor were once again calm,

or at least would appear that way to strangers.

He headed around the back of the building to where the family who owned the restaurant lived. He

stopped and knocked on the screen door before saying in Spanish, “I’m looking for my dog, have you seen

him?”

A man in his sixties, black hair streaked with gray and skin tanned dark by the tropical sun, came to the

door and said, “The spotted beast is asleep on my floor.”

The man had given the correct response; Marco had found his witness. “Then I’ll wait until he wakes up

before I take him home, if you don’t mind.”

The man opened the screen door and motioned Marco inside toward the far corner of the kitchen. Once

the man joined him, Marco didn’t waste any time on small talk. “Tell me about the fire.”

“You sure you don’t want something to drink first?” After he shook his head and gave a polite refusal,

the man took a seat at the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I was visiting a cousin at the edge of town, where most of the locals who want to avoid the tourists live.”

Marco knew that most of the
Feiru
population of the area lived in the southwest corner of the village.

“The southwestern edge?”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“Just as I was leaving my cousin’s house, a stranger appeared on my cousin’s doorstep asking for Ana.

But, you see, my cousin was sick, so I tried to tell the man to come back later when Ana would be awake.

After a few more minutes, I finally convinced him and he left.”

“Could you describe the man?”

“Tall, white, and blond, with a scar across his throat. His Spanish was hard to understand because of his

accent. He looked like just another American tourist to me.”

In some ways, that could make finding the man easier. He continued his questioning. “What happened

next?”

“I made sure my cousin was set up with everything she needed until a neighbor could check on her in a

few hours, and I left. Then when I was a few streets over, all of the kids playing soccer on the streets

started pointing behind me and shouting ‘Smoke!’ I turned, noticed it was coming from the direction of my

cousin’s house, and rushed back. As I turned the last corner, I saw the man with the scarred neck standing in the crowd of onlookers, watching the fire consume my cousin’s house.” He paused a second before he

managed, “I was too late to save her.”

Marco had already known that the man’s cousin, Ana Vasquez, hadn’t survived. Luckily, the old man

sitting in the kitchen seemed to be keeping his emotions under control, so he continued. “Has anyone you

know in Pisté ever seen the man with the scarred neck before?” The old man shook his head. “Was there

any reason someone would go after your cousin?”

The old man looked off to the side. “No. Everyone in the village loved her. Until she got really sick, she used to make extra meals every Wednesday to share with her more elderly neighbors.” He turned his head

and met Marco’s gaze. “Even though the police dismissed the fire as an accident, my family told me to tell you about Ana, but I’m not sure why. Do you know something that I don’t?”

Ana Vasquez’s deceased husband had worked at an AMT compound in the 1960s and 1970s. As the

rules and operations of day-to-day life inside the AMTs had begun to change in the 1980s, Ana’s husband

had quit and severed ties, unable to handle the harsher style. After Ana’s husband had died a few years ago, a member of DEFEND had approached her for information. Hoping to make up for the small part her

husband had played in harming first-borns, she’d agreed.

Some might think that she’d been targeted because of working with DEFEND, but the files he’d

received from Jaxton had spelled a different story.

Marco took a step toward the old man in the kitchen and said, “I do some private investigating on the

side. And a friend of your cousin asked me to help, so here I am.”

He was a good liar, but even so, he let out his breath when the old man finally said, “You don’t think it’s an accident.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do you think the man with the scarred neck did it?”

“It’s too early to tell, but I won’t rule him out.” He straightened and held out his card. “But rest assured that I plan to find the arsonist. Let me know if you think of anything else.”

The man took his card containing non-traceable contact information before shaking Marco’s hand.

“Thanks for your time.” Marco nodded before showing himself out.

First in Cancun, and now Pistè. This was the second time a witness had described the same blond man

with a scar across his neck, visiting a place right before a fire had been sighted. Both fires had also ended with fatalities.

But what stuck out most to him was the mention of the blond man’s scarred neck. The mark was

distinctive, which was definitely a liability to a serial arsonist. Could it be that he wasn’t setting the fires, but merely trying to warn the targets before the fires hit?

Regardless, Jaxton’s hypothesis seemed to be holding true. Inside the dossier he’d received, Marco had read about other similar incidents from around the world. All of them had targeted
Feiru
with some sort of connection to the AMT system. And despite the fatalities, all of them had been dismissed as accidents by the authorities.

Similar tactics had been employed a number of years ago by a
Feiru
fringe group trying to bring down the Asylums for Magical Threats’ system called the Federation League. If the past was anything to go on, the Federation League was trying to climb its way back into the limelight, uncaring if innocent humans or
Feiru
were killed in the process.

He would quietly alert some of his fellow DEFEND members in southern Mexico to keep an eye out for

the man with a scarred throat. Secretly, he hoped to be the one to find him.

However, he couldn’t do that until he made sure Cam and her team got in and out of Chichen Itza

without incident, which included finding out more about the shadow-shifter he’d tangled with in Merida.

He’d waited years for more exciting missions, but seriously, when it rained, it fucking poured.

Chapter Five

Five year-old Millie Ward ran after her two older brothers, her little legs unable to keep up.

Sometimes she hated being so much younger. “Jax! Gary! Wait for me. I want to see the fishies too.”

Garrett, her eldest brother, paused, but Jaxton tugged on his arm. “We can’t use the boat if she comes.

Leave her.”

Millie tried to move her short little legs faster, but she stumbled and let out a shout, sliding on her
hands and knees across the grass, her skin scraping against the rocks. The scrapes hurt so much. She

couldn’t hold back her tears and her nose started running. Then she felt a hand on her cheek and she

looked up to see Garrett. He crouched down, pulled her into a hug, and said, “Your crying will scare

away the fish.”

She leaned back and sniffled. “I can go with you?”

A tissue appeared in front of her face and Jaxton said, “If you stay quiet and listen to everything we
say.”

Garrett gave her a serious look, but then smiled. “And no wandering without us. Adventure is

something to share.”

Millie nodded, wiping her tears with the tissue. “I promise.”

Garrett stood, pulled her up by her hand, and said, “Then let’s go.”

The three of them reached the lake, and as her brothers set up their fishing poles, Millie crawled on

top of a big rock next to the water and looked down. A baby fish swam by and she touched the surface. The
fish darted away, but she saw another and reached for that one. She stretched her arm to the water

underneath the rock, but she lost her balance and fell into the lake. The water was like ice, and she

couldn’t swim. She sank further down, and panic caused her to take a breath, but instead of air, she

breathed in freezing water. Unable to breathe, she tried to scream.

Millie jolted awake, but as she drew in deep gulps of air and not water, she realized that she’d been

dreaming about her childhood vacation to the Lake District. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d

dreamed of that particular near-death experience. Over the years, she’d had too many of them.

She rubbed her face in an effort to wake up and erase the last vestiges of panic from her dream. Millie

didn’t remember going to sleep, and with a quick glance around the room, she acknowledged that she was

some place unknown. After years of working private security, waking up in strange places—while not

exactly common—wasn’t too much of a surprise. If she could just calm the pounding in her head, she

could start figuring out what she needed to do next.

Her symptoms of headache, slight nausea, and dehydration all pointed to a hangover. But she was one

of those unfortunate people who remembered everything when she was drunk, and right now, she had no

bloody idea how she’d got here, meaning the only explanation for her current state was that she’d been