Magicstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 4) (9 page)

“Someone I’m working with,” she replied
absently, wondering exactly how he’d followed her.

“Do you want to invite him in for breakfast?”
Maria repeated.

“No.” She sat back at the table and began
eating, hoping the
stupido
male fried out in the bright
daylight.

Waiting wasn’t one of his strong suits, but
Brandon stayed on the hood of Celeste’s car rather than barging
into the little house.

He’d tracked her by scent, and by something
else he couldn’t pinpoint. He’d felt her deep inside himself.

Their strange connection was growing
stronger, and he didn’t know how or why, or even where it was
coming from.

As he waited, the past circled around him,
ready to drag him under. He knew well what it felt like to have a
spell cast over him.

Could remember, all too clearly, the things
the sorceress had done to him. Made him do.

The woman had been able merely to look at
him, and he’d been hers to command.

This... thing... with Celeste felt different.
But it galled him he didn’t know what it was. And if he couldn’t
tell if his actions were his own or someone else’s, he feared he
might go as insane as his brother.

The front door finally opened. Celeste strode
out and he managed to push the memories away.

She didn’t speak as she got into her car, but
at least she gave him a couple seconds to slide into the passenger
seat before slamming on the gas.

After ten long minutes, he asked, “Where are
we going?”

She shot him a glare, full of wishes for his
demise. “A club. The first victim from last night was there.”

“You spoke with your sister?”

“If you could call it that,” she mumbled.

Her tone struck him. “You don’t get along
with her?”

“Shana doesn’t get along with anyone.”

Chapter
nine

The drive was tense, silent. When Celeste
pulled into a parking lot in front of a towering building that
looked ready for a demolishing crew, he glanced at her. “You sure
this is the place?”

“Yes,” she replied, anger still riding her
tone.

In the center of the building was one lone
door, painted bright red. It was garish in the bright light of day.
He didn’t spot any runes on the outside of the building, but that
didn’t give him much comfort.

Celeste slammed her door shut, then strode
across the asphalt. When she reached the building, she banged on
the red door.

Taking a deep breath, he said, “I’m sorry. I
lost control.”

Her eyes widened as if she knew what it cost
him to admit such a thing.

Before she could reply, the door swung open.
A burly man, nearly Brandon’s own height, glared at them, his eyes
squinting from the sunlight. “Waddya want? We ain’t open ‘till
six.”

Celeste flashed her badge.

The bouncer stared at it for a long moment,
then slammed the door shut.

“Seriously?” she demanded, banging on the
metal again.

“Hold your horses,” the bouncer yelled from
inside. “Boss’ll be here in a minute.”

She grumbled, leaning against the brick wall,
crossing her arms over her chest. “He could’ve let us in.”

Brandon moved to her side, matching her
falsely relaxed pose. “He could have.”

She only grunted in response. The silence
between them thickened as she raised her hand and traced the bite
marks on her neck. “So how often do you lose control?”

Heat flushed his neck and cheeks. “It’s been
centuries.”

“Hmm.”

Straightening, he turned, staring into her
eyes. “It will not happen again.”

Her mouth thinned into a near snarl. “It damn
well better not.”

The door swung open and the bouncer squinted
out at them. “Boss’s ready. Come on.”

Celeste blinked.

Brandon caught the door a second before it
could slam shut again and held it open as she walked inside. Though
her gaze still spat fire, the tension in the lines of her body was
still tight. At least now it was thankfully directed away from
him.

The hallway the bouncer led them down was
lined with medieval artifacts. Swords hung in displays between
suits of polished armor. Brandon eyed one of them, as authentic as
those he’d worn six hundred years ago.

Interesting.

The hallway opened into a massive space
filled with tables surrounding a stage and dance area. On the far
wall, ceiling to floor mirrors reflected the lengthy bar area.

And at the center of the long bar sat a man
Brandon could smell from across the room. He leaned close to
Celeste and whispered, “Vampire.”

Her shoulders stiffened once more as she held
her head high and crossed the room. Worry crept into Brandon’s soul
over what she might do. If this guy was legit, politics would be
important.

The vamp slowly turned in his seat, his dark
gaze briefly flickering over Celeste before narrowing on Brandon.
He pushed back his long brown hair, showing the scar down the side
of his face, a life threatening injury from when he was mortal.

Few would have the strength to push through
such pain, let alone live from such a grievous wound, most likely
centuries old.

Proof of the vamp’s strength, then and
now.

Magic--strength and age--flowed into the
air.

Though it took every last ounce of willpower,
Brandon followed protocol and bowed his head. “I am from Clan
MacDougal. I have envoy powers from the Council, given by the
Judge, Connor Gregory.”

The guy tipped his own head in acceptance,
letting his long hair fall forward and hood his gaze. “I’ve met
with this Gregory recently. He was here flushing some rats from the
mortals.”

“Aye.”

The man stood, hands loose and ready by his
sides, though his body thrummed with energy. “You are welcome as
long as you obey the rules and keep to the bounds.” He looked at
Celeste. “I am Sebastian Lucerne, owner of this club, Black Dawn.
What do the fine cops of this city wish of me?” His eyes flashed
blood red as his power rose.

She blinked, then took a small step back and
glanced at Brandon. He nodded imperceptibly, knowing exactly what
game this guy was playing.

She stared at the vamp. “You’re new here.
Maybe you don’t know all the rules.”

Sebastian’s eyebrow rose and his power
flared. “And which rules would those be?”

“The fine cops of this city don’t take shit
from anyone, mortal or not.”

His lips twitched and the press of magic
dimmed. “My apologies.”

Celeste’s eyes narrowed at the falsity in the
man’s voice, but she didn’t comment.

“How can I help you?” he finally said,
laughter shining from his now brown eyes. It was better than
looking at a reddened gaze, which crept her out.

“There was a woman here last night and I need
to know if anyone saw her, or who she left with.”

He blinked, glancing between her and Brandon.
“My dear, we have thousands of people coming in and out every
night. Asking my people to remember her is like asking them to
choose one specific drop of water from the ocean.”

Brandon crossed his arms. “She might have
been with the murderer. He’s powerful, has to be from some of the
creatures working for him. That should help pinpoint the girl.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed and his lips
thinned as a shiver worked through his body. He fisted his
hands.

“You know him,” Celeste replied.

“Distasteful business, some of the riff raff
that comes in here.” He pulled out a cell phone and tapped the
screen, then said, “Andre, join us at the bar.”

A few seconds later, a man descended from a
stairway in the far corner. It rose to the second floor. The man
heading their way was tall, thin, his features pinched as if he’d
just been eating a lemon. He spoke, his voice nasally and
high-pitched. “Sire?”

Sebastian waved to a nearby table. “Shall we
sit?”

She glanced to Brandon, who nodded. The short
walk to the table was uncomfortable with two vampires right behind
her.

Sebastian eased by her, sliding out a chair
and bowing. The urge to flick his ear and get rid of his archaic
manners filled her. She resisted, instead, moving around the table
and pulling out her own chair.

Sebastian smiled, amused once more.

Brandon sat beside her, forcing the others to
sit across from them.

“Andre,” Sebastian began, steepling his
fingers on the table. “The sorcerer who came back last night. Did
you give him the warning I asked you to?”

“Of course.” Andre swallowed loudly, his gaze
flickering from his boss to Brandon.

Sebastian slowly unclasped his fingers and
laid his hands flat on the table. His left pinky twitched.

Tension grew.

Celeste caught his gaze and bit her lip at
the blazing anger in his eyes, the tightness of his jaw.

From out of nowhere, the bouncer crowded the
back of Andre’s chair.

“We will discuss this later,” Sebastian said
quietly.

The bouncer picked up Andre, chair and all,
and before the man could protest, disappeared once more into the
shadows.

“Well.” Sebastian stared at his hands on the
table. “It seems there are things I must attend to. However, for
you, I can tell you that this sorcerer was escorted from my club a
few days ago, with the warning never to return. Last night, he was
booted once more, but it seems this time, my warning was not
given.”

“What do you know about him?” she asked.

“Powerful. But dark. Not someone I wish to be
using my club as his personal feeding grounds.” Sebastian smiled,
letting his fangs peek out. In his eyes was not a warning, but
rather a promise of mayhem.

In that instant, Celeste was glad she wasn’t
on his bad side.

“Andre was meant to follow the sorcerer. Once
I question him, I will let you know if he has any information of
use.”

Celeste slipped out a card, wrote her cell
phone number on the back, and pushed it towards the vampire. “I’d
appreciate it.”

As she stood, Sebastian glanced at Brandon.
“This sorcerer was powerful. Perhaps more so than you have already
guessed. Beware of being caught by surprise.”

Brandon nodded, then settled his hand on
Celeste’s lower back as they left the club.

“What’s going to happen to Andre?” she
asked.

Brandon could imagine countless tortures, but
he merely replied, “Nothing pleasant.”

She pulled out of the parking lot, tapping
her fingers on the steering wheel. “That was a bust.”

“Not necessarily.”

“How do you figure?”

“We know at least one place the sorcerer
goes. We will find others. And if I read Sebastian correctly, he’ll
get something out of Andre.”

Celeste’s cell rang and she grabbed it,
answering with a sharp, “Wilder here.”

He listened in to the call.

“CeeCee?” a woman’s voice asked.

“CeeCee?” he repeated.

She sent him an aggravated look. “Yes?”

“It’s Jolene.”

Celeste slowed the car, pulling over into the
first parking lot they came to. “How are things?” True warmth
filled her voice.

“Fine. Got myself clean for a couple weeks
now.”

“That’s really good, Jolene. How can I
help?”

The line was quiet for a long moment. Celeste
waited.

“It’s... well... I heard you’re the one in
charge of these murders?”

“I am.”

“I think I saw something last night. I don’t
know though.”

“That’s all right. Tell me what you saw.”

“It was...” The woman went quiet for another
long moment, then took a deep breath. “You know the abandoned
BioCentre warehouses?”

“I do.” Celeste’s hand tightened, and her
eyes flashed with interest.

“I think I saw a girl going in there last
night. Thing is, this morning, her face is on the news as another
victim.”

Celeste’s knuckles whitened. “Do you know her
name?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’ll check it out. You know there’s a
reward?”

“I don’t want any reward. These girls deserve
better.”

“They do.”

“You’ll take care of them. I know it.”

“Thanks for calling, Jolene.”

The phone clicked, and Celeste lowered her
hand to her lap, nibbling her bottom lip.

“So what are these BioCentre warehouses?”
Brandon asked.

She flicked her fingers at him as she put the
car back into drive. “Can’t anyone have a private conversation
around you?”

“No.”

Rolling her eyes, she answered, “It was a big
pharmaceutical company. They built this huge complex, then lost
their funding or whatever, and never did anything else. The
warehouses have been sitting vacant for nearly ten years now.”

As she pulled back onto the street, she said,
“There’s something about this that seems... off.”

“You don’t trust this Jolene?”

“That’s the problem. I do. She’s been a
reliable snitch for me for a couple years now.”

“What doesn’t feel right?” he asked, watching
her face closely.

“The warehouses are a long way from the crime
scenes. We know the women were killed in the alleys, so why would
they be taken somewhere else first? It doesn’t make sense.”

He marveled at the way her mind worked, but
corrected her assumption. “It makes perfect sense, if the person
behind this is a sorcerer and performing some sort of ritual before
the murder.”

She glanced at him. “What do you mean? I
thought that was the point of the runes in the alleys.”

Spreading his hands, he said, “Magic is a
complicated thing. And there are so many ways to use it. Some
spells are complex, requiring time and patience. If they’re doing
something to the women first, then you can bet it’s dark,
evil.”