Circle Of Fire

Chapter Ten

Jon stopped behind her, so close that his body brushed against hers. His scent spun around her, an odd mix of sea spray and old wood. Warmth that was all too comforting tingled across her senses. Maddie clenched her fists, as frightened by her response to his nearness as she was of Hank. But she didn't move. Even if she had wanted to, the two men had her penned, like a lamb caught between two wolves.

Hank smiled and lowered his hand. "Miss Smith was just telling me she's planning to leave."

"Then you'd better go get her bill ready, hadn't you?" Though there was no hint of menace in Jon's soft voice, a flicker of fear ran across Hank's thin features.

His dead gaze ran past them. For an instant, it almost looked as if he was consulting someone. Then he nodded and quickly scuttled away. Jon touched her arms and turned her around.

"You okay?"

His eyes were full of concern, and it was almost her undoing. For a minute it looked like he cared. She lowered her gaze and stepped away.

"I was doing just fine, thanks." Her voice sounded tart again, but she couldn't help it. She wanted this man to hold her, and that simply wasn't an option.

"Here, take this," he said, and held out her coat. "It's warmer than my sweater."

"Thanks." His gesture surprised her. Had he gone back into the inn just to get it? Why? As he'd pointed out, he had a meeting to get to. She slipped off his sweater, handing it to him before putting on her coat.

He slung the sweater over his shoulder. Maybe he liked the rain. Or maybe he just didn't plan to stay in his wet clothes all that long. She bit her lip and looked down at her feet.

"Have you decided to leave after all?" he said.

"Just the inn. I don't think it's safe anymore."

"You may be right." He glanced thoughtfully at the inn then back at her. The warmth had fled his eyes again, leaving them carefully neutral. "I really do have to go."

"Then go. Have your fun with Eleanor. I can look after myself."

His eyes darkened with annoyance. Maddie grimaced. She wasn't being fair. He was doing his best to find Evan, and being catty about it certainly wouldn't help anyone. If he was treating Eleanor as nothing more than a lead, why couldn't she?

Because I saw the way she clung to him, and it annoyed the hell out of me.

She swallowed and looked away. "I saw a hotel on the other side of the bridge. Sea View, I think it was called. I'll grab a taxi to my car, then drive out and book us a room."

"All right, then." He hesitated, then reached up and touched her cheek with his fingertips. His caress was gentle and made something deep within her tremble in response. "Wash your wounds, then rest. I'll be there as soon as I can."

He walked away again. She watched him until he'd disappeared from sight, then sighed and headed into the inn. The firemen were still in the building, but they allowed her to collect her bag. She was glad of their presence, especially when she came out of the bedroom and found Hank waiting for her.

"So, you really are going?"

She studied him uneasily. "I said I was. How much do I owe you?"

"Considering what has happened, we'll make your stay complimentary."

"Thank you."

The nearest fireman headed for the door. She shouldered her bag and quickly followed him.

"I do hope we see you sometime again," Hank continued.

"Not likely," she muttered, giving him as wide a berth as possible.

His chuckle crawled over her skin. She shivered and involuntarily glanced back at him. Don't come back, his gaze warned her. If you do, you'll die.

She swallowed heavily, trying to ignore the premonition, then edged closer to a fireman's broad back and followed him down the stairs.

Jon leaned back on the sofa and watched Eleanor enter the room. She moved with feline grace, hair shining in the firelight. A golden cat, he thought, and guessed that was her alternate form. The cat he'd seen in the forest had been black.

She smiled when she caught his gaze, her midnight eyes filled with heat. He felt his body respond, even though he had no true desire for the woman. She was just another job.

And yet he knew this would not have been the case a week ago. Dangerous or not, he would have taken what Eleanor was offering and enjoyed it.

But every time he reached for Eleanor he saw Maddie's eyes—frightened and alone and yet oddly courageous. Somehow, she'd slipped past his guard and become a friend. And he didn't leave friends alone and frightened.

She had a hell of a lot to answer for, he thought grimly. Eleanor was the key to the kids, the figurative nut that had to be broken, through fair means or foul. How could he be expected to do his job when everywhere he turned he saw something that reminded him of Maddie?

He accepted his drink with a smile and patted the cushion beside him.

Eleanor folded down beside him, then caressed his thigh. He stared into her eyes and wished they were amber rather than dark.

"I'm so glad we decided to come back here," she purred quietly. "So much cosier."

He suspected it wasn't the coziness she was after, but rather the solitude. The Blue Moon had plenty of customers—and plenty of potential witnesses if something went wrong.

Though why he thought something would go wrong he couldn't say. He just had an itchy feeling he'd better watch what he did—and watch what she did.

"It's not often another shapeshifter drifts into my territory," she continued. "Taurin Bay is such a backwater."

Her hand was moving up his leg, creating heat wherever she touched. The mind may not want her, he thought wryly, but the body sure as hell does. "Which is why I was so surprised to find you here. You look more a city type of girl."

Eleanor gave him a lazy smile. "I am. Unfortunately, my other shape is not."

"Very few are." He reached forward, tracing the line of her cheek. "But Taurin Bay is such a small town.

Small towns like to watch and gossip."

"Ah, but I like the danger of discovery." She leaned into his hand and lightly kissed his palm. "Besides, Taurin Bay has a city attitude. You can do what you want, and the neighbors have no wish to know about it."

Was that some sort of admission? Did she mean you could kill without the neighbors getting suspicious?

Taurin Bay wasn't that insular. Someone, somewhere, had to know something.

"So what do you do for excitement in a place like this?"

Eleanor smiled. "You mean, besides trying to seduce passing shapeshifters?"

He ran his fingers down her neck, letting them linger momentarily over her pulse. "Yes, besides that."

"I hunt. I run the hills at night. I help Hank at the inn occasionally."

And she was hunting now, with him as the quarry. Excitement lit her eyes, raced through her pulse. The edge he was walking was getting decidedly thinner. If she changed form, he'd be in serious trouble. He doubted if his own form would have much hope against a panther.

"I didn't know Hank owned the inn."

"Oh, he doesn't. I do."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Maybe, just maybe, Eleanor had given them their first lead. "Really. I thought the inn was owned by a Randolph Barker."

"My former husband. Couldn't stand the demands of a shapeshifter, poor dear."

The demands, or the appetite, of a shapeshifter? Maybe they should check out just what had happened to poor dear Randolph, as well as find out if he owned any other properties in the area.

Eleanor's hand touched his thigh, then moved to the fly of his jeans. His groin tightened in response, aching with need.

He leaned forward and kissed her. Her mouth was hot and sweet, but it was a taste that suddenly went sour. Damn, he just couldn't do this.

He'd ignored Maddie's desperate need to be held and comforted, had ignored the flash of hurt when he'd walked away from her.

But he simply couldn't ignore the fact that he had no wish to make love to one woman when it was another he wanted.

He placed his hand on Eleanor's. "Eleanor, stop."

She raised an eyebrow and sat back. "Cold feet?" she questioned softly. "Or a case of not wanting to cheat on your girlfriend?"

"Neither," he replied calmly. "Just caution. What's your other form, Eleanor?"

"A cat." She sipped her drink, regarding him thoughtfully. "A black panther, to be precise."

So she was the cat he'd seen in the forest. Her hair had to be dyed—usually it was a clear indicator to the coloring of a shapeshifter's other self. "My spirit is the hawk, Eleanor. We aren't compatible." Not when she was likely to pounce at a vital moment.

She smiled, but it failed to reach her eyes. The light of battle was flaring deep in the midnight recesses of her gaze. "But think of the fun, Shapeshifter. We'd never know when one might change and devour the other. The thrill of fear will only add to the excitement."

It was the sort of fun he could well do without. "I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"Oh, you wouldn't, believe me," she murmured softly. "So, where does that leave us?"

He took another sip of wine instead of answering, and saw a sudden gleam enter the dark depths of her eyes. A chill ran through him. The wine. Christ, he was a fool.

He put the glass on the table and caught her hand. "I guess I should do the gentlemanly thing and leave."

"Oh, don't. There is still so much we have to discuss."

Her glance flicked past him, no doubt studying the clock on the mantle. He wondered how much time he had left until the drug took effect.

He dropped a quick kiss on her fingers, then rose and did up his pants. "It's best if I go, Eleanor. We both know that."

She rose with him. The predatory gleam in her eyes was stronger—the huntress was rising fully to the surface. Magic whispered around him. Magic that was old and full of evil. It had the same foul taste that had been evident after the attack on Maddie.

She reached out, running her fingernails lightly down his cheek. Her touch burned, and moisture dribbled down his cheek, thick and warm. She withdrew her hand. Her fingers were smeared with red. She licked them slowly, her gaze hot.

The huntress was getting ready to pounce on her prey.

"I can't let you go." Her voice was sultry and yet somehow harsh—almost as if she were having trouble speaking.

Or having trouble remaining in human form.

"As I said, there is much we have to discuss. Like, who do you work for and how have you managed to stay so close on our heels."

He clenched his fists and barely curbed the sudden urge to answer her question. He'd obviously ingested some sort of truth drug. Lord, he should never have been arrogant enough to think he could come to her lair and escape unscathed.

"Sorry. Haven't got time for questions right now. Things to do, places to be." He gave her a casual smile and swung his fist at her chin.

Her head snapped back, and she crumpled. He caught her before she hit the carpet and laid her down on the sofa. The last thing he wanted was her head smashing against the coffee table or floor—not when she might be the only one who could lead them to the kids. He had no idea how deeply Hank was involved. It was still possible the man had no true idea what Eleanor was doing.

Possible, but not likely.

He quickly frisked her but found little beyond the fact she was wearing no underwear. He stood up and studied the room. There had to be something, somewhere, that would give them a more of a lead. He turned and walked towards the door. Maybe her bedroom was a good place to start… The light around him suddenly buzzed, and for an instant, the doorway blurred.

He shook his head, and the doorway steadied. He took another step, and the room whirled briefly. The buzzing was growing, shooting pain through his head. The drug—it may have been a truth drug, but it was also beginning to affect his ability to see and walk straight. He'd better leave while he still could.

He got out of the house then called to his alternate shape. He had to get back to Maddie before the drug took a firm hold.

Maddie glanced at her watch for the thousandth time. It was nearing midnight and still no word from Jon.

Obviously, he was having such a good time he wasn't in a hurry to get back. Let's just hope he remembers why he's seducing Eleanor…

And that, she thought with a frown, was an extremely bitchy thought. She rose from the sofa and walked across to the window. The curtains were a sun-faded orange and smelled of faintly stale beer and smoke.

Just like the room. The Sea View was not one of the more classy motels. But the old guy at the desk had been nice, even though she'd clearly woken him up. And it certainly felt a lot safer waiting here than it would have back at the inn.

She pushed the curtains aside, leaned against the windowpane and studied the waves lapping the beach across the road.

Trouble was, she was getting tired of waiting. Tired of doing nothing but running.

It was way past time she started taking control of her life. Or at least one tiny part of it. Thanks to Jon, she now knew that it was possible to control her gifts. So why not extend that? Why not try to find Evan with them?

Fear leapt up and clenched her throat tight. She bit her lip and leaned her forehead against the cool glass pane. All her life she'd been taught to fear her gifts, to despise what they could do. And in truth, up until now they had caused her nothing but grief. But here, at last, was a chance to do some good, a chance to save a life rather than take it.

If she had the courage.

I can do this. For Evan, I can do this.

She took a deep breath then walked across to her bag, digging around until she found Evan's gold chain.

Maybe it would help. Maybe it wouldn't.

Sitting cross-legged on the sofa, she looped the chain around her hand and closed her eyes. She formed a picture of Evan in her mind and projected her need to find him.

Nothing happened.

She frowned slightly. Thought of him laughing as they played football together, remembered the look on his face the Halloween she'd dressed up as a witch and come visiting. Still nothing happened. No images came.

She sighed and opened her eyes. Maybe she needed another focus—what had set her abilities off recently? The smell of citrus—oranges!

She scrambled off the sofa and ran to the door. The light was still on in the office. She grabbed her key and ran across.

The old man looked up as she ran in. "Just caught me," he said with a smile. "What can I do for you, lass?"

"Is there anywhere near I can get some oranges?"

If he was surprised by her odd request, he certainly didn't show it. "There's very little open at this hour, I'm afraid." He frowned thoughtfully, gnarled fingers tapping the desk. "But I've a couple of old ones out back. If all you want is juice, they'd be fine."

Maddie grinned in relief. "That would be great. Thanks."

She collected the oranges and returned to her room. After locking the door, she found a small knife and sliced them open, putting the halves into a small bowl before returning to the sofa.

Her heart raced uncomfortably in her chest—a rhythm caused more by uncertainty than fear. She'd failed at everything else she'd tried to do in her life; she didn't want to fail at this.

She brought the bowl up to her nose and took a deep sniff. The faint scent of citrus ran around her, sweet and compelling. She picked up the chain and once again pictured Evan's smiling face in her mind.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then darkness rushed at her, pulling her down into its grip. She fought the tide, thinking of Evan, trying to compel the dream in that direction.

The darkness swirled then slowly cleared, revealing the familiar interior of the old cabin. In one corner she could see the bundle of blankets that was Evan and the second teenager. In the other, a bright fire.

Sitting in a chair beside the fire was Hank. She frowned. What was he doing at the cabin when he was supposedly the night watch at the inn?

The dream shimmered, fading slightly. She forced herself to concentrate. She had to try to direct the dream to the cabin's exterior… the image blurred for a minute, then reformed. Suddenly, she was outside. Tall, snow-dusted pines surrounded the clearing like sentries on duty. A windbreak, she thought.

The trees were too regimented to be anything else. The dream drifted forward; a rutted, slushy track led away from the front of the cabin and through the pines.

Her dream followed it. The track wound down the mountainside, past the bluish pines and into mountain wildness. Finally, it came to a main road. The letterbox on the side of the road said Malkin Cabin. The dream drifted on and came to a sign—"Jewell, 15 miles."

A huge crash wrenched her from the dream. With a squeak of fright, she leapt to her feet, her heart thumping rapidly somewhere in vicinity of her throat.

Someone or something was outside her room.