Circle Of Fire

Chapter Twelve

Jon waited until he heard the sound of the shower door closing then rose from the table and walked across to the phone.

The old witch answered straight away. "It's a bit early, cowboy. Don't you ever sleep?"

Not last night he hadn't. And he knew by the tone of Seline's voice that he hadn't woken her up. He smiled. In all the years he'd known her, she'd rarely seemed to sleep for more than a couple of hours a night. "I think we have a lead on the kids, Seline. If luck's with us, we'll have them out in a couple of hours."

"Don't depend on luck, Jon. It's a fickle friend."

"So I've discovered. Have we any records of shapeshifters living in this area?"

"None recorded, but that don't mean a damn. Most of your lot are a migratory bunch."

Most, but not all. Wolves and hawks tended to be more settled than most—probably because, like the animals whose shape they took, wolf and hawk shifters tended to mate for life. He glanced at the bathroom, then scrubbed a hand across his eyes.

"What did you find out about Hank Stewart?"

"Nothing much more than what's on file. He was born in St. Helens nearly sixty years ago—" "And he barely looks thirty."

"—and he was an only child. Moved to Taurin Bay ten years ago. Lives by himself and rents a small house on Maxwell Street. Never married as far as I can find, and has no living relatives."

And obviously a loner or someone would have picked up on the fact that the man was missing and someone else was using his name. "No unidentified bodies have been found in the area?"

"None yet. We're still sifting through police reports from various states."

Which could take days. They didn't have that much time—and in the end, it wouldn't make that much difference. "I've found our killer, Seline. I think she's using blood magic to extend her life and the life of her bodyguard—the man now masquerading as Hank Stewart."

"Anyone we know?"

"No. Her name is Eleanor Dumaresq, and I've a feeling she's seen more than a couple of centuries go by."

"Then wear the damn amulet I gave you. It will protect you from the worst of her spells." She hesitated, and an edge of concern crept into her voice. "Do you need help?"

His gaze went to the bathroom door again. Maddie kept insisting he couldn't cope with Eleanor and Hank alone, and maybe she was right. But he also knew there was no one in the Circle close enough to help him at the moment. "Mack's turned up in Taurin Bay. I'll use him if I have to."

"I have a feeling you will need him, cowboy. I suggest you call him now. And keep in touch."

"Will do." The tone of her voice told him her suggestion was more an order.

He hung up and glanced at his watch. Six o'clock. Mack should be awake by now. He punched the agent's number.

"Yes?" The gruff tone told him he'd been correct in his guess, but only just.

"Mack, Jon Barnett here."

"Really? What's wrong?"

The sarcastic edge to Mack's voice made him smile. "You asked me to call if I got any information. I'm doing so."

"Wonders never cease," Mack mused dryly. "What have you got?"

"I think you'd better check the background of a woman called Eleanor Dumaresq. She slipped a drug into my drink last night and tried to pump me for information. Might be worth finding out what happened to her late husband, as well as what properties he owned in the area besides the Sherbrook Inn."

"You think she's involved with the missing kids?"

"I think it's likely, but I've no evidence to prove it at this point."

"We'll keep an eye on her." Mack hesitated, and Jon could almost hear the mental gears shifting up a notch. "Heard there was a fire at the inn last night."

The big man's voice was neutral. He knows, Jon thought. "Really?"

"A young woman fitting the description of Madeline Smith was rescued by a man remarkably similar to yourself."

"I wasn't staying at the inn last night."

"Maybe not. But I checked the register, and a Madeline Smith was."

Jon swore under his breath. He'd forgotten about the register.

Mack continued on. "And two nights ago, you were also registered at the inn—and staying in the same room."

Jon ran a hand through his hair. He'd better give Mack some information, or he'd haul the two of them in to the station for questioning. Another delay was not what they needed right now.

"She's not involved with the kid's disappearance. She's trying to find him."

"Then why disappear?"

"She's a psychic. And from what I can gather, she has a somewhat strained relationship with the kid's father."

"And a somewhat strained relationship with the police, too. The kid's father isn't the only one convinced that she's responsible for her husband's death."

Husband? Maddie had been married? Jon swore softly. "What was the official reason given for his death?"

"Died in a fire."

Jon closed his eyes. It explained so much—her fear, her need to retreat. He wondered if she'd loved the man she'd married and killed. Wondered if the fire had been a mistake, or intentional.

"Mack, I need her help. Can you keep everyone off our backs for a couple of days?"

"I could—if you agree to let me know when you discover any new information."

"Agreed." When he'd let the agent know was an entirely different matter. Despite Seline's warning, he didn't want to bring Mack in just yet. The FBI agent wanted the justice system to take care of Eleanor and Hank, and that simply wasn't an option. Justice wouldn't understand the likes of Eleanor, and it certainly wouldn't be able to hold her.

Only death could do that.

"Good," Mack growled. "I'll be in touch."

Jon hung up. At least now they could move around without having to worry about the police spotting Maddie. He frowned and leaned a shoulder against the wall, staring at the bathroom door. Now all he had to do was convince her that the intensity of their kiss had been nothing more than a result of the drug.

That it had meant nothing to him, as she meant nothing to him.

After the attack on her last night, it was obvious both Eleanor and Hank suspected she was working with him. The longer she stayed in Taurin Bay, the greater the danger to her life.

Acting cold hadn't succeeded in driving her away so far, but he had a suspicion it would eventually.

Something in her eyes told him it brought back memories of a past she'd much rather forget. Maybe those memories were of a husband she'd feared enough to kill.

He pushed away from the wall and moved back to the table. Before he did anything else today, he had get back to his truck and the weapons stashed there. After last night, Eleanor would be waiting for his next move. He had no intention of walking into a fight without the means of protecting Maddie.

Maddie tilted her face up to the showerhead and let the spray massage her skin. She was a fool—a fool to kiss Jon, and a fool to ask that damn question.

And what had she really expected him to say? If she wasn't certain of her own emotions, why should she expect him to be any different? They were strangers thrown into a dangerous situation by chance. When it was over, and Evan was safe, they would go their separate ways. Why would she ever expect anything more?

Because when I'm with him it almost seems as if I've found the other half of myself.She closed her eyes and turned her back to the spray. Maybe she felt so attracted to the man simply because he seemed to understand. For the first time in her life, she'd found someone who didn't mock or belittle her abilities.

Only death had stopped Brian's viciousness.

Memories rose unbidden. She clenched her fists and tried to stop them—to no avail. Once again she felt the pain of Brian's fists smashing into her body, her face. Felt fire burn uncontrolled through her body.

Heard his laughter turn to screams as the flames engulfed him.

She shuddered and leaned her forehead against the shower wall. In the worst of her dreams, she could still see him burn, could see his flesh blacken and peel away, smell his death in every pore of her skin. In reality, though, she'd run the minute he'd let her go. She'd never seen him die, hadn't wanted to, despite everything he'd done to her. But neither had she called for help, not until she knew he was well and truly dead.

I've killed, and I'm still a risk, because I can't control my abilities.That she'd managed to control those same abilities long enough to see the location of the cabin in which Evan was a prisoner meant nothing. They might help save Evan, but it would never really ease the weight of guilt.

It was all very well for Jon to suggest she find help, but what if it was too late to make any true difference now? What if her firestarting had grown so wild it could never be truly contained?

It wasn't a risk she was willing to take. It was safer to stay alone—and lonely. At least then she could kill no one but herself.

If only Jon's kiss hadn't stolen her breath and her heart and made her want him more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life.

If only she didn't have to face him this morning and pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

She sighed and stepped out of the shower. Maybe they'd get lucky and find Evan and the other teenager this morning. Then she could leave before she did something foolish.

Like admit her feelings to a man who just didn't care.

She dressed quickly and ran a comb through the thick tangle of her hair. Then she took a deep breath and eyed her reflection in the mirror. The woman looking back had dark rings under her eyes and a figure well hidden by a loose, vibrant green sweater. Not her most attractive outfit, which was probably just as well. If he gave her one of his heated looks of last night, she might just melt.

Only he didn't even bother looking up from the newspaper he was reading when she walked out of the bathroom.

So much for worrying about any lingering tension,she thought with a scowl. She sat down at the table. Maybe all the heat had been little more than a fallout from the drug—at least on his part. Maybe he couldn't even remember it.

"Eat up," he said, picking up the coffeepot and pouring her a cup. "It'll be light soon, and we don't want to waste too much time, in case they move the kids."

She picked up the coffee to warm her hands and looked at the toast and cereal. She suddenly didn't feel hungry any more. But she picked up some cold toast and ate it anyway.

He only looked up when she'd finished, and there was nothing but polite interest in his face. "Ready to go?" he asked, pulling his gaze away from hers.

But not before she'd seen the shadows under his eyes. Maybe he hadn't slept as soundly as she'd first thought.

She rose and collected her purse and keys. "Can we take your truck? That way I can study the map and look for the place I saw last night."

He hesitated. "It's still parked near the inn. I walked to the restaurant to meet Eleanor, remember?"

"Oh." She frowned, not wanting to think about him and Eleanor. Even if he hadn't succeeded in seducing her, the thought of them together still churned her stomach. "It's just that I'm worried about my brakes—they're not really safe at the moment, especially if it rains, as they're predicting."

"The inn's not that far away, Maddie. We can walk there, or catch a cab."

"What about Hank? And Eleanor?"

"With an inn full of guests to guest to worry about, and the clean up after the fire, I doubt they'll be spending too much time staring out windows. Besides, it's parked on a side street."

There was more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. She crossed her arms and glared at him. "I was only asking a simple question."

"And I was answering. What do you want to do?"

"Walk. The sun is out." And she didn't have enough spare cash for another cab ride.

"Are you going to be warm enough in that old coat of yours?" he asked, following her out the door.

She glanced up. The sun might be out, but it didn't look as if it would hold for long. Dark clouds were racing across the sky, and the wind was ice-cold. She shivered and quickly zipped her coat. It barely kept out the wind's chill. Against heavy rain, it would be useless. But she'd be damned if she'd admit it.

Not when she wanted to be seen as a useful member of this partnership rather than a burden.

"I'll be fine."

He made a sound suspiciously like a snort of disbelief and slammed the door closed.

She ignored him and marched up the street. He was beside her almost instantly, his stride long and loose, arm casually brushing against hers when he shoved his hands into his coat pockets. They walked in silence for several long minutes, but she was very aware of him watching her.

"I think we need to talk about last night," he said softly.

Last night was a nightmare she'd rather forget, as he was no doubt about to tell her to do. "Don't worry," she said, her voice holding an edge of annoyance she just couldn't help. "I know you were drugged. I took advantage of it, and I'm sorry."

He lightly touched her elbow, guiding her across the street. "That's not what I was talking about."

Heat flushed her cheeks. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Pulling away from his hand, she strode on, keeping her gaze well away from him.

"I realize what happened between us was just a result of the drug, nothing more."

He didn't answer straight away. Almost against her will, she found her gaze drawn to his. There was a hint of wry amusement in his smile that just didn't make sense.

"Took the words right out of my mouth," he murmured, then grabbed her arm, lightly pulling her sideways. "Dog shit," he explained when she glanced at him. "Not a smell I recommend in the confines of a truck cabin."

"Thanks," she muttered, and once again pulled her arm from his grasp. It felt too good, too comforting.

Too intimate .

They walked on in silence. Ten minutes later they reached his truck. Jon opened the door for her. She climbed in, carefully avoiding his touch and his gaze, then reached for the road map shoved down the side of the seat.

"Head up the freeway. According to this, the turn off to Jewell is about twenty miles out of Taurin Bay."

He nodded as he drove off. "When we find this cabin, I want you to stay in the truck—with the doors locked."

"No." She crossed her arms and stared out the window. She felt his annoyed gaze flicker over her.

"Maddie, we have no idea who will be in the cabin with the kids. It's safer if you stay here."

His voice held a barely controlled edge of impatience. She ignored it and shook her head. "You can't handle both Hank and Eleanor alone."

"You only saw Hank last night."

Last night seemed little more than a bad dream. Suddenly weary, she pushed her hair back from her face. "Eleanor has had plenty of time to get there, you know."

"I know."

His answer seemed ground out between clenched teeth, as if he didn't like to be reminded of it. She glanced across at him. Dark stubble lined his cheek, and tiny crows' feet edged the corners of his eyes.

He looked tired. And worried.

"They've had plenty of time to arrange a trap."

"They don't know we're coming," he replied reasonably.

Too reasonably. Tension surrounded him, edged with anger.

"After last night, they'd suspect the worst. They'd plan ahead." She watched his fingers flex against the steering wheel and knew she was sitting next to a volcano ready to explode.

How often did he come this close to losing control of his emotions? Last night she'd thought he'd been just as surprised by the passion of their kiss as she, but now that she'd had a chance to think about it, maybe he was more surprised over the fact that he had lost control.

I need you,he said. The words made her heart tremble, even now. She had a feeling that he rarely admitted to needing anything—or anyone—even for something as basic as sex.

They passed a road sign, and she glanced down at the map to check their position. Her stomach tightened. They were close.

"We're almost there." She glanced at him. There was no mistaking the worry she saw in his blue eyes this time. Her heart did an uneven little jig.

"I can't let you go in alone," she continued, and glanced out the side window. "And I won't run, no matter what you do or say."

"And I can't let you endanger yourself needlessly."

She met his gaze and steeled her heart against the brief flash of emotion she saw deep in the bright depths of his eyes.

"What are you going to do—hit me? Knock me unconscious, too?"

"Don't be damn ridiculous. You know I could never do anything like that to you."

"I know nothing of the sort. We're partners, nothing more. Remember?" She paused and watched the chill steal through his eyes. "You have no right to stop me from doing this." No right to act as if you care, when we both know you don't.

He didn't reply. She returned her gaze to the side window and watched the scenery grow ever familiar.

Her fingers clenched, crushing the map. This was it. This was the area. Her dream had been true.

"Slow down," she whispered, her throat dry with fear.

He did, pulling off the road slightly. After a few minutes a letterbox came into view. Malkin cabin was painted on the side in big bold letters. Jon stopped the truck.

"How far up the road is the cabin?" he said, leaning his forearms against the wheel.

She studied the muddy track. It showed no sign of recent disturbance. Hank was still up there, then. She swallowed. "A fair way up. It was a bit hard to tell."

He nodded. "Any place to hide the truck before we get there?"

She sifted through the images in her mind. "There's a pine grove about halfway up."

"Good. That's where we'll park."

He switched to four-wheel drive, then drove forward. The truck pitched and jerked, almost tossing them into the line of trees crowding the edges of the track. She held onto her seat and hoped they didn't meet Hank or Eleanor coming back down the mountain. There was no room to maneuver, no room to turn and run on such a narrow road.

They reached the beginnings of the pine grove. Jon drove the truck in deep, until there was nothing to see but the greyish-brown trunks of the pines, then stopped.

She undid her seat belt and reached for the door handle. He touched her thigh. Warmth leapt through her leg, through her soul. She licked her lips nervously but didn't move.

"Maddie, stay here. Please."

Her gaze met his. Something shivered deep inside her. "I can't," she whispered. I don't want anyone else to die because of me. "Evan's my nephew, and my responsibility." She hesitated, then added, "I can look after myself."

"If that's what you want, fine," he muttered and let her go.

She climbed out of the truck. The wind shivered through the trees, its touch like ice as it whispered around her. She hastily zipped up her coat and shoved her hands into the pockets. Should have bought gloves, she thought. Jon spent several minutes at the back of the truck, then walked up behind her.

"Stay behind me," he said shortly. "And if I say run, you run. Right?"

Running was the one thing she was very good at—and something she'd sworn to stop doing. She stared at the bleakness in his eyes, then nodded wearily.

"Good. Follow me quickly, but quietly."

The ground was a thick carpet of needles, and the silence through the trees absolute. She kept close to his heels, not wanting to lose him in the dusky green light that filtered through the pines.

The ground became steeper, rockier. Moisture dripped slowly from the branches above, splattering around them. She glanced at the green twilight above them and hoped it wasn't raining. Her foot slipped out from underneath her, and she came down hard on one knee. She hissed in pain and blinked back tears.

"You okay?"

She glanced up. He was standing on top of a small ridge, no emotion in his expression. Though his hands, shoved deep into his jacket pockets, looked clenched.

"Yes," she muttered, and knew the answer would have been the same even if she'd broken her leg.

"Then get up. We haven't much time to play with."

He was back to being a bastard. She pushed upright. Her knee protested vehemently, and she bit her lip. I don't need your help she'd said in the truck only moments before. And she'd be damned before she'd ask for it so soon.

Limping slightly, she followed him up the hill. He stopped when they reached a ridge and silently pointed downwards. A small valley was visible through the pines below them. The cabin lay nestled in the middle of the clearing, smoke drifting lazily from the chimney.

Her stomach clenched. They were so close to rescuing Evan. "Wonder if Hank's still there?" she said softly.

"Hard to tell. I can't see any cars, but they might be parked around the back."

"What's the plan, then?"

He gave her a hard-edged look. "You stay here while I look around and see if it's safe."

"I thought we'd already argued about this? I won't be left behind."

"Maddie, be sensible." He touched her cheek, his hand warm against her cold skin. "I'm a shapeshifter—and I have the senses of a hawk. I'll call you down once I know it's safe. Just trust me, and wait."

As much as she hated to admit it, what he said made sense. Hank was down there. She was positive of that much. And despite her brave words, it was an inescapable fact that she'd rather face an army of Eleanors than one Hank. Which was odd, considering Jon thought Eleanor to be the more dangerous of the two. She swallowed heavily and nodded.

His hand lingered a moment longer, his gaze dark with some indefinable emotion. "Here, take this for me." He tugged the ring off his finger and pressed it into her palm. "It's my father's, and I don't want to risk losing it."

A shiver of alarm ran through her. She frowned and glanced down at the ring. "Why would you lose it?"

"It's made of silver and won't shift shape with me." He stepped away, and his eyes became hard again.

"I'll be back in a moment," he continued, and turned, making his way down through the trees.

She slipped the ring onto her middle finger and watched him until he'd become one with the shadows.

The silence slowly became stifling and seemed to hold an edge of expectancy. She shifted uneasily, her gaze darting through the trees. Though she'd heard no sound, she suddenly felt as if someone was watching her. She glanced back at the cabin and saw Jon move through the shadows crowding the porch. He hesitated at the far corner, then slowly edged around out of her line of sight.

A twig snapped softly behind her.

She spun. Dust danced through the odd, soft-green light, stirred to life in the wake of something passing.

Had that something been human or animal—or something in between?

She glanced over her shoulder. There was still no sign of Jon—maybe he'd entered the cabin. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then crossed her arms. If he didn't hurry up, he'd find her down there with him, whether he liked it or not.

Another twig snapped. She jumped, staring at the silent line of pine trees. A shadow stirred. Her stomach flip-flopped, and she licked suddenly dry lips.

Something was moving—and she had no intention of hanging around to see what it was.

She headed down the hill. Brush rustled to her left, then something small and brown darted out near her feet. She bit back a yelp and jumped away, her heart thumping loud enough to wake the dead.

The furry form scurried off through the trees. A rabbit, she thought in relief. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and grinned at her own foolishness. Thank heavens Jon wasn't around to see her so jumpy.

She studied the cabin for a moment, then continued on down the hill. Surely he wouldn't object to her moving down to the edge of the pines?

Something snapped to her left, and her heart rate leapt again. She hesitated, then saw the rabbit stand up straight and stare at her.

"Pest," she muttered, and ran her hand through her hair. At this rate, she'd be gray by the time she got down to the cabin.

"I do hope you're talking about the rabbit, my dear."

She spun, her heart in her mouth and a scream caught somewhere in her throat.

Hank stepped out the shadows, brown eyes gleaming with triumphant malice. "I rather object to being called a pest. I try to be so much more."

Maddie backed away. She tried to scream again, tried to warn Jon, but no sound came out of her fear-frozen throat. She spun, but Hank jumped forward and caught her arm. His fingers dug down deep into her flesh and jerked her backwards.

"Don't run. I have so much fun planned for us this afternoon," he said, then leaned forward, brushing a kiss across her right ear.

She shuddered and swung her fist. He caught it with his free hand and laughed. It was a hollow, cruel sound.

Images of Brian flooded her mind. She had a feeling Hank's idea of fun was very similar to her ex-husband's. Force was something that seemed to excite some men. Panic stirred the embers in her soul to life, burning through her veins. She kicked out, struggling against his grip. No matter how evil Hank was, she didn't really want to be responsible for his death. If she didn't get away, she just might be.

Something cold and hard touched her throat. "Stop fighting," he warned. "Or I'll cut your pretty throat."

He smelled of sweat and dirt and death, and bile rose in her throat. She swallowed heavily. Being sick would not help her cause right now—though the thought of vomiting over Hank was certainly appealing.

"Let me go," she pleaded softly. The fires burned brighter, heating her skin. She clenched her fist, desperate to keep them under control. She couldn't kill Hank. He might hold the clue to Evan's whereabouts if the teenager wasn't in the cabin.

Hank laughed, a soft sound that sent chills running up her spine, then clamped a callused hand over her mouth.

"Can't do that, sweetheart. But hey, why don't we go down and surprise the boyfriend?"

The only sound to be heard was the wind whispering through the trees, yet something felt out of place.

There was an edge of expectancy to the silence that worried Jon.

He frowned and edged around the corner of the cabin. Hank's old car was parked a few yards away.

He ducked past the window and touched the hood. It was cold; the car hadn't been driven in the last few hours. He quickly scanned the trees. Hank wasn't inside the cabin, so he had to be out in the forest somewhere. Worry snaked through his gut. Maddie might think she could take care of herself, but against the likes of Hank, she wouldn't stand a chance.

He took a step towards the trees then stopped and clenched his fists. This might be the only chance he got to rescue the teenagers—if they were in the cabin as Maddie predicted.

He swore softly, then moved back to the window and looked inside. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished. On the side closest to the fire were two chairs and a sofa. A box full of canned food sat underneath the table in the center of the room, and on the far side of this, an uneven clump of blankets.

He reached into his boot and dug out a knife. Slipping it into the small gap between the window and the frame, he forced the catch open.

After a quick look at the trees to ensure he was still alone, he climbed inside. Heat assaulted him. It was hot, stifling hot, in the cabin. Did Hank prefer it like this, or was the heat some weird requirement for the lead up to their ceremony?

There's too much we don't know,he thought with a grimace. He shoved the knife back in his boot, then walked across to the blankets. Kneeling down, he flipped away one edge. Red hair gleamed at him.

Evan. The other teenager, a girl with brown hair, lay quietly beside him.

He felt for a pulse. Both were alive, though obviously drugged. All he had to do was get them out of here.

He studied the room for a moment. He couldn't risk using the door. It was the only entrance and likely to be alarmed, especially given that Hank was wandering around outside somewhere. Which left the window he'd forced open.

He wrapped Evan in several blankets and carefully lifted him. The kid was light, considering how long he was. Built slender like his aunt, Jon thought, and felt a pang of anxiety run through his soul. He had to get back to Maddie—something told him she needed him.

He slid the teenager through the window, lowering him carefully to the ground before climbing out after him. The wind moaned lightly through the pines. Tension ran through him. Something was definitely very wrong.

He scanned the hillside. Every sense told him Hank was near and closing in, that he didn't have the time to make one trip up the hill to Maddie, let alone two. The teenagers' safety had to be his first priority.

And if Hank was closing in on him, he certainly had no desire to lead the fiend back up to Maddie.

Jon studied the pines a moment longer, noticing a ridge of rocks to his left. Maybe there was a cave or something nearby. He picked up Evan and ran across the clearing, following the ridge deep into the pine forest. Several minutes later he found what he was looking for—a shallow cave, half hidden by bushes.

Certainly not good enough to conceal the teenager from Eleanor, especially if she was hunting in her cat form, but secure enough from the likes of Hank.

He hid the teenager, then used a tree branch to erase any sign of footprints before quickly returning to the cabin. There was still no sign of movement as he climbed back through the window. Maybe, just maybe, luck was with him.

He bent next to the second teenager and wrapped the blankets around her.

"Shapeshifter!" Hank's harsh voice grated across the silence.

Jon cursed softly under his breath but didn't answer. Maybe Hank would believe he wasn't there.

"I know you're here, Shapeshifter. Come out."

He swore again. Five minutes more, that was all he'd needed. Five lousy minutes.

"If you don't want to see your girlfriend's pretty neck sliced open, I suggest you come out real soon."

For a moment, Jon froze. Maybe Hank was bluffing…

"She's bleeding as you wait, Shapeshifter."

Rage rose, so deep and powerful it shook him to the core. Maybe he wasn't as uncertain of his feelings for Maddie as he'd first thought.

He took a deep breath, then quickly rearranged the blankets to make it look like there were still two bodies carefully wrapped inside. Maddie's chances of survival now depended on making Hank believe he hadn't had the chance to rescue the teenagers. He moved back to the window and climbed out, then slid it shut and walked around the far end of the building.

"What do you want?" he said, turning the corner.

Hank stood in the middle of the clearing, a knife held to Maddie's neck. Even from where he stood Jon could see the slight trickle of blood down her throat.

His gaze met hers. Deep in the amber depths of her frightened gaze he saw the fires burning. She was close to losing control, and if she did, she'd kill not only Hank, but also herself.

Jon sensed she wouldn't mind that death, and the thought made his gut clench.

Hank's smile was slick and victorious, but the relief in the fiend's eyes was unmistakable. Maybe, just maybe, his bluff had worked.

"What I want, Shapeshifter, is you dead."

Jon flexed his fingers. "Then why don't you release Maddie and attempt to make your wish come true?"

Hank grinned. "I'm not that foolish, Shifter. I've seen your type fight before. Until I get a better weapon, I'll settle for you leaving this area and not coming back."

Jon kept his gaze on Maddie, watching her struggle for control. If she lost, he'd have to move quickly to stop the fires from consuming her too. If he could stop them.

"And what about Maddie?"

Hank grinned, a lizard enjoying its brief time in the sun. "She's my insurance against your return."

Hank obviously didn't suspect Evan was gone, or he wouldn't have been so keen to get rid of him before he'd gotten the teenager back. If Jon left now, he could still ensure the teenager's safety. And that, he thought, studying Maddie's frightened eyes, was all she'd care about.

"Then you'd better take real good care of her, hadn't you?" he suggested softly. "Because your insurance will only work for as long as she lives."

Hank's smile faded, and his knuckles went white against the knife. Maddie gasped slightly, and another trickle of blood ran down her neck. Leave, her eyes seemed to plead, leave and be safe.

He had no other choice. He couldn't risk any sort of attack with the knife held so closely to her neck—and he had to get Evan to safety. She'd never forgive him if something happened to her nephew now that he was so close to freedom.

He caught her gaze again. "Don't do anything foolish," he warned softly. Just hold on until I can get some help.

Hank merely smiled. "I hold your queen, Shapeshifter, so don't dare threaten me."

"That wasn't a threat, my friend," he said softly and leapt skywards on gold-brown wings.