Circle Of Fire

Chapter Fourteen

Mack glanced up as Jon walked out the door. "Jerry's staying with the kid, and I've organized local help.

I'll meet them up near the cabin."

Jon pulled up his coat collar to stop the rain from dribbling down his neck. "I'm coming with you."

Mack studied him for a moment, gray eyes hard. "Give me one good reason why you should."

"Eleanor's a sorcerer." He gave Mack a bland smile. "I know magic. You don't."

It was hard to tell whether Mack believed him or not, simply because there was no reaction from the man. But after a second of silence, he nodded. "Get in."

Mack climbed in and started the engine. Jon got into the passenger side and glanced at his watch. Two and a half hours gone. Maddie and Hank could be anywhere by now.

"Anyone would think from your behavior that you cared for this woman," Mack commented. The rear tires squealed as the car sped off.

Jon smiled grimly. "I barely know her." Which was both the truth and a lie. He probably understood Maddie better than he understood himself. And he sure as hell liked her more than he liked himself.

Mack lit a cigarette and took a long puff. "That's not what I meant," he said, exhaling.

Jon glanced across at him. "Just drive, Mack. I'm not in the mood to have my life analyzed right now."

The big man gave him a sharklike smile and planted his foot to the floor.

They'd missed them. Jon knew it the minute Mack pulled the car to a halt. Though why he was so sure he couldn't honestly have said. Ignoring the stares of the local police, he walked across to the road leading up to the cabin. The heavy rain had quickly turned the mud to slush, but it was still thick enough to capture the imprint of a tire as it had slid in the turn onto the road. He ran a finger around the outline of the track. They'd missed them by about ten minutes, if not more. The rain was beginning to wash the deep prints away.

Mack squatted down beside him. "Recognize them?"

He shook his head. "No. But they're recent."

"So our quarry has probably flown." Mack stood up and studied the muddy driveway. "We'll go check, anyway."

"They might have left something for us." He rose to his feet, hoping like hell that that something was a ransom note and not a body. Either way, he had to know before he gave chase to Hank's car. "We'll have to walk, though. I doubt if the cars will make it up the hill in this rain."

Mack nodded in agreement and motioned for the local officers to follow them. Jon led the way, listening to the wind whistling through the dripping pines. There was no sign that Eleanor was still in the area.

The cabin came into sight. Mack pulled him to a halt, and Jon bit back his impatience. The man was only doing his job. He stood in the shadows of a pine and watched the cabin. There was no noise or movement to be heard. The place had to be empty—or at least empty of life.

His gut clenched painfully. Maddie had to be alive—surely Eleanor wasn't stupid enough to get rid of a potential hostage?

"Stay here," Mack ordered, checking his gun.

Jon nodded. Until he knew if Maddie was okay, he would obey. He watched the four men run across the clearing to the front of the cabin. Watched as they smashed the door open and tumbled inside. When no gunshots or snarls met their appearance, he walked down to join them.

Mack glanced up as he entered the cabin. "Our birds have flown, but they left us a note." He offered the sealed plastic bag to Jon.

He scanned it quickly and frowned They wanted an exchange—Maddie for Evan. But that didn't make sense. Why not just go find another kid if they needed two? Why did they need Evan back?

At least it meant there was a chance that Maddie was still alive. At least she wasn't lying dead on the old worn floorboards. The relief he felt was frightening.

He handed back the note and tried to remind himself it didn't mean she was still alive. "Let's go find the bastards," he muttered and spun around.

Mack caught up with him as he strode down the steps. "Leave this to the experts, Barnett."

He wrenched his arm from Mack's grip. "In this case, that's me. Eleanor is something you've never seen before, something you have no experience in handling."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Mack stated grimly. "I've seen a lot of strange things in my twenty years of service."

Jon smiled impatiently. He'd bet his life Mack had never seen the likes of Eleanor. Or him. He glanced at the sky.

In many ways, what he was about to do meant his life now rested in the FBI agent's enormous hands. At the very least, Mack could make his life hell with the knowledge he was about to give him.

"Maybe." He studied Mack a moment longer. Maddie and Seline were right. He couldn't handle Eleanor and Hank alone—at least when Maddie was around to get caught in the middle. "Have you got a spare cell phone handy?"

Mack frowned, but dug a small phone out of his pocket. "You know my number."

Jon nodded. He'd called Mack less than a handful of times in the ten years they'd known each other, but he knew the number by heart. Once it had even saved his life.

Maybe this time it would save Maddie's.

He shoved the phone into his pocket, knowing it would change when he did—though the how and why of it escaped him. It was just a part of the magic that enabled him to shift shape. "I'll call when I find them," he said, and stepped away from him.

"Damn it, Barnett—" The rest of Mack's comment was cut off as Jon made the change. With a flick of his wings, he flew skywards, ignoring the rain, the wind and Mack's startled curse as he began his search for Maddie.

There was a madman inside her head, beating a thousand drums. Maddie groaned softly and wished he'd leave her alone. Though it wasn't only her head that felt ready to explode—her whole body ached, as if the madman had thrown her around like some rag-doll.

She opened her eyes. The light, though murky, made her eyes water. She blinked the tears away, and dark gray vinyl met her gaze. She frowned in confusion and blinked again. The stretch of gray vinyl became a seat—the back of a car seat.

She was in a car. Hank's car, she thought, suddenly smelling old sweat and dirt. And they were still moving.

She shifted slightly, struggling to look around without letting Hank know she was awake. She couldn't see the second teenager, but Eleanor and Hank were both in the front seat.

She tried to shift again, but a sharp twist of pain ran down her arms and stopped her. She bit back a yelp and tried to ease her arms forward. They wouldn't move. She pulled again, then realized they were tied—and so tightly that she was beginning to lose feeling in her fingers.

Cursing silently, she glanced up at the back window. Rain beat against it, a torrent that made it impossible to see anything. There was no hope of seeing where she was, or where they were going.

"Damn you, Hank."

The sudden sound of Eleanor's voice made Maddie jump. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed they hadn't noticed she was awake.

"How was I to know he'd already been inside? I told you, he came around the side, and the windows were shut." Hank's voice was an odd mixture of contempt and fear.

Eleanor gave an unladylike snort. "Shut, but not locked, you fool."

Opening her eyes a little, Maddie saw Hank hunker down in the seat. "We still got one kid—can't we just go kidnap another?" This time there was definitely an edge of fear to his voice.

"I told you, we need the Maxwell kid for the ceremony—there's not enough time to go through another cleansing."

"Barnett's probably handed him over to the police by now."

"No doubt." Contempt ran through her sharp voice. "But the police station is the least of our problems."

Hank grunted. For several long minutes, the growl of the engine was the only noise to be heard above the heavy pounding of rain against the windows.

"Stop here." Eleanor leaned forward in the seat as the car jerked to a halt. "Get the kid out of the trunk."

Maddie shut her eyes again. The car doors opened, then there was a sharp rap of boots against loose gravel. I should run while I have the chance. But what hope would she have against Eleanor, who had the shape and speed of a panther?

The trunk opened, and Maddie risked a quick peek again. The dark branches of an old Christmas-tree type pine hung low over the car, protecting it from the worst of the weather.. They were somewhere in the mountains, obviously, but beyond that there was very little to be seen.

Eleanor and Hank dragged something out of the trunk before slamming it shut. The second kid. The certainty made her stomach turn. She'd been so worried about Evan that the safety of second teenager had slipped her mind entirely. She bit her lip, then slowly levered up on her elbows.

Hank and Eleanor where about twenty feet away, carrying a bundle wrapped in blankets down a steep incline. Now was the time to run. She sat fully upright and studied the area. The dark outline of trees met her gaze. A small dirt road disappeared past the pines on her left, and on her right, past the huge old Christmas tree, the land rose sharply. If there was anything else to be seen, it had disappeared into the rain.

It would be stupid to run when she had no idea where she was—or if there was even help nearby.

Running might not achieve anything but making Eleanor angrier—and Maddie had a feeling that was something she might not live through.

She lay back down on the seat and, after several minutes, heard Eleanor and Hank returning. But only one door opened. The front seat squeaked as Hank climbed in, then the engine started.

"Now remember," Eleanor's usually mellow voice was sharp and cold, "dump our hostage and find where they've got the kid. I doubt if Barnett will agree to an exchange, no matter what his feelings for the woman."

"I've seen the two of them together. He'll come for her."

"Maybe." Eleanor's tone made it obvious she didn't agree. "Just find the kid, Hank. Remember, if you want your life extended again, you need that kid."

The door slammed shut. Maddie kept her eyes squeezed closed. The wheels spun as Hank took off, and for several second the car did nothing but drift sideways. Hank cursed fluently, and as if suddenly fearful, the car surged forward. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or not. Granted, she was free from Eleanor's sharp gaze, at least for a while, but she still had Hank to contend with.

She frowned slightly and wondered what Eleanor had meant in her last statement. Life extended again?

Did that mean this was not the first time she'd extended their lives through magic? Sure, sixteen kids had disappeared, but would Eleanor need a blood sacrifice every month to extend her life? And Hank's?

She didn't know, but she had a feeling Jon would. She rubbed her thumb against the cold metal ring on her finger. Its presence was oddly comforting, if only because she knew he'd come back for it. She wasn't alone—someone was out there, looking for her.

The car bumped along, the rhythm oddly hypnotic. After what seemed like ages, it slowed and turned.

The rain eased as suddenly as someone turning off a tap. Out the back window she saw a garage door closing behind them.

Her stomach rolled. She closed her eyes and listened to Hank getting out. After a few minutes the back door opened. Hands grabbed her shoulders and hauled her out. She kept her eyes shut and forced herself to relax. Her only chance of escape might lie in convincing Hank she was still out of it.

"Christ, how can a little thing like you be so damn heavy."

His mutter was almost a curse as he hauled her up and over his shoulder. She watched his feet move across the concrete, then heard a door open. The rain and the cold hit them. Moisture ran down her back and around her throat as he hurried across the wet grass.

Where in the hell were they? She risked shifting slightly and saw the vague shadows of a house and trees. And below them, the dark outlines of other houses.

They were back in Taurin Bay—or at least on the outskirts of it, anyway. Hank's house maybe, or Eleanor's.

The scream of a hawk suddenly cut across the rainswept silence. Hank yelled, letting go of her legs as he dove out of the way. Air swooped past her. Maddie had a brief glimpse of brown-gold wings as she tumbled from Hank's shoulder. She hit the ground hard and grunted in pain, struggling to breathe and briefly seeing stars. Hank cursed and reached for her. She kicked out at him and heard the hawk scream again. As Hank's gaze jerked skyward, she rolled away from him, heading down the hill towards the house, and as far away from him as she could possibly get.

The hawk swooped, and Hank's scream of terror filled the air. Maddie thumped into a tree and struggled to a sitting position. Dizziness hit her and, for an instant, her vision blurred. She shook her head and took a deep breath. Rain dripped hotly from her nose. She ignored it and watched the hawk sweep around for another attack.

Hank ran for the trees. The hawk circled around, then with a flick of its wings, came back to her. As it neared, a gold haze crawled over its form, and the hawk became Jon.

"I didn't think you'd find me so quickly," she said, blinking back tears of relief and pain.

He knelt down beside her and quickly undid the rope binding her hands. "Neither did I." He touched her face, momentarily brushing his fingers over her bruised and swollen cheek. "Are your hurt anywhere else?"

Everywhere, she wanted to say, but bit the words back. I'm not going to be a burden, remember?

Life rushed back into her fingers, fast and furious. She swore and blinked back the tears still threatening to embarrass her. Jon took her hands in his, rubbing them gently.

"Maddie, look at me."

She took a deep breath and glanced up. His eyes were a deep blue ocean in which she could so easily drown.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" he repeated slowly.

She shook her head. Her head ached almost as fiercely as her arms, but not enough to mention. And that wasn't the question he was really asking, anyway. She swallowed and gave him a shaky smile. "He didn't touch me."

She saw the flash of relief in his eyes before he smothered it. She shivered—and knew it was more of a reaction to the warmth of his hands against hers than the cold rain dribbling down her back.

He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Can you stand? We have to get out of this weather."

"If you help me."

He rose to his feet and gently guided her upright. Then he pulled her against him, holding her tightly. She leaned her cheek against his chest and listened to the thunder of his heart. It felt so good, so right—as if she belonged right there in his arms, and nowhere else.

"Next time I tell you to stay behind, will you kindly listen?" he whispered into her hair. "I think I've aged ten years in the last few hours."

His breath brushed past her cheek, and something deep inside shivered in reaction. She swallowed and forced a smile as she pulled away slightly. "I'll consider it."

At his quick frown, she reached up and brushed a kiss across his rain-wet lips. Only to be caught totally unprepared by the sudden flaring of heat and her own intense need.

He groaned slightly and splayed his hand across her back, holding her close as she deepened the kiss.

Their bodies molded together, and heat trembled through her veins. When the tremulous ache began in her heart, she knew, really knew, that she was more than just attracted to this man. God help her, she was falling in love with someone she barely knew.

His hand moved from her back to her hair—then stilled. "You're bleeding," he said, pulling away.

She glanced at his hand. It was smeared red. She frowned and touched the back of her head. It felt tender and sore. She looked at her fingertips. They were bloody.

"So I am." She felt absurdly calm and wondered why. "Maybe I opened the cut when I fell off Hank's shoulder."

Jon swore softly, then swung her up into his arms. "Let's get you out of the rain."

She nodded and rested her head against his chest as he ran towards the garage. The warmth of his arms and the strength and gentleness with which he held her were both comforting and arousing. Or maybe it was just the hit on the head affecting her senses.

He kicked the door open, then gently sat her down on a large crate. "Now, tell me about the cut." He squatted down in front of her and took her hands again, rubbing them briskly.

She shivered, more from the force of his touch than from the chill beginning to creep through her body.

"I hit my head when he hit me."

He paused, his fingers tightening around hers momentarily. "He hit you?" he repeated, his voice oddly devoid of any emotion.

She nodded. The little man with the drums was starting up in her head again, and it hurt.

"The bastard has to pay," he muttered. He glanced past her, listening intently. She could hear a distant wail of sirens, growing closer with every breath.

"Don't move." He rose and opened the garage door, then rummaged around in several boxes. After a few minutes he came back and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

"Maddie?" He shook her shoulders slightly, forcing her to look him in the eyes again.

Such nice eyes, she thought with a smile. Eyes that she'd love to wake up to in the morning—all the mornings—for the rest of her life.

"Maddie, are you listening to me?' She smiled again. "No."

He frowned and suddenly looked more worried. "I said, I called the police before I attacked Hank. A man called Mack is in charge. His men have Evan. You'll be safe with them until I get back."

Evan—lord, she'd forgotten all about him. Guilt washed through her, thick and strong, and momentarily cleared the fuzziness from her mind. "Is he hurt?"

"He's in better condition than you are." His gaze ran past her again. "Mack, get some medical help, will you?"

His gaze came back to hers. Anger and worry burned deep in the wild blue depths of his eyes. Her heart did an odd flip-flop. She reached out, touching his full lips with her fingertips.

"Let the police handle it," she said, suddenly realizing he was going after Hank. That he would make Hank pay for the hurt he'd inflicted on her.

"I can't." He reached up and took her hand, gently kissing her fingertips. "Hank and Eleanor are my field of expertise. I'll handle them."

"You can't go alone. Let me come."

"Ah Maddie, you continue to amaze me," he whispered. Leaning forward, he kissed her lips, his mouth hot and yet so gentle against her own.

Heat whispered through her soul and made her heart ache. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his. It was scary to realize just how far she'd fallen.

"Don't go," she whispered after a moment.

"I have no choice." He kissed her forehead then pulled back and glanced towards the doorway. "Mack, this is Madeline Smith. Maddie, Mack's from the FBI." He rose and squeezed her hand. His eyes became cold, so cold. "He'll look after you until I get back."

"Damn it Barnett, just wait—" The big man cut his sentence short and frowned darkly as Jon disappeared through the doorway.

"Not one for taking assistance or orders, is he?" he commented. With surprising grace, he knelt down beside her.

She shivered. "No, he's been alone too long to depend on anyone but himself," she said softly. And wondered where the hell that left her.

Hank had a good ten minutes' start on him, but that was nothing when you could fly. He barely even felt the wind and the rain buffeting him. All he could think of was the pain in Maddie's amber eyes, the touch of her blood against his fingers.

The bastard would pay.

After a while he saw a flash of movement through the trees and quickly dove. When he neared the ground he changed, landing with little noise and on the run.

"Hank!"

There was a brief flash of white face as Hank glanced over his shoulder. Jon smiled grimly. Hank leapt forward in a frantic burst of energy. His quarry smelled of sweat and fear.

"You're a dead man, Hank!"

Taunting your prey was not usually a wise move, but it gave Jon an odd sense of satisfaction. The man was afraid—but not as afraid as Maddie had been.

And not as afraid now as he would be when Jon caught him.

He leapt across a fallen tree stump, took two quick steps then launched himself at Hank. He hit him hard, and, locked together, they tumbled to the ground with bone-crunching force. Hank kicked and screamed as they rolled off the faint path. Jon ignored him, hanging on grimly as they crashed down a rocky incline and slammed against the trunk of a pine tree.

"Bastard," Hank spat. He swung his fists, punching wildly.

Jon grinned flatly and caught Hank's left wrist in one hand, crushing it until bones cracked and Hank screamed. "I haven't even began to be a bastard yet, my friend."

Hank swore and kicked. Jon jumped away, evading the full force of the blow, but lost his grip on Hank's wrist. Quicker than lightning, Hank was up and running.

Jon loped after him. He'd flown over this area when he'd first arrived in Taurin Bay and knew that Hank was headed straight for a cliff. There was no escape.

The trees gave way to barren, rocky ground. The full force of the wind hit them, driving the rain with needlelike force. Hank staggered several steps sideways, then stopped and swung around. Jon saw the anger in his eyes, the desperation. But it was the sudden lack of fear that made him wary.

"I tasted the sweet delights of your woman, Shapeshifter," Hank snarled, his voice full of venom. "I made her squeal, made her beg for more."

Jon barely resisted the urge to leap forward and rip the life from the lying fiend's heart. That pleasure could come after he'd found out where Eleanor was. "Where is your master, Hank? Has she gone and left you to face the murder charges alone?"

The flicker of fear through Hank's dark eyes told Jon the thought was not a new one.

"She needs me, Shapeshifter." But the tone of his voice was uncertain.

"Needs you to be the fall guy, nothing more." The wild wind twisted suddenly and blew Hank's long coat around from the back of his legs. Silver gleamed in Hank's right hand. Jon grinned flatly. "Wrong animal, Hank. Silver affects werewolves, not shapeshifters."

Hank snarled and lunged forward, the knife gleaming brightly in his hand. Jon dodged but Hank's weight hit him and knocked him sideways. The knife, aimed at his heart, slammed into his thigh instead. Pain ripped through his body. He ignored the burning ache and smashed his fist into Hank's face. Hank staggered a few feet backwards then stopped. His mouth was bloody, and there was surprise in his eyes.

Jon didn't move. Couldn't move.

But he wasn't about to let Hank know that.

"Didn't I tell you silver wasn't effective against shapeshifters?" Jon gritted his teeth and slowly pulled the knife from his leg. He held it out, letting the rain wash his blood from the gleaming blade. "Now tell me where Eleanor is, Hank."

"I'll see you in hell first," Hank snarled, then turned and ran for the trees.

He threw the knife. Hank made a gargled sound and fell to the ground, the knife buried hilt-deep in his back.

Jon watched him silently, ignoring the buffeting wind and the rain that ran down his face as fast as the blood down ran his leg.

Hank didn't move. Either he was very good at lying still or he was dead. Jon grimaced. He hadn't intended to kill him—not until he'd found out where Eleanor was, at least. But then, nothing in this damn case was going the way he wanted, so why should things change now?

Suddenly weary, he took off his shirt and wrapped it tightly around his leg. Blood soaked quickly through the wet material. He swore softly. He'd have to get medical attention, but he couldn't leave just yet. He still had to find Eleanor.

He limped over to Hank and bent down awkwardly, pulling the fiend onto his back. Death had ripped Hank's mask of humanity away, revealing a face that was all bone and little structure. The look of surprise on what was left of his features made Jon frown. Hank obviously hadn't expected to die—why?

Had Eleanor promised a victory over all forms of death, not just the natural ravages of time? Just how old was Hank, if he looked like this in death? How old was Eleanor? If Hank's quickly disintegrating body was anything to go by, they were both more than several centuries old. Which made Eleanor older, and more powerful, than he'd ever imagined.

He quickly patted down what was left of Hank's body. No wallet, no keys. Nothing to give any clue as to where Eleanor might be.

"Just not my day," he muttered, standing up. And noticed a blood red ring gleaming softly on a skeletal right finger.

He slid it off and held it up to the light. It was a ruby, and etched onto the gleaming surface of the stone was a snarling cat. The ring was ancient and rare. He'd only seen its like once—on the hand of the man bound to serve a vampire for all eternity. Eleanor certainly wasn't a vampire, but she was a powerful enough sorcerer to work a ring of binding.

He flipped it lightly in his hand, watching the red glitter in the cat's stone eyes. He could almost feel Eleanor's presence as he held it, could almost taste the darkness that was her soul.

He wouldn't have to find Eleanor. With the ring in his possession, she'd find him.

All he had to do was get Maddie out of harm's way.