Circle Of Fire

Chapter Fifteen

Maddie leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. The soft murmur of conversation rolled across the room, a soothing sound in the stark, cold surroundings of the police station. At least it would have been, if she hadn't known they were discussing her. It was obvious from his questions that the FBI agent didn't entirely believe her—at least when it came to the point of how she knew Evan was in danger hours before he'd actually disappeared.

Or maybe he was just a cop doing his job, and she was being entirely too suspicious. Maybe she'd let Steve's antagonism color her judgement a little too much when it came to the police.

She rubbed her hand across her eyes. The madman in her brain was still pounding away tirelessly, and the cut on the back of her head ached, despite the pain killers the doctor had given her. All she wanted was to go home and sleep. But that wasn't likely to happen any time soon, if the attitude of the FBI agent and the police was anything to go by.

Why couldn't they just believe her and let her go? The only two people she really wanted to speak to were Evan and Jon, and the fact that she hadn't seen either in over five hours worried her.

But what worried her more was, now that Evan was safe, Jon had no real reason—and maybe no real wish—to see her again. That maybe he'd use this time to go after Eleanor then simply leave.

She wanted—needed—to see him again, if only to hold him one more time before he said good-bye.

"Miss Smith?"

She opened her eyes. Mack stood about three feet away, holding out a mug of what looked liked dirty dishwater.

"Coffee?"

She nodded and accepted the mug. At the very least, it would warm her fingers. "How's my nephew?

When can I see him?"

"Soon." Mack sat back down at the table and motioned her to do the same. "Your statement." He pushed several pieces of paper across to her. "Read it and sign it, if everything is correct."

She quickly scanned the papers, then signed the bottom and pushed them back.

Mack shuffled them together without looking at them. "You realize, of course, that you are a prime witness in this case. You'll be expected to appear in court."

Something in his gaze told her that he was well aware of her past, or more precisely, her lack of cooperation when it came to the investigation of her husband's death.

"I realize that," she said, her voice sharper than she'd intended.

He smiled slightly. "Your… abilities will come out during the trial."

"My abilities are nothing when compared to Eleanor's, believe me."

Though she privately doubted if the case would ever make it to trial. There wasn't a prison built that could hold a woman like Eleanor—a shapeshifter well versed in the art of black magic.

She remembered the coldness—no, deadness—in Jon's blue eyes as he'd left to go after Hank, and she suddenly realized he had never intended handing Eleanor and Hank over to the police. Jon was judge, jury and executioner.

He'd come to Taurin Bay to kill, not capture.

Ice crawled over her skin, splintering into her heart. She shivered and rubbed her arms.

Mack frowned at her. "Better drink that coffee up. Your brother-in-law will be here soon to collect both you and Evan."

Oh joy.That was one fun trip home she planned to miss. "I'd like to speak to Evan before then, if possible."

Mack regarded her for a long moment. She had a feeling there was little he missed. Even her dislike of Steve.

"Okay. I'll go see if the doctor has finished with him." He rose and walked quietly from the room.

Left with nothing else to do while she waited, Maddie sipped the coffee. It tasted as bad as it looked.

The minutes crawled by, and the coffee slowly cooled.

"Aunt Maddie?"

She glanced up. Evan stood in the doorway, staring at her with an odd mixture of relief and uncertainty on his face. It made him look older, and yet somehow more vulnerable. She smiled and opened her arms.

He ran across the room like a child and fell into her hug.

"I knew you'd come for me," he whispered. "I watched you in my dreams."

She closed her eyes. So it was true. Evan had inherited abilities just like hers. And like her, he had a mother and father who didn't want to know.

But at least she was here, and she'd do whatever it took to ensure his abilities didn't take him down the same path as hers. One murderer in the family was more than enough. "Are your mom and dad here yet?"

"No." He hesitated and pulled away slightly. "Why isn't Jon with you?"

She raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question. "He went after Hank."

Evan grabbed her hand, sudden desperation filling his eyes. "You have to save Teresa. You just have to."

Teresa was obviously the name of the other kid. Maddie wondered how he knew her, then saw that Evan's gaze was distant and shadowed, as if he were viewing the scenes of a movie no one else could see.

Maddie rubbed a hand across her eyes. She really wasn't up to this. It was only thanks to Jon's intervention that she had escaped Hank's clutches. And if she stayed any longer in Taurin Bay, she had a horrible feeling she'd have some sort of run-in with Eleanor. And escaping that woman's claws a second time would not be so easy. Better to avoid her all together.

"Jon will find her, Evan."

"No!" The sudden urgency in his voice made her shiver. He sounded so much like his stern, uncompromising father it was frightening. "Jon will go after her. You have to rescue Teresa—promise me you will. Promise me you won't leave."

She took a deep breath. It would be nothing short of madness to make such a vow. She'd been lucky up until now, but that luck surely wouldn't hold. It never had. She opened her mouth to refuse, but the sheer desperation in Evan's amber-brown eyes made her hesitate. He was seeing the future, and it obviously wasn't good for the second teenager. Could she handle the weight of another death?

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I promise."

Evan blinked, and his eyes became clear again. "Good. So tell me, why is Dad mad at you?"

It was almost as if a switch had been flicked somewhere in his head. He obviously suffered none of the confusion she had. She sipped at the cold coffee, searching for a tactful answer. "You've talked to him?"

"Yes. And he's angry."

She smiled grimly. How did she explain to a thirteen-year-old that his father's anger stemmed from the fear that she would destroy his family, as she had destroyed her own?

"He's not really mad, Evan. I think he's a little scared." She hesitated and brushed the stray red-gold strands of hair out of teenager's eyes.

Had it only been three weeks since she'd last seen him? The way he stood, the way he studied her—suddenly he wasn't a child any more, but a man. And while the kidnapping might have had something to do with that, she thought the explanation was more likely to be found in the arrival of his gifts. Her own had forced her to grow up fast, and she'd barely been six.

"I think he knows that you have similar gifts to mine. I think that's why he's scared."

Evan tilted his head and studied her for a moment. "But if I wasn't gifted, you would never have found me."

She smiled. There spoke the logic of a child. "True, Evan. Perhaps you should remind your dad of that when he gets here."

"I will." He hesitated, and fear touched his gaze. "She'll come after me, you know. I'm not safe, Aunt Maddie. Not here, not at home."

She remembered the venom in Eleanor's voice—and the fact that they still needed Evan to complete the ceremony. Remembered the shapeshifter's contempt of the protection the police station offered. Evan was right. He wasn't safe—not until Eleanor was caught, or dead.

She squeezed his shoulder lightly. "I'll talk to your mom and dad. I'll get them to go somewhere else for a couple of days."

He nodded. Footsteps rattled down the hall, and she glanced at the door. Mack walked into the room, followed quickly by Steve. Meeting her brother-in-law's steely gaze, she saw only contempt. Evan ran to his father, and Steve's big arms all but engulfed him.

"They tell me you helped rescue Evan," he said, his lips thin as he glared at her. "I guess I owe you thanks, and… I'm sorry for giving you so much grief."

Any apology, however reluctant, was the last thing she'd expected. "No matter what you think of me, Steve, I couldn't just sit around and let something happen to Evan."

Evan glanced across at her. He knew, as she did, that the police would never have found him. Not in time to save his life.

Steve's sun-browned face held a hint of malice. "As you did your husband, you mean?"

She sighed. Trust him to bring the subject up with the police and the FBI in the room. "He physically and mentally abused me, Steve, and I have the scars to prove it." She hesitated, then shrugged away the rise of guilt.

She'd paid for the mistake she'd made that day—through isolation, loneliness and fear—and it never seemed to be enough. And yet, if she had the chance to undo the past, she wouldn't.

"That's no justification for killing him."

She lowered her gaze from his. "I didn't. The fire did."

"The fire that you lit."

Yes, the fire was hers, but she'd just wanted him to stop, to leave her alone. She briefly closed her eyes, then repeated the same old lie. "It was an accident, Steve." She shrugged. The scorn in his face told her he would never believe her, no matter what she said. "And it's not important now. You should be worried about Evan, not about my past."

He frowned, sudden worry replacing the contempt in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The woman has already taken Evan once from your home. What makes you think she can't do it again?"

He snorted. "If she has any brains, she'll be on the run. She has to know the net is closing in on her."

"Are you willing to bet you son's life on that?" She could tell by his suddenly defensive stance that he wasn't. "Take Evan and Jayne and go on a vacation. Don't tell anyone where. Just get the hell out of here, and keep Evan safe."

She pushed the coffee mug away and rose. "Am I able to leave yet?" she asked, glancing across at Mack.

He nodded, then frowned when Steve snorted softly. "For the moment. But if you happen to see Barnett, tell him I need to ask him some questions."

She nodded and dragged her sodden coat off the back of the chair. "I don't suppose you can give me a lift back to the motel?"

"I can take you," Steve growled.

Getting into the car with her brother-in-law was the last thing her headache needed. The light in his eyes told her he hadn't yet said everything he'd come here to say. Even the ten-minute trip to the motel would be too much time spent in his company. She shook her head. "No. I meant it when I suggested running, Steve. The sooner you get away from this place, the better." She glanced down at Evan. "I'll talk to you when I get home."

If I get home,she thought, and followed the FBI agent from the room.

Dusk was beginning to creep across the sky by the time she got back to the motel room. Maddie kept a careful eye on the shadows as she made her way across the parking lot. Though she knew Eleanor wasn't likely to leap out at her, there was an uneasiness to the bitter wind that made her nerves tingle.

Something felt wrong. She just wasn't entirely sure what.

The room was dark when she entered, but it wasn't empty. She could feel Jon's presence, a warmth that surrounded her as securely as a cloak.

"Don't turn on the light," he said softly.

His voice came from the direction of the beds and was edged with tiredness. She frowned and locked the door before she walked across to the bed.

As her eyes became adjusted to the dim light, she realized that he wasn't wearing much beyond boxer shorts—and a huge bandage on the upper part of his well-muscled left thigh.

"Are you okay? What happened?" she asked, sudden concern making her stomach churn.

"I'm fine. Hank just stuck a knife into me."

His tone was touched with reluctance, as if he didn't want to discuss the matter. Her frown deepened.

The uneasiness she'd felt walking across the parking lot was nothing compared to the tension suddenly filling the room. "And what happened to Hank?"

He didn't reply immediately, though the tension rose by several degrees.

"He died. No great loss, really."

So Hank was dead and no longer a threat. She shivered and rubbed her arms. It should have been a relief that he was no longer able to hurt her or Evan, or anyone else, but it wasn't. She had a bad feeling that Eleanor would make them all pay for his death.

But what scared her more than anything else was the callousness in Jon's voice. It was almost as if he had killed so often that it just didn't matter to him.

And yet, deep down, he seemed to be in pain.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked softly. "Sometimes it helps if you do."

He snorted. The quickly fading light that washed through the windows highlighted the derision on his face. "He got a knife in the back. He died. There's nothing much more to say, Maddie."

There was when you thought yourself a coward. And while she understood Jon had every intention of killing Hank, he wouldn't have intentionally knifed him in the back. It wasn't his way.

She touched his leg. His skin twitched slightly beneath her fingers, and a sudden shock of awareness ran warmth through her body. It was a sensation hard to ignore, and yet she would have to if she wanted to get any answers from him. She had a feeling he'd reject a physical approach a whole lot faster than he was rejecting emotional ones.

She softly cleared her throat. "Except that you're lying here filled with anger and self-loathing."

He glared at her. "If I'm angry, it's because you won't leave the damn subject alone."

She stared back at him steadily. His anger was nothing compared to the anger she'd faced during her marriage. She might have known him only a few days, but it was long enough to understand he would never hit her. He might break her heart, but he would never physically hurt her, as Brian so often had.

"Did Hank say anything before he died?"

Something flickered in his eyes before the shutters came back down. It wasn't hard to guess that Hank's departing words had been aimed in her direction.

"Did he say anything else besides sullying my reputation?"

Just for an instant, the hint of a smile tugged at his full lips. Then he ran a hand through his disheveled hair and frowned at her. "If he did, it's none of your damn business."

His voice held an edge that cut her to the quick. She bit her lip and glanced at the window. The wind was beginning to pick up outside, rattling the old windows in their frames. Maybe it was something of an omen, a sign that trouble was brewing. But if she was to have any hope of fulfilling her promise to Evan, she had to keep pushing for information. Whether Jon liked it or not, she had every intention of staying until she found Teresa.

But maybe it was time to try a change of tactics. "How bad is the leg?"

He shrugged, a gesture that could have meant anything. "It's fairly deep and required several stitches.

The doc reckons I'll have to stay off it for several days."

She raised her eyebrow and wondered how he'd gotten around the problem of the doctor reporting the wound to the police. Or maybe he hadn't—maybe he'd literally flown the coop before the police arrived to question him. "And will you?"

He smiled, though no amusement touched the coldness in his eyes. "No. Quick healing is a gift of my heritage. I'll be able to move around in the morning." He hesitated and studied her for a long moment.

"When are you leaving?"

Thatwas the reason for his behavior. He wanted her out of his way—it was evident not only in what he said, but in the way he said it. Even in the way he looked at her. Ignoring the deep thrust of hurt, she shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Up until now, I didn't think you were a fool."

She smiled grimly. "Then you really don't know me, do you?"

"No, I don't." Just for a moment his voice was edged with a hint of regret that warmed her heart. "But you can't stay here. Eleanor will come after me, and I don't want you in the firing line."

So Evan was right. Jon was going after Eleanor, not Teresa. "You can't handle Eleanor alone when you're injured."

"I can, and I will. I don't want you here, Maddie. Just face that fact and leave."

Heat crept into her cheeks. "I really don't care what you want. I made a promise to try to find Teresa, and that's exactly what I intend to do."

"Who the hell told you her name was Teresa?"

"Evan did."

"And how will you achieve this miracle?" His voice was knife-edged, thrusting deep into her soul. "I'll find her. I just don't want you blundering around any more, putting everyone's life in jeopardy."

"It was my so-called blundering that found Evan in the first place!" She jumped to her feet and glared at him. "Why are you pushing me away like this?"

"You've done what you came here to do. It's time to leave."

"I made a promise. I can't go back on that."

"Just as you made a promise never to use your gifts again?" He gave her a cold smile. "Some vows are made to be broken, I'm afraid. You could no more find the teenager than you could stop using your abilities. Face those facts and just get the hell out of my life."

She stared at him. While she understood that he was deliberately being nasty in an attempt to get rid of her, his words hurt nevertheless. "You can be such a bastard."

"I have the soul of a hunter, a hawk. I am a killer by nature." He hesitated and gave her an almost savage smile. "And I love my work."

Yes, he loved his work—but not the killing. It might be an essential part of his job, but it was one she sensed he abhorred. She could see the self-loathing in the back of his eyes, hear it in the edge in his voice. And because of his work, because of what he was forced to do day in and day out, he was keeping everyone at arm's length. If you didn't care, you didn't get hurt.

It was a hell of a way to live. And yet, in many ways, wasn't she doing exactly the same thing? Maybe her reasons were different, but the result was still the same. A life locked in unending, unbearable loneliness.

He'd once told her life was made to be lived, that she couldn't hide forever. Maybe it was time they both took his advice.

"But that would make you no better than the monsters you chase," she said softly. "And you're not a monster, Jon. Just a man who needs to open up and let someone in."

"Like you?" His short laugh was derisive. "We're little more than strangers. I've killed. I will keep on killing. I have no desire for anyone I—" He stopped, then shrugged.

But his unfinished sentence sung through her mind. No desire for anyone I care about to get in the way. She shivered. The thought that maybe there was some sort of psychic link between them scared her almost as much as the thought of never seeing him again.

She glanced down at her hands for a minute. If she wanted him to open up, maybe it was only fair that she do the same.

"I've killed too," she whispered, not looking up—not even when his hand wrapped around hers and squeezed gently. She turned her hand and entwined her fingers in his, but resisted the temptation to cling tightly. It was time to be strong, time to be truthful about that night. She'd lied to everyone, including herself, for far too long.

"Brian, my husband, died in a fire—a fire I lit. I burned him, burned our home—burned everything that reminded me of our life together. And I have never regretted it." Even though the nightmares—and the fear that she might so easily kill again—had haunted her ever since.

The soft rattle of the wind buffeting the windows was the only sound to be heard for several long heartbeats. She waited tensely, not sure what sort of reaction she expected—or wanted—from him.

"You didn't mean to kill him. There's a difference." Though his voice was neutral, there was a hint of understanding and warmth in his expression that made her heart race. He understood, even if he didn't say as much. He too had lived the same hell.

She closed her eyes, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. For too long she had stood alone, afraid to tell anyone about that night, afraid that her gifts would forever isolate her. Maybe they still would. The full truth wasn't out yet.

"But I did mean to." She glanced down, watching his thumb gently caress her wrist. His gentle touch somehow soothed the sick churning in her stomach. Over six years had passed, yet the brutality with which Brian had attacked her still made her shake. And all because she had been out shopping rather than home to answer his call.

"He wouldn't stop hitting me," she whispered, unable to help the quaver in her voice. "No matter what I said or did, he just wouldn't stop. I wanted him to burn in hell. I screamed it at him and… and he did.

And even if I had been able to restrain my fire that day, I wouldn't have. He deserved the death he got.

In some ways, he was more of a monster than Eleanor ever could be."

"One death doesn't make you a killer, Maddie," Jon said softly. "You were acting in self-defense, nothing more."

"But what if I've killed twice?"

He met her gaze steadily. "Twice?"

She nodded and licked her lips. "Some mistakes I seem destined to repeat. I was barely six the first time. My father was hitting my mother and I just wanted him to stop. I lit a fire. He did stop, but by then, the fire had gotten out of control. My brother died in the blaze."

"Come here." He tugged her forward and into his arms. It felt like a homecoming. "You're not a killer, no matter what you think. You never could be."

She squeezed her eyes shut against the threat of more tears. In the midst of a nightmare she'd found a man she cared about—maybe even loved. And he would send her away from him without regret, simply because it was safer.

But being safe was something she no longer wanted.

She turned in his embrace and met his gaze. His face was so close that his breath washed warmth across her lips and sent shivers of desire thrumming through her body. "Don't send me away. I need to be here."

A slight smile tugged the corners of his mouth, and a hint of weariness momentarily warmed the coldness in his eyes. He reached up and gently brushed a stray curl away from her cheek, his touch trailing across her skin like fire.

"I have no choice. Eleanor will kill you in revenge for Hank, and that is something I just couldn't live with."

The catch in his voice made her heart sing. "Eleanor won't always be around."

"No. But someone like her will. You need a man you can make a life with, someone with whom you can raise children and grow old. I'm not that someone, Maddie. I can't be. I chose my path a long time ago, and it's far too late to change."

She saw the pain in his eyes and knew being with her was his dream as well, whether or not he was willing to admit it. She pulled her gaze away from his and stared out the window. "All I've ever wanted in my life is someone to love and understand me," she said softly. "You wouldn't think something so simple would be so hard to find."

"Ah, Maddie." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. He might well have been branding her, so deep did the brush of his lips burn. "If I hadn't given my heart to my work a long time ago, it would be yours. But I have no room in my life now for anything else. And certainly no desire for it to change."

She studied his face. There was an edge to his voice that made her wonder whom he was trying to convince—himself or her. But it was the determination in his eyes that told her it was pointless to argue with him.

How ironic that she'd gotten her wish—the chance to have him hold her one more time—only to discover that she wanted a whole lot more.

She looked across to her own bed. Half hidden by the growing darkness, it looked uninviting and solitary—like so much of her life. But it was a pattern she desperately wanted to break.

She had tonight, if nothing else. This was her chance to finally take a stand and do something she wanted to do, instead of merely drifting along, following the wishes and desires of others. And what she wanted, more than anything, was to lie in the warm security of Jon's arms for the rest of the night.

She leaned her cheek against his shoulder and ran her fingers across the golden hairs on his chest, placing her hand over his heart. Its unsteady rhythm matched her own.

"Sleep with me," she whispered softly.

His smile was something she felt deep inside. "Anytime. But I'm afraid sleeping is all I'm up to. I have to keep the leg as still as possible."

"Sleeping will do." Any time spent in his arms would be better than nothing. And at least it would give her a memory to hold on to when she left in the morning.

All she had to do then was figure out how she was going to find Teresa without his help.