Frostbound

Chapter 9

Tuesday, December 28, 11:55 p.m.

Downtown Fairview

Darak had followed the evil to the fire, but there wasn’t a lot to see once he got there. Bystanders, police, a city pound’s worth of hellhounds were all doing what needed to be done—but none of that interested him.

The fire itself was okay, but he’d seen better sorcery. This one was a little heavy on the whole melting-walls thing. Showy and dramatic, but a lot of energy wasted to get a simple job done.

What got his attention was what the spell slinger had targeted. Campaign office—well, why not hit the most controversial location in town? But a medical clinic—that made Darak mad. It was always the ordinary folk who got it in the neck when the powerful began throwing their weight around.

He paced the sidewalk beyond the perimeter set by the fire brigade. Smuts fell from the sky with the snow, looking as if the flakes themselves were burning. One fell on his cuff and he flicked it away, feeling a hot kiss of embers.

There was no trace of the spell caster here. The sense of evil was dying from the scene along with the flames, burning down into a gray ash of wilted magic. By morning, it would be no more than a shiver up the spine.

That didn’t do him a bit of good. Frustrated, Darak turned and stalked back along the sidewalk again. There should have been more. He wasn’t a magic user, but he knew something about it. A sorcerer didn’t just pull this kind of energy out of his ass. It had to come from somewhere: a sacred object, a ley line, or maybe a sacrifice.

There was nothing here. Whoever had cast the spell had raised the energy someplace else and redirected it. Darak glared back at the fire and its halo of snow and ash.

It was then he saw the woman. She was standing a few feet away, wearing nothing but a blouse and navy blue skirt. Her brown hair was neatly cut at shoulder length. She was shivering, clutching her arms because she had no coat.

Oh, no. He had a bad feeling, but he walked over anyway.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She looked up at him, frowning the way some people did because they had to look up, and then up some more to find his face. “I’m not sure how I got here,” she said, her voice holding both fear and annoyance. “It’s snowing. It never snows here.”

Darak took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Here.”

Its size drowned her, but she looked grateful. Pausing to look around again, she seemed to notice the fire. “Is that the clinic?”

“Yeah. Too bad about that.” He was wearing a pullover, but the wind bit through the loose weave. The whole chivalry thing obviously came from warmer climates.

“I hope the nurses don’t lose their jobs.” She looked confused. “You know, I think I need to go home.”

He’d been expecting it. “Want me to walk you?”

“Please. I’d like that.”

He offered her his arm. He was the last thing from a gentleman and most of the time was barely polite, but there was a time and a place to show respect. “Where do you live?”

She hesitated, searching the streets around them, then seemed to get her bearings. “Over this way.”

Dread settled into his bones. He wondered how far it was, and how much time he had to talk to her. This sort of thing never got easier, no matter how many centuries rolled past.

They set off in silence, taking shortcuts through an alley and a schoolyard. The chain-link fence around the playground sparkled with frost. Darak stayed close to her side, careful not to let her out of his sight for even a second.

“I just got home tonight,” the woman said.

He noticed she was pretty in a fresh, simple way. In other circumstances, she would have been pleasant to look at for hours on end.

“I was going to spend the night with my cousin,” she added.

“Yeah?”

“She’s like you.”

“Like me?”

“You know. A vampire.” She gave him a shy glance. “Sorry. I seem to be saying whatever pops into my head. I’m usually a better conversationalist than this.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He wasn’t much good at small talk at the best of times. “So your cousin’s a vampire?”

“I was kind of afraid, but if no one ever gave Talia a break.. . . ” She trailed off, then stopped, turning to Darak. With a pleading gesture, she put one hand on his chest. “You’ve got to make sure she’s okay.”

They always made a request. It usually came near the end, so they had to be close to where it had happened.

He looked around. There were a lot of nice buildings, a few houses. Where would a woman like this live? Of course. Cop cars, over there. It looked like the kind of street that should have been quiet, but tonight it was jammed with ominous flashing lights and men with uniforms.

She was still looking at him, her eyes dark with worry. She barely came up to his collar bone. It’s surprising how many ask to keep their loved ones safe.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll check on her. Talia, right?” One vampire shouldn’t be hard to find.

“I’d really appreciate it.” She gave him a quick, uncertain smile. “My feet are so cold.”

That would be because she was barefoot, but he didn’t point it out. “Is that your building over there?”

“Y-yes. Wow, look at all the police. I wonder what’s going on. Think somebody had a break-in?”

“Why don’t we go in the back way?”

“Good idea.”

Gently, he guided her to the corner, and they crossed with the lights. Nice and easy.

As they went around to the parking lot, she started to become agitated, looking nervously around her. They were passing through the rows of cars, stepping over the concrete ribs that kept them in tidy lines. “Thank you for walking with me.”

“No problem. What’s your name?”

“Michelle.”

The back door was still a fair distance away, its light making a pool on the gathering snow. A single cop stood outside, looking bored.

She started violently, colliding with Darak in terror of something only she could see. His coat slid off her shoulders and fell into the snow. He caught her, wrapping his arm around her so that she was caged against his chest. He crouched down between a truck and an SUV, letting her sink safely to the ground. “Hey, take it easy. You’re not alone. I’m here.”

“What’s happening?” Trembling like a fever victim, her slight weight began to fade.

They weren’t going to make it through the door before her spirit fled the earth.

“Tell me what happened, Michelle.”

Clamping her hands around her head, she shrieked, a piercing wail that reverberated through his bones. He hushed her, cradling her against his body. “Sh. You’re safe.”

Necromancy.

The word burned hot in his gut. He knew this for what it was now. The spell caster had gotten his power from this woman’s murder. Now that the spell was winding down, she got to live through the horror all over again.

She was panting, a sheen of sweat coating her fine features despite the cold. “He came for me. He said it was a warning to Talia that she was next. Watch out for her. Please. Please.”

“I will. I promise.”

Her eyes grew wide, seeing something or someone looming closer. She raised her hands, warding off an invisible blow.

“Michelle—”

Stripes of blood blossomed on her hands.

“No!” He shielded her with both his arms, using his size and bulk to ward off the horror that only she could see.

She screamed again, so loudly that Darak squeezed his eyes shut.

In that split second, she was gone. He crouched in the parking lot, his skull still splitting from the noise.

The cop didn’t come running. He hadn’t heard a thing. It was Darak’s special curse to see and hear the dead. One he loathed violently each and every day.

He picked up his jacket and stuffed his arms through the sleeves, sending the buckles and zippers jangling. Darak turned toward the back door with its single guard. It would be easy enough to hypnotize the human into letting him have a quiet look through the building. Odds were there would be no clues to the necromancer’s identity, but he had to look.

Slowly, he got to his feet, swallowing hard as if he were choking something down. He rested his hand for a moment on the hood of the truck, taking a long breath of the icy air.

Pluto’s balls, he hated these encounters. A hard ache lurked where his heart should have beaten. This jackass with a spell book had ruined Darak’s evening. He had completely messed with Michelle’s.

The jackass had to die.

Wednesday, December 29, 12:05 p.m.

Lore’s condo

Once he was through scoping out the crime scene, Lore left the building, walking into the steadily falling snow. He’d learned a few things, including how the police intended to proceed. They were looking for evidence of who came and went from the building and when. They were looking for witnesses. They wanted to know about Michelle’s and Talia’s lives, whom they associated with, and why anyone would wish them harm. Mostly, they were looking for Talia.

Lore already had a head start on the last item. He needed to catch up on the rest, now that he had a road map to follow. It would have been more efficient to share information with Baines—the man was obviously no fool—but the hellhounds hadn’t survived by trusting anyone else. He wanted solid proof of Talia’s guilt before he left her to the mercy of the human cops.

He crossed the street, fascinated by the dizzying, swirling snow. It left cold kisses on his skin, chill and ephemeral as a ghost. Or a vampire.

Not that their flesh was that cold. It was cool and smooth as silk, enticing as half-forgotten wishes. No, it wasn’t the temperature, but the odd, hushed melancholy of the snow that made him think of the Undead.

Or perhaps it was the silence. Talia was too new to have that eerie calm. Instead, the chill, pure air reminded him of another Undead beauty.

Constance Moore and her son had lived in the Castle, the prison where Lore had grown up. Because Lore was a friend to her boy, almost a big brother, she’d included him in their daily lessons. She had taught Lore to read and write—rare skills for a lowly hellhound. His people had been little better than slaves, but Constance had never been anything but kind. Now her gift of knowledge gave him an edge for survival in the human world.

Perhaps it was the memory of Constance that made him protective of Talia. Foolish. They were entirely different people. More than that, he was a different person now, a grown Alpha with no time for sentimentality. Which was why he was standing in the snow with his cell phone, running interference for a pretty vampire he had no business helping.

Nah, he’d been suckered since the moment she’d tried to kick him in the head. He had a weakness for girls with some spirit. Idiot.

Lore began punching in a number. He’d gone outside because he was too wary to risk being overheard by the cops. Now he began pacing, impatient to get answers.

Fortunately, Perry was still up.

“Miss me?” the werewolf said dryly. “Or do you think I’m such a crack researcher I’ve found your answer to the floaty evil already?”

“Have you?”

“No.”

“Too bad. Something else has happened.”

“I heard about the clinic building burning. The vamps have gone bat-shit crazy about the campaign office.”

Lore ignored the not-so-subtle bat joke. His mind was on a straight road that he hoped led to confirming Talia’s innocence. “There was a murder in my condo building.”

After a stunned silence, Perry made a noise that wasn’t quite a laugh. “What?”

“I’m not making this up.”

The wolf swore. “What the hell is going on tonight?”

Lore looked up and down the street, his eyes searching the front of each neighboring building. The dusting of snow made everything look deceptively charming, like one of the humans’ greeting cards. “My building doesn’t have security cameras covering the entrances. Are there any around here that you can hack into?”

“I dunno. Depends on their setup. Are you trying to get me arrested?”

“You’re too good for that.”

“Says you. What’s nearby?”

Lore named the businesses.

“Hm. The bank and the corner market are good bets. There’s probably a traffic cam around there, too. Are we looking for anyone in particular?”

“The killer.”

“We need more words than that, dog-boy.”

“I don’t have a description,” Lore said, irritated. “Possibly two people—one to control and one to strike. Or else someone strong enough to hack off a head on his or her own.”

There was silence at the other end of the line. “They took the head? That’s an execution. Who died?”

“The woman we saw walk into the building tonight. The one who made you want to bake cookies.”

He heard Perry’s breathing quicken with anger. “I’ll get back to you when I have something.”

“Good luck.” A puff of steamy breath followed the last words like a prayer.

Lore snapped the phone shut and considered his next move. First, he wanted to ask Talia about the Latin word on the wall. Maybe it meant something to her. Would she admit it if it did?

A car rushed by, skidding because the driver didn’t know how to handle the slippery road. Lore stepped back, avoiding the clumps of snow kicked up by the tires.

Once he’d talked to Talia, then he’d visit some of the vamp clubs and bars. This wasn’t the work of a local troublemaker. He was looking for a new face, and someone there would have gossip.

Normally, a newcomer asked permission of the ruling monarch to hunt in their territory. It was a means of keeping track of who was where. Sires owned the members of their clan; deserters were punished. Rogues on the run—like Talia—tried to stay off everybody’s radar.

Come to think of it, the ugly vampire he’d arrested earlier was an unknown, too. Interesting. Was Mr. Ugly just another bloodsucker dropping in to cheer on the first-ever fanged candidate? With election fever in high gear, plenty of Undead had come to see history in the making. It would be easy for a murderer to get lost in the crowd.

Great. Just great.

Lore headed back toward his building and Talia, his protective instincts on alert. He went around to the back door, planning to use the stairs. As soon as he rounded the corner into the parking lot, he stopped dead. An unfamiliar scent hung in the air, plain as a billboard to a hellhound’s sense of smell.

Lore’s shoulders hunched, instinctively protecting his neck from attack. The presence was vampire. Male. Dominant. Enemy.

Lore searched the shadows of the parking lot, scanning for a darker shadow, a flutter of movement. Nothing. Even as he stood there, the scent trail began to dull in the cool, wet wind.

The stranger had passed through recently, but hadn’t stayed. That was something to be thankful for. Still focused on Talia, Lore approached the cop standing outside the stairwell door.

“Did anyone come past here in the last few minutes?” Lore asked as he pulled out his driver’s license to prove he lived there.

The cop shook his head. “No.”

Lore pulled open the door and began the climb to his floor. With a low growl, he found the male had gone all the way up to his floor and beyond. Here the scent was fresh.

The cop was out to lunch. Or hypnotized. Vampires could wipe memories from a human’s mind.

It didn’t matter. He would find the source of the stink and remove it from his territory. There was no way a strange vampire was going to roam Lore’s building. Even the big ones taste like chicken. Rotten, disgusting chicken, but whatever.

Shoulders aching with tension, Lore forced himself to stay on task. Talia first. Vampire after. He pushed out of the sixth-floor stairwell door and crossed to his suite.

When he turned the door handle, it was unlocked. A jolt of anxiety raised the hair on his arms. Intruder!

Lore burst into his condo. Empty. He slammed open the bedroom door, chest heaving.

The room was empty.

Talia was gone.

With a snarl, Lore wheeled and ran back into the hall.