Shadows of Fire Page 8

  Hope stood dumbfounded, her confusion making coherent thought impossible. Somewhere, she’d crossed the threshold into some alternate reality—or nightmare. The shovel slipped out of her hands, banging against a rock and shaking her from her stupor.

  Hope turned, sprinting through the barn, praying she wouldn’t be too late. She had no idea what Glenn knew or how he could help Alex, but Hope damn well understood there was nothing she could do to save her friend. Her fingers brushed the door handle of her Bug at the same moment a shadow materialized from the darkness, slamming her head against the roof of the car. A hand covered her mouth, trapping her cry for help.

  “I didn’t want to do this, but you’ve seen too much.”

  The whispered words barely cut though the haze of pain as her head was wrenched back by her hair and agony radiated from her throat. Heat burned over every nerve. The metallic odor of blood filled the air and the sickly sound of slurping echoed in her ears. Hope’s world became a dizzying cacophony of disjointed thoughts and sensations that tripped over one another, tumbling her into a sleepy confusion.

  Her body became a weightless entity. Limbs and vocal cords unable to function, she wasn’t sure if the motion she felt was real or imagined. It really didn’t matter. Whatever her attacker was doing to her—she wasn’t going to survive.

  Chapter Five

  Glenn pulled the truck around the dirt drive and parked in back of his farm house. Though he’d driven well over the speed limit from the bus station straight home, darkness had beaten him here. Night and its shadowed secrets now reigned over the farm. A full moon hung eerily over the trees, its blood red color a harbinger of death. Glenn refused to acknowledge the cold weight of fear pressing in his gut.

  He stared at the battered leather briefcase sitting on the passenger seat. Though the search had taken him to three different bus stations, this discovery seemed almost too easy and he wondered now if he’d been set up. Pulling the key from his pocket, Glenn examined the thin slip of metal hanging from a pink numbered fob. A bus locker had held all his secrets. Secrets that had led to a man’s murder.

  No doubt, Dr. Paul Morgan, dear friend of Alexandra Flanagan, had given his life protecting research that had taken Glenn nearly an hour to sort through. The chemical formulas and scientific theory made no sense to him, but there was no denying Alexandra Flanagan was up to her dimpled little chin in this deadly crap. He wondered if she also knew about the fires the professor had documented. Glenn hoped like hell she’d had nothing to do with the evidence that had been buried in ashes. It was one of the things that worried him the most.

  As he’d read through each piece of evidence against her, the fog surrounding her late night excuses and mysterious illness had lifted, and he saw with absolute clarity who’d she’d become. It sickened him to think Alex had done it all under his nose and without his knowledge.

  He didn’t understand the more recent fires in South Kenton and suspected they centered on someone’s knowledge—and hatred—of the professor’s dirty experiments. The information contained in that small leather satchel would, without a doubt, blow the RISEN investigation wide open, which was exactly why the tribunal couldn’t get their hands on it until he’d purged Alexandra’s involvement from the pages.

  On the one hand, Glenn wanted to protect the impish woman who held his fatherly heart captive. But what Alex had done was unethical even by vampire standards. If only she’d told him, perhaps he could’ve helped before it had gone this far. She hadn’t. On the other hand, he wanted to help Reese and his RISEN operatives avenge the needless executions of the vamps and, more recently, the innocent humans. And he wanted to do both without Reese or Alex falling off the short end of the pier into a quagmire of shit.

  He fell back against the seat. The paradox sucked beyond belief.

  Hanging the key on the shifter, Glenn grabbed his cell phone. He’d call Tony to help Alex with the Friday night crowd, feed the animals, then read through the research and identify the most damning evidence. After the tavern closed, he’d bring the pig blood to the wine cellar and confront Alex. If he was satisfied with the explanation of her actions, they would sort through the papers together and cull out the details implicating her. Tomorrow, they’d deliver the briefcase and satisfy RISEN with a sanitized version of the facts.

  He hadn’t come up with any other solution.

  Of course, Glenn didn’t even want to consider the train wreck scenario if Alexandra had no explanation for the most recent deaths. At the moment, blind with worry, he couldn’t even see down that track.

  Glenn slid the briefcase under the seat, punched the tavern’s number into his cell and got out of the truck, heading down the path to the barn just as the answering machine picked up. A person also answered and Glenn listened to Alex’s melodious voice give a sales pitch about O’Malley’s hours of operation before he could speak. When it stopped, he heard the raucous sound of firefighters and the Friday night pool tournament.

  “Hey, Alex, it’s Glenn.”

  “She’s not here. This is Tony.”

  Tony only came in when things at the bar were really busy. He felt guilty telling them he wasn’t coming in. “Busy night?”

  “You could say that.” Frustration colored his words. “Where are you?”

  “Let me speak to Alex, I’ll explain to her.”

  “I just told you. She’s not here. Katie said she headed out to your barn about a half hour after she got here. Said she seemed worried. Everything all right with you?”

  “Yeah, it’s good.” That would explain why the lights were on in the barn. “I must’ve just missed her.”

  A heavy sigh filled Glenn’s ear. “Listen, I hate to ask, but we could really use another bartender and waitress. It’s a regular night at the fire station around here. When you coming in?”

  Glenn wasn’t sure when O’Malley’s had become the hangout for the local boys on their off hours, but he rather enjoyed their humor and their rowdy manner. Firefighters were definitely a breed all their own.

  “I’m not coming in tonight either.” Worry quickened his steps. It wasn’t like Alex to call out on a Friday night. Something was up. Glenn strode faster along the path to the barn. He hoped to hell she’d simply come to feed the animals. Then he could talk to her without anyone else around. Maybe she’d actually tell him the truth. “You should be all set. Let Bob handle the kitchen and pull Chris to help at the bar. Katie can handle the crowd.”

  “Chris left on Alex’s heels.”

  “Where the hell did he go?”

  “Said he was sick. Seriously, you need some help?”

  Chris had been trying to persuade Glenn to turn him. The kid was stupid and had fantasies that didn’t even touch reality. He couldn’t imagine Chris convincing Alex to involve him in this mess. But what the hell did he know? He’d missed all of the signs of Alex’s deceit. “No, I’m good. Call in Mary and Ben. Their numbers are taped on the fridge.” Glenn had been weaning both vamps onto the blood wine and training them to tend bar. He figured they owed him.

  “Listen, we can shut the tavern down for the night,” Tony said.

  The wind shifted. Even the pungent smell of pigs couldn’t mask the copper odor of death. “There’s nothing going on I can’t handle. Hang tight and keep things going there.” He didn’t mean to lose his temper, but both his impatience and the vampire rose within him. “And damn it all, if you hear from Alex or Chris, tell them to call me.” Glenn pulled the phone from his ear and pushed the off button.

  He entered the barn. “Alex, you here?” Only his horse’s whinny answered his call. The stench of death hadn’t come from here. Glenn’s fangs pulsed as he went around the side of the barn and scanned the darkness. Nothing except creatures of the field scurried in his vision. Glenn focused on the breath of night surrounding him, hearing only the sound of the brisk September wind rustling the through the leaves. Moving with the stealth of a shadow, he followed the scent of blood into the woods behind the
barn. His fangs lengthened and even after all the years of living off the wine, Glenn felt the beast clamoring to share the carnage. The goats bleated out calls of hunger from the barn, but he ignored their summons. Stalking deeper into the forest, he caught the unmistakable essence of vampire. Someone was feeding on his property.

  “I know you’re here. Show yourself,” he called into the night. “If you’ve come for sanctuary, I freely offer it.” This wouldn’t be the first time a vamp had sought refuge, bringing their last victim to him as a sacrifice. The nearly imperceptible whoosh and swell of movement vibrated the air and Glenn wanted to follow it. But a low keening of pain garnered his full attention and forced him down the hill. A body lay curled in on itself, the heart barely pumping blood to its organs. Glenn’s own heart nearly stopped when he rolled the body over, only to see Hope’s vacant expression staring up at him. Puncture wounds at her slender throat were raw and swollen. Fresh blood covered her neck and chest.

  Who the hell would have done such a thing?

  Despite his anger, Glenn forced his fangs to retract. Cradling Hope against his chest, he rushed back to the barn, not sure whether she had enough life within her to survive.

  Large lights, hanging from the wide-beamed ceiling, washed the wide hall and numerous stalls in yellow light. The sweet grass and animal odors replaced the tempting aroma of fresh blood. Glenn laid her gently on the hay in an empty birthing stall and ran to the cooler in the back office. Grabbing a bottle of blood wine, a couple packets of pig blood he kept on hand for these types of situations, a syringe and bandages from the medicine cabinet, Glenn prayed it wasn’t too late. Perhaps with Josh’s help, Hope wouldn’t see immortality as the curse of saving her life.

  When he returned to the stall, Hope’s skin had become translucent. Blue veins marked roadmaps of death on her face. There wasn’t time for the syringe. Glenn dropped the packets of blood and bit into his wrist, gashing the vein. He held it over Hope’s face, letting the thick fluid drip on her mouth, painting her lips a syrupy scarlet.

  “Drink,” Glenn implored Hope. “Help me save you, damn it. Drink.”

  Prying her lips open, he let the life-giving blood fill her mouth. Hope’s tongue moved and she began to swallow. Glenn threaded his fingers into the tangled mat of her blonde tresses, lifting her tenderly to his wrist. He wondered again if Hope would forgive him for all the complications that came with the cure.

  Obviously, Alex never had.

  Hope’s instinct overpowered the repugnance of her actions and she finally latched on, drinking hungrily from his wrist. Though there was no guarantee he would save her, Glenn relaxed in the knowledge that Hope had taken the first step in survival.

  Sadness tripped over guilt. Glenn hadn’t been the one to rip open Hope’s throat and carry her to death’s door, he understood his generosity condemned another young person to a never-ending night. Even though genetic evolution in the vampire DNA over the centuries had made sunlight bearable, it wasn’t like the kid would ever again feel its rays warm upon her face. Glenn would teach Josh how to wean her directly onto the blood wine and at least make her survival humane.

  Maybe they’d even be happy sharing the centuries together. He understood what a lonely and long existence it could be. The thought of what he was doing pinched his heart. This decision should have been hers. Glenn had lost count how many humans he’d pulled into his world. But letting them die seemed a worse fate.

  “There. Lie back and sleep.” He eased his wrist away from her hungry lips. Rest and intravenous pig blood would complete the rescue. Glenn licked the wound, his own skin closing and repairing itself as if the flesh had never been ripped open.

  “It’s all right now,” he murmured to Hope, running a hand over her hair. But it wasn’t and Glenn knew it. There was still so much explaining and teaching ahead. The only blessing is that the rest of the responsibility no longer rested with him. But even that worried Glenn. He didn’t know how serious Josh was with Hope. The concerns weighed heavy on his shoulders, making the task of pulling together the rest of the supplies difficult. When would it all end? How much more did he have to give to a new generation of vampires?

  Focusing on his melancholy and the effort of threading the syringe into Hope’s frail arm, Glenn didn’t feel the push of air or smell the stench of vampire until the beast was on his back. Sharp nails and fangs dug deep into his flesh. He stood and turned, trying to dislodge his opponent, but the vamp’s legs had clamped around his waist. Glenn reached up, tangling his fingers in its hair, intent on flipping his adversary to the floor. But hatred, rage, jealousy or some combination of the three made the vampire stronger. With a growl that echoed through the barn, the beast swung a wooden stake, coming down hard in front of Glenn’s disbelieving eyes.

  Like lava pouring from a volcano, pain seared through Glenn. It erupted from his chest, scorched down his stomach and arms, oozed slow paths of torture along his thighs and finally buckled his knees. There weren’t many things that could take down a vampire, but the wood protruding from Glenn’s chest definitely did the job.

  He went down heavy on his shoulder, his head slamming onto the wooden planks of the barn. Gasping for air, Glenn’s mouth filled with a sickly mixture of straw, dust and his own blood. He only needed to rid his chest of the stake and his body could repair itself. But when his brain tried to engage his hands, they wouldn’t move. Nothing moved, save for feet pacing in small circles.

  Glenn ignored the darkness creeping along the edges of his vision. He focused on the boots in front of him, the curl of the toe and the elegant sweep of the leather around the ankle. He’d seen them before and he had every intention of using the information to identify his attacker. The vamp wouldn’t get away with another murder. Anger welled until his vision pulsed red, ebbing and flowing as if it were breathing inside of him and filling him. It continued to grow and consume him until Glenn’s skin tingled from the heat of it.

  He fought for control, but the blackness rolled like a tidal wave, tumbling him into unconsciousness.

  * * * *

  Reese dragged ass out of the tanker, already feeling used up after only one call. Not that he was tired, just completely out of sorts after hearing the damning information Hope had given to Josh. Fortunately, the alarm had rung minutes after he’d arrived at the station for the night shift. It had been nothing more than a diesel fire on a farm tractor. One fire engine. One tanker. Five men. Routine. He’d volunteered to stay behind with McLeod and the tanker when the engine was no longer needed. He had no reason to feel as heavy as he did.

  But as he pulled off the bunker gear, rolling the pants over the boots, hanging the jacket and stowing his helmet on the rack above him, readied for another call, he couldn’t help but think of the pixie-haired woman. A woman who was now suspect in killing nearly two dozen vamps and a handful of humans. It’s not at all where he wanted his thoughts to travel.

  He’d rather remember the way she’d responded to his touch. Reese could still taste the salt of her satin skin on his tongue, smell the fruity aroma of her silken hair as he grazed his teeth over her neck and feel the heat of her pressed against him.

  His body’s reaction hadn’t surprised him. But the way his emotions had swelled when she’d melted in his arms had thrown Reese completely off-kilter. His mind kept reminding his heart he’d made a solemn vow never to fall in love again—especially with a vamp. It was just too damn dangerous. Now, that didn’t seem to matter. Months of innocent flirting had obviously broken his resolve and the woman had wiggled her way into his heart. That thought shook him to his core.

  Shit. He needed to get Alex out of his head. There were lots of hours between now and when he would see her again. The only question was whether they’d be hours spent lounging in the rec room or out in the community battling dragons. It was how he’d come to understand fire, a living, breathing beast, devouring for sheer pleasure and enjoyment.

  For himself, he hoped the alarm would continue to sen
d them screaming into the night. He had no desire to contemplate how the new information Josh had brought to their cabin would impact a relationship that had only just begun. For the residents of South Kenton, he hoped this Friday dragged by with them sitting around the station talking trash, lifting weights, and playing cards. That thought darkened his already foul mood.

  “Hey, Colton, Sykes said to head up to his office as soon as you got in. Burkett and Timmons are already up there,” the dispatcher called from her office. “He didn’t sound too happy.”

  Reese lumbered up the stairs. Hearing Sykes’s irate voice long before he got to the office door, he was in no hurry to listen to a tirade. He had no idea what he’d done and would gladly have heard it secondhand from Josh and Timmons, but they were a team. They fought fires as a team. They broke bread as a team. They hung by their balls as a team. Go team.

  “… I have no fucking idea what you three were doing at the professor’s mansion, but I’ve got the fire marshal chewing me a new asshole saying someone tampered—”

  At Reese’s soft knock on the smoky glass, the deputy chief’s rant stopped.

  “Colton, that better be you!” The door swung open. Frank Sykes’s normally placid features were taut and glowed a sickly red. His thick mustache twitched in time with his fingers pulsing in and out of a fist. “It’s about time.” He waved him into the small office. Timmons and Josh sat in the two chairs across from the deputy’s desk, which left only the door to lean against.

  “What the hell did you three do after we left?” Sykes stalked behind the desk, but didn’t sit.

  “Burkett and I already told you,” Timmons said. “The body was transported to the morgue. We pulled down what was left of the walls and soaked the hotspots.” Timmons turned to Josh and Reese, who nodded in confusion. Reese was fairly certain, though he and Josh had been thorough in their search, they hadn’t disturbed anything that would have the fire marshal upset enough to call their boss. Every firefighter understood the scene was only theirs until the fire was out, then possession returned to the owners or, in the case of a death—the fire marshal.