Awakening the Fire (3 page)

“Not afraid?” he repeated softly.

“No. Now back off. I know how to defend myself.” Maybe she couldn’t match his strength or speed or invade his mind. But Ari had the fire magic. Crimson fire that would turn him to charred bits. If he attacked, the oath of abstinence taken by every white witch didn’t count. Self-defense was a given. Plus she had the silver dagger. No rules about using it. Her fingers touched the dagger’s handle.

“Should we test your skills?” His voice was silky as velvet.

The scent of his exotic cologne floated around her face. A momentary distraction, until she remembered the fangs. Much too close to her throat.

“Is there some reason for this?” she asked, sounding more breathless than she liked. Her palm, now sweaty, closed on the hilt of the dagger.

“You are frightened. I can smell your fear.” Andreas sounded surprised. He sighed, eased back, and studied her face, as if seeking the answer to some unasked question. “You do not need the dagger. I shall bid you good night and go before my poor manners betray me again. Perhaps, but no… Until our next meeting, little witch.” He gave that brief, courtly bow again. “Another time,” he said with a slow smile.

And then he was gone. As swift and untraceable as the wind.

Hot air exploded from Ari’s throat. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. Not afraid? Who was she kidding. Andreas De Luca was dangerous, in more ways than one. The leashed power around him was almost a tangible thing. Wild energy still pulsed in the space where he stood moments before. She moved away, unwilling to remain so close to the remnants of a primitive power she didn’t comprehend.

Thinking back, Ari could have kicked herself for all the things she should have said and didn’t. She’d been outmaneuvered. The quick mood changes, charm to menace and back again, had kept her off balance. Why had he affected her so much? She’d dealt with vampires before. What was different? The magic, or something indefinable?

Ari had to admit, he was definitely a hottie. Not a thought she wanted to dwell on. He was a vampire. Nothing hot about that.

Shoving him from her thoughts, Ari took a quick survey of the clearing. He’d been right about one thing. She might have overdone the witch fire. The woods had taken significant damage. Broken limbs, scorched trunks. The smell of singed wood and fur still clung to the night air. She grimaced, wondering what the park custodian would make of it in the unforgiving light of day.

Ari’s frown deepened as she thought about the wolf, the vampire. A fleeting image of the future crossed her mind, drawing a shiver. She would see them both again. And that might not be a good thing.

Chapter Three

Emergency lights marred the night sky. Red, blue, yellow. Four days of quiet had passed since the wolf incident, but ten minutes ago Riverdale dispatch had notified Ari of a suspicious fatality in residential Olde Town, just five blocks from her apartment. The area was high on the bluffs, above the vampire entertainment clubs and the tourist district, and canopied by tall trees.

Human law enforcement officers and emergency vehicles already blocked the roadway. Two cops in blue uniforms guarded the front steps of the three-story, yellow-brick apartment building, built in the 1920s. Her ID got her an immediate pass.

She bypassed the elevator and climbed the stairs. She might have done so out of habit, a natural avoidance of enclosed spaces with no escape route, but she was also into predator thinking. They would choose a less public route to their prey. She was looking for signs of dark magic or any other Otherworld energy that would explain why she’d been called. Ari sniffed the air. The enclosed stairway was dim, not particularly clean, and reeked of stale cigarettes. She kept her hands clear of the grubby railing. Discarded gum and candy wrappers, an empty beer bottle, and smashed cigarette butts littered the steps. Normal clutter. By the time she passed the second floor exit, her witch senses triggered, sending a light pulse up and down her arms. Still no visible clues of what was ahead.

Ari pushed through the stairwell door and stopped, adjusting to the cloud of gloom that hung over the hallway. A violent death then.

Lieutenant Ryan Foster looked up from his notepad. Blond hair, big blue eyes, hunky build, would-be lover. So far, she wouldn’t. Unlike the patrol officers on the first floor, he wore jeans and a sweatshirt. Off-duty attire.

“Hey, Ryan,” she said, regaining her composure.

Instead of his usual grin, he frowned and pointed to the floor. “Watch your step. That’s my evidence.”

Ryan was Ari’s liaison to the human police force. They’d worked a couple of burglaries since June, and she’d met him several times while apprenticed to Yana, the former Guardian. They’d had drinks after a crime scene or two, and he’d made his interest in her obvious. His curt greeting today was out of character.

“I’m watching.” She stepped over the bloody spots. “What happened here?”

“Look for yourself.” Ryan jerked his head toward the open door on his right. His tone held a warning.

At first the scene looked normal enough. Pastel walls, worn wooden floors, cheap garage sale furniture. Typical apartment fare. As soon as Ari stepped across the threshold, the metallic smell of blood hit her hard. A red haze clouded her vision, and she could almost taste the sickening sweetness on her tongue. Bent over, her hands on her knees, she swallowed twice and fought the urge to back away. After a moment, she straightened and rounded the corner toward the kitchen. Table, chairs, mirrors, pictures—all had been churned by a giant eggbeater. Wherever she looked, objects were smashed and splintered, including the victim. The body of a young, human female, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, lay in a crumpled heap.

Ari blanched from this latest shock. Why the hell was a human child living in Olde Town? Surrounded by predators? A runaway maybe, doomed from the moment she put down her rent deposit. Ari shook her head to clear her mind and tamped down her witch senses.

A large jagged section of what had once been a Formica dining table hid much of the victim’s still form, and Ari stepped closer. The girl’s legs lay twisted awkwardly under her body, jeans and tube-top ripped by claws or teeth and stained with darkening blood. Red hair splayed around her face; her head flopped against her left shoulder. Something had twisted her neck with savage force and tossed her carelessly on the floor. She might have been a broken toy, a ragdoll no longer wanted. Except for the blood.

The reason for dispatch’s call was obvious. The scene shouted Otherworlder strength. Shape shifters, vampires, demons…the list of possibilities in the magic world was long.

“Neighbor heard a commotion and called it in.” Ryan had followed her into the room. “By the time the first officers arrived about 9:40, the apartment was empty. Except for the body. We’re canvassing the neighborhood, but so far no one’s admitted seeing anything. Big surprise, huh? Plenty heard it, but no one came out to see what was going on. Nobody wants to get involved.” Ryan grunted softly and glanced at his notebook. “Victim’s name is Angela Raymond. Lived here alone. The next door neighbor,” he jerked a thumb toward the apartment on the east, “says she has at least two boyfriends.”

“Do we know who they are?”

“Sort of.” He consulted his notes again. “Suspect one is a big, muscular vamp, name of Vince or Victor. Black hair, Caucasian. Looks to be in his thirties or forties. The other guy is human, also Caucasian, name unknown, age estimated at twenty, average build. Not much of a description on him. Maybe he’ll come forward on his own. Considering the condition of the room, I’m liking the vampire for this one.”

“Hmm.” Ari slipped on a pair of gloves and remained noncommittal. Ryan’s biases against certain magic races didn’t need encouragement. He was assigned to the Inter-Community Division (ICD) of the police department only because his brother was married to an elf. That didn’t mean Ryan liked vampires, demons, or werecreatures. Ari was thankful he tolerated witches.

They started working the scene. Although Ari tried to pick up any identifiable smells of Otherworld energy or the tingles associated with dark magic, her sensory system was overloaded by so much blood. As she helped Ryan sort through the mess, she spied a familiar pamphlet on the kitchen counter. Startled, she turned and peered at the girl, envisioning her in a blue
Viva La Difference
T-shirt.

“Ryan?”

The tone of Ari’s voice got his attention. He looked at her sharply.

“Can I see the victim’s face?”

“Sure. Photos already captured the scene.” He leaned down and pulled the hair away with a gloved hand. “Medical examiner’s been here. Thirty seconds and he was out the door.”

Ari studied the girl’s battered face and took a deep breath. Violent death was always hard to take, but she’d seen this victim alive. It made a difference.

“She was at my class Monday. And the human boyfriend too. At least the guy I saw fits the description.” Ari pointed to the counter. “That’s the flyer.”

“Are you sure it’s the same girl?” He walked toward her. “Any particular reason you remember them?”

“Oh, yeah. Boyfriend was a creep. Totally screwed up the group. It started out pretty normal. You know, I’ve told you about the classes. The guy wasn’t there at the beginning. This girl,” Ari nodded toward the body, “wanted to buy a love potion in the worst way. Just wouldn’t give up. Believe me when I tell you, she was intense.”

“Aren’t all teenagers intense?”

“Not like this.” Ari paused, the scene vivid in her mind. Angela had stood out in the crowd of mostly teen girls. Insistent, verging on desperate. Ari had felt sorry for her, especially after the boyfriend walked in. He butted into the class, loud-mouthed and angry. Angela had turned red with embarrassment.

“The jerk boyfriend came in with an attitude, ranted and raved about Otherworlders, and then stomped out. He seemed to hate witches in particular.”

“So, he wasn’t a fan.” Ryan showed the first spark of humor for the day. “Doesn’t make him a killer.”

“Fine, laugh at me, but this guy was a real dipshit.”

“Did he make threats? Against you or the girl?”

“No. Pretty much like I told you. Insults, wild accusations. Otherworlders are demonic. Illegal drugs are produced by dark magic. Accused me and
my kind
of conspiring to control the human race. Crazy stuff.”

Ryan’s forehead creased in a brief scowl. Even he didn’t believe that kind of drivel. “Maybe he was on drugs. The autopsy will tell us if she was using.” He picked up the pamphlet and dropped it in an evidence bag. “All right, from what you’ve said, this guy has a nasty temper and was on the verge of losing control. If he got mad enough, maybe he could kill.” Ryan glanced toward the victim again. “But look at this scene, Ari. I’m not convinced a human could do this. It took a lot of force.”

“And we’ve got claw or teeth marks. Yeah, I get it. But I’d like a chance to jerk his chain.”

Ryan gave her a sly grin. “I’ll try to arrange that. Give my sketch artist a detailed description before you leave.” He scanned the room quickly. “We’ll play this as usual, if that’s OK. My department takes the lead with human suspects and physical evidence. You handle the magic stuff. Otherworlders won’t talk to us anyway. I hope the ME gives us a better cause of death, but I’m not counting on it.”

Ari agreed. Unless the medical examiner found evidence for the magic lab to analyze, his autopsy report wouldn’t help at all. The cause of death was sure to be multiple trauma, but the assailant hadn’t been human. The cause of death wouldn’t narrow the pool of suspects. Too many Otherworlders possessed the necessary strength, and the natural weapons, to inflict the victim’s injuries.

It was after 5:00 a.m. when they left the crime scene. They had a few potential leads. Ryan’s officers located two witnesses who reported a silver sedan in the neighborhood; another described a black van. They would try to locate both. Bags of debris had been sent to the lab for analysis and a rush put on the reports. They’d found no evidence of forced entry or an apartment-wide search. Except for the kitchen/dining area, the rooms were undisturbed. That had tentatively ruled out random violence and burglary, leading them to one inevitable conclusion: the victim had known her killer.

Ari’s first job was to find the vampire boyfriend. As she left Ryan outside the victim’s apartment building, she glanced at the sky. Streaks of gray indicated dawn wasn’t far away, too late to search for a vamp, and she’d be sharper after three or four hours of sleep anyway.

By the time she collapsed across her bed, the sun peeped through the window. She drifted off with a final weird thought: their prime suspect would be doing the same.

Chapter Four

It was just after 8:00 a.m. when Ari appeared at Claris Denning’s storefront.

“Coffee,” Ari croaked, setting the bell jingling as the door closed. Even over the rich smell of herbs and spices that habitually permeated the shop, she identified the tantalizing aroma of rich, black caffeine. Humans had definitely got one thing right. Coffee was essential, and Claris always had the pot on.

A young woman with long brown hair tied at the back of her neck looked up and smiled. “Hard night?” Without waiting for an answer, Claris nodded toward a beaded curtain at the back. “It’s brewed.” She set down an armful of dried herbs, sorted and tied in small bundles, and smoothed her long skirt. Claris tried hard to present the expected Mother Earth image at the shop, and her amiable personality fit, but Ari had seen her too often in cutoffs and a skimpy tank top to be deceived.

This morning Ari paid little attention to her friend’s attire. She made mumbling noises, so intent on her mission to the coffee pot that she failed to respond to her friend’s question. She disappeared behind the multi-colored beads as Claris watched with a tolerant smile.

Claris and Ari had been tight since meeting in second grade. The freckle-faced kid in pigtails had welcomed Ari, who only attended part time, while the other kids kept their distance. Even at that age, Claris was into holistic medicine and natural healing. Her pockets were filled with tiny bags and jars of herbs and ointments, which she freely dispensed to the scraped knees of anyone who would let her. Ari was a frequent but willing guinea pig over the years. In fourth grade Claris produced a green salve for mosquito bites that turned Ari’s skin a rosy purple. Great-Gran eventually used a potion to take the itch away; after a long two weeks, the purple dots faded on their own.