Magicstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 4) (3 page)

He reached up, pushing it aside.

She blinked, her mortal vision unable to
follow his movements.

“You seem to be forgetting I just saved you,”
he said archly, taking in her wide brown eyes. High cheekbones were
flushed with exertion, giving her tanned skin a glow.

“Wh-what the hell is going on? Who were
they?” Her gaze jumped to the piles of ash now littering the alley,
long black hair swinging over her shoulder.

“Vampires, what else?” he replied, returning
his claymore to its sheath.

She licked her lips, her hand trembling as
she pointed the gun at his chest. “Vampires don’t exist.”

“Don’t they?” he replied, glancing over her
wounds. Blood dripped from the bites on her neck, and she had some
bad bruises developing, but she’d live.

“No, they don’t.”

“Then why don’t you tell me what they were?”
He let his power fill him, turning his eyes red, his fangs
descending.

She met his gaze, her eyes widening. “You’re
like those
pendejos
?”

He didn’t know what it was. Maybe her
strength of will to stand over a fallen friend. Or the fact that
she was now ready to shoot him. The woman intrigued him.

Flashing her some fang, he said, “Vampire,
yes. Asshole? Not quite.”

Sirens rose in the air, drawing closer. “It’s
about freaking time,” she muttered.

Which was his exit cue.

When she glanced down the alley toward the
other cop, Brandon jumped, catching miniscule handholds in the
brick, climbing the wall to the roof. He looked over the edge,
watching her as she glanced around, surprised at his
disappearance.

“Damn it,” she muttered, heading for the
other cop.

Keeping her gun up, she bent over and checked
the man’s pulse. Brandon could have saved her the trouble. The
man’s heartbeat was slow, weak, but still there.

With a curse, she rose once more, searching
the shadows as she waited for the cop car barreling down the
alley.

Assured she’d be safe, Brandon raced along
the rooftops, following the last vampire’s scent. Yet she lingered
on his mind. He’d not met a woman with such will, such strength, in
a long time. And he couldn’t stop being intrigued, regardless he’d
never see her again.

The rising sun flashed through Celeste’s
bedroom window, shining over the orange striped kitten curled by
her feet. Hercules purred in his sleep. She rubbed her stinging
eyes and closed the case folders scattered over her bed. She’d been
going over them most of the night, but nothing new had jumped out
at her regarding the three recent murders.

Last night, after the ambulance arrived and
she’d finally been able to think clearly, the captain had
needlessly ordered her to the hospital against her will. She’d
quickly been cleared and sent home to rest. Rubbing the soreness in
her chest, she sent up a quick prayer Daily would pull through. The
doctors had said head trauma.

She got ready for the day, calling the
hospital. Daily was holding strong.

Once at the station, she grabbed a hot cup of
coffee from the thankfully empty break room, then, straight and
tense, strode through the rows of desks towards her tiny
office.

Mutters rose. She could barely make out most
of the words, but overheard Detective Kurtz comment, “That’s why
women shouldn’t be on the line.”

Heat rose in her chest, but she continued on,
refusing to show weakness in front of other officers.

“Captain wants to see you,” White, another
detective, said kindly. Even though he was older than most, he
didn’t keep to the old-school mentality of some cops.

She nodded her thanks and weaved through more
whispers to Michaels’ office. She knew not all of them were
hostile, some were just curious, but the pressure in the room felt
thick, hard to walk through.

Pushing the door open, she met the
commander’s steely gaze.

“Made it through the gauntlet, I see.”
Captain Wes Michaels was built like a linebacker, tall and wide,
yet his high-pitched voice would be better suited to a petite
woman.

“Well enough,” she replied, knowing at least
here she could let her guard down a bit.

The man had graduated from the academy with
her papa. They’d been partners until he’d fallen in the line of
duty.

Not that the captain ever treated her
special. She braced for the coming lecture.

Michaels pounded one fist onto his desk.
“What the hell were you thinking?”

She explained how they’d followed the runes
drawn on the pavement, through the maze of alleys.

He cut her off. “We’ve had how many murders
in the past month? And you’re going to leave a scene, taking only
one officer with you?”

Her throat burned as the heat pushed higher.
“I didn’t feel there was any danger, sir.”

His mouth thinned. “Obviously you felt
wrong.”

“Yes, sir.” She bit the inside of her bottom
lip, holding in the urge to argue.

With a sigh, he leaned back in the chair. “I
have people demanding I take you off this case.”

She narrowed her eyes, hiding fisted hands.
She could guess exactly who a couple of those people were.

Watching her closely, Michaels added, “Kurtz
and Johnson want to take this case.”

She wasn’t surprised at the names of two of
the most insufferable jerks in her department. “They’ve wanted this
case the entire time.” She met the captain’s gaze. “They can’t have
it. Daily’s hurt, but what I did followed protocol. You have no
right--”

He interrupted. “No right? Both of you could
have died last night.”

The memory of glowing red eyes and mouths
full of fangs flashed in her mind. “I took care of it,” she
hedged.

Michaels leaned back, rubbing his chin. “Did
you, now?”

“The men attacking us were gone by the time
the cruiser arrived, weren’t they?” she asked, staring above his
head, unable to look him in the eye.

He slapped his desk. “All right. You’re still
on the case. But you’ll be working with someone.”

She bit her lip. Arguing would be futile.
“Who?”

“His name’s Brandon Wulfgar. He’s a...
specialist... from Moss Creek.”

She blinked. The name of the town was
familiar. It hit her. The place their previous suspect had
supposedly been killed in a shoot out.

Someone knocked at the door.

Michaels said, “Enter.”

“You asked me to meet you here?” The voice,
smooth as silk, masculine and amused, shivered down her spine.

She stiffened as the man from the night
before strode in as if he owned the place. He stopped beside her,
towering over her six-foot height, something she was generally
unused to.

Her nails poked painfully against her skin.
“Captain?”

Michaels watched her. “Meet your temporary
partner, Brandon Wulfgar.”

For a long second, she couldn’t speak out of
disbelief. Stepping forward, she waved at the giant. “Do you know
what he claims to be? This guy is seriously disturbed.”

The giant raised a brow, crossing his arms
against his over-muscled chest.

“What does he claim to be?” Michaels
asked.

“A... a vampire,” she sputtered.

Michaels looked at the man. “Are you?”

“Aye,” Brandon replied.

“Hmm. I was curious what you’d be, coming all
the way down here.”

Celeste looked from one to the other, unable
to comprehend she was hearing this being discussed as matter of
fact.

Michaels’ gaze flickered to her. “He kept you
safe last night. He’ll do the same while you’re working
together.”

Still stupefied, she looked around the room,
trying to figure out at what point in time she’d walked into
Wonderland. Then, latching onto the rays of the sun shining through
the window, she said, “He can’t be a vampire. It’s daylight.”

The man beside her chuckled, a rumbling sound
from deep inside. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

The fact they were both serious, and
seriously delusional, made her breath catch. “Captain?”

His lined face softened. “You saw the other
side last night. If you want to deny it, that’s your right. But I
can’t let you keep working on this case unless you can deal with
knowing there really are creatures of the night out there.”

Her legs felt weak, her arms stiff. She
opened her mouth, closed it, not sure what to say. She couldn’t,
wouldn’t, let this case slip through her hands. Whoever was out
there killing people had to pay. She’d be the one to get justice
for Baby, and all the others. If she had to work with crazy people
to do it, well, she’d worked with worse in her life.

Her teeth snapped together as she embraced
her anger, pulling herself together. “I’m staying on this
case.”

She glanced at Brandon, meeting his gaze. The
blue of his eyes were surrounded by a circle of red. She didn’t
know what the hell she was getting herself into, but there was no
other choice she could live with.

Chapter
three

Celeste led Brandon through the bullpen,
barely noticing the assessing looks from the other cops at their
desks. She could feel the giant stalking behind her.

Her hand drifted to the bite marks on her
neck before she caught herself. Stiffening, she walked faster.

His very presence was an electrical pulse
crawling over her skin. She scowled at the annoyance.

In a room off the back hall, far from her
office, the files from the earlier case had been stacked over a
long conference table. The walls were bare, had been since the Moss
Creek Sheriff confirmed killing the murderer.

Now it was time to go over everything again
and find some clue to figure out who was really behind it all.

She shot a glance at Brandon as he nudged the
lid off one of the boxes. He glanced at the top paper, then turned
to her. “How do you expect these to help? The demon responsible for
the earlier killings is dead.”

“Demon?” she asked sarcastically.

He raised an eyebrow. “You still don’t
believe, even after what you saw last night?”

“I don’t know what I saw last night,” she
replied, determined to hold onto her sanity.

“Then let me show you.” His eyes glowed, the
blue disappearing behind a mask of red. He grinned, two fangs
elongating to curve down past his bottom lip.

Then he was gone.

She tried to turn around, but his vise-like
hands clamped on her shoulders. A shiver crawled down her spine at
the strength of his grip. She struggled against his hold as her
breathing shallowed.

Brandon stared at Celeste’s exposed neck, a
strange heat surging up his chest at the sight of the healing bites
from the vamps he’d killed the night before. He could hear her
heart pounding, feel the small tremors racing through her.

He hadn’t meant to scare her, but no one
could stop that primal reaction when faced with something like him.
And afraid she was, no matter the stiff broom holding her back
perfectly straight.

“Let me go,” she growled.

The sound of her voice, slightly accented,
smoke and honey, pushed rational thought from his mind. He lowered
his mouth, hovering just above her tanned skin and let one of his
fangs lightly touch her.

She shivered.

He swallowed his own primitive urges and got
back to the task at hand. “I could pull you under right now. Make
it so that you turned, holding tight to me, while I drank you
blood, your very life essence.”

“I doubt that. No one controls me,” she
replied tartly.

He let go and stepped back. She turned,
gasping as she saw his face.

“It’s not a matter of control. It’s a matter
of desire,” he replied.

She stiffened, her chin jerking up. “I don’t
desire you.”

“Perhaps not yet. But deep inside, you can
sense what I am. And you fear it. The only way your mortal soul can
deal with that knowledge is to either fight or run, or change it
into desire. Need.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know who
you
are, but I’m not like that.”

“Really?” He snapped his teeth and she
flinched.

He’d not thought it possible for her back to
get any straighter, but she somehow managed it.

“You planning on just trying to intimidate me
all day? ‘Cause it’s not working.”

“Hmm.”

Striding to the table, anger radiating from
every line of her body, she stated, “If you’re not going to help,
then leave. Otherwise, let’s get started.”

His lips curled into a sneer. “As you
wish.”

Hours later, Celeste had sorted through boxes
of files, pinning notes and pictures on the boards covering the
walls. She sighed, leaning back in her chair, and stared at the
only blank wall left.

“I told you it wouldn’t be of help. The demon
who did all this is dead.”

She sipped at her coffee, wrinkled her nose
at the taste, then stared at him. “And you’re not a cop.
If
what you say is true,” she drew out the word in disbelief, making
him tense, “we still have these new murders. If it’s a copycat,
they knew the first guy. There is a connection. We just have to
find it.”

“I guarantee you, the demon is dead,” he
stated between clenched teeth.

She stiffened at his tone of voice. “Look, I
don’t know you from Adam. Why should I trust you? Especially since
you claim to be some monster?”

Anger pricked at him, but he breathed deeply,
controlling his temper. “Because I don’t lie.”

“Humph. Everyone lies in one way or
another.”

Curiosity roused, he asked, “How do you
lie?”

Her glare nearly seared him. “I wasn’t
talking about me.”

He figured the wisest course was to stay
quiet.

After a tense minute of silence, she reached
for the last box still on the table. “These are the recent
murders.”