Shadows of Fire (4 page)

“Benjamin.”
The woman gracefully pushed past Reese and grabbed the cat from Josh. With her
attention on the animal, Reese replaced both his mask and helmet and directed
her to the door. He’d carry her if he had to. But at the moment there was no
imminent danger and he could let her move at her own pace to safety.

White
walls of steam had replaced the black smoke in the hall. The orange glow was
gone, leaving only the heaviness of the night and the thudding sound of an axe
against a wall. A stove fire. Josh broke off to check on the charred apartment
and help the others assess the walls for hot spots. The supply of water no
longer needed, the hose lay limp and flat at their feet.

Reese
led Mrs. Linscott and her feisty cat down the stairs and into the waiting
embrace of her worried daughter.

Deputy
Chief Sykes was focused on the radio as Reese moved to the engine. “We’ve got
another call,” he said simply. Reese didn’t need to hear any more. He’d learned
to read the man months ago. Though his words were calm, tension sluiced off Sykes
in waves and Reese immediately ran to the building to help Timmons and Josh
retract the hose.

“Colton,
Burkett and Timmons with me in the engine.” He heard over his radio. “We’ll
leave McLeod with the tanker. They’re calling in everyone. Let’s get moving.
This one’s big.”

* * * *

Alex
swiped at the sticky table, stifling another yawn with the back of her hand.
She’d deposited Hope safely back at her apartment, wishing she too could have
headed home. But she refused to let Glenn think there was something to his
concern and Alex had returned to the tavern intent on getting through their
nightly closing routine.

Before
the last three patrons left, Alex had cleaned the small kitchen. The grease was
scooped and turned off and the dishwasher was sanitizing the last load of dishes.
This night, without Chris to help in the kitchen, they hadn’t served anything
that wasn’t pre-packaged, couldn’t be nuked or dropped in the deep fryer. It
hadn’t really mattered. Patrons coming to O’Malley’s in the late evenings
during the week weren’t looking for their comfort to come from food. They
searched for solace in the bottom of a beer bottle or shot glass.

Co-owning
a family tavern like O’Malley’s had been her lifeline over the years. Thirty
years was a long time to tend bar and draw drafts. Customers of the tavern
didn’t seem to notice that she hadn’t aged in that time. Though the lack of
wrinkles was a definite plus, Alex detested being a creature of the night. Most
vamps enjoyed the company of their own and sought the rowdier establishments in
the valley. Not Alex. Solitude and quiet were more her speed. This tavern
nestled in the quiet hills, offered cover for her true identity. It was also
remote enough to keep prying eyes from discovering her clandestine activities.
With everything set in motion, she only needed another month, maybe two, and
then she’d move away without anyone, including Glenn, knowing what she’d been
doing.

Until
then, she’d keep up appearances.

Not
wanting Glenn to discover how she suffered, Alex kept her complaints to herself
as he wiped up the dark marble of the bar and she moved on to mopping the floor.
Next he’d cover the drink garnishes and transfer them to the fridge in the
back. Their routine was a graceful ballet they’d performed so many nights, the
choreography required nothing more than the pulsing rhythm of the late night
show playing on the corner television.

She
hated lying to the ancient vampire. Glenn had been one of the original vampire
clan who’d come over from Europe in the late 1700s. He’d settled in South
Kenton years before she’d arrived as a fresh-faced college kid from back east
ready to find her independence and take on the world. It hadn’t quite unfolded
as she’d planned. After her
accident
, Glenn had been like a loving
father. He’d nurtured her, helped her control the beast and taught her what it
meant to be immortal. She, in turn, had bought an owner’s share of the tavern
and used her chemistry skills to help perfect their blood wine.

Glenn
believed in the vampire codes and that immortality was a blessing bestowed on
only a select few humans strong enough to survive the transition. Alex believed
it was an unnatural curse that had stolen her life. She would go to any lengths
to be sure no other human had to suffer the way she had.

 If
Glenn knew what she was up to, Alex had no doubt it would break his heart. As
much as she hated what she was—she loved the man who had created her.

She’d
become accustomed to the now familiar ache. Knowing she could satiate it
shortly, Alex kept moving. “Push through the next thirty minutes and the night
is yours,” she mumbled, trying to convince her body to ignore the gnawing in
her gut and the throb at her temples. There was only one thing that pushed the
nausea and dizziness back into the void. As exhausted as she was—sleep wasn’t
it.

“Alex?”
Her name was spoken with persistence, pushing through the fog of self-absorption.
“I think you need to see this.” Glenn grabbed the television remote, turning up
the volume.

Alex
stared in disbelief at the television.

Hope
stood in front of the camera, the chaotic scene behind her incongruent with her
calm voice and flawless appearance.
She’d gotten there so quickly.

“…
the home of Professor Paul Morgan.” Hope looked down briefly at her notes. “We
know several surrounding towns have been called in to fight the blaze, but we have
no information whether anyone was in the home.” The cameraman zoomed in on the
mansion quickly being devoured by the deadly fire. Firefighters in heavy gear
worked hoses spewing water that didn’t seem to be slowing the progression of
the flames.

“I
hope to hell they got him out.” Glenn turned to her. “Alex, you all right? You’re
ashen.” He moved to come around the bar, but she waved him off. “I shouldn’t
have said that. I’m sorry. I’m sure they got him out.”

Dread
and uncertainty made her light-headed, compounding the nausea churning in her
gut. The professor’s life wasn’t her concern, but she wasn’t beyond using it
for an excuse. “I’ve got to go find out if the professor’s all right.” Grateful
the lie didn’t trip her tongue, Alex removed the apron and left it balled on
the bar. “The kitchen’s done. You just need to lock up.”

“Let
me drive you.”

“No.”
The word came out hard and emphatic. “I’m sorry, Glenn. I just meant, no.” She
held up her hands and backed toward the door. “I just don’t want to wait for
you to lock up.”

Glenn
nodded, his brow furrowed in confusion and worry. Alex loved him for accepting
whatever she said. There was no way he could find out where she was headed.

“I’ll
call you as soon as I know anything,” Alex said over her shoulder, fleeing into
the night. Stumbling through the parking lot, she worked to swallow the bile
filling her throat. Nothing was going right. She could only pray the fire had
swallowed her secrets long before the fire department had arrived, but she
didn’t have the strength to check.

Why
hadn’t she stayed longer at the mansion after her visit with the good
professor?

* * * *

The
man staggered toward his car in the shadowed corner of a deserted parking lot.
The cab the bartender called had dropped him off without a word. Enough money
bought anyone’s silence. Besides, he didn’t intend to drive in this condition.
His dinner, dessert and late night snack had been of the liquid variety. He’d
sleep a few hours in the back seat of his car before returning home to his
wife. She didn’t like it when he didn’t beat the sun home. She’d like it even
less if she knew he was drinking again. Sobriety had been an infrequent guest
in their marriage and every time the proverbial wagon arrived, she prayed he’d
ride it into the sunset.

The
crumpled pink slip in his front pocket had caused this particular fall. He wasn’t
sure he’d be able to pull himself back up from the depths this time. Right now
it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except finding a quiet place to settle his
tired bones. The alcohol rushing through his bloodstream made his head spin and
his feet unsteady beneath him. The car keys in his hand had a mind of their own
as he attempted to slot them into the door lock.

“You
need some help?”

Though
it was no more than a whisper in the darkness, the voice startled him. He
turned in circles, finding nothing but deep shadows and the hiss of the wind. A
cold trickle of fear snaked down his back. “Christ, now I’m hallucinating.” His
heart pounded harder in his ears and he took great gulps of air, wishing it
would clear his head. Focusing once again on the lock before him, he hoped the
multiple keys swimming in his vision would miraculously find their way home.
“Alone and hearing things, not a good sign.”

The
air pulsed oddly around him.

“That’s
where you’re wrong.” The long fingers sliding down his arm belonged to the hard
body pressed firmly to his back. Soft lips caressed his neck, behind his ear.
“I’m no hallucination and you’re definitely not alone.”

He
tried to turn, but strong fingers held his chin.

“Who
are you? What do you want?” His questions slurred through pickled lips.

“It’s
not really what I
want
.” The hand on his arm slid down his waist and
across his hip before slipping between the car and his jeans, palming his
crotch. “It’s what I can
offer
you.” The deep, sultry voice filtering
through his drunken stupor, quivered down his belly, and settled in his groin.
From the timbre he couldn’t tell if the person unzipping his jeans was male or
female, but he wasn’t a queer, so the answer was obvious to him.

“People
will see,” he managed to croak as his erection escaped from the confines of his
boxers. “We could get in the car.”

“I
like it just fine out here.” The person behind him had a firm grip on him and
expertly stroked his length, drawing a sigh from him. “There’s no one near.” A
silken tongue ran liquid heat up his neck. “Besides, you don’t really want me
to stop. Do you?”

He
canted his hips, making room between him and the car door. No, he didn’t want
the hand to stop. Looking down, he stared at the strong fingers pumping him
faster. The thumb and forefinger squeezed the mushroom head, bringing forth
just enough pain to heighten his pleasure. Damn, this felt amazing. Of their
own volition, his hips moved in opposition to the up-and-down slide.

“You
like what I’m doing?” The words were hot against his skin. Teeth grazed the
tender pulse in his neck.

He
grunted, wanting only to focus on the sublime pressure building in his low back
and the impending explosion of ecstasy tingling in his spine and making his
knees quiver. The pain at his neck barely registered as the stranger’s
masterful technique brought him to orgasm hard and fast, zinging sparks of
bliss along every nerve in his body.

The
hand continued to milk him, spreading heat down the length of his shaft. He
wanted to turn and thank the person who had jacked him off so competently, but loving
hands suddenly became steel grips. One mercilessly squeezed his dick while the
other reached up to tangle in his hair and jerk his head to the side.

As
his moans of pleasure were replaced by screams of agony, he saw someone step
from the shadows. He reached out, but when they didn’t move to help, he
suspected he only imagined their presence.

The
silken tongue that had laved his throat so gently now sucked and slurped,
matching the throbs of agony radiating from his neck. Liquid ran down his
shoulder and onto his chest and even in the muddled wash of alcohol, he
understood his life was being drained from him.

In
a final attempt to save himself, he flailed his arms and legs against his
tormentor’s body, but it had become a solid wall. Muscles turned to steel and
the iron grip of his captor’s hands pressed him firmly against the car. He
attempted to draw breath, but couldn’t seem to completely fill his lungs to
scream for help.

His
world spun in dizzying circles, pulling him down into a deep vortex of black.

* * *
*

Under
the guise of looking for hot spots, Reese carried an axe through the charred
remains of the second-floor master bedroom. Though most of the ceiling and the
roof above him were missing, the pre-dawn blanket of stars winking through the
thin clouds did nothing to illuminate the piles of debris littering the floor.
He didn’t need the light on his shoulder, but it wouldn’t do for a fireman to
search without it.

The
exterior wall in front of him had been destroyed. The hint of dawn outlined the
pines on the eastern horizon. Sunrise was only a couple of hours away. Not much
time to find what they sought. Somewhere in the scorched wreckage of the
professor’s mansion, Reese hoped to find some clue to the fires that plagued
South Kenton.

One
of only a handful of humans who knew about vampires, Paul Morgan had been
secretly working with the tribunal. Everyone had hoped his work developing a
blood alternative would be a huge step in the evolution of the vampire species.
Though he’d never wanted to become immortal himself, the man had been
singularly focused on helping creatures few believed existed. Vampire artifacts
and religious symbols lay in the burnt ruins of the professor’s office. Reese
had no doubt the good professor had somehow attracted the attention of the
rogue vamp committing murders and burying them in the destructive fires that
had been plaguing the town over the last year.