Magicstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 4) (10 page)

“You couldn’t figure that out from the
murders?”

“I mean beyond taking a life.” He repressed
the memories as they tried to crawl out of the deep place he’d
shoved them into. “There are many things much worse than
death.”

Like an eon of being tortured, commanded to
do horrible things against one’s will. Like having your very soul
belong to another.

Chapter
ten

Celeste glanced at Brandon as his voice
roughened. His eyes were unfocused, ringed with red, and his jaw
twitched as he clenched his teeth. She almost asked what could be
worse, but the expression on his face stopped her.

It was full of agony and rage.

“So, we’ll check this place out and see what
we find,” she replied, resisting the urge to reach over and take
his hand, try to comfort him.

“Perhaps.”

What was it about this man that delved so
deep inside her and wrenched her emotions around? She could feel
his pain permeating the air. And all she wanted to do was make him
feel better, any way she could.

She touched the fully healed bites on her
neck and shot him a sidelong glance as she weaved through
traffic.

His eyes were unfocused, as if he’d turned
inwards, thinking about things that had hurt deeply.

“I should call some backup in,” she said,
trying to bring him out of his daze.

“Your mortal cops will be unable to help
much, if the one we’re looking for has been there.”

She shrugged, agreeing with him, but not
liking the idea of going in without backup.

“Besides,” he added. “If anyone is there,
more cops will only get in the way. Better it’s just the two of us.
We can stay quiet, scout the area and see if there is anything to
be seen.”

He was silent the rest of the drive, as if
once more lost in his thoughts. When she pulled up to the outer
gates of the complex, she was unsurprised to see the broken
lock.

Brandon got out and swung one of the gates
open, while she headed through. They drove slowly between the
massive buildings, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

“Stop,” he commanded.

She slammed on the brakes. “What?”

Brandon pointed to one of the doors of the
nearest building. The place seemed somehow darker than the others.
She shook her head at the silly thought.

He spoke softly. “There are runes all over
this place.”

“Guess that makes it easy to figure out where
to begin.” She got out of her car, checking her gun and the radio
on her belt. “I’d tell you to stay back and follow me, but you
might be better prepared for anyone we run into.” She didn’t like
admitting it, but she wasn’t stupid, either.

Her gun hadn’t done her any good against the
vampires she’d faced last time.

“Good,” he said, his lips curving up a little
as his eyes flashed approval. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into
staying here?”

“Not a chance, buddy.”

“It would be safer.”

She just stared at him.

“All right. But if there’s magic in there,
you need to do what I say.”

Bristling, she nodded.

They approached the door together, then she
tapped her foot, waiting while Brandon inspected it thoroughly for
any “magic traps”.

Inside, the place was dark. The smell of mud
and mold made her gag. She breathed through her mouth, flicking on
her flashlight and shining it into the gloom.

Beside her, Brandon grunted. “Warning next
time?”

“Let me guess, you can see in the dark.”

“Mostly.”

She stumbled over a loose brick, proving that
she couldn’t. Brandon grabbed her arm, and drew her close to his
side. She fought the urge to pull away. The alternative was
potentially falling on her face onto the glass-littered ground.

They continued into the shadows. There were
no rooms, only concrete pillars. Some were beginning to crumble
from the elements, but luckily they still looked sturdy.

Finally, they reached a staircase leading to
the higher floors. “Let’s go,” Brandon said, pointing. “More
runes.”

She shone her flashlight at the cement
stairs. “I don’t see anything.”

Frustration welled. How was she supposed to
solve a case when she couldn’t even see all the evidence?

“That’s why I’m here,” he quipped.

The second floor was the same undivided
expanse as the first.

“Nothing,” he said, then glanced up at the
ceiling. “But I smell blood up there.”

“Let’s go, then.”

They reached the third story. It had been
renovated more than the others. Halls led every which way, broken
by doorways. Most rooms lacked a door. The few that had them were
locked.

She didn’t bother breaking them down as
Brandon tugged her along. Following the scent of blood?

Then, she smelled it too. Rot, like a
refrigerator gone to spoil. And over that, a coppery tang.

They turned down another hallway in the maze.
Rows of doors lined the walls. “Somehow, I don’t think the
construction guys did the painting,” she whispered.

On each black door, red runes stood out
clearly, each one a different shape.

“Freaky,” she said, staring at them.

“Not quite the word I would choose.”

Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she
started taking pictures. “What word would you use?”

“Dangerous.” The roughness in his voice sent
chills down her neck.

She glanced at him. “You know some of these
marks?”

“Yes.” He swallowed against the tightness of
his throat as dark magic flooded him. Unstoppable memories washed
through his mind.

The sorceress laughed as he knelt on the
ground at her feet, surrounded by a circle of runes like those on
the doors. Beside him, Eric cried out as one of the sorceress’
beasts ripped and bit at his skin.

“No more,” Brandon pleaded helplessly, unable
to move.

“Then you will do as I say?” she asked
sweetly.

“Yes. Just leave him alone.”

She lifted a sharply tipped fingernail to tap
on her ruby red lips, her eyes sparkling with delight. “But the two
of you are so much fun to torture.”

“Leave him be and I will do it,” he replied,
his heart aching for his brother. For himself.

“I want the entire village burned. Kill them
all, but for the young girls. Those, I can use,” she said.

Brandon bit his tongue until he tasted his
own blood against the urge to tell her no. As Eric screamed again,
he lost the last piece of his soul, crying out, “Yes. I’ll do
it.”

Pain spread across his arm and he blinked,
coming back to the present.

Celeste stared up at him with wide eyes, her
nails digging into his skin. “Hey!”

“What?” he answered, though the word barely
made a sound.

“What happened?” she asked.

Glancing around, he finally felt the trap in
the air. It had snagged him, dragging him into the past, into
nightmares.

“It’s the runes. They’re powerful,” he said,
louder this time.

“Did you hear the noise?” she asked.

The hair on his neck prickled. “What
noise?”

She pointed further down the hall. “It was
like a baby crying. Come on.”

“Wait,” he said, but she was already heading
into the darkness. “Damn it.”

The magic grew stronger. He could feel it in
the air, grasping at him, trying to drag him back under. It was
powerful, designed to rip one’s darkest memories out, make them
relive it.

The magic prickled over his skin, like a
drug, but he refused to let it take him again. He would not leave
Celeste alone in this place. He’d not leave her unprotected.

He followed her down the hall, sliding
Tyrfingr
from the sheath on his back. Just in case.

He caught up to her at the last door. At the
sight of the rune, his gut clenched and a spot on the back of his
right thigh flared with fire. The rune, a scythe that looked like a
question mark with a thick black line running horizontally across
the center, was all too familiar. One he could see anytime he
chose, as it had been branded into his skin long ago.

He wanted to tell her not to open that door.
He didn’t want to see what was behind it.

The sound of a baby’s cry came loud and
clear. She reached for the doorknob.

It felt like time slowed. The door creaked
open an inch. Hot air blew over him, stinking of rotten flesh and
dark magics.

He tried again to speak, to tell her to wait,
but she pushed into the room.

His feet felt frozen to the floor. His grip
on the hilt of his blade tightened until it dug deep into his
skin.

It took every ounce of control he could
scrape up, but he followed her through the doorway and into the
darkness that might lead to Hell.

Celeste entered the room, blinded by the
brightness of the sun shining through the windows. A slight breeze,
carrying the flowery scent of her mother’s garden, drifted in as
lacy white curtains swayed.

A crib sat on the far side of the room. Above
it, a mobile of angels turned. Rhythmic music played, like wind
chimes softly ringing.

She approached the crib and caught sight of
the child lying inside.

The poor girl looked starved, thin skin
stretched over the bones beneath. Her face was red, as if she’d
been crying for a long time.

“Oh, baby,” she crooned.

She bent over the wooden crib and reached for
the child. Its eyes snapped open, completely black.

The child cried again, inky tears
flowing.

Agony ripped through Celeste’s mind at the
sound. Her body went numb, and she froze, halfway over the
child.

The girl smiled, showing a mouthful of
sharpened teeth. Claws sprouted from its fingers. It reached for
Celeste, as if begging to be picked up.

Pain slashed over her wrists as claws sliced
into her skin.

She screamed.

The infant wailed, the sound ringing in
Celeste’s head painfully. Its claws dug deeper and the child began
pulling itself up, gouging her arms, as if climbing her. It snapped
its sharpened teeth, staring at Celeste’s throat.

Hunger burned in that black gaze.

A terrible hunger.

And she was the food.

Something hard and heavy knocked her back
from the crib. She careened over the floor, falling to her knees,
staring at the cuts over her arms.

The light went out.

A hand grabbed her chin, gently, and tipped
her head back. Brandon’s voice was steely as he asked, “Are you all
right?”

She blinked, no longer able to hear the
child. “What’s going on?”

“I told you. Powerful magic. Black
magic.”

As the pain spread deeper over her arms, she
replied, “I guess.”

“I smell blood. Fresh.”

“My arms,” she replied.

He drew back. A second later, cloth ripped.
He wrapped the pieces over her wounds. “Best I can do right
now.”

“What is it?”

“My shirt.”

“Thanks.”

“Let’s get out of here,” he grumbled.

She didn’t argue.

He helped her stand, holding her arm as he
led her through the darkness.

“I don’t suppose you know where my flashlight
is?”

“You dropped it. That’s when I knew something
was wrong.”

They continued walking. Far too long.

“Where’s the door?” she asked.

“Good question.”

“The room can’t be this big.”

“It can be whatever it wants.”

“I’m not liking magic at all right now.”

“I know the feeling,” he replied, his grip
tightening as he held her close against him.

They walked some more, the darkness never
easing up. She was blind, being led by a creature of the dark.

At least one of them could see.

“I don’t know how much time has passed, but
we need to be out of here before the sun falls,” Brandon said
uneasily.

“Magic is stronger at night,” she repeated
one of his earlier comments.

“Unfortunately.”

“Wait,” she said, reaching for the phone in
her pocket. She flicked the screen on, relief flooding her from the
light.

“I forgot about that,” he said.

She glanced at him.

His eyes were bright. “Let me see it.”

Handing it over, she waited as he shone the
miniscule light around them in a circle.

“Ah ha.” Grabbing her hand, he kept the phone
shining ahead as he strode through the room.

Finally, a door appeared. She could have wept
at the sight.

He reached for the knob, but it didn’t turn.
“Keep it shining on the door,” he said, handing her the phone.

Then he stepped back, and kicked the
door.

Wood splintered, but didn’t open. He kicked
it again, and again, each impact making the door give way a little
more.

Finally, he burst through.

Brandon reached back for her, and pulled her
from the room.

She breathed a sigh of relief until he said,
“Come on. We’re not out yet.”

They headed back down the hall the way they’d
come, then downstairs, letting the little light from the phone lead
the way.

Once outside, Celeste slumped against her
car, basking in the rays of the setting sun. Brandon slouched next
to her, staring at her arms.

“Tell me what you saw in there,” he
commanded, tightening the bandages.

She glancing up, struck by the wide expanse
of smooth, muscled chest, now bare.

Fire rushed through her.

They were safe. He’d saved her from God knew
what. And he was a damn attractive man.

She didn’t know why all of a sudden she
wanted to wrap her arms around him and feel his body pressed to
hers, taste that wicked mouth again.

Hell, she wanted him with every fiber of her
being.

Instead, she turned away and fumbled in her
pocket for her keys as she told him of the child. She got in the
car, started it, then reached for her phone.