Dark Fire (17 page)

Matt Brodrick was watching her, his eyes narrowed and mean. "I know they need human servants to watch over them during the day. That's what you are. Where are they?"

"You need help, Brodrick. Seriously, you need intense therapy." She wondered if Darius knew the reporter had been involved in the attempt on Desari's life.

"You're one of them," Brodrick accused her again. "You help me find them while they're sleeping, or I'll have to destroy you."

Tempest was wading faster downstream while Brodrick kept pace along the bank. Her heart seemed to be racing as fast as the water itself. "The truth is, you've told me too much already, Brodrick. You have no other choice but to kill me. I'm not about to tell you where Darius and Desari or the other members of the band are, but they aren't in coffins, and I'm not about to help you put them there."

His lip drew back in an ugly snarl. "Did you know one of the band members disappeared some months ago? I think they killed him. He probably wasn't one of them, and they were just using him for blood until he ran dry."

"You have a sick mind, Brodrick." Tempest was looking around frantically for a way to get free of him. They were so secluded, and she was certain she had left the perimeter of safety Darius was always on her about. If she ever got out of this mess, he'd likely give her a lecture she'd never forget.

She sent her mind seeking into the forest, the sky, calling on the aid of the animals in the general vicinity, needing information, an impression of a hiding place nearby. Brodrick was mumbling to himself, angry with her for not doing as he wished. Very slowly, he withdrew a small revolver. "I think you'd better reconsider."

Tempest could feel the pull of the current on her legs. It was much stronger now, the water louder, more aggressive. She didn't want to run into any unexpected waterfalls, and she was afraid that, or rapids, was where she was heading. She waded to the opposite bank from Brodrick, although still within easy range of his gun. She was still barefoot, her shoes strung around her neck by the laces. What an attractive way to die, she decided. And who else would get caught shoeless when she had to make a break for it across the rocky, uneven ground? What was it about her that attracted trouble?

Far above the bird screamed again, a high-pitched, unusual cry. She instantly received the impression of a steep cliff. She was out of the water, back pedaling quickly, keeping her eyes warily on the gun. It never wavered from her heart, though Brodrick didn't follow her across the fast-moving stream. Evidently he didn't want to get his shiny shoes wet.

His first shot reverberated loudly. A bullet whined close to her ear and kicked up dirt and pine needles several feet behind her. Tempest stumbled backward but refused to run. The rocks underfoot were sharp, tearing at her soles. The lacerations barely registered, though as a second shot had her backpedaling again, moving as fast as she could, her gaze riveted on the ugly little gun.

Time seemed to slow down. She could see individual leaves rustling in the faint wind, hear the bird overhead scream its warning. She even noticed the way Brodrick's eyes became flat and cold. She kept moving backward.

"Why are you doing this? What if you're wrong? Then you have killed an innocent person because you think her traveling companions are vampires. I'm out here in the hot sun, in broad daylight. Doesn't that tell you anything?" She tried to buy herself time.

"That mark on you is all the proof I need," Brodrick explained. "You're their human servant."

"Then half the teenagers in America are slaves to vampires. Don't be stupid, Brodrick. I'm a mechanic, nothing else." The rocks were slicing her feet, and Tempest was beginning to feel desperate. There had to be a way out of this mess.

Behind her, she felt empty space under the heel of one foot. The rocky expanse ended abruptly on the edge of a cliff. She stood on that edge, over open air. She could feel the unstable dirt beneath her feet crumbling. The bird screamed again, this time much closer, but she didn't dare take her eyes from Brodrick to look up at the sky or behind her.

"Jump," he ordered, grinning at her, waving the gun. "If you don't jump, I'm going to take great pleasure in shooting you."

"It might be preferable," Tempest said grimly. Falling to her death didn't seem highly desirable.

Tempest, I can feel your fear.
The voice was calm and steady, with no hint of haste or emotion. Your
heart beats far too fast. Look at what it is you fear, that I may also see what you have gotten yourself into.
Darius sounded far away, miles away, a disembodied voice.

She kept her eyes trained on Brodrick.
I'm certain he was partially responsible for the attempt on Desari's life a few months ago. He said as much.
She stared intently at the gun.

Brodrick pulled the trigger, the bullet striking inches from her foot, the ricochet zinging off a rock and flying into space. Tempest cried out, losing her precarious balance, her arms flailing to aid in regaining her footing.

She never saw the gun turning slowly but surely toward Matt Brodrick's temple, never saw his finger tightening on the trigger. She wasn't a witness to the beads of perspiration dotting his forehead or the horror in his eyes. Tempest never saw the weird battle with Brodrick's unseen opponent, the struggle for control of the weapon. In Darius's present state, with his great strength low in the daylight hours, he had to use tremendous mental powers to overcome the human's own strength. She heard the loud report of the gun as she fell over the cliff's edge.

Darius swore, deep within the ground. Tempest
would
get into trouble now, of all times. It was still too early to rise; he was weak and vulnerable, unable to go personally to her side. Few but the strongest, the most ancient of his kind, could give aid at such a time. Only his iron will, honed by centuries of enduring, and his terrible need of her allowed him to do battle with the human who threatened her. With the sun high, with the earth covering him, still his will prevailed.

Tempest's fingernails scraped frantically at the cliff's side, trying to secure a purchase that she might prevent herself from falling to her death. She slid, the crumbling dirt and rocks scoring her hands and breaking her fingernails as she fought the soil for anything she might hold onto. It was a tree root jutting out of the craggy rocks that broke her fall. It hit her squarely in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Still, she grabbed it with both hands, hanging on with all her strength while she wheezed and fought for air.

Even her slight weight made the root teeter precariously so that she cried out and wrapped her arms around it, her legs dangling helplessly in the air. Above her, she heard the rush of wind, wings beating strongly as the huge bird plummeted toward her, diving straight for her face. Tempest buried her eyes in the crook of her arm and remained as still as she was able, terrified she was near the large bird's nest.

She had never seen an eagle, but the bird was too large to be anything else. The eyes were beady and clear, the beak hooked and wicked looking. The wing span had to be close to six feet. Tempest was certain she must have fallen near its nest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated like a litany.

The bird had pulled up sharply and was once again circling, dropping lower as it did so. Tempest took a cautious look around. The fall was steep and long, several hundred feet. She would never survive. She glanced up, trying to determine whether she had a chance of climbing. At any moment she expected Brodrick to lean over the edge and take another shot at her.

Above her, the cliff was too steep, and she couldn't see a single indentation to try for with her fingertips. How long could she hold on? Darius would come for her, but not until nightfall. How many hours could she hang suspended there? And would the flimsy root hold? She could see the dirt falling away at the base of it, and the wood itself was rotten and dry. Her arms held the slender length in a death grip.

Tempest. The bird will make another pass for you. As it approaches, release the root.
As always, Darius sounded tranquil; they could have been discussing the weather.

If I let go, I'll fall, Darius.
She did her best not to sound hysterical, but if there was ever a moment when it was warranted, she figured this was it.

Trust me, honey, I will not allow you to die. The bird will carry you to safety.

It isn't strong enough. I weigh a hundred pounds.

I will aid it. Do as I say, Tempest. It is making its dive now.

She felt more than the mesmerizing, hypnotic persuasion of his voice; he was mentally pushing at her. She felt the need, the compulsion to obey him. He was implacable in his resolve. No one defied Darius.

Tempest heard the long, keening cry as the raptor plummeted toward her. She could feel her heart slamming with alarming force against her chest. Dangerous as it sounded, she was going to do what Darius had ordered. She couldn't stop herself. Already the need to obey was upon her, loosening her death grip on the root she never could have released if Darius hadn't commanded her to do so.

The bird raced at her, talons extended. With an inarticulate cry, Tempest let go. Instantly she was falling through space. The raptor was a terrifying sight as it came at her, its feathers blowing in the rush of air as it descended, its speed incredible. At the last moment Tempest closed her eyes. The sharp talons snagged her in midair, digging through clothing into soft skin, puncturing painfully. Then they dropped together, the bird's enormous wings flapping hard to keep them aloft, to compensate for the extra weight of its burden. Her shoes swung and nearly choked her, and she had to clutch at them to keep from being strangled by the laces.

Pain burned through her, her neck, her ribs on fire. Drops of blood traced down her sides to her hips. The eagle gripped her harder with its claws as it fought to bring her to safety. It was unable, even with Darius's help, to lift her above the cliff, so it made its way to the nearest outcropping, dropping her onto the ground. But its talons were caught in her ribs, its wings flapping strongly in an effort to break free. Tempest tried to help, extracting the piercing claws digging into her muscles. Then she collapsed into a heap on a pile of pine needles and dirt and rocks as the large bird rose high and soared away.

Tempest pressed her hand to her side, and her palm came away stained with blood. She coughed several times to relieve the pressure on her throat. Still, there was no doubt in her mind that this was a better fate than being shot or falling to her death on the rocks below. She struggled to a sitting position and tried to assess the damage done to her body and where she might be. Despite what she told Darius, she had a terrible sense of direction.

I know. Stay where you are.

Tempest blinked, unsure whether she had really heard his voice or whether she merely wanted to hear it. He was so far away from her. She tried to rise, focusing on the sound of water. Where was Matt Brodrick? As weak as she was, she couldn't afford to run into him, but she needed to get to the water.

Wait
for me, Tempest.
The voice was stronger this time, an order if she'd ever heard one.

She supposed he had the right to sound imperious when he was always having to save her, but it grated just the same. Tempest staggered toward the stream, ignoring her screaming muscles, the sound of the bird calling to Darius, and the fear that Brodrick might come dashing at her at any moment. The only thing that mattered to her was reaching the water.

The stream was icy cold, and she lay down in it, full length, wanting the water to soothe the burning slashes in her skin, to numb her enough that she could think again. She stared up at the blue sky and saw only the agitated bird. She sat up slowly and pulled herself to the streambank. The wind combined with the icy water began to seep inside her, and she started to shake.

You should have stayed within the perimeters I set for you,
Darius said quietly, with only the slightest edge to his voice.

Shut
up about your stupid perimeters,
she snapped. Even though she'd expected it, she couldn't bear to be lectured over some idiot reporter who thought he was on to a nest of vampires. The hell with that. "What are you saying?" she asked herself aloud. "There is a nest of vampires. Or maybe it's called a coven of Carpathians. No, covens are for witches. But whatever it is, it isn't my fault that some nut wants to shoot everyone."

Her neck and side were throbbing. So were the soles of her feet. She examined one, winced, and put them back in the water.
It isn't safe around you, Darius. Things just happen. Bizarre things.

It is very safe around
me,
but
you
do not know your limits, and you seem to have a problem listening to reason. If you had stayed where you were supposed to stay, none of this would have happened.

"Oh, go to hell," she muttered aloud, certain he couldn't possibly hear her. Did he have to be so blasted superior all the time? She hurt everywhere; the last thing she wanted to do was listen to an infuriating male. Not that she wasn't grateful for his help. She could tell by his voice, by the fact that he was so far away, that his intervention had been difficult. Still, that didn't give him the right to chastise her, did it?

I
have the right because you belong to me and I can do no other than to see to your safety and happiness.
The voice was calm and very masculine, holding a dark promise she didn't want to think about.

"You can do no other than shut up," she muttered resentfully. Clenching her teeth against the pain, she eased her shoes from around her neck. She didn't want Matt Brodrick sneaking up on the campsite and shooting Desari or Darius from some bush.

He cannot,
Darius said soothingly. This time there was a hint of laughter in his voice at her rebellion.

Go to
sleep or whatever it is you do,
she snapped. I'll
make sure no one can hurt you.
She added the last just to set his teeth on edge.