Flameout (3 page)

“You don't believe that any more than I do.” I paused, then added softly, “He knew we were coming, Sam.”

“It wasn't Rochelle.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, because I didn't tell her. Only my boss knew what was going on tonight.”

“Your boss, and the security team who monitors your every move.”

He hesitated then nodded. “They wouldn't have given her the information, though.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Yes.” His voice was flat. “It wasn't her, Em.”

I let it go. It was pointless arguing, because he was never going to believe that the woman he was sleeping with would betray him that way.

Which was odd given his belief that I
had
.

Of course, my betrayal had come out of necessity rather than choice—something he'd refused to hear back then. He knew the truth now, when it was all far too late.

“Then there's the magic—”

“Magic?” he cut in. “Where?”

I waved a hand to the black patch of soil that had once held the spell stone. “And it was a strong spell, too, but it's one that can't be set up too far in advance.”

His gaze swept me, and it was a cold, judgmental thing. “Since when did you become an expert in magic?”

“I'm not, but I've been around a very—”

He clapped a hand over my mouth, the movement so fast I squeaked in surprise. He released me almost
immediately and motioned me to remain silent as his gaze swept the night and his expression grew dark.

“Fuck,” he said, his voice a low growl. “That's all we need.”

“What?” I kept my reply low and studied the trees around us. I couldn't see anything out of place, nor could I sense anything or anyone approaching. But the senses of a vampire—or even a pseudo vampire—were far sharper than those of a phoenix. I might be able to sense the heat in others, but if they
had
none, or if it was concealed in some way, it left me as blind as any human.

Which meant, if there
was
a threat out there, it could really have only one source.

His next words confirmed my fears.

“Vampires,” he said. “Six of them. And they're coming straight at us.”

“W
hy the fuck are
vampires
here?”

Surely Parella wouldn't have gone back on his promise? Not yet, anyway. He was smart enough to realize the notes wouldn't be found here, in the grave of a man who'd been buried over a year ago. Granted, it would make a brilliant hiding spot if you
did
want to hide something, but it wouldn't be an easy place to access—and De Luca had said he'd doled out the research notes on an as-needed basis.

“Until we know which faction they belong to,” Sam bit back, “it's kinda hard to say.”

My gaze jumped to his. “So you do think they're sindicati?”

“Who else would they be?” He began reloading his gun. “They're the biggest crime syndicate in the city—human, wolf,
or
vampire. And while the rest of them might know there's a problem in Brooklyn, they're not—as far as we know—aware of its source.”

Because PIT was keeping them—and everyone else—in the dark about both the virus and the red cloaks. The trouble in Brooklyn had certainly been in the news of late, but everyone still blamed the crooks and the homeless who'd once called that place home. “That doesn't mean it can't be someone else. Hell, for
all we know, it's just a random gang of vamps out for bit of fun and bloodshed.”

He snorted. “Most vamps these days know better than to try something like that. Besides, no one else but the sindicati have links to the cloaks. I doubt it's coincidence they're here at the same time.”

I scanned the night but still couldn't see or sense them. “Can you tell the mood they're in from this distance?”

“They're vampires, so no. But I suspect they're not coming here to discuss the weather.” He gave me a somewhat deadpan look, but the hint of a smile once again teased the corners of his lips. “Let's move into the middle of the clearing. It'll give me more shooting time.”

Only by a fraction, given the speed with which vampires could move. But I guessed a fraction was better than nothing. I didn't immediately follow him, however, but instead walked over to the floodlight to shut it down. The darkness might be more the vampire's friend than mine, but I didn't need my eyesight compromised by the brightness of that light if I happened to glance at it, either.

“How are we going to play this?” I stopped beside Sam once more and flexed my fingers. Heat burned through my body, but I kept my weapon leashed.

He raised an eyebrow, the amusement stronger. “It's simple. You burn them; I'll shoot them.”

“And if they're not here to actually harm us?”

“If they aren't here to harm us, they wouldn't be coming at us full speed and in stealth mode.” He paused, gaze narrowing. “They've just split up. Three of them are circling around behind us.”

Coming at us from two directions was definitely better than coming at us from all sides—although
that
might yet be their plan. “You know, it might be a whole lot more sensible right now to get the hell out of here.”

“Probably.”

“Then why aren't we?”

“Because while you're a spirit capable of speed and flight, I'm merely human.”

“Not when you're infected by the virus, you're not.” I studied him, eyes narrowed. Saw within him the desire to stand his ground and fight. “This is stubbornness and pride: nothing more, nothing less.”

“Perhaps.” The amusement faded. “But—infected or not—I'm not as fast as those vamps. Faster than I once was, yes, but they
will
run me down. I'd rather stand my ground than be hunted like an animal.”

“Which is a logical enough excuse, but we both know I was right the first time.”

I flexed my fingers again. My skin glowed a vivid red, but I continued to keep the sparks and flames in check. I wasn't about to waste energy, not when I'd already expended a lot calling up the mother to crisp the red cloaks.

“You can hardly call me stubborn when there's nothing stopping you from doing the sensible thing and getting the hell out of here.” That hint of amusement was back in his voice and it sent a warm shiver down my spine.

“Sensible never was one of my better traits.”
Especially
when it came to this man. “Besides, I didn't save your butt from the red cloaks just to have vampires turn around and kill you.”

“Death doesn't frighten me.”

“Does anything actually frighten you these days?”

His gaze met mine and something within me stilled. Just for an instant, everything we'd once shared—all the heat, the passion, and the love—surged between us. But it was gone just as quickly, leaving in its wake the bitter ashes of memory and regret.

“Yes.” He looked away. “I fear becoming what my brother is. Or, worse, one of the mad ones.”

“If that was what fate intended, you would have turned down that path by now.”

“Maybe.” His voice was flat. “But the poison still crawls through my veins, Em, and every day it grows stronger.”

“But so do you.” Thankfully, my voice was free of the fear that surged at his words. “You're in far greater control now than you seemed to be when I first met you.”

“Because I finally gave in to the inevitable.” His voice was edged with bitterness, but before I could question what he meant, he added, “Back-to-back. They're almost on us.”

I obeyed. Even through his clothing, I could feel the coolness of his skin. But there was strength there, too, and determination, and both were very comforting. He might fear becoming what Luke was, but he wouldn't go down that path easily.

I took a deep breath and slowly released it. It didn't do a whole lot to ease the tension riding me, but then, it never did. I waited, listening, but couldn't hear anything beyond the occasional rustle of possums in the nearby trees.

“Half a minute, if that,” Sam murmured. “Be ready.”

“If I were any more ready,” I bit back, “you'd be soot on the ground right now.”

He chuckled softly. “You know, I really miss your snark.”

And I really miss you
. But I held the words in check. Missing my sarcasm was
not
the same as missing me. This man had broken my heart once already. I couldn't let it happen again, no matter what that stupid part me that refused to let go might want.

“And,” he murmured, “the fun begins.”

With that, he fired. The gunshot echoed through the otherwise hushed cemetery, meaning that
this
time, he wasn't using a silencer. I briefly wondered why, then raised a hand and sent a rope of fire spinning forward. Though it didn't connect with anything, darkness briefly blocked my vision of the tree to my right—a vampire, cloaked in shadows. I narrowed my gaze, formed my fire into a lasso, and flicked it after him. One of the others shouted a warning, but it was already too late. As my lasso settled around his shoulders, I snapped it taut. He screamed and went down, and the smell of burning flesh began to stain the air. But I had no intentions of killing him—or even burning him any more seriously—because a dead man could answer no questions.

I snapped the flames away, but left him entwined in fire and pinned to the ground. Another shot rang out, and this time someone cursed—a sound that was cut off as Sam fired again.
He
obviously wasn't too bothered about uncovering the reason behind the attack.

Another shadow swept past the trees, this time to my left. I flung a stream of fire after him but caught nothing. Maybe he'd ducked behind a tree trunk. I
looped my fire around, intending to flush him out, just as another shot echoed. But this time, it didn't come from Sam's gun.

It came from the vampires.

Sam jerked and swore, the sound a mix of anger and pain. I had no doubt the next shot would either take him out completely, or perhaps even me. Because when I was flesh, I was just as vulnerable to bullets as anyone else. Nor could my flames actually
stop
them—not unless it was a wall of fire thick enough to melt them.

Even so, flames exploded from me. I quickly pulled them back so that I didn't burn Sam and then cast them into a high circle around us. It might not stop bullets but would at least prevent the vampires from seeing where we were and what we were doing.

With that done, I spun and pushed Sam into the open grave.

Though I had to have taken him by surprise, he nevertheless landed on his feet and with little noise.

“What the fuck . . .” He cut the sound off as I landed lightly beside him. A heartbeat later, a bullet pinged off the top edge of the grave, showering us with dirt and grass.

“Unless they want to chance my fire or they've suddenly developed bullets that can turn in midair,” I said, “we're at least safe here.”

“But for how long?” he growled. “You can't hold the fire forever, Em. You're just delaying the inevitable.”

“Let me worry about that. You just stop the fucking bleeding.”

“I won't die of blood—”

“You're only a
pseudo
vampire,” I interrupted.
“Unless you've experienced bleeding out before, you can't be sure of that. Now tend to that wound while I take care of these bastards.”

I called again to the mother. As her power surged, I quickly wove her into the net that already surrounded us, providing not only a backup barrier against the vampires, but one that would protect Sam from the bullets.

But she was also the only thing beside daylight that could force shadows away from vampires. To hunt these bastards quickly and efficiently, I needed to be able to see them properly.

“Em, don't . . .”

But he was talking to air. Or rather, fire. I was already streaking out of the grave and into the wall of heat that was the mother's flames. They wrapped around me, cocooned me, drawing me deeper into the heart of her, where it wasn't only fire but the force of the world, of life itself. It was an intoxicating sensation for any being made of fire and, just for a second, I let it roll through me. God, it would be so easy to let go, to remain forever in her embrace . . .

It was a thought that cut like ice through the growing haze of rapture. I'd never merged with the mother so completely before, and really had no idea just how dangerously alluring it could be. I tore myself free from her grip, even as the tendrils of her energy clung to me, trying to draw me back.

I moved farther away, until those tendrils no longer threatened, then spun. The mother's light had indeed torn the shadows away from the vampires.

Four of the remaining five stalked around the barriers
I'd raised, randomly firing into the flames. Either they had no idea the bullets were melting long before they ever reached their target, or they just didn't care. The fifth vampire was striding toward the vamp I'd lassoed, his gun held loosely by his side. I had no idea if he was about to attempt to release my captive or kill him, but either way, he had to be stopped.

I flung fire at him—not the mother's fire, but my own. It was deadly enough in its own right, but I didn't actually burn him. I just grabbed him, raised him, and threw him—hard—against the nearest tree. Vampires might be able to heal themselves of almost any wound, but they could be knocked out just as easily as humans. There was a loud crack as he hit the tree, suggesting I'd broken either his ribs, an arm, or maybe even both. Not that I really cared—not when our death had obviously been
their
intent.

More shots rang out. Multiple bullets hit me, the metal cold as it tore through my spirit form in an almost endless stream. It seemed whoever had sent them here had failed to tell them guns were an ineffective weapon against spirits of
any
kind.

I cast four streams of fire and sent them spiraling forward. The vampires immediately ran in the opposite direction, but they never had a hope. I caught each one, flung them into trees, and knocked them out.

Once I'd checked that they were all out cold, I released the mother and regained flesh form. My knees hit the ground hard, and a mix of shock and pain reverberated though the rest of me. My whole body shook with the force of it, and I couldn't seem to suck in air fast enough.
This
was the price I paid for
merging—however briefly—with the mother. Had I stayed a few minutes longer, I might not have had the strength to return to my flesh form at all.

And
that
was not only scary, but would have seriously pissed off Rory.

He was my other half, the phoenix I was forever linked to, and the only man I could ever have children with. He was as vital to my continued existence in this world as I was to his, because a phoenix could be reborn only by a ceremony performed by their phoenix partner.

And he really wanted to get through a lifetime without one of us dying before our allotted one hundred years was up.

Given all the shit currently being flung our way, I wasn't sure it was a wish he was going to get in
this
lifetime.

A grunt of pain caught my attention. I sucked in more air then forced my eyes open. Sam had climbed out of the grave and was standing—somewhat precariously—on one leg. Though he'd torn off a shirtsleeve to use as a tourniquet around his left thigh, the stain that darkened his jeans still seemed to be growing, even if at a slower rate.

“You need to call an ambulance,” I all but croaked. “That wound looks bad.”

“And you look even worse.” His voice was grim. Angry.

Help, it seemed, wasn't on his agenda right now. Not for either of us. I briefly felt a little sorry for the vampires.

But only briefly.

I pushed upright. The world spun madly around me, and I thrust a hand against the nearby tree to steady myself. “The one encased in flame is awake. You want to question him?”

“Questioning him
would
be the sensible option.” He hobbled forward, one hand on his wound and blood oozing slowly through his fingers.