Breath of Fire (4 page)

My heart and my conscience were both lighter as they drove away, but I knew my body would pay for the consequences of my actions later. I just hoped it didn’t take me too long to heal. I had killers to catch.

Chapter Three

My suite of rooms was in the east wing of the house. It was my escape from the heaviness of the rest of the place, and it was warded with what little magic I’d learned to wield over the centuries. I took my privacy seriously and had my own hoard to protect.

My part of the house was completely modern. Clean lines and sleek, black furniture. Low tables. Lots of mirrors and glass. Boldly printed art in bright colors that I’d never attempt to understand. I didn’t particularly love the modern look. That wasn’t the point. The point was that Alasdair hated it, so I’d learned to make do.

I took a shower and put the thought of rest out of my mind. I could go days without sleep if I needed to. I dressed in a pair of tan corduroy slacks, a black cashmere turtleneck and black low-heeled boots. My long wool coat would hide my weapons.

A picture of my disfigured Land Rover came to mind, and I tried to think of a suitable replacement we might have in the garage. I’d need something that could handle the mud and the rough terrain of the roads. I’d bought a black H2 a few months ago and hadn’t gotten a chance to use it yet. It would be perfect for the job. And if I was lucky, I’d even bring it back in one piece. Cal was right. I was hell on automobiles.

I’d stalled in my rooms as long as I could. I’d felt Alasdair’s presence in the lair as soon as he’d flown back into his rooms, but I hadn’t yet felt an elevation to his anger, which meant he didn’t know I’d helped his prisoners escape. I needed to find him and tell him of Jillian’s murder quickly, so I could leave the house for my hunting trip and hopefully avoid the confrontation to come.

I checked my appearance in the mirror that hung over my dresser. My hair framed my face, thick and black, and hung in waves to my lower back. My mother had been human—an Egyptian. And royalty of some sort, though my father refused to speak her name. I knew nothing about her other than what I saw in the mirror. My face was delicately angled with a square jaw and slashing cheekbones. My features were even and nondescript. All except my eyes. They were a touch too exotic, thickly lashed, and the color was purely Alasdair—a dark, stormy grey with streaks of silver so my eyes always looked like they flashed lightning.

I’d heard it mentioned once that I looked a great deal like my mother. It’s only one of the reasons my father hates me so much. Dragons don’t show affection in general—not to their mates and not to their offspring—it’s the human mate’s job to show love and affection, not the dragon’s. It’s seen as a weakness for us to show anything resembling love. Which is a hard concept to understand when most of us have human blood running through our veins, and the desire for such emotions is built in. I know I’ve never understood it. But I’ve learned to bury the need. At least in public.

I checked the clock. Ten thirty. My stomach rumbled, but I pushed the thought of food away. I took a deep breath and headed downstairs to face my father. The ring of chimes echoing through the house saved me from my task. I was grateful for the distraction, but in the back of my mind I thought it best to deal with the devil I already knew. We didn’t get a lot of drive-by traffic in this area, and by not a lot, I meant none. The only thing that could bring someone to our door was trouble.

I picked up a modified weapon Erik had created that hung from a hook in the foyer. It was an air compression chamber loaded with poisoned wooden spikes. It looked like a modernized crossbow. The poison would incapacitate a dragon long enough for me to snap the head away from the body and find a way to incinerate it. Sometimes I used them when I was hunting others of our race, but my ability to use compulsion was almost always sufficient enough.

I stopped at the arched front door and closed my eyes, searching for whoever stood on the other side. I smelled the musty scent of the ancient wood, the damp of the rain outside, and I heard the gusts of cold air whipping through the portico. And very faintly, I heard a heartbeat—a small flutter like butterfly wings that thumped steadily, and the rush of blood that fed it. But I couldn’t grasp the person behind the heartbeat. Whoever it was had a solid wall built around their mind. I readied my weapon and opened the door, confident I could handle whatever or whomever it was on my own.

The man wasn’t at all what I expected. I had the weapon pressed against his chest in a heartbeat, my hand steady even though my pulse raced.

“Are you going to pull the trigger?” he asked, somewhat amused. He towered over my five-foot-four frame, a few inches over six feet at least. His hair hung shaggily over his collar and ears, but the color was amazing—a rich auburn that glinted with shades of copper, russet and gold. Rain dripped off the ends and rivulets disappeared into the collar of his shirt—a shirt that was plastered to a well-defined chest. His eyes were bluish green, like Caribbean waters, the expression in them good-natured.

And they were human.

I lowered the weapon. “We don’t get a lot of traffic out here. It never hurts to be careful.”

“Fair enough, though maybe a
No Trespassing
sign would be a good idea so you don’t give a Girl Scout a heart attack when she comes to sell you cookies.”

“What fun would that be?”

He gave me the full force of his smile, and I almost backed up and slammed the door in his face. I didn’t need a complication in my life right now, no matter how attractive.

“I’m Special Agent Noah Ford.” He held up a badge so I could see
F.B.I.
printed in bold letters next to his photograph. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

Instead of inviting him inside, I stepped out on the porch and shut the door behind me. I didn’t think it was a good idea to invite him in, considering Erik was probably up to his elbows in dragon ash.

Agent Ford raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as I joined him on the porch. If he really was human he wouldn’t be there long. The temperature was in the lower single digits, and he was wet. I gave him two minutes before he started shivering.

I tried to read him again but still got nothing, so I held out my hand. I’d never met anyone who could block my probes while I was touching them.

“I’m Rena,” I said as he took my hand. “Rena Drake.” His mind was like a hundred-foot cement wall. I got nothing. Not even the smallest impression.
Dammit.
He smiled at me like he knew what I was trying to do, and my curiosity increased.

“Yes, Ms. Drake. I’ve read your file,” he said. “You’ve been a lot of help to a lot of departments around the country.”

“When they want the help, I don’t mind giving it. For a price.” I gave him a hard smile. “Is that why you’re here, Agent Ford? Do you need my help?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He still hadn’t let go of my hand, so I pulled it back. “I work for the Paranormal Division of the FBI.”

I snorted out a laugh before I could control it. As far as I knew, we were the only “paranormal” creatures who’d been banished to the Earth. It was weird to think the FBI had a division devoted solely to us. Basically, what he was telling me was that he did the same job I did, only not as well because he didn’t really have a clue what or whom he was dealing with.

“I get that a lot,” he said. “But I figured you’d be more receptive.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

“There are some interesting theories about you in your file. One of which is that you’re one of the most powerful psychics in the world.”

“Really?” That was something that was going to have to be remedied. I didn’t like the idea of anyone keeping a file on me.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong,” he said, though by his smirk he didn’t particularly care if I forgave him or not.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here, so I can say no and go about my business,” I said.

“I’ve been tracking a group of serial killers.”

“Serial killers are, by definition, loners. They don’t work in groups.”

“You’d be right,” he said. “Normally. But this is the same group, traveling from place to place, country to country. By my estimation, they’ve killed more than a hundred innocent people.”

I knew all this already. And I kicked myself for not executing the contract on them sooner, but then I started rationalizing. The victims were just humans. But I had a new problem on my hands since outsiders were knocking on the door, trying to take over my case. I couldn’t help but question my judgment in delaying.

“What do you mean, by your estimation?” I asked. “Don’t you know for sure?”

“Nope.” His grin was easygoing and self-deprecating, but I didn’t fall for it for a second. Something in his eyes told me this man was dangerous. Damned if I didn’t find that attractive.

“No bodies were left behind,” he said. “They’ve all mysteriously disappeared. And the crime scenes I’ve located have been swept clean. Unless you know what to look for, and I do. I’ve got missing persons that come across my desk weekly that I’ve been able to link to these monsters. I’ve spent the morning a few miles from here, just on the border. I was close this time. The body was gone and the place clean of evidence. But the smell was still there. It takes a long time for a smell like that to disappear.”

He was right. The smell of burnt flesh wasn’t something one would ever forget. I looked at the guy in front of me and knew he wasn’t someone I should underestimate. He was smart. And as human as he seemed, he was something I’d never come across before.

“So if you have no proof and you have no bodies, how exactly are you tracking this band of serial killers? And why do you think it’s something paranormal in nature?” I kept my tone disbelieving, though I was cold on the inside.

“Don’t you believe in secrets, Ms. Drake?”

“Fair enough,” I said. I had plenty of secrets of my own. “What do you want with me?”

“Like I said, just your help. You’ve made a lot of trips the past couple of months—Canada, New York, Florida, Texas, Washington, California, Mexico, Chile. Should I go on?”

“No.” If I’d known the FBI had a Paranormal Division and a guy who was tracking me, I’d have taken more care at hiding my tracks. I kept my eyes steady on his, not giving any of my thoughts away. He wasn’t afraid to look me in the eyes. He somehow knew I couldn’t read him.

“Coincidentally, these are some of the locations where I’ve gotten word of persons missing and found crime scenes like the one I just left. So I figure you’re one of two things. A: You’re the killer, which I don’t think you are. I’m not saying you haven’t killed before, but not this time.” He didn’t wait to see if I’d react to him calling me a killer. “Or B: You’re hunting them yourself, and cleaning up their messes behind them to keep local authorities from homing in on your own investigation. I figure this scenario is more likely.”

“Prove it,” I said.

“I wish I could.”

“Then it seems like we’re done here. Have a nice life, Agent Ford.”

“Aren’t you curious to hear what I want? Or do you want to try and read my mind again?”

I growled low in my throat before I could help it. “You’re trying my patience. What do you want?”

“I’m proposing we combine forces and work together. For starters.” His gaze was filled with desire and danger—two things that attracted me like a moth to a flame. “What do you say?”

It was unfortunate someone as sexy as Agent Ford had turned out to be such a pain in the ass. Now I was going to have to worry about stumbling across him when I finally fulfilled the warrant of execution. And with the way he’d protected himself against any mental invasions, it didn’t look like I was going to have a lot of luck erasing his memories.

“I’ll pass.” I held out my hand once again so he’d get the point and get off my porch. “I don’t think there’s anything I can help you with.”

He took his glove off this time before taking my hand, and when flesh touched flesh, the bottom dropped out of my stomach, my vision turned black and my breath faltered. It was as if I was trapped in his body’s embrace, and his mind didn’t reveal anything he didn’t want me to see. I knew he was attracted to me, and I knew by his shadows that violence and anger lurked behind his carefully built walls. I felt his touch over my body, whispering through my mind and caressing the deepest part of my soul, the sensation the most erotic feeling I’d ever had.

I remembered to breathe, and grey, hazy flecks floated in front of my eyes before my vision came back. He pulled me closer and rubbed his thumb in circles over the top of my hand.

“Let go of me.” I looked into his eyes, using the strength of my power to get him to release his hold over me. But it was useless.

“You could change your mind,” he said.

I wasn’t sure if he was talking about working together or my request that he let me go. He was right, though. I could change my mind in either case.

“How about dinner?” he asked.

I was starting to think he was trying to compel me, but my blocks were just as sturdy as his. “I don’t think so. I think both of us would be better off if we never saw each other again.”

“You might be right. What about breakfast?”

My mouth quirked into a smile before I could stop it. He was persistent—I’d give him that. I tugged my hand away from his and immediately felt an emptiness inside me that he’d somehow filled. Noah Ford was an unknown. And it probably wasn’t wise to let him continue his investigation without keeping tabs on him. He might even be helpful some way.