Firestorm: Heart of a Vampire #5 (9 page)

He turned back to his papers without a word.

Sighing in frustration, she left the room to check on Irish yet again.

An hour later, a knock came at the door. She raced to answer it, desperate for any distraction.

Blake stood outside. The worry lines around his eyes and mouth were deeper since the last time he’d been there.

It wasn’t good news.

Chapter Nine

“T
here’s been another murder,” Blake stated as he strode inside.

“Who?” Cat demanded.

“Jenny Bacchus.”

Sorrow filled her. Her frustration boiled nearly out of control.

Eric stepped into the foyer. “Any known cause?”

“No. Same as the others.” Blake slapped his thigh, pacing. “The Judge is back in town though. One of my men saw him at the hotel.”

“Good.” She headed to the table by the door and grabbed her keys. “He’s going to give some answers this time, no matter what.”

“You’re not going without me,” Eric replied. “And I’m not sitting in that toy you call a car.”

He tossed her his keys.

“Blake, you’ll stay and keep an eye on Irish?”

“Yeah.” The man looked exhausted.

Cat moved outside, climbing in the driver’s seat of Eric’s SUV. She seriously considered leaving without him, after his dismissive attitude lately...

He got in before she could make up her mind. Silently, she headed down the drive and into the city.

* * *

As Cat pulled into the hotel parking lot, her shoulders tense, Eric felt pangs of guilt over the way he’d tried to ignore her. And he wondered if this lust, these feeling for her that he couldn’t push back or ignore, were part of his insanity. If he was around her much longer, he was going to grow to like her. Though he feared that was already happening.

They walked into the hotel and she told him, “Let me do the talking.”

“How may I help you?” the concierge asked politely, if a bit disinterested.

Cat slid one of her cards to him. He glanced over her name, his expression immediately perking up. “Lady Bienville. My manager left a message for you. The guest you wish to speak with is in.”

“So I heard,” she replied wryly. “We’d like to see him now.”

This was definitely faster than when he’d tried to get information.

“Yes, ma’am.” The concierge nodded, and waved to a young woman in a colorful uniform. “Jackie will show you the way.”

She hurried over, smiling sweetly but with blank eyes, as she said in a monotone, “Follow me to your floor.”

In the elevator, Cat stood as far from him as she could, tall and stiff. She didn’t fidget at all.

Neither did the girl. Turning his attention to Jackie, Eric watched her closely. No expression, no movement. She barely breathed. He leaned towards the girl, inhaling deeply.

Human. Mortal. But her scent was off. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was though.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. He followed Cat out and to the right. As the elevator doors began to close, he glanced back at Jackie.

The girl stared straight ahead, her eyes still blank, as if she saw nothing.

* * *

At room 413, Cat raised her hand to knock, but Eric beat her to it, thumping on the wood loud enough to be heard a few floors down.

The Judge’s deep, growly voice came through. “You don’t have an appointment, and I didn’t order room service. Go away.”

Eric crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Open up, or I’ll do it for you.”

After a moment of silence, the door swung open. The Judge looked to be in his mid-twenties, but one could never be sure. Though mortal, wolf shifters didn’t age like humans. He was average everything—short and stocky, with close cropped brown hair, dull brown eyes and non-descript features.

“Vampire.” The man scowled, putting on a poor show of bravado as he had to look higher and higher. “What do you want?”

“I’m here as an envoy to the New Orleans clan. I’d like to ask you some questions about the recent disappearances and murders of local vampires.”

The Judge finally noticed her standing off to the side. This time his sneer was genuine. “You again?” To Eric, he stated, “I’ve nothing further to say on the matter. I’ve told your little
vampire
,” he drawled the word as if saying
trash
, “everything I know. You’re not welcome here.”

Eric barged forward, forcing the man back into the room. He beckoned Cat to follow, and once she was inside, slammed the door shut with a flick of his wrist. “You haven’t told me.”

The Judge puffed up his chest. “I answer to the Magic Council, not someone like you.”

“Aye.” Eric glanced around, before taking a seat on one spindly wooden chair. It creaked in response to his immense size. “I wonder how they’ll react when informed about what’s going on here. How you’ve been rude and dismissive to the problem of late. Then there’s what has been happening to the Arcaine, who the Council is sworn to protect.”

The Judge straightened and asked haughtily, “Oh? And how do you propose to tell them?”

Eric smiled, and shivers tickled along the back of Cat’s neck.

“Connor Gregory,” he said simply.

The name didn’t mean a thing to her, but the Judge’s eyes widened and he paled. His gaze darted around the room as if searching for escape. After a long, tense moment, his shoulders slumped and he slid to a seat on the edge of the bed.

“What do you want to know? But for Christ’s sake, hurry up and ask what you want, then get out of here.”

“Tell me how the vampires have been murdered,” Eric asked slowly.

The Judge opened his mouth, snapped it shut. He glanced at her, then back to Eric, before staring at the door. “We’re not sure. There’s no reason for them to be dead. Nothing we’ve been able to find.”

Eric fisted his hands on his thighs. “Who, exactly, is we?”

“The city coroner. He’s an Arcaine, a gorgon I believe.”

Cat blinked. Really? She hadn’t known any gorgons lived in New Orleans. Not that she was surprised at the fact, just that she hadn’t known. Making sure he didn’t turn people to stone with his gaze must be a tricky thing to prevent.

“Where can I find him?” Eric asked.

Before Cat could reply, the Judge rattled off the address to the city’s main morgue.

Eric settled back in his chair. “And all the disappearances? We know vampires are going missing, what about other Arcaine?”

The Judge continued to look anywhere but at them. Still pale, his hands shook minutely. “We don’t know anything.”

“Not much use then, are you, for a Judge?” Eric sneered.

The man scowled at the floor. “If you have no other questions, you need to leave. Now.”

Cat took a step closer. “What about all the wolf shifters coming into town lately?”

The Judge’s face went blank, eyes wild, flashing a hint of wolfy ice blue. He jumped to his feet and stomped to the door, swinging it open. “Pack business has nothing to do with anyone else.” His voice, full of bravado, cracked on the last word and a terror far beyond mere fear leaked through.

Cat followed him. “Then why are they attacking me and mine? I have a coven member currently in a coma from a wolf attack.” She watched his expression closely. “He was bitten by your kind in both wolf, and human forms. Tell me about that.”

The Judge swayed, turning so white she feared he was about to pass out. “There’s no way that could happen.” But his voice didn’t ring true.

“What makes a wolf attack in human form?” she demanded.

Hastily working to recover, the Judge stared stonily at her. “I said get out.”

Eric rose and took her arm, leading her from the room. Behind them, the door slammed with a loud bang.

She studied Eric for a long moment, refusing to allow her temper to take control. High-handed male. “I wasn’t done.”

“He’s not going to tell us one damn thing more.” He dropped her arm and moved down the hall toward the elevator. “Between loyalty to the pack and whatever is scaring the hell out of him, he’s useless.”

“What could make him so afraid?” She followed, anger bubbling. “He’s a Judge, for crying out loud.”

“Dunno,” Eric absently replied. He reached to hit the elevator call button, but she grabbed his hand and stopped him.

Eric stared at her, jerking his hand away. The urge to step back was clear in his blue eyes.

She barely stopped herself from poking a finger at his chest. “You expect me to accept all this? We didn’t find out anything new. Nothing to help.”

Eric clenched and unclenched the hand she’d touched. “Not true. I’ll talk to the coroner. He’s bound to know more.”

She wedged herself between him and the elevator buttons. Not that it would prevent him leaving if he truly wanted to. Take the stairs, jump out a window. Either would be an easy way out for a vampire.

Finally, he sighed, as if resigned. “Fine.
We
will go talk to the coroner.”

Cat smiled and pushed the call button herself, then willed the elevator to hurry before he changed his stubborn mind.

* * *

Sitting in the warm SUV as Eric drove, the world turned into a mystical snow globe around them, Cat tried to calm her worry and fear. Settle the thoughts uselessly circling the same questions, like a dog trying to capture the reflection of a bone.

Nothing would come of it without answers that it seemed they’d never find.

Sure, go see the gorgon coroner. Even if he knew anything, why would he talk to them?

She risked a surreptitious glance at Eric from beneath her eyelashes. Yes, he was intimidating. He probably couldn’t even help it. He was so big. Not just his height, but the rippling muscles on his arms and across his chest.

Slowly following her directions—though to give him credit, New Orleans natives weren’t exactly used to driving in snow, as evidenced by the many accidents they passed—Eric finally reached the city morgue.

The building towered darkly over the parking lot. Made of gray stone weathered by age, it was three stories tall. The top two floors were dark this time of night. A few streetlights cast scattered, fragmented light onto the lot.

Eric grabbed his huge axe as he left the car, strapping it over his shoulder and patting the handle once as if for assurance.

She followed him to the front door. By the time they made it inside, her heels and stockings to mid calf were soaked. Her hair had passed beyond wet, into the realm of frozen.

Eric reached back and grabbed his braid, drawing it from beneath his shirt. Like his immense size, his hair kept coming and coming. The silvery-blond plait was thick and long. But not nearly as impressive as when it had hung loose around him the other night. She must have made some noise, because he pinned her with an intense glare.

As if he could read her mind, the heat of a blush crawled up his neck. He licked his lips as his gaze flickered down to her chest. Her nipples stiffened as she imagined him seeing her naked. Her libido—crazy around him—sent her thoughts down a distracting path.

Without a word, he turned and continued down the hall to the head coroner’s office.

With a shrug, she followed. She was getting to him and didn’t bother to hide her smile at that knowledge. Maybe he’d stop giving her the brooding, silent treatment.

At the office door, Eric didn’t bother to knock, just pushed inside. It was empty.

“Great,” he muttered.

They headed down the hall, Eric opening every door until they found someone. “Doctor Argus?” he barked.

The man inside quivered in his seat, then pointed to the right. “Autopsy.”

Eric continued on.

“Thank you,” Cat said to the man as she passed his office.

The autopsy room smelled like a hospital, making her stomach churn at the overpowering odor of alcohol and stale blood. And death.

An older man, he looked to be in his sixties, hovered over a body he was currently cutting into. He didn’t look up when they entered, but a moment later, he sniffed the air. Slowly turning to face them, he asked, “Friend or foe?”

Cat averted her gaze, not daring to stare a gorgon in the eyes.

“Depends,” Eric replied.

At the same time, she stated, “Friend.”

Argus grinned, his lined, weathered face wrinkling. “Be with you in a moment. You can have a seat over there.” He pointed to a row of chairs.

Cat took a seat. Eric stood on the other side of the door, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

The doctor smiled kindly and Cat realized what he reminded her of. She’d once seen a cute basset hound, its face droopy and wrinkled.

Doctor Argus resembled that pup a great deal.

After a quiet ten minutes or so, he spoke up without looking their way. “Glaring isn’t going to make me work faster.”

“Humph,” was Eric’s reply.

“I’m going to wait outside,” she said, unable to bear the overpowering stench of death and decay any longer without a break. It brought back too many memories. Too many deaths she’d witnessed over the centuries.