The Matchmaker's Mark (6 page)

"You know, I didn't expect to have to chase you across the country," he stated calmly.

Surprise turned to outrage when he reached across the desk and grabbed her hand, yanking her forward until they were nearly nose to nose. For an instant his features blurred, and she saw another face – a woman's face – hovering in the air between them.

She gasped, struggling to find her voice as she reached blindly for the phone. "Release me right now or, or I'll call security!"

"They can't help you," he growled. He tossed her hand back as if she was something vile, muttering under his breath. The language was foreign, but she knew the words weren't flattering. Glaring at her, he rubbed his wrist and then rolled up his sleeve.

"My God!" he roared, seeing the red stain climbing up his inner arm like a wicked venom.

Amy snatched up the phone to call for help, but with a flick of his wrist he pulled the cord right out of the wall.

"Wh-what do you want with me?"

He shoved his discolored arm in her face. "You careless little fool. How dare you mark me!"

He lunged across the desk, she lurched back, and the chair toppled over. Her head cracked against the marble sill of the window and she heard men shouting in the hall. She had time to be thankful for security departments before she slid into a quiet black cocoon.

~*~

"Aw, hellfire!" Darian skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs, having followed the outraged bellows of the escaping werewolf. With a quick vine spell he tripped him up and let him tumble down to the first landing. Satisfied the beast was incapacitated, he raced back to the office, wary of what he might find on the other side of the broken door. As introductions went, this was worse than any blunder of yesterday, but he had a mission to fulfill.

He stepped over the broken glass and steadied the door swinging from only the top hinge as he eased into the office. "Amy?" He cringed. He'd scared her once already. Keep it professional. "Professor Campbell?"

How wrong could a simple assignment go? He saw the flowers, noticed the letter was gone. The werewolf hadn't been dragging her off, but where could she be? He turned a full circle, confirming she wasn't hiding behind the file cabinets, then dropped to check the floor. Seeing her under the chair, her head bent at an unnatural angle, sent an icy shot of panic through his veins.

If the werewolf had killed the Matchmaker's niece...

He leaped over the desk and knelt beside her, cautiously feeling about for a pulse. Finding that, he breathed a sigh of relief. Unconscious, praise the gods. He examined her head, finding only a trace of blood, but he felt the lump rising quickly under his fingers. The situation looked much worse than it was, though she might have a concussion and would definitely be hurting when she came to.

Voices in the hallway gave him a moment to prepare for the barrage of questions and demands. He applied a bit of glamour to smooth over the rough edges of reality. "It appears Professor Campbell's bumped her head," he said to the gathering in general. "Would someone find an ice pack, please?" In his experience humans put ice on everything and it gave people something to do and think about during a confusing situation.

He heard someone run off. Now to separate the rabble from the players. He thought the Matchmaker would appreciate the analogy. "There's a man on the stairs. He tried to attack the professor. Security needs to hold him for questioning."

Being detained would only make Wolfie's day worse. Darian suppressed a pleased smirk. There were ten days left before the full moon, so no one was in any real jeopardy in or out of the cell. Someone from his pack would have him released long before he succumbed to the call of the moon.

"Who are you?" a security guard demanded.

Dare carefully eased Amy's body into a more comfortable position. "A student," he improvised. "We were discussing the assignment and that big dude just came in and started shouting."

"Uh-huh."

Keeping Amy unconscious so she couldn't contradict his story, he urged each of the humans to other tasks. He'd stopped by only to confirm her receipt of the letter, but now he needed to determine why a werewolf had been slinking around.

"Shouldn't she be awake by now?" He recognized Amy's friend Maeve. The woman refused to leave, making it impossible to get away unnoticed. "Should we call an ambulance?"

"No. It's minor really. I've had some training," he added.

"That's good." Maeve stroked his shoulders. "You're very good at this."

Her sultry voice scraped against his nerves. On edge, Dare glanced from Maeve to Amy and back again. He pumped a little more magic into the narrowing space between them, but the heat in Maeve's big blue eyes didn't fade. What the hell?

Only the Matchmaker had this effect on people. In all his years in her service he'd never heard of an instance where her power had transferred to anyone in her employ. And if he'd been toting a residual effect it sure hadn't helped him yesterday. Power wasn't some airborne virus. It just didn't happen. There were laws and limits and – damn – Maeve's mouth was brushing his ear.

He twisted in the narrow space between the desk and the wall, standing up and pulling her with him, but holding her at arm's length. Her smile was everything sexy and inviting. On any other day he'd – No! What was wrong with him?

There was an obvious explanation, but Dare couldn't contemplate it in this crisis. "You know what?"

"Tell me," she purred.

"The ambulance." He gave her shoulders a little shake. "It's a good idea. Go call for an ambulance and wait for them downstairs."

The woman pouted and then shrugged her shoulder, bringing his hand closer to her lips. He jerked out of reach, using his magic to make his face a reflection of hers. "Amy needs an ambulance."

Maeve blinked a couple of times, almost resisting his mirror charm before finally leaving to follow his instructions.

Gathering the bags and papers he assumed were important to Amy, he scooped her into his arms. Tossing a final illusion over the office, he headed for the emergency stairwell. As a bodyguard he appreciated the clever people who built buildings with egress options.

He'd hoped to revive her there in the office, have a quick chat and be on his way, but this development was too troubling to risk it.

He could hardly cart her around Charleston passed out like this without raising questions, or worse. Southerners were too willing to get involved, too ready to hear a life story to let him walk around with an unconscious woman in his arms. Controlling the disaster in the office had drained his ability to make people see what they wanted to see out on the street.

If Dare knew anything, it was how to think on his feet. Years with the Matchmaker meant he'd been required to improvise on nearly every consultation. He'd learned firsthand how rocky affairs of the heart could get.

From the emergency stairwell he spotted a maintenance closet and ducked inside. Propping Amy on a step stool in the corner, he held her shoulders and lifted the magic that kept her asleep.

"Amy? Can you hear me?"

"Mmm. Huh?" Her brow furrowed, but her eyes remained closed.

"Be a good girl. Wake up for me now. You're safe."

Her eyelids twitched and fluttered open and Darian nearly choked at the amazing blue eyes staring back at him. Her Campbell blue eyes from yesterday now showed a deep blue star burst radiating from the pupil. Matchmaker's eyes. Gilly besting him in a duel would be less of a shock. This was impossible. There could only be one Matchmaker in the world at a time.

Logic dictated if Amy had the eyes, was in fact now the Matchmaker, then Camille was no more. It was like taking a spear through the chest. He staggered back. Logic or not, he couldn't think that way, wouldn't believe it. But the proof was gazing back at him, confused and baffled.

"What's going on? Why are we in a closet?"

Grief and loss and more than a little denial warred for control of his heart rate. Dare struggled against the emotional onslaught.

Camille's last order echoed in his head. "Find Amy. Be sure she gets this letter." Suddenly, he wanted to read that letter – to hell with the breach of trust. What secrets had the Matchmaker been keeping from him?

"You received a letter today?"

"With the flowers." She started to nod, but winced at the pain. "Oh! You. You were at the house yesterday."

"Yes."

"You're a stalker." Her eyes went wide as she looked around for a way to escape.

"I'm not."

"Get away from me."

He didn't budge, couldn't give her the room to escape. "Keep your voice down. I'm here to help you." Precisely how remained to be seen. "Your Aunt Camille asked me to deliver a letter. I put it with the flowers."

"You delivered the flowers."

"Yes." He smothered the urge to snap at her. She was hurt and confused and if her eyes were any indication, her life had just taken a drastic turn. For better or worse? Probably both. "Did you get the letter?"

"Yes. I put it in my bag." She glanced around, gingerly this time. "That one there." She pointed to the one closest to him. "Is it normal for stalkers to take stuff as well as the person?"

"I'm not a stalker," he said through clenched teeth. He reached down and rooted through the bag, ignoring her protests. Finding it, he scanned it quickly and breathed a sigh of relief as he replaced the letter. "So she wrote to you often of her work?"

"Well sure. We –"

Dare slid into the automatic motions of emergency protocol. "Can you walk? We need to get out of here." Once she was safe from the rogue werewolf and humans were safe from her, he could find out what the hell was going on.

"Why are we in a closet?"

"We're leaving the closet." He opened the door a crack and listened for a moment. Turning back he whispered, "You'll lean on me and follow my lead."

"Not until – "

"You want to wait around for that guy to come back?" It was an empty threat, at least he hoped so, but he was pleased when her eyes went wide with fear. "You have to trust me. Your Aunt C – " he choked on the words – "Your Aunt Camille has relied on me for years."

"Prove it."

Damned, stubborn Campbell women. "How?"

"She said she burned a bridge lately. With what client?"

"A full-blooded troll with zero manners," he began, cringing at the memory of setting fire to the town's oldest bridge. He'd exhausted himself making it look like an inferno, while keeping the damage minimal.

"Okay. I'll come with you."

That was all she needed? Obviously Camille had been sharing more than he'd thought, but it wasn't his place to question the Matchmaker, former or present. His heart clutched. "Great. Stay close, no matter what happens."

She wobbled, but found her balance with only a brief touch from him. He wished he could offer a stronger shield, but he was tired and worried and only had the bare minimum left in him. It would have to be enough.

Muttering at the chaos just outside the building, Dare wished once more for a quiet forest.

Awake, a Matchmaker's power would swamp everyone and only tangle up the egress. In the past, he'd used his talent to shield the Matchmaker, but never alone after such a draining experience. Desperate, he moved from one patch of clear sidewalk to the next.

"Ow! The sun hurts my eyes."

"Just another minute," he said when Amy's hands clutched his arm, knuckles going white.

Trees and power aside, he'd have an easier time of it if she was asleep. But making several people see her walking upright was easier than making several people see her walking upright while he carried her. Common sense, really.

For the first time in memory, he wished he was some place crowded like New York City with cabs eager for a fare. With Amy weakening, he paused at a corner and looked around for options.

"Y'all need a lift?"

Dare stared at the lanky kid and his bicycle rickshaw. Even if the kid could only manage a couple blocks it would help. "Sure." As long as Amy's amorous effect didn't have him biking them straight into the nearest bikini-clad gelato girl they might just make it. Dare helped Amy into the cab and settled himself next to her as he gave the kid directions.

My dearest Amy,

Have I told you I'm headed next to Scotland, home of our beloved Campbell matriarchs? I might even get to visit the cottage of the original prophecy. If your mother's never told you, surely Nan did. It's such a wonderful story and from what I remember it's an even more wonderful area. The peace and quiet of the loch calls to me, it would be so nice if we could visit together sometime. It is so vital to know your roots, but I'd best stop preaching.

I'm working with some timeless characters on this next project, but I feel confident we'll come to terms.

Your loving aunt,

Camille