Into the Flame

  Chapter One

  Spring, Almost Three Years Ago Brown University, Providence, Rhode Island

  In her dorm room, Firebird Wilder sat with a pen in her hand, ignoring the stampede of jubilant students outside her open door, and stared at the Father’s Day card on her desk.

  Guess what we’ve done?

  Too coy.

  Surprise!

  Too flip.

  We’re in this together.

  Too chummy.

  In the end, she took the plastic stick with the blue-toned results, placed it in the card, slipped it in the envelope, and sealed it without writing a single word. There were no words to explain . . . this.

  ‘‘Hey, Firebird!’’ Jacob Pilcher stuck his head in her open door. ‘‘What are you doing sitting there? It’s over. Let’s party!’’

  She laughed at him, the honors student wearing his baseball cap sideways, a T-shirt that proclaimed, Warning, Contents under Pressure, and a silly grin. ‘‘I’m waiting for Douglas.’’

  ‘‘Ohh. The wonderful campus cop.’’ Jacob wiggled his fingers like a magician and barely kept the edge of sarcasm out of his voice. ‘‘Is he taking you to Bruno’s?’’

  She slipped the envelope into her purse. ‘‘That’s the plan.’’

  ‘‘Okay. That’s okay. He’s cool.’’ Jacob gave her the thumbs-up. ‘‘But I guess that means you’re not drinking, huh?’’

  ‘‘I wasn’t drinking anyway. I’m twenty.’’

  ‘‘I know, I know, but there are ways of getting around—’’

  Masculine shouts echoed down the corridor. ‘‘Come on, man!’’ ‘‘We’re leaving without you, man!’’

  ‘‘Gotta go!’’ Jacob saluted her. ‘‘See you there!’’ Still he lingered, looking at her. ‘‘You look great.’’ Without waiting for her to thank him, he turned and ran down the hall. ‘‘Wait. Wait, you jerks!’’

  Jacob was a nice kid. A kid, even though he was a year older than she was, and he’d been in love with her ever since she moved into the dorm as the student resident assistant. He’d been crushed when she met Douglas, but he’d kept on smiling, and now he was cutting loose.

  They were all cutting loose. It was the end of finals.

  She went to the mirror and smiled.

  Her blush was a peachy gold, her mascara was black, her blond hair was twisted into a clip at the back of her head, but Jacob was right—she did look great. Not even the dusting of loose powder could subdue the glow that lit her from within.

  ‘‘You’re beautiful, as always,’’ said a voice from the door.

  She turned with a smile. ‘‘Douglas. You’re early!’’

  ‘‘I couldn’t stay away.’’ He walked in, blond hair rumpled from the breeze outside, holding a bouquet of red and yellow flowers in one hand and a big gold stuffed dog under the other.

  She ran to him.

  He dropped the dog and wrapped her in his embrace.

  Leaning her head against his shoulder, she closed her eyes. He was warm and strong, firm and muscled. For her, everything about him spelled security and love—the everlasting kind, like her parents had. Unexpected tears filled her eyes, and she clutched him harder, hoping he didn’t notice.

  Of course he did. Douglas noticed everything. He pushed her a little. ‘‘Hey, what’s wrong? Did something go wrong with your finals?’’

  She sighed. He noticed everything, but he wasn’t always insightful. ‘‘Everything went great, and best of all, they’re over.’’

  He glanced at the door. ‘‘Did that guy Jacob upset you?’’

  ‘‘No, honest! I’m just happy.’’

  Douglas caught one of her tears with his thumb. ‘‘You’ve got a funny way of showing it.’’

  Douglas didn’t talk about himself or his past, and so far, Firebird had let him get away with evading her questions, because something had put far too much cynicism into his dark eyes.

  Something else—her—had brought him joy, and when she caught him looking at her, that stunned expression of happiness on his face, she didn’t want to rock the boat.

  Someday she’d coax him into telling his life story. Right now, they could just be in love.

  ‘‘I brought you flowers.’’ He let her go and handed her the bouquet of red carnations and yellow roses. Leaning over, he picked up the dog and offered it. ‘‘And a cuddly buddy. And congratulations, my darling—in five weeks, you’ll march across the stage and get your diploma.’’

  ‘‘Thank you.’’ She grinned, delighted and relieved to be through with finals, with the pressure of finishing a four-year degree in three years, and finishing at the top of her class. ‘‘Thank you.’’ She smelled the flowers—there weren’t many, only a handful, but for a campus cop the pay wasn’t great.

  ‘‘They’re lovely. You remembered the kind of flowers I like!’’

  ‘‘I remember everything about you.’’ His gaze intent, he watched her fill a glass with water and arrange the flowers on her desk. ‘‘I could pick you out of a crowd in a full Las Vegas casino.’’

  She laughed, not believing a word. ‘‘Now let me see this guy.’’ She lifted the stuffed animal out of his arms and stared in surprise. ‘‘I thought it was a dog, but it’s a cat!’’

  ‘‘A dog? I wouldn’t give you a dog.’’ Douglas sounded grossly insulted. ‘‘It’s a cougar.’’

  ‘‘That’s right. It is.’’ A big, fuzzy, floppy cougar with a white belly and dark glass eyes that stared right into her soul.

  Wrapping her arms around the animal, she hugged him and buried her face in the plush fur. He smelled like Douglas: like shampoo and spray starch, like the flowers he had carried, and like the rich, intoxicating scent of her first and only lover. ‘‘This sweetheart will sleep on my bed with me.’’

  ‘‘That is exactly where he wants to be.’’ Douglas watched her with that expression that told her he considered her a miracle.

  That was why she’d succumbed to his seduction. To the Wilders, she had always been a miracle, the first female born into the family in a thousand years. But she was a smart girl.

  Her father and mother had immigrated to the United States, fleeing his family, the ones known as the Varinskis. Her father had been their leader, and she didn’t know what he’d done to win that honor, but whatever crimes he’d planned, approved, and committed, he repented of them now. Yet no matter where he was, in the old Varinski home in the Ukraine or in his vineyard in Washington, he still had the ability to change, to transform himself into a wolf.

  That was a miracle.

  He’d passed his abilities onto his sons.

  Like his father, her oldest brother, Jasha, ran the forest as a wolf. Her second brother, Rurik, soared through the air as a hawk. Her third brother, Adrik, had disappeared when he was seventeen, but he had been wild and rebellious, a black panther who hunted his prey without remorse.

  Those were also all miracles.

  She was intelligent, she worked hard, yet she hadn’t inherited one little drop of supernatural abilities. The rest of the world considered her pretty normal, and so did she.

  But Douglas Black, a campus cop, a guy she’d met four months ago . . . he made her feel special.

  She dropped the cougar and went back into Douglas’s arms. She put all her heart, all her love, into the kiss she gave him, and turned him toward the bed.

  He braced himself against the pressure. ‘‘No. This is your night to celebrate.’’

  She rubbed against him. ‘‘I want to celebrate my way.’’

  ‘‘You want to celebrate with your friends, with the people you saw every day in class.’’ He never seemed to mind that he wasn’t one of the crowd. He stood apart, friendly, but watching, always watching. ‘‘Your friends are up at Bruno’s.’’

  ‘‘I can’t drink. I’m not old enough. And I’m dating a campus cop, so it’s not like I can fake an ID.’’

  ‘‘I promise not to toss you out as long as you stick with soft drinks.’’
He put his forehead to hers. ‘‘I’ll let you in on a secret.’’

  ‘‘Yeah?’’

  ‘‘I’m the same age you are.’’

  She pulled back. ‘‘You’re kidding. How did you get the job?’’

  ‘‘I have a fake ID.’’ He didn’t smile, but his eyes twinkled.

  ‘‘You’re pulling my lariat.’’ Was he serious?

  ‘‘Nope. But don’t tell anyone; I will lose my job.’’ He released her and went to the closet. ‘‘Come on. Let’s go.’’

  He held her jacket as she shrugged into it. ‘‘You said you’d been a cop for four years.’’

  ‘‘That’s right.’’

  ‘‘Since you were sixteen? That’s impossible.’’ Had he even graduated from high school?

  ‘‘I’m good at what I do, so the police departments ignore discrepancies in my job history.’’

  ‘‘What do you do that’s so special?’’

  ‘‘I track people. I find criminals. I find missing persons.’’

  She stared at him, uneasy for the first time since she’d met him. ‘‘How?’’

  He shrugged. ‘‘It’s a gift. Are you ready?’’

  ‘‘Let me get my purse.’’ With the card inside.

  They headed outside into the May evening.

  The campus was old and lovely, mellowed by age and hard use. Massive trees lined the walks, their leaves still a new, bright green. Springtime had brought a burst of flowers along the paths, and lured lovers out to walk hand in hand. No one noticed when Douglas took her hand in his and kissed her fingers.

  ‘‘Tracking seems like such an odd talent,’’ she said. It was the talent that had started the Varinskis on their path to infamy and riches.

  ‘‘I grew up in pretty rough circumstances. I spent a lot of time on the streets.’’ His mouth twisted bitterly. ‘‘I can make contacts most cops can’t even imagine.’’

  Firebird caught her breath.

  At last, a glimpse into his past.

  ‘‘I guess your parents were poor?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘ ‘Poor’ doesn’t begin to describe them.’’ He led her around four students lined up on the walk and singing a jaunty opera in Italian. He nodded at them. ‘‘That’s just not something you see on most college campuses.’’

  But he wasn’t going to distract her. ‘‘Why don’t you like to talk about your parents?’’

  ‘‘My parents were not pleasant people. I’d rather talk about your family. When you talk about them, your face lights up.’’ He hugged her shoulders. ‘‘You like them. Do you know how rare that is?’’

  ‘‘No, it’s not. Lots of people like their families.’’

  ‘‘Lots of people don’t.’’ He headed them toward Bruno’s Bar and Grill. ‘‘I’ll buy you a steak.’’

  He had given her a hint of his past, then offered a steak as a distraction.

  It wouldn’t work. She wouldn’t let him succeed. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. She faced him and took his hands. ‘‘You’re only twenty. Is your past so disgraceful you can’t talk about it?’’

  ‘‘Not disgraceful. But not the subject for this place and this time.’’ He gestured around at the laughing, shouting students headed for Bruno’s.

  ‘‘Then we’ll talk about it later.’’

  He looked down at their joined hands, then up at her face. ‘‘Tonight, I’ll tell you everything. I just hope that you—’’ He stopped, his face twisted with remembered pain.

  ‘‘That I what?’’

  ‘‘Sometimes I wish I’d never started this.’’

  Alarmed, she glanced at the approaching circle of shouting students, then back at Douglas. ‘‘What are you talking about?’’

  The students surrounded them. Her friends, jubilant, exhausted, celebrating.

  ‘‘Hey, Firebird, we did it!’’

  ‘‘Hey, Doug, let’s party!’’

  They jostled Douglas and Firebird, pulling them along the path, separating them. Firebird laughed and talked with them, but she kept Douglas in sight—and he watched her. Watched her as if she really were a miracle.

  He caught her as they walked into Bruno’s. ‘‘Tonight we’ll talk. Okay?’’

  ‘‘Okay.’’ She remembered the card in her purse. ‘‘Definitely okay.’’

  The place was packed, a distillation of the elation that held the campus in thrall. Douglas kept her at his side, tried to order her a steak—she insisted on a hamburger—and kept her in as many bottles of water as she wanted. Half the guys in the bar tried to sneak her a beer, and she was glad she could use Douglas as an excuse to say no.

  She was posing for a picture with three of her best friends when two guys, too drunk to walk, started swinging at each other. The fight spread like wildfire, and Douglas waded in, shouting for quiet, separating the combatants, making arrests. By the time the police and EMTs arrived, he’d impressed Firebird with his patience and his strength.

  He worked his way over to her. ‘‘I need to stay here and help mop up. Wait for me.’’

  ‘‘I can’t. I’m pooped.’’ These days, she tired out very quickly. ‘‘I’ll walk home with the girls.’’

  He looked around at the mess in the bar. ‘‘You’ll stay with your friends? You’ll be careful?’’

  ‘‘Very careful. You’ll come by later?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know if I can. It’s going to be a wild night.’’

  ‘‘Then I’ll see you in the morning. And we’ll talk.’’

  ‘‘Yes. In the morning, we’ll talk.’’

  The other girls lived in an apartment five minutes from Firebird’s dorm. Meghan had Blue Bell ice cream her mother had sent her from Texas. So of course Firebird had to stop by for a bowl of Homemade Vanilla with chocolate sauce and some quick gossip, and by the time they’d gone from high spirits to quiet reflection as they realized their years together were finally over, it was one a.m., and Firebird figured she’d better get back to the dorm or she’d fall asleep in their chair.

  The main walk of the campus was still hopping with celebrating students, but the crowds were thinning fast, and when she turned off toward her dorm, it got darker, quieter.

  She didn’t mind. Douglas had told her the campus wasn’t safe, but her father had taught her to protect herself, to be careful, to be aware. She was all of those things, and right now, she was bummed to be alone.

  The evening hadn’t turned out as she had hoped. Not at all. Douglas had hinted at his past, had promised to fill her in, and work had interfered. And she’d made him promise that they’d talk in the morning, but she’d seen the look on his face—he didn’t want to.

  What secrets did he hide? He was only twenty. He was a policeman. How bad could his past possibly be?

  As she strolled along the tree-lined walk, she at first didn’t notice the sounds behind her. She was listening for footsteps, not the rustle of leaves and the creak of branches. But once she heard them, she knew what they boded.

  Someone was stalking her, creeping along through the trees, and that someone wasn’t all human.

  A Varinski.

  Somehow, a Varinski had found her.

  She didn’t look around, didn’t indicate that she knew she was being followed. Her heart pounded, her skin flushed, yet she walked at a steady pace.

  Don’t run, little Firebird, she heard Konstantine’s voice rumble in her head. Running brings out a hunter’s urge to chase, and you can’t outrun a wolf or a panther. You can’t outfly a hawk. But you can outsmart them, and you can outfight them.

  As the Varinski moved from tree to tree, she listened to the sounds, trying to figure out what kind of creature was tracking her. A bird of prey, perhaps, or a great cat leaping between the branches.

  Her dorm loomed ahead. Lights illuminated about half the windows. People were awake and nearby. She could scream for help.

  But then someone would get hurt.

  She opened her purse, pulled out her cell phone, and d
ebated about calling Douglas. He would want her to—but then, he wouldn’t be happy to discover she was walking alone, and if she put her phone up to her ear, that might force the stalker to attack.

  How had he located her? What did he want?

  As she got closer to the dorm, the sound behind her grew more pronounced. She dug out her keys and threaded them between her fingers so a key stuck out between each knuckle. She opened her phone and dialed nine-one— And before she could hit the last button, the door to the dorm burst open. Eight guys came dashing out, Jacob in their midst, wearing nothing but baseball caps, body paint, and running shoes. They hooted as they passed her. She pumped her fist to indicate her approval, and slipped inside before the door could close.

  Then she ran. Ran down the hall and up the stairs to her bedroom. She didn’t turn on the light, but crept to the window. Staying well back in the shadows, she looked out.

  There it was, crouched in a giant oak, a great golden cat stretched along the branch. The moonlight seeped through the leaves and picked up the smooth glory of its coat, and even from here she could see its dark eyes watching her window, and its tail twitched slowly, as if the loss of its prey had irritated it.

  What did it intend to do to her? Was this a rogue Varinski, entertaining himself by stalking and killing the daughter of Konstantine Wilder? Or did the Varinskis have plans to kidnap and hold her as a pawn in their plot to destroy her family?

  She had to go. She had to leave. She couldn’t wait until graduation; she needed to go at once—and she couldn’t tell Douglas why.

  He would never believe this.

  ‘‘Oh, my love.’’ What had she been thinking, getting involved with a normal guy? He wouldn’t understand about the pact with the devil and her family’s special talents. How could he? It was absolutely insane.

  Worse, as her mate, he’d be in danger, the same kind of danger that shadowed her.

  But . . . she stroked the infinitesimal bulge of her belly. She didn’t have a choice. She would have to try. This baby deserved a father, and Douglas deserved his child.

  Outside the window, the great cat moved at last. It stood and stretched, then lightly jumped down out of the tree.