Scarlet Heat

  Just when I thought I couldn’t stand it anymore, the pain stopped abruptly.

  I sat up in the seat—I’d been practically down on the floorboard—and took stock of myself. Despite the weird, burning pain I’d experienced, there were no marks on me anywhere. I looked at my arms and legs and even lifted my shirt and unbuttoned my jeans—nothing, not a scratch or a burn anywhere.

  Was I crazy? Had I imagined it all? Or was Taylor in trouble?

  I grabbed my cell phone and tried to call her but she wasn’t picking up. Frowning, I started the truck and pulled back onto the road. I didn’t know what was happening but I had a strong feeling something was seriously wrong.

  Never should have sent you away, baby, I thought as I drove down the dark road. I was such a coward—should have been man enough to face what I did and beg your forgiveness.

  When I saw her again, I fully intended to drop to my knees and do exactly that. I’d try to explain why I had done what I did. And pray to God she’d listen.

  I drove along, the yellow lines in the road flashing past under my truck, berating myself. I should have begged her forgiveness in the first place. But I was too disgusted with myself, too filled with shame and self loathing at the way I had broken her trust. Too—

  A sudden, sharp, stabbing pain cut off my thoughts. It felt like someone had plunged a fucking machete into my chest. I lost control of the truck, swerving wildly across the midline and narrowly missing a lone semi that was rushing past. I heard the blast of its horn and then my truck dipped sharply down and the dark shape of a huge old tree was looming up in my windshield.

  I tried to twist the wheel but the pain in my heart was so strong I felt paralyzed—literally unable to move. All I could do was watch as the truck plowed straight into it.

  There was a grinding, crashing sound of metal tearing and glass shattering and then I was flying—straight through the windshield.

  My head connected with something hard and sharp and then everything went black.

  * * * * *

  Taylor

  “Take her—use the silver cuffs and the gag. I don’t want that little witch to hear anything. And you, Carl—get her keys. Drive her car somewhere and dump it.”

  The sultry voice was horribly familiar. I looked up to see Celeste—my old mistress and the one who had turned me into a vampire in the first place—smirking at me.

  Strong hands grabbed me, and though I tried to fight, I felt too weak. It was like I was bleeding inwardly, like the wound I had sustained when my bond with Victor was cut was draining me until I could barely move. Even when they slapped silver cuffs on my wrists and a silver gag across my mouth I still couldn’t summon the strength to fight. The silver burned my skin but it still didn’t hurt nearly as much as the pain of losing Victor.

  What’s the use? I thought dully as they dragged me into Celeste’s waiting car—a sleek black Hummer with vanity plates that said VAMP-1. Nothing matters anymore. He’s gone.

  Celeste seemed to notice my lack of struggle. She settled beside me on the seat and frowned.

  “What’s the matter, Taylor darling? Having a bad night?”

  Of course I couldn’t speak around the gag so I just shook my head and looked away. From the corner of my eye, I could see Celeste frowning. She was dressed in her usual dramatic style—black and white with blood red accents, and her pixie-cut blonde hair was perfectly coifed as always. Celeste was petite and lovely—like a fragile, beautifully crafted doll. It was only when you lived with her for awhile, as I had been forced to do—that you realized what a monster she truly was under those big innocent eyes and delicate features.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Celeste asked one of the men who had grabbed and cuffed me—the other was driving the car. “Why is she so lifeless?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. She’s your spawn, isn’t she?”

  “That’s not a very polite word to use,” Celeste snarled. “But yes, it was I who first turned her to darkness.”

  “Then you figure it out. Vamp psychology isn’t my area of expertise.” He was a big man who seemed human but there was an aura of power about him—a dark energy that seemed to fill the cab of the Hummer. I couldn’t get a good look at his features in the dim car but could tell he wasn’t afraid of Celeste, which was unusual and probably unhealthy unless he had the ability to back up his flippant words.

  “Make the test,” she snapped, scowling at him. “Hurry—I must know if it worked!”

  “All right.” He shrugged and ripped the silver gag off my mouth. Then he shoved what tasted like a cold Chicken McNugget into my mouth.

  “What the—?” I choked, tried to spit it out but his powerful hands clamped shut around my face. He was definitely more than human because I couldn’t break his grip.

  “Chew, girlie,” he rumbled. “Eat it up. Sorry about the quality but it’s not like the Queen of the Damned over here has any gourmet nibbles lying around. We had to go through the drive-thru to get that little amuse bouche.”

  “I’m getting really tired of your sarcasm, Mr. Shadowlock,” Celeste said, giving him a nasty look. “I did not hire you for your sense of humor.”

  “No, you hired me because I’m the most powerful warlock in the continental US—you hired me for my Goddamn magic,” he drawled. “The humor is just a bonus. So why don’t you sit back and enjoy it the same way this little lady is enjoying her first taste of over-processed chicken in six long years?”

  Celeste looked like she was going to say something else but at that moment I swallowed.

  “Look!” Her eyes glowed with excitement in the dim car. “She ate it! She actually ate it! Quick,” she commanded the warlock. “Give her another!”

  “Let’s just wait a minute and make sure the first one stays down,” he said dryly. “Cleaning up vampire puke isn’t in my job description.”

  “You’re useless,” she snapped at him. “Here—give me that!” Reaching across me, she snatched a small red cardboard carton with brightly colored cartoons on its side—a Happy Meal. I could almost see her ordering it too—No, I do not care if the toy included is for a boy or a girl, just give me the damn food! I would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so horrible.

  “Celes—” I started to say but the moment my mouth was open, she crammed three more McNuggets down my throat—or tried to, anyway. She neglected to hold my mouth shut like the warlock had. I spit the nuggets in her face and bit her finger—hard.

  “Ow! You little bitch!” Celeste slapped me as hard as she could—which was plenty hard—she was a three-star vampire with a lot of power. My head rocked back and I saw stars and tasted blood—both hers and mine.

  “Hey, now…” The warlock sounded pissed. “You didn’t say anything about beating the hell out of the poor girl. Killing her, yes—but not beating her.”

  “She bit me!” Celeste sounded outraged.

  “And if I know vamps—which I unfortunately do—you probably did a hell of a lot worse to her back when she was in your care,” he rumbled. “So let’s take it easy with the domestic violence, all right?”

  “She is mine—I will beat her if I please.” Celeste sounded sulky—she wasn’t used to being reprimanded.

  “I’m not yours anymore,” I said, spitting blood on the floor of her Hummer. “I haven’t been since Corbin rescued me.”

  “That is what you think.” Celeste’s eyes flashed dangerously. “But no one can ever truly sever the tie between a vampire and his or her maker. There is still a thread of connection between us, my dear little Taylor. And that is more than enough to make the prophecy work.”

  “Prophecy? What prophecy?” I asked.

  Celeste only shoved the Happy Meal in my face.

  “Eat,” she commanded, shaking the cardboard container so that it rustled and sent the greasy stink of stale fast food wafting into my face. I nearly gagged.

  “Sorry.” Using both cuffed hands, I shoved it back at her. “I’ve had enough junk food for one night
.”

  “Let me rephrase that, Taylor.” Celeste’s eyes narrowed and she leaned toward me. “Eat the fucking Happy Meal or I will cut off your fingers, joint by joint, and feed them to you instead. Either way, it’s meat.”

  My stomach rolled because I knew she’d do it. Suddenly, I felt in danger of losing everything I had eaten that night—the Checker’s food, Gwendolyn’s grandmother’s homemade pickles—everything, including the dry, tasteless Chicken McNugget the warlock had crammed down my throat.

  “I’ll save you the trouble,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “And tell you that I can eat again. I don’t know why or what it has to do with any prophecy but I’ve already had a cheeseburger, a shake, fries, and about half a jar of dill pickles tonight. If you make me eat any more I really will puke.”

  “I’d listen to the girl,” Shadowlock rumbled. “Fast food vomit is nasty stuff. It’d be a shame to have to trash your nice ride because you couldn’t get the smell out.”

  “I wasn’t going to puke on the car,” I said. “If I hurl it’s going to be straight at Celeste.” I glared at my old mistress. No matter how much she threatened me, I wasn’t going to act like a victim. That was the old Taylor—I refused to be that girl anymore. “I’d settle for getting it all over your nice dress,” I told her. “But I’d prefer to get it in your hair, Mistress.”

  The warlock laughed. “Girl’s got spunk. You gotta admire that.”

  “No, I most certainly do not.” Celeste sat back in the car and frowned at me, clearly perplexed. “You seem to have a gained courage since last I saw you, Taylor. You’re no longer the sniveling little coward you were when I first turned you.”

  I thought of Victor. Of his patience and kindness—the way he had gone out of his way to help me get over my fear and trauma.

  “That’s because I spent time with someone who really cared about me,” I said. “And…and lost him. There’s nothing you can do to me that you haven’t already done. Nothing that could be worse than what just happened.”

  “And what exactly happened?” Celeste demanded, leaning toward me again.

  “I think she’s talking about the blood-bond.” The warlock’s deep voice was surprisingly quiet. “It’s already broken, isn’t it, darlin?” he asked, looking at me. “That’s what you were doing at that little witch’s house.”

  I looked down at my cuffed hands. Wisps of acrid smoke were rising from my wrists where the silver cuffs burned me but they didn’t hurt nearly as badly as my heart.

  “Yes,” I whispered. What was the point in denying it?

  “Well, then…” Shadowlock sat back and looked at Celeste. “It looks like you won’t be needing my services any further, Ma’am. So if you could just let me off at the airport—”

  “Not so fast,” Celeste snapped. “I still need your help for the ceremony tomorrow night.”

  “That wasn’t our deal. You’ve got the girl and I showed you what to do.” His voice was stony. “You don’t need me.”

  “Yes, I do,” she insisted. “I’ll need a circle of protection in case Taylor’s little friends come calling. It means more money for you—I don’t understand why you’re balking.”

  “Money isn’t everything,” he said darkly.

  “What then?” Celeste asked impatiently. “Is it because I intend to kill her?”

  My throat got tight and my heart started drumming. It was the second time they’d talked about killing me and the way they mentioned it—so casually—made my blood freeze.

  “That’s not it,” the warlock returned. “I’ve done plenty of killing myself—sacrificed the hornless goat more times than I care to count.”

  “The dark nature of the spell then—”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Hardly. I’ve done so much dark magic my soul is blacker than a bucket of tar. One more spell won’t make a difference. Let’s just say I have my own reasons for wanting to go home and leave it at that. Now if you could just drop me at the airport—”

  “I will not,” she insisted. “I have paid you a very generous sum and put you up in the finest hotel in town—I deserve to know why you’re giving me problems now—just when I am on the eve of my own personal ascent to power.”

  “Fine.” He leaned toward her. The fact is, I just don’t like you, Ma’am. Working with you this past month has been pretty Goddamn unpleasant and I’m ready to see the end of your pretty little backside.”

  Celeste’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “How dare you? Do you have any idea of who I really am and what I could do to you if I chose?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I know you think you’re hot shit—a three-star vamp and hotter than a firecracker to look at—but I’ve seen how you treat your people. Pretty is as pretty does, my nana used to say and let me tell you, Celeste, you’re one of the ugliest fucking people I’ve ever met.”

  “I…why…you…” I had never seen my old mistress so flustered before. “You will stay with me,” she said at last, glaring at him. “You will see this to the end or…or…”

  “Go ahead,” he said coolly. “Tell me how you’re going to kill me. Then just come on and try it. I may be too much of a gentleman to hit a lady but somehow I don’t think you fall into that category.”

  Celeste’s eyes narrowed. “You will finish the job I hired you to do or I will ruin your reputation, Mr. Shadowlock. No one will ever hire you in Florida again.”

  “What a big loss that would be,” he said dryly. “You know the problem with this state? You have all the heat of Texas but none of the good food. I spent an hour yesterday trying to find some decent Tex-Mex and the best I could come up with was a choice between Taco Bell and a Cuban sandwich. Which, don’t get me wrong, Ma’am—a good Cuban is delicious. But not when your mouth is watering for some really authentic tacos al carbon or some carmarones diablo.” “Would you shut up about food?” Celeste hissed. “It’s revolting.”

  He grinned, his teeth gleaming white in the dim light.

  “Well now, I thought that being able to eat again was one of the reasons you wanted to kill this pretty little girl in the first place.” He nodded at me. “Or are you going to lie and tell me you haven’t been dying to sink your fangs into a slice of really gooey deep dish pizza for the past three hundred years?”

  “I’d sooner eat dirt,” Celeste spat. “But once I have the powers within me that Taylor has gained, I will be unstoppable."

  “Powers?” I said, looking at her doubtfully. “What powers?”

  She laughed nastily. “Don’t pretend you don’t know, my dear. I’ve heard the story of how you went out into the noonday sun and came back with nothing worse than a tan to show for it.”

  I shook my head. “I was only out for a minute—less than a minute. And I don’t even know how I did it.”

  “Well, I do,” Celeste said loftily. “Do you know, I knew you would make a good vampire when I first saw you at my show—I just didn’t know why. Your abysmal failure to succeed as one of our kind actually made me question my judgment once or twice. But now I know why I chose you—even then you had the seeds of greatness within you, my dear. Seeds that can only sprout when planted in the correct ground—me.”

  I looked at her like she was crazy.

  “Are you even hearing yourself?” I asked. “None of what you’re saying makes any sense.”

  “It will.” Celeste leaned forward and slapped the silver gag over my mouth again, drawing a muffled cry of pain from my throat. “Oh believe me, Taylor—it will.”

  Chapter Twenty-five—Victor

  When I woke up, my cell phone—which was miraculously still in my pocket—said it was well past ten o’clock. I shook my head and then wished I hadn’t. I had a miserable throbbing headache—the worst I’d ever had—and when I put my fingers to my scalp where it hurt the most, they came away sticky with drying blood. No doubt the injury I’d sustained would have killed a human—lucky for me, weres are tough so I just blacked out for a few minutes.


  The ache in my head, though, was nothing to the cold, empty feeling around my heart. Some tie—some connection to Taylor I’d had there had been severed. I could feel it like a sucking chest wound—a sense of loss so great it made me feel sick to my stomach. God, what had she done? Or worse, what had been done to her?

  I had to find out.

  I had woken up in the middle of a field and it took me a little while to get oriented again. I looked around and saw that the tree I’d smashed into was totaled. Unfortunately, so was my truck. Damn it—I was going to have to call someone to come get me. Maybe Taylor would answer this time.

  I pulled out my cell phone again to call her and then did a double take at the screen. It was after ten o’clock at night—about the time it should have been—but the date was wrong. According to my phone, it was tomorrow. Had I actually been unconscious almost twenty-four hours? I must have bumped my head harder than I thought. But why hadn’t anyone seen the wreck and notified the police and EMTs?

  The landscape around me answered my question—my truck had crashed in a sort of natural valley—unusual in Florida but not unheard of. Also, the crash site was screened by a stand of straggly pines and overgrown underbrush. Probably people had been driving by all day and hadn’t noticed a fucking thing.

  The weight of the moon in the sky above me confirmed what my phone said. She was full—full and calling me to change. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Taylor. I had to check on her before I let myself answer the moon’s siren call.

  I called her phone—no answer. So I called Corbin’s club and had to wade through a lot of bullshit in order to convince the bored sounding barmaid that no, I wasn’t just another drooling fang freak after her Master’s precious four-star ass and yes, I had legitimate reason to talk to him. God, how did he stand this shit? But whatever—you make your living the best way you can. I just knew I wouldn’t trade with him.