Читать книгу Demon Wolf - Bonnie Vanak - Страница 9

Chapter 2

The moon hung like a silver nickel in the sky.

Hovering in the woods, Keira waited for Dale to arrive home the next night.

Other houses on the street showed signs of life. Lights flicked on. Children ran around their backyards, and then ran inside as their mothers called them in for supper.

Or their mothers threatened to zap them inside. It was a paranormal neighborhood, after all.

Hiding in the shadows, she felt a pinch of deep melancholy. She’d adjusted to loneliness during the infrequent intervals when the demons gave her brief freedom so she could find new men for them to torture. Keira had beaten the demons. She’d refused to associate with anyone, refused to give them new victims, but stalled them by promising them new ones.

They found one on their own. This last time had sliced off a piece of her heart. Dale Curtis had taken her spirit and turned it inside out. She’d almost killed him. And then, a miracle happened.

The commander’s friend had arrived in the house where Curtis was being held prisoner and chanted a cleansing spell to vanquish evil. The spell had sent the demons temporarily to the netherworld and freed her, as well. But in a few weeks, as they always did, the Centurions would use their bolt-hole to this world and break back in.

Then the real fun would start. They would find her, find Curtis and force her to torture the SEAL once more, maybe until he died. The demons would steal all his strength and courage and become solid entities, able to taste the pleasures of the flesh once more.

Keira touched the valise containing the silver armband, which enslaved her to the Centurions. When the demons had vanished unexpectedly, the bracelet unlocked, freeing her from their spell. Only by enslaving herself to another could she escape them.

And Lt. Commander Dale Curtis was the only living person with enough power and courage to destroy the Centurions. She had to overcome her personal fear of seeing him again if she wanted to achieve her goal.

For twenty-three years she’d lived under the demons’ control. No more. Emotion clogged her throat. Dale Curtis looked thin and haggard. The demons had sapped his strength, his vitality. If she didn’t help him recover soon he’d weaken and die.

She needed him strong, needed his resources to find and destroy the demons’ bolt-hole and imprison them forever in the netherworld.

Crouching down, Keira watched the commander’s house. Beneath the light of the nearly full moon, she waited hopefully, and wondered if this brave man would be the one to kill her captors and finally set her free.

* * *

Another day of keeping the world free of paranormal terrors. At least free of the terror of paperwork.

Hell, he was so tired, he could barely function. Dale looked forward to a cold beer, a quick sandwich, a little light reading and then crashing. It was a lonely life, but right now, he preferred it that way. No complications or interference.

Yet as he drove home from the ST 21 compound on the base, Dale imagined a loving woman greeting him at the day’s end. Someone who rushed to the door, eyes lighting up as he walked inside, the good smell of a delicious dinner cooking in the oven.

Instead of always coming home to an empty, silent house.

Dale snorted. He cherished his privacy. He didn’t need a woman in his home, rearranging his life, turning things upside down.

Especially now, he needed to be alone to recharge and recover.

As he turned onto his street, he saw a white Lincoln parked in his driveway. He parked next to it, cut the truck’s engine. His front door was locked. Once inside, he tossed his keys into the antique candy dish on the hallway table and relocked the door.

Someone was home to greet him, after all.

A light glowed down the hall. Mage instincts went on alert. He narrowed his eyes, took a deep breath and headed into his study.

“Nice of you to break in,” he told the gray-haired man sitting in shadow.

“You’re late.”

Vice Admiral Keegan Byrne, pillar of support for SEAL Team 21 and a powerful Primary Mage, toasted him with a whiskey glass filled with amber liquid. Dale glanced at the built-in wood bar against the wall. The bottle of twenty-year-old smooth Scotch malt had been full until tonight.

“Had to finish up paperwork. I’m not asking how you gained access to my home without permission.”

“You need a better security system, Dale. An infant could bypass that alarm.”

“An infant armed with electromagnetic current. Did you fry the panel again?”

Byrne grinned. Dale sighed. Another visit from the electrician.

“Help yourself to more Scotch. Just don’t take my beer.”

Running upstairs in a light jog, he headed to his bedroom, removed the trident, the fruit salad and the insignias from his khaki shirt. Then he stripped and tossed the uniform and undershirt into a white wicker hamper. As he walked toward the closet, the dresser mirror showed the image he’d tried to avoid.

Dale approached, staring at his body for the first time in two months.

Reddened scar tissue raked over his chest, muscled torso, arms and long legs. Razor-sharp claw marks began just below his throat, continued down his belly, ending at his groin, and dwindled out at his thighs and calves.

A remembrance of white-hot pain surged through him. Dale braced his hands on the dresser, hissing through his teeth.

Jerking open a drawer, he sorted through folded shirts and found an old, frayed Virginia Tech T-shirt. Another drawer held gray fleece pants.

When he returned to the study, Byrne remained motionless, the glass of Scotch untouched. He steeled himself. If the old man wasn’t here to socialize, it meant one thing. But he’d let the admiral set the pace.

Dale fished a beer from the minifridge, tossed the cap into the trash and took a seat in front of the fireplace. He knew Byrne would take his time.

Finally Dale gave him a pointed look. “Why are you here?”

“Have you used your powers since leaving the hospital?”

Stretching out a hand, he summoned the current simmering inside. Dale flung it at the fireplace, igniting the logs. “Happy now?”

Understanding and something deeper, and wiser, filled Byrne’s gaze. “I wasn’t talking about toasting marshmallows, Dale. I meant on assignment.”

Surprised, he sipped his beer. “I joined my men on that op to extract Dakota and Kelly. I’m a paper pusher now, not an operator.”

“Maybe it’s time you took off with your boys, joined a mission to evaluate their tactics and skills in the field. Spend quality time, jaw with them, get to know them again.”

Suspicion filled him. “What’s the deal, Keegan? You lost faith in me ever since I got carved like a Thanksgiving turkey?”

Silence.

Anger slowly rose. “That’s it, isn’t it? You think if I were deployed more, I’d have fried my attackers’ asses? Never mind the nine innocent children’s lives at stake. You think I wasn’t strong enough to beat the demons.”

“Were you?”

Dale set down the beer, his hands shaking. “Screw you, Keegan.”

“I’ll leave that for the wife.” The admiral set down his barely touched glass. “Dale, we’ve known each other for a long time and I have to say this. I’m concerned about you, son.”

He hissed out a breath. “I’m not your son. I’m CO of the finest SEAL team in the United States Navy and a 420-year-old Mage.”

“And I have enough years to make you look like a baby sucking on his momma’s tit. Dale, you’re losing touch. I’ve had reports of you being distracted, short-tempered and restless. I don’t know if it’s a residual effect of what happened to you in that basement, or something else.”

“Reports from whom?”

“Your team.”

“Renegade? A sulky SEAL denied leave because Shay was on his honeymoon and I couldn’t afford another man out?”

“No,” Bryne said. “All of them. The entire team. Even Robyn Lees, the new ensign who thinks you can do no wrong.”

Dale sat back, trying to hide his shock. “Nice of them to tell me.”

“They’re worried about you. You’ve changed.”

Almost afraid to ask, he groped for his lost composure. “You said it was my time in the basement or something else that’s affected me. What’s the something else you think is wrong?”

“A woman.”

Dale raked a hand through his short, dark hair and laughed. “No woman’s gotten to me.” Or would want him, the way he looked. “I’m trying to catch up after being out so long. I had a difficult time healing in the hospital.”

“You were almost dead when Shay and Kelly found you.”

Temper rising, Dale straightened up. “Are you lecturing me on how I should have been smarter, knowing the waiting children were a trap? Maybe you should shake the demon’s hand, pin a medal on his chest for catching me off guard.”

Admiral Byrne gave him a long, level look. “If I found the son of a bitch who did this to you, I’d tear him apart with my bare hands. And then toss him to your team to deal with the remains.”

The quiet—but strong—statement made Dale sit back.

“The boys worship you, Dale. They don’t want another commander. They need you, but they’re reluctant to say anything to your face because lately, you’ve been difficult to talk to. You’re a damn good leader, a smart operator, a fine Mage and a close friend. So I’m saying it for them.”

Byrne leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Get your shit straightened out, Dale. Get help from a private psychiatrist or a navy one. Or I’ll assign a mind-melder to you.”

Holy hellfire. A mind-melder, diving into his deepest memories, turning him into a whimpering mess when he barely managed to hold it together now? He didn’t trust the shrinks, either.

“I don’t need a witch doctor,” he said, taking a long pull of beer, ignoring Byrne’s scrutinizing look.

“You’re too thin and haggard. Take a vacation, go see some sights...get laid and then come back and get help.”

Nearly spitting out his sip of beer, he sputtered. “You came all the way from D.C. to tell me to have sex?”

A faint memory surfaced. Sitting in Tom’s bar, a beautiful, mysterious woman staring at him. The memory became fog on glass. Damn it.

Lazily swirling the amber liquid, Byrne snorted. “Sure as hell didn’t come here for this. Damn, twenty-year-old Scotch doesn’t taste the same when you’re 1,500 years old.”

Then the admiral gave him one of his paternal, but knowing, looks. “What happened in the basement, Dale? You never talked about it. Who was that woman found with you, the wolf who vanished?”

Emotion squeezed his throat. He sucked in a deep breath. Byrne was right. He had changed, and denied it. His men deserved better. For two months, he’d hidden the truth, refusing to talk about what the demons had done to him.

“I don’t remember. Everything’s a blur. All I remember are smells and pain. The smell of a Roman orgy, this delicate, delicious female scent...and waking up to see Shay and Kelly standing over me.”

And screams tearing from his throat, until he’d fallen unconscious.

“The Roman orgy was the Centurion demons who tied you up to torture you. Shay banished them with a spell. But the woman found with you, you don’t recall her face? Or a black wolf?”

Dale shook his head, the knot in his stomach tightening. “She must be the demon wolf that tortured me. When I find her, she’ll pay. She’ll lead me to the others and I’ll send them all back to hell.”

“Remembering would help, but sounds like they infused you with a classic demon memory spell. Clouds the victim’s brain in case he survives, he can’t recall specific details.” Byrne’s expression sharpened. “So the demons can come at you again, and catch you off guard.”

Right. Like I’d ever let that happen again. “I don’t need you to watch my six. I’m not rushing headfirst into a sitch without knowing all the intel. Got it?”

Byrne’s look remained steady. “I’m not watching your six anymore, my friend. But I am serious. Get help this week or I’m placing you on mandatory medical leave for another two months and it’s going in your record that you’re mentally unstable. Your team needs you.”

The barbed wire knotted tighter in his stomach. Dale squeezed his beer bottle and felt it crack beneath his palm. He set it down, trying to regain his composure. Couldn’t let Byrne see how rattled he truly was. He didn’t trust him anymore.

Hell, he trusted no one. Not even himself.

The doorbell rang. He glanced at Byrne. “What is this? Another well-meaning friend?”

“Maybe a home invader,” the admiral suggested.

Dale headed down the hallway. The double doors were warded with magick, but anything could be lurking outside. A Girl Scout selling cookies or a demon. Or a very human home invader.

After what happened two months ago, he never took chances.

Gathering his powers, he felt the current hum through his body. And pulled open the door

Not a Girl Scout or a demon, but a petite, ebony-haired woman clad entirely in black leather, except for a powder-blue T-shirt with some kind of business logo.

Chaos.

He gave an appreciative visual sweep of his visitor. Very curvy, with long, curly hair spilling down to her waist. She had a delicate, innocent face. Wide, full lips pulled down slightly at the corners, giving her mouth a cute pout. She looked no more than eighteen.

But deep in her green eyes swirled ancient knowledge, and a weariness he’d seen in the mirror these past two months.

Parked beneath a streetlamp was a motorcycle with a very flat tire.

The girl pushed back a lock of hair. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but do you happen to have an air pump? I’ve got a flat.”

Neither the statement nor the soft, pleading words stopped him. It was the look of faint despair in those lovely, but sorrowful, sea-green eyes.

Dale glanced over his shoulder as the admiral strolled down the hallway. “She doesn’t look like a home invader.”

The girl glanced at the very intrigued and curious Admiral Byrne. Panic flared in her gaze and then her expression smoothed out. She ignored the admiral and stuck out her palm to Dale.

“I’m not. My name’s Keira Solomon. I was visiting one of your neighbors two blocks away and my bike went kaput on your street.”

He took her hand and shook it. Memories tugged...the fog temporarily lifting. Pain, so much pain, agony in each muscle, pulling off bone, shredded flesh...and a large black wolf panting in the corner, sorrow flaring in her green eyes, a long, low howl echoing his screams...

The memory died, leaving him grappling for it like a sleeper groping for wisps of a dream. Keegan looked at him, laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Dale? You okay?”

“Fine.” He shook off his hand.

The admiral gave him a thoughtful look. “Have to get home. The wife is expecting me.”

The woman politely stepped aside to let him pass. Suddenly he pushed her against the wall, his palm splayed over her forehead. Eyes opened wide, she stared at Byrne.

Dale remained motionless, watching with interest. The old man hadn’t done a mind-meld in years.

When he pulled away two minutes later, the admiral didn’t look worried or pleased. Just thoughtful. He glanced at Dale.

“She’s a paranorm. Trust her.” Something very old and sorrowful flickered in the other man’s gaze. “She’ll do you more good than you’ll ever anticipate. You both need each other.”

Keira’s wide mouth wobbled precariously. Seeming to gather her composure, she shot the admiral a scathing look as he pushed past her and went down the steps to his car.

Turning to Dale she asked, “Do you have an air pump? Because it’s getting late and I need to hit the road. If you can’t help me, I’ll knock on someone else’s door.”

The knight in rusty armor, he thought. Can’t help you with anything simpler than an air pump. “Come with me.”

He walked to the garage, where he opened a cabinet door and retrieved the pump and a can of instant flat-tire repair. Keira studied his garage. “Very organized. Everything labeled. Military man. I bet you’re the type who irons your underwear and folds it neatly in the drawer.”

He shot her a look, but she smiled at him, mischief dancing in her green eyes. That look turned him upside down. No one had dared to tease him in a long time.

As they walked back onto the street to her bike, and he set about fixing her flat, she plopped down on the pavement beside him. “I know this is a paranormal neighborhood. I’m a Luminaire.”

Dale plugged the flat and reached for the air pump. “Witch doctor.”

Keira laughed. “That’s what some call me. I’m a psi therapist who helps paranorms restore their energy balance. Perfectly legit. Your neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, asked me to cleanse her home. Had a little issue with dark energy. And you are...?”

Although the admiral vetted her, Dale still didn’t trust the girl. She looked like a pixie with her wide eyes and petite body, but pixies could be trouble.

“Dale Curtis. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He filled the tire and checked the pressure. Perfect.

She gave him a knowing look. “You should. I can feel the power emanating from you. I know you’re a Mage, but can’t tell what type. I have power, as well. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Her teasing, melodious voice almost coaxed a smile from him. Damn, how long had it been since he’d flirted with a pretty woman?

“You first,” he told her.

Uncurling her fist, she displayed a tiny ball of white energy. The ball danced in the air and then slowly drifted upward, exploding into a shower of silver sparks. Dale went still. He hadn’t shown his powers to anyone but Keegan in a long time. Truth was, his powers had gone south since the demons kicked his ass. No telekinesis. All he could do was shift into a wolf and toss a current of power strong enough only to light dry kindling.

“Not bad.”

He focused all his energy and summoned a large ball of energy, which danced in his open palm. Bouncing it like a baseball, he sent it drifting upward, and it exploded in a much larger shower of sparks. Blood drained from her face, but she stood her ground.

“Yours is bigger than mine.”

Dale’s mouth quirked at the joke.

“You’re a Mage—what kind?” she asked.

“Primary Elemental.”

“Very powerful. But your aura is pulsing with dark energy. You need deep cleansing.” She studied her hands. “Speaking of cleansing, may I wash up? I took a bit of a spill back there.”

Mistrust flickered inside him, but he stood and nodded. She was such a tiny sprite, what harm could she do? Still, he took her hand and turned it over, his hand practically swallowing hers. Dale felt no darkness or negativity flaring from her, only a deeper, sexual spark igniting between them. Curious, he circled the scrape on her palm.

“You hurt yourself,” he murmured. “Come inside, and I’ll find antiseptic.”

He picked up the air pump and can, put them back in the garage and let her into the house through the laundry room. Dale fished out a brown bottle of peroxide and bandages from a white cabinet. Keira winced slightly as he ran warm water over her hand, then treated it with peroxide.

“You’re very good with your hands, but wow, the dark energy I feel from you, it’s not you. Not normally you.”

Dale glanced at her as he finished bandaging her hand.

“I use psi therapy, light and massage techniques to eradicate negative energy. High-frequency healing energy, using the natural elements. Harmonic meditation to calm the mind and soothe the spirit.”

“Natural elements?”

“The power of the sun, wind, earth, even fire.”

“I don’t believe in any of that ‘woo-woo’ stuff.” He replaced the bottle of peroxide.

“Of course. Because even though you’re a Mage, you’re very much a military man who believes in what he can see. You’re a natural leader, a colonel or a captain. No, not army, not with the navy base so close.” Keira wiggled her bandaged fingers. “Thanks.”

His gaze narrowed. “Lieutenant commander. How did you know?”

“Simple deduction. The flag out front, this is a military neighborhood, although a paranormal one, and...”

Silently, she pointed to the uniforms hanging on the door, still covered with dry-cleaning plastic. “I’m really quite psychic. I have ESPN.”

As she winked at him, Dale cracked a reluctant smile.

“Seriously, I can tell you need cleansing. You’ve been in contact with some pretty nasty demons.”

His smile dropped. He gestured to the mounds of dirty laundry piled high in the overflowing hamper. “That’s the cleansing I need. My housekeeper quit.”

Sally had quit with the excuse to move closer to her grandchildren. They both knew the truth. Dale’s nightly screams had fractured her nerves.

She traced a pattern in the air. “There’s thick tendrils of blackness in your aura, blackness pulsing with the other colors.”

“What other colors?” He didn’t believe in Luminaires, but he knew about auras.

“Deep red, indicating you’re a strong-willed and realistic person and a bright, vibrant red that says you’re a powerful and extremely competitive individual.”

“Bright, vibrant red also means someone who’s very sexual,” he said, enjoying the hint of pink spreading across her cheeks.

“Yes, that, too. And you have other colors as well, but they’re so obscured by the blackness, I can’t tell them apart. You’ve come into contact with great evil, evil that touched you deeply.”

This was too close for his comfort zone. He folded his arms across his chest.

“Hire me and I’ll give you a big discount. Only three thousand dollars in cash.”

“That’s all?” he asked drily.

Keira shrugged. “Work is slow right now.”

“And what do I get from you for three thousand dollars?” He pushed close to her, getting in her face, crowding her. “And for how long do I get it?”

His brazen, suggestive words brought an attractive flush to her face. To her credit, Keira refused to back off or drop her gaze. “You get me, for however long you need me. A week. Or a month, or more, if you desire. I need a place to stay while I’m in the area.”

Dale caught a faint whiff of an enticing scent that wound around his body and yanked hard. Oh, yeah...he desired. His body tightened, blood running hot and thick.

Their gazes met, connected. Something long dead inside him stirred to life. He reached out and with calloused fingers, touched her cheek.

Keira’s eyes widened and darkened. Her lush mouth trembled.

Just as suddenly the connection broke. Dale stepped back.

“And why are you in the area?”

“I travel a lot across country. Never been to Virginia before. I like the beach.”

She looked innocent. Guileless.

“What exactly are we talking about? What methods?”

“I combine aromatherapy massage and meditation with crystals to restore harmonic energy and fight evil. Light therapy, massage and reflexology.” At his questioning look, she added, “I work with your feet on certain pressure points.”

“Interesting,” he murmured. He liked the idea of the massages. Maybe this could prove to be worth his time. How long had it been since a woman had grabbed his interest?

“I’ll need you to sign a contract, of course. To protect us both,” she said. Her gaze whipped around the house, so fast he could almost see her mind recalculating like a GPS. It was fascinating and disturbing, because he knew she was pushing him hard to go where he didn’t want to venture.

Hiring Keira would get Keegan off his back. Keegan already voiced his approval of her. She was better than a navy shrink and ten times safer than a damn mind-melder. And much sexier. The surge of sexual interest flared again.

But he’d be damned if he let her try any of her woo-woo techniques. She could clean the house instead, cook his meals.

“I need a live-in housekeeper. You’d have your own room downstairs by the kitchen and I’ll pay you the three thousand and you stay for the month. Come back tomorrow at oh-five-hundred with your contract before I leave for the base.”

A tentative smile. “You sure?”

The hesitant words contrasted sharply with her earlier confidence. She almost sounded like a child hopeful for acceptance. Dale’s curiosity was piqued.

He gave a rueful glance at his feet. “I’m not into all that New Age crap, but my feet could use some pampering.”

“It’s not massage. It’s a technique to free the energy.”

“You’re not going to nibble at my toes? Damn.”

Her mouth wobbled in a tentative smile. Dale chuckled, the sound rusty and grating. Hell, had it been that long since he laughed? “I’m teasing you. I’m not into having my toes nibbled.”

At her widening smile, he added, “There are exceptions, if the mouth happens to be wide, and lush...and a tad crooked.”

The most intriguing blush ignited her cheeks. Keira put her hands to her reddened cheeks as that lovely, wide and crooked mouth parted. “Oh-five-hundred sharp. I’ll be here. I’ll even treat you to coffee.”

She leaped down the steps, marched to her motorbike and with a kick start it coughed to life, and she took off into the night.

For a few moments Dale stood in the doorway, staring after her, feeling something tighten in his chest.

He shut the door and called his neighbor to see if Keira’s story was true. After talking a few minutes, he hung up and then dialed Keegan’s number. “Spill it. Tell me what you saw in her mind.”

“Dale, it’s late....”

“Tell me.”

“I couldn’t get a fix on her memories and who she is, but I’ll say this, you need her. Trust me on this. Do yourself a favor. Let go and don’t question, just go with your gut.”

Right. Last time he did that, his guts almost ended up spilling out on the table where he’d been tortured. Damn, he hated coyness.

“Keegan...level with me.”

“Already have, son. Find yourself help and get straightened out. I don’t give a damn who straightens you out, as long as it’s done. Hire a witch doctor if you must.”

“Already did.” He told the admiral about Keira. “You satisfied now? You’ll get off my back?”

“You’re doing the right thing, Dale.”

He snorted. “We’ll see. I don’t believe in any of that woo-woo shit.”

“Maybe you should. Maybe that’s the only thing that can free you.”

The admiral hung up, leaving Dale to ponder his cryptic words.

He went to the window and stared at the full moon, feeling the itch and pull of scar tissue. Or maybe it was the itch and pull of something deeper.

That wolf that hurt him, if he got his hands on the beast...

Dale went into the kitchen, opened the sliding glass doors and stepped onto his deck. A cool, refreshing breeze caressed his cheeks. He was a powerful Primary Mage, a Mage who could shape-shift into any life form. Right now the wolf called to him, the urge to run wild and free in fur. Closing his eyes, he stretched out his hands and called upon his magick, and shifted into a large gray timber wolf. He ran into his backyard, and leaped over the wood fence, giving a joyful yip as he raced through the woods. Senses filled with the night air, the sights and smells of the land.

Freeing and exhilarating, he relished the feel of leaves and earth beneath his paws. The wolf had no responsibilities, didn’t have to visit a shrink to keep his job. The wolf had no scars, only thick fur. The wolf would never be tied down and helpless and vulnerable.

His wolf had power.

And if his wolf ever got his big paws on the demon wolf that tortured him as a man, that SOB would pay with Dale’s claws.

The wolf grinned as he ran with the night.