Читать книгу Her Werewolf Hero - Michele Hauf - Страница 10

Chapter 4

“I’m sorry,” Bron offered as he headed down the highway away from the vampires, who could run fast but not faster than the seventy miles per hour he currently drove. He was surprised to find so many vamps in a town of this size. On the other hand, they could be a tribe. “I haven’t had the opportunity to handle this correctly.”

“This?” Kizzy asked with as much disbelief as he would expect after everything she’d experienced in the past few crazy hours. “What is this exactly? Show me that tracker thing again.”

He dug the tracker from his pocket, and before he could hand it to her, it flew from his grip and landed on her chest.

“Seriously? This is getting ridiculous.” She peeled it off and studied it. “What’s it made of?”

“Crystal.”

“And you said it was bespelled? Does that mean a witch did something to it?”

“Yes,” he answered, because he wasn’t good at lying. And some humans could handle the truth. And he trusted those who could. But that didn’t mean he was going to spill every explicit detail. Need to know. And she didn’t need to know much.

“And this thing is supposed to lead you to the Purgatory Heart,” she said, working it out as she turned the tracker over in her hands. “And since it’s landed over my chest, I assume that means it’s my heart?”

“The spells from the Crafts and Hexes department have never led me wrong before.”

“Crafts and Hexes? What is this place you work for?”

He navigated the truck around a tight country curve. His jaw remained as tight as the curve.

“All right, no answer for that one,” she said. “Will you at least tell me what’s a Purgatory Heart?”

“Can I explain when we stop?”

“When are we going to stop? Where are you taking me?” She scanned the darkness that swept by the vehicle. The ditches had been freshly mowed, and the scent of grass carried in over the gasoline fumes and her distractingly alluring perfume. “I need some answers, and I think you’ve got time now. The vampires are no longer on our tails. So spill.”

He noticed her holding the tracker with one hand and positioning her camera to snap a shot.

“Do you have to take a picture of everything?”

“Yes. It’s my job. I have a blog that yields millions of hits a year, and I publish pictures of—”

“Vampires?”

“No. Yes. Well. My pictures capture the idea of the paranormal.”

He shot her a raised brow.

“They are convincing, but I’ve never actually met a real vampire. Until tonight. Do you know how I’ve longed to capture the paranormal on film? I think I got the harpies, but I didn’t have a chance to get the vampire. Vampires!” She chuckled. “I actually just said that. What a crazy night. I think I need vodka. There’s a dive bar in the next town. We should stop there.”

“It would be wise if you could retain all of your senses. At least until I can be assured no one else is after you.”

“Spoilsport. Just as well. I’m a teetotaler. My drinking is like my photography—it’s more of an idea than the real thing.” She tapped the crystal with a fingernail, and it produced a crisp ting. “You said this tracker thing sends out vibrations?”

“Yes. I’ve been told it somehow communicates with the item—that being the Purgatory Heart—and sends out vibrations. Or maybe it’s the heart that sends the vibrations. Not positive on that one. Unfortunately, any paranormal within range of those otherworldly vibrations will also feel them. If they’ve an interest in obtaining the heart, or even not—they may simply be curious—it will bring them round.”

“What is it about my heart?” She clutched her T-shirt, then shook her head. “No, wait. Let’s do it your way for now. Let’s put some distance between whatever is after us and find a place to rest. I’m so tired. And hungry. There’s a town about ten miles ahead. Basically a truck stop with a diner.”

“And a dive bar?”

“I was kidding about the drink. Unless you want one?”

He shook his head.

“Can we stop at the truck stop?”

Her eyes pleaded, and Bron felt a twinge in his chest that he’d not felt in a long time. Compassion? Or perhaps just hunger. He hadn’t eaten and was hungry. Had to be hunger.

A human woman sat beside him. She was not a part of the mission. The heart wasn’t supposed to be beating. Nor was it supposed to be inside the chest of a pretty woman who had an insatiable curiosity for the paranormal realm and—that damned camera. She couldn’t be allowed to have such damning photographs of anything from the paranormal realm. Would she post them online? A million hits? That was something he must not risk.

“Yes, something to eat,” he muttered. “And a room for the night.”

“You honestly don’t think it’s safe for me to return to Thief River Falls?”

“Do you?”

She considered it a few seconds, drawing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms about them as she shook her head. “No.”

He’d rent a room. She could sleep. And he could make sure all the photos she had taken were erased.

* * *

The truck stop sat before a small motel featuring fewer than ten rooms in the back lot near a sunflower field. The decor sported dark wood paneling and pine furniture with rough-cut carvings of grizzly bears on the headboards and the chair arms. Red-and-yellow plaid curtains matched the bedspreads. Kitschy country. Bron had seen the inside of enough motel rooms and hotels not to care anymore. As long as the bed was halfway comfortable and there was running water, he was satisfied.

Kisanthra had made a beeline to the bathroom as they entered the room, calling out that she wanted to freshen up and that might take a while so not to worry about her.

He wouldn’t worry about her. Unfortunately, their paths had crossed, and now he did have to deal with the situation. Find and seize? Unlikely.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Acquisitions. It was late, and the office was overseas, which put their time early in the morning, but dispatch, a 24/7 position, answered. He asked her to patch him through to the director’s messages and left a short one.

“The Purgatory Heart is in someone’s chest. Unable to seize. I await further instructions.”

If that didn’t get the point across he didn’t know what else would be required. The director would probably pull him from the mission. Bron had never taken an innocent life to gain an object he’d been assigned to retrieve. Not unless that life threatened him or others, that is. And in that case, it generally was not an innocent.

But could he leave the heart—and the woman—just like that?

Sitting on one of the two twin-size beds that had seen better days—probably better decades—and facing the bathroom door, he listened to the water splash in the sink. A vampire had almost sunk his fangs into her neck. Kisanthra Lewis was—and would be—pursued by every degenerate that could pick up on the universal vibrations. She was not safe. And while it wasn’t his job to play babysitter, he had inadvertently been the one to lead those aggressors to her.

He couldn’t walk away. He had to ensure she was safe. Yet how to do that? So long as her heart beat in her chest, he felt sure she’d be a target.

The director had said the heart had been grasped by a soul from Purgatory. How was that possible?

There were a lot of times he didn’t completely understand the nature or power of the items he had been ordered to retrieve. Didn’t matter. He had a job; he carried it out. He looked forward to the next mission and the next. He enjoyed the adventure, the quest and, oftentimes, the race for the prize. The satisfaction in completing a task that very few could. He did not require accolades, only another assignment. The next fix.

But never before in his nearly one hundred fifty years of working for Acquisitions had such a race to the prize involved ensuring the safety of a human woman. This was a twist he wasn’t sure how to handle. And even if he did, he didn’t want to.

He didn’t get involved with human women romantically. That way lay heartbreak. And unfathomable grief. He would never be forgiven for one moment of indiscretion with a human woman and the results that had followed. Nor did he deserve such forgiveness.

He hadn’t thought about that time for ages. Had been so involved in his work that he hadn’t afforded a moment for regret. And now, in the midst of a strange connection to this human woman, memory had chosen to bombard him with images of a sweet blond child, alone and...beyond hope. So precious and fragile.

That horrible, horrible day. It had been his fault! All because he’d chosen to dally with a human woman.

Pressing his hands to his temples and shaking his head, Bron shook away the image. The best thing he could do now was get Kizzy out of his life as quickly as possible. Because he didn’t need the grief of memory or the tease of her sexy scent. She was pretty and tough and independent. All things that attracted him to a woman.

But she had no fangs or wings or the ability to shift, so that made her dangerous to his very soul.

“I’ll take her home. Maybe Acquisitions can assign a watch to her for a few days.”

He couldn’t be responsible for her safety. Because he wasn’t capable or, rather, didn’t want to remain in such close proximity to her.

The bathroom door opened, and Kizzy wandered out, twisting her hair into a ponytail as she did. He hadn’t noticed if she’d worn makeup earlier, but now her face was clean and fresh. A sweet, fruity tease clung to her skin. More of that seductive perfume?

He quickly looked away, finding the remote on the nightstand to look busy.

“That felt good to wash my face and take a few minutes to regroup.” She wandered to the bed, where she’d dropped her camera bag.

Damn, he’d forgotten to go through the camera. Distracted by morbid memories. He’d wait until she fell asleep. Her focus was fixed on the LCD screen on the back of the camera.

“Wish I had a toothbrush, but a hand towel worked well enough. You want to use the bathroom? It’s all yours.”

“I will. I’m just going to, uh...”

She eyed him up and down, setting aside the camera. “Stand guard?”

He nodded.

She plopped onto the bed and toed off her red shoes. Reclining, she pushed back the coverlet and shoved down the sheets with her feet. Propping up the pillow, she sat back against it. “So, tell me about this Purgatory Heart.”

Bron exhaled and pulled the curtain back before the window. He didn’t want to do this. But she had a right to know. Maybe if he answered her questions now, that would put an end to them, and he could focus. And be done with her.

“I was commanded to retrieve the heart and return it to Acquisitions,” he offered. “That’s how my assignments work. I get an electronic dossier on the object, a location if available and off I go. I had no idea the Purgatory Heart would be inside someone’s chest. Nor do I believe the Director of Acquisitions knew that.”

At least, he hoped Ethan Pierce had not known such information. What kind of duplicity would that be if he’d been sent on such a task? No, Pierce had been the director for two centuries. He was solid and trustworthy.

She pressed her fingers over her breast. Feeling her heartbeats? “So I’ve got to keep one eye out for you and a big butcher knife? Not like I haven’t been through that before.”

He gaped at her.

“Not like that.” She swept a dismissive hand before her and yawned. “I mean, no man has ever come after me with a knife before. Without my permission. You know.” She shrugged and splayed out a hand. “I had open-heart surgery eight months ago. Got a nasty scar down my chest.” She lifted her shirt just enough so he could see a thick red scar vertically climbing her chest wall. “So I suppose, if when the time comes and you do intend to take out my heart, you can just use the ‘cut here’ line.”

“That’s...” He didn’t know what to say to that. She was too blasé about the possibility of such a hazard. Truly, her fear manifested strangely. “I won’t do that, Kisanthra.”

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself. I’m too tired to care right now. And hungry. But I think I’ll fall asleep before I can look up the diner’s number for takeout. So why were you tasked with finding my heart? Is it important? You said you retrieve objects of magical nature. I know this heart isn’t magical.”

“It’s a portal to Purgatory.”

She lifted her head from the pillow and gave him a wide-eyed assessment. Deep brown eyes that held such curiosity while at the same time managed to disturb him. Because her gaze compelled him to wonder about her. What made her tick? What did she see through those eyes when she held the camera before them?

Bron nodded in confirmation. How fucked was it to learn your heart could allow others access to Purgatory?

“That is so crazy. You’re saying someone can get to Purgatory from my heart? By...using it? How? I didn’t think Purgatory was a real place. I’m not even Catholic!”

“It exists. And in the wrong hands, your heart could provide an entrance to the place. Should that occur...things could get out.”

“What kind of things?” Her wide eyes beamed fascination.

“Souls. Bad things. I’m aware that Purgatory is populated with Toll Gatherers and the souls of the dead. But that’s not important, because no one is going there by means of the heart.”

“You mean my heart. It’s not the heart. It’s mine. Right here.” She thumped her chest. “Still beating. And I’m not willing to give it up anytime soon.”

He nodded. “As you should not. But as I’ve said, I had expected to find...an artifact. A preserved heart or some such. Not one still beating. The photographs show the objects bear a burned handprint on them.”

“Photographs?”

Bron sighed and tugged out his cell phone. As he scrolled to the dossier files, he considered whether or not he should show her classified Acquisitions information. But then he clicked on the link to the museum, which was on the internet for anyone to access, and handed her his phone.

She scrolled for a while and read the website. “That stuff looks fake. Anyone could have burned a handprint into a book or bucket and called it that. Or Photoshop! You actually believe this stuff?” She handed him back the phone.

“I thought you said you believed in the unbelievable?”

“I do, but I’m not stupid. Check the Snopes website. I’m sure it debunks that museum.”

“All files are fact-checked and verified as genuine before they become an assignment. I have no reason to doubt the validity of the object’s value or use.” He tucked the phone away in a pocket. “The tracker led me to you. I’ve never doubted witch magic before, and I’m not about to begin now.”

She placed a palm over her chest and closed her eyes. With a nod, she seemed to accept his statement. “This is so out of my pay grade. And I don’t even have a salary. But I’m willing to listen and learn. To believe.”

“A willingness is more than most can manage.” He hooked a hand over the end of the stake holstered at his hip.

“Do you always carry that stake?”

“Always.”

“I’ve seen the crossbow you carry. That was cool. What other kinds of weapons do you have? A knife?”

“In the truck I’ve a bowie knife and a garrote. The crossbow and some other weapons. Why do you ask?”

“I suppose a bowie knife would do nicely to cut out my heart. Just needed to know what I’m dealing with.”

“Kisanthra, I’ve promised you that I will not cut out your heart.” He cast his gaze toward the window but couldn’t see beyond the curtains. How to make her believe him? And why did he care? “My word is always good.”

Except when he had been younger, and ego had ruled his life, and he’d done whatever he’d pleased whenever he’d pleased with whomever he’d pleased.

Hell, this trip down memory lane could prove brutal if he did not strike it from his thoughts right now.

“What makes it a portal?” she asked.

Her curiosity was a good sign. He hoped. While he sensed her fear, it was also balanced with a tremendous dose of curiosity. She should not fear him. And if she were to keep her head about her if any other paranormals came after her, then she would be much easier to protect than a screaming madwoman.

“I’ve been told such a heart—your heart,” he said, “bears the handprint from a purgatorial soul. Such as is shown in those artifacts from that museum. Someone gripped it and, well, I’m not sure how that can have happened. That’s where I lose all sense of rationality with this situation.”

“So you have as much trouble believing as I do?”

The best he could offer was a noncommittal shrug. Because, really? It was pretty far out there. But again, he did not question his missions. Sometimes it was simply better not having all the facts.

She suddenly clasped both hands to her chest. Eyes tracing the bed covers, she winced and shook her head.

He could sense her increased breaths and smell the worry on her. “Kisanthra? What is it?”

She shook her head frantically. “Nothing. I...nothing. I think I just need to sleep this off.” She snuggled down into the sheets. “Right. That’s it. Maybe a good night’s sleep will see me waking up from this crazy dream. You going to sleep?”

“In a bit. I’m going to stand watch for a while.”

“Fine. Me and my Purgatory Heart will just catch some shut-eye.”

He turned to face her bed, and just when he almost reached to smooth a reassuring hand down her shoulder, he cautioned himself. Not necessary to protect her in that manner. “You’re taking this very well.”

“How else should I take it?”

“Not sure. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m tired, Bron. I appreciate you looking after me today. And I just want to not talk to anyone right now if that’s okay with you.”

“Fine. We’ll talk in the morning and decide what next to do.”

“Sure thing.” She pulled the sheet over her head.