Circle of Fire Page 4

  “What?” she asked, rubbing her arms as the wind whipped around her.

  “Remove the shaft from my arm.”

  She’d seen the wound as she’d helped him over the rim of the well, sticking out from under the edge of his sleeve, and that was about as close as she wanted to get. His whole arm had swollen, and the handkerchief he’d wrapped around the wound was a bloody mess. She’d risk causing more damage if she tried to do anything other than getting him to a doctor. “No. I can’t.”

  He grabbed her wrist when she tried to rise. “Madeline, you have to take it out. I can’t last much longer.”

  There was something more than urgency in his voice. She fought the instinct to pull away from his touch and wrapped her fingers around his instead, offering him the warmth of her hand. Warily, she met his gaze. In the blue depths of his eyes she saw a hint of desperation—and a pain that went far deeper than anything she’d ever faced.

  She tore her gaze away and shone the light toward the farmhouse again. Though she hadn’t seen any movement nor heard any unusual sounds, something was out there watching them. They had to get out of this area quickly. She glanced back at Jon and felt something tremble inside.

  “I don’t think we’re safe.” She hesitated, her gaze drawn back to the shadows. “I’ll remove the damn thing if you want, but I won’t do it here.” And she was relieved when she saw him nod.

  JON BIT BACK THE URGE TO SWEAR AND RELUCTANTLY RELEASED her hand. What she said was true enough. While he couldn’t hear anyone in the immediate area, he knew someone was bound to see the headlights sooner or later and investigate. Better they left before anyone got too curious.

  He just had to hope moving around didn’t drive the shaft and its deadly splinters too much deeper, or he’d be in real trouble.

  Madeline put her shoulder under his, lending him her strength as he tried to rise. His foot slipped out from underneath him, and he dropped heavily. She cursed, her breath warm against his ear as she went down with him. The shattered end of the arrow scraped against rock, and he bit back a groan. Heat flashed through his body. He gulped down air, fighting the rush of dizziness.

  She had to take the arrow out. The white-ash shaft was killing him.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice full of concern and a slight edge of panic.

  “Not your fault.” He opened his eyes, desperate to find something, anything, to distract him from the pain.

  Her face was close to his, and in the harshness of the headlights, her hair seemed afire. She wasn’t what he’d expected. She was smaller and slimmer than she’d first appeared, and she smelled of roses. And fear. He couldn’t tell if she was more afraid of the situation or of him.

  “We have to get moving,” she said softly. Her fingers twitched against his shoulder, her touch light yet warm.

  He followed the direction of her gaze. Something stirred in the shadows, a whisper of movement accompanied by the slightest hint of a footfall. The scent of magic whispered across the wind, tainting the cold night air.

  She was right. They had to get out of this field. He couldn’t afford to find trouble now, when Madeline was in the firing line. She’d risked enough just getting him out of the well.

  But he couldn’t let her go before she’d removed the arrow.

  They reached the truck. Madeline opened the door with her free hand. He grabbed the top of the door for support and pulled himself in, half falling across the seat as he tried to avoid catching the edge of the shaft again. He struggled upright, her jacket falling from his shoulders as he watched her wind up the rope at the front of the trunk.

  There was another hint of movement in the shadows beyond her. He frowned, eyes narrowing. There was something awfully familiar in that momentary flicker, something that sent a chill racing through his body.

  Again the shadows moved, and this time he saw it. The creature was big and black and moved on four legs.

  And it was no animal.

  JON TWISTED AROUND IN THE SEAT, TRYING TO FIND MADELINE. They needed to move before the creature became too curious. It might be nothing more than a coincidence that it had appeared in the same field he’d been shot in, but there was no sense in chancing it. The driver’s-side door opened and Madeline climbed in. He curbed the urge to tell her to hurry and looked out the window instead. The creature no longer sat in the shadows. Maybe it had lost interest in them and moved on. Then he smiled grimly. The chances of that happening are about as good as me flying right now …

  Madeline ground the gears, and the truck jerked forward. He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes, fighting his need to sleep. There was a lot he had to do. He couldn’t afford to sleep yet.

  Again, the faint scent of roses surrounded him. He smiled slightly. It was a scent that suited her. The rose was a beautiful flower, yet its stem was covered with prickly thorns. He had a feeling much the same could be said about Madeline.

  The truck slid to a sudden stop and he was jerked forward, then abruptly back. He clutched his arm and swore softly.

  “Sorry.” She barely glanced his way as she scrambled out. “Have to do up the fence.”

  “Leave it,” he said through gritted teeth, but he was speaking to air. “Damn.”

  He rolled down the window and leaned out, looking for her. And saw the cat in the distance, its shape indistinct in the night as it sauntered toward them.

  “Madeline, get back in the truck.” He kept his voice low, not wanting to scare her or spur the cat into action.

  She stopped looping the wire and turned toward him. Though he couldn’t see her features clearly, he felt the leap of fear through her body. She was ready to run, but she didn’t, and he thanked the gods for sending him a sensible woman.

  “Why?” she asked quietly.

  “Just get in the truck,” he repeated, his gaze never leaving the creature.

  “But …” She hesitated, then dropped the wire and walked back quickly.

  The cat stopped, watching them for several seconds before it turned and sauntered back toward the dark outlines of the homestead. Had it lost interest, or had it found what it was looking for? He sensed it was the latter and hoped like hell he hadn’t landed Madeline in trouble too.

  He rolled up the window as the truck moved off. At least he had a starting point now. All he had to do was track down the cat once Madeline had removed the arrow. He grimaced. Yeah. Real easy.

  The truck bumped quickly along the old road. He held on grimly as Madeline pulled around a sharp right-hand turn, then reached out and gently touched her leg. She jumped and gave him a wild-eyed look. Only then did he realize just how much he’d frightened her.

  “It’s all right. We’re safe,” he said, cursing himself for being a fool. He was supposed to be an empath—why in the hell hadn’t he sensed what she was going through? “Ease up a little. No one’s after us now.”

  She swallowed hard and nodded. The brakes ground harshly as she pulled over to the side of the road and stopped.

  “What did you see back there?” she asked softly.

  He half shrugged, not wanting to scare her any more than necessary. “Nothing. Just spooked by the darkness.”

  She studied him for a moment. He could sense her uncertainty—about him and the situation she’d been forced into. He suddenly wished there were more light so he could see her eyes. He had a feeling they would tell him a great deal. Then he frowned. He was in Taurin Bay for one reason: to find the missing kids and to stop the people responsible for their disappearance. He didn’t have time for diversions—even one as interesting as Madeline.

  “I need you to take the arrow out of my arm,” he said, more abruptly than he’d intended.

  “And I think you should let a doctor do that …” Her voice trailed off as she met his gaze. “Why are you so reluctant to see a doctor?”

  Good question. “Walking into an emergency room with an arrow wound might attract the sort of attention I’m trying to avoid.” Which was the tr
uth, but not the true answer to her question.

  “It might have hit an artery or something.” She hesitated, then added softly, “I might kill you.”

  It was a normal fear, given the look of the wound, yet instinct suggested her fear stemmed more from something else. The tremor in her voice spoke of a past acquaintance with death—and that it was an acquaintance she had no wish to renew.

  “You won’t kill me,” he said quietly, sensing it wouldn’t take much more to scare her into running. “If an artery was severed, I’d have bled to death by now.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be all right. I just need the arrow removed. Every time I move, it digs a little deeper.” And killed him just a little bit more.

  She swallowed and nodded. “There’s a first aid kit under your seat.”

  He leaned forward and retrieved it. She turned on the overhead light, then took the kit from him. Her fingers shook as she sorted through the bandages and antiseptics.

  “I don’t have a pair of tweezers big enough.”

  “Just use your fingers.” He reached across and caught her hand. Her fingers were soft and warm against his, silk compared to sandpaper. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I damn well won’t,” she muttered, then took a deep breath and gave him a shaky smile. “Try not to yell too loudly. We don’t want to wake the neighbors.”

  Her smile lit her eyes and dimpled her cheeks. He closed his eyes, holding this image in his mind as the warmth of her fingers moved to his arm. White fire twisted through him—a living thing that could so easily kill if it were left too long. He held his breath, waiting, as she tentatively grabbed the shattered end of the arrow shaft. One, two, three.

  As if she’d heard his unspoken words, Madeline wrenched the arrow from his arm. Pain ripped through his body and he jerked sideways, falling against the door, gritting his teeth against the scream that tore past his throat.

  “Oh, hell …”

  Her voice seemed a million miles away, the touch of her fingers suddenly so cold compared to the fire that raged down his arm and threatened to consume him.

  He gulped down air, battling the urge to be ill—fighting the desire to just let go, to let the darkness in and take the pain away.

  Moisture ran down his arm; then he felt the rough texture of a towel pressed against the wound. He bit back his curse and concentrated on the faint smell of roses, trying to build a wall around the pain and shut it away. She began to bandage his arm, and for an instant, the darkness loomed again. Then he took a deep breath and felt a wisp of magic running through his soul. Suddenly, he had to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. It seemed that the white ash hadn’t done as much damage as he’d feared.

  But there was only one way he was ever going to find out. And that meant he had to get out of the truck, and he had to leave Madeline.

  And he wasn’t sure what was going to be the hardest to do.

  “Jon?”

  He opened his eyes and looked at her. There was fear in her warm amber eyes and blood on her hands. What could he say? Thank you for saving my soul, if not my life?

  “Do you need this?” she continued, distaste in her voice as she dangled the bloody shaft between two fingers. “For evidence or something?”

  If he touched the white ash again in his weakened condition, it would probably kill him. And whatever clues the shaft might have held had been lost during his plunge into the water.

  “Get rid of it.”

  She opened the door and threw the arrow out into the night. Cold air rushed in, swirling around him. He struggled upright, fighting the lethargy taking hold of his body.

  “Thank you,” he said, as she slammed the door shut.

  She smiled wryly. “I’d say you’re welcome, but it’s not something I’d ever like to do again.”

  “If I had more time, I’d take you out to dinner or something.” It sounded cold, even to him. But the cat was out there somewhere. Even if he couldn’t find it tonight, he still had to go back to the inn and retrieve the stuff he’d left there. It might have been easier to stay in Madeline’s company, but he couldn’t involve her more deeply. She said her nephew was safe. Let that be the end of it. Better she thought the worst of him. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it back. “I guess we’ll just have to take a rain check, sweetheart.”

  He saw her eyes widen before he let the magic take him.

  * * *

  MADDIE STARED AT JON. FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, SHE WAS still covered in his blood and hers, and here he was giving her a casual brush-off! “Don’t you dare leave just yet—”

  But she was speaking to the night.

  Maddie blinked. How could an injured man move so fast? She scrambled out of the truck and ran to the passenger side. He was nowhere to be seen. She bit her lip and studied the darkness. He could barely walk ten minutes ago; surely he couldn’t be too far away. She grabbed the flashlight and swept the bright beam across the road. The undergrowth beneath the trees didn’t look as if it had been disturbed recently. So where in the hell had he gone, if not through there?

  “Damn you, Jon! Come back here.”

  The keen of the wind through the treetops was her only answer. She shivered and watched the shadows uneasily. Something didn’t feel right. A twig snapped suddenly, and she swung the flashlight’s beam across the thick stand of trees to her right. The undergrowth stirred, and out of the shadows stepped a dark-colored cat, its eyes like green fire in the darkness. Not just any cat but a big, black panther.

  Something in the creature’s jewel-like gaze made Maddie’s soul tremble.

  She edged backward, feeling for the truck’s door. The creature snarled silently, revealing teeth that were long and white. Maddie jumped into the truck and slammed the door shut. The engine started the first time she twisted the ignition, and she shifted into gear. Then she hesitated, eyeing the darkness beyond the headlights.

  Jon was still out there, injured and alone, with a panther stalking the area. Would the cat smell his blood and hunt him down? Maybe she should report the panther’s presence—only who would believe her? Panthers weren’t exactly native to this area, and unless someone had reported that one escaped, they’d probably think she was nuts.

  Or drunk.

  If only. She took a deep breath and tried to calm the irrational rush of anger. She knew it stemmed more from her need to find Evan than Jon’s casual gratitude and sudden disappearance, but she wished he’d had the decency to stick around, even if it was just long enough to refuse to help her.

  He never promised to help me, though. It’s my fault I’m here, running from shadows and cats. Not his.

  And she couldn’t leave until Evan was safe.

  She drove the truck back onto the road and quickly headed toward the inn.

  Rain was pelting across the windshield by the time she reached it. She switched off the engine, then glanced across at the inn. The light peeking past the edges of the curtains indicated someone was still up, despite the fact that it was after eleven. But the night manager had said he’d wait and let her in. So why was she suddenly wary?

  Maybe her encounter with the cat had scared her more than she’d thought. Or maybe it was the way the shadows crowded the building and gave the appearance of skeletal hands creeping across the outer edges of the light. Or maybe she was simply tired and needed to rest. She glanced down at her palm, which had finally stopped bleeding, then at the rest of her bloodied clothing. How was she going to explain this away if anyone was awake? Fortunately her jacket, when she found it, was relatively free of blood on the outside, though the lining was stained where it had rested against Jon’s wound. She shrugged it on and found that it covered some of the damage. But what of the rest?

  Then she remembered the old rain poncho she kept in the truck for emergencies. She threw that on, too, and was relieved to note that whatever was not hidden by the jacket was now covered by the poncho. Thus armored, she exited the vehicle and ran across the lawn to the front
steps.

  The bell chimed brightly as she closed the door behind her. Maddie grimaced and shook the rain off her poncho. No one came to greet her, and she drew a grateful breath. The last thing she needed was company—especially if that company was the night manager with the creepy eyes.

  Warmth surrounded her as she headed quietly toward the stairs. A woman was talking softly in the parlor to her right, her voice mellow and deep, but beyond that, there was no other sound.

  Then the sudden shattering of glass made her stop and glance upward. Had a tree branch gone through one of the upstairs windows? Footsteps sounded behind her, and she whirled around. The night manager had stopped in the parlor doorway and was leaning casually against the door frame.

  “Hello again. Enjoy the drive?”

  “Yes, thanks,” she said, hoping that the poncho had done its trick. His voice held nothing beyond polite interest, but there was still something about him that made her uneasy. Maybe it was just the smug half-smile that touched his thin lips, or the way his gaze roamed her body.

  Please, don’t let him see any blood …

  He raised his coffee cup. “Coffee’s just brewed, if you’d like a cup.”

  The urge to run was almost overwhelming.

  “I’d love to, but …” She hesitated, then shrugged. The best excuse was usually the truth. “It’s been a long day and it’ll just keep me awake. Thanks for the offer, though.”

  He pushed away from the door frame and took several steps toward her. “I thought I heard something break as you came in …”

  Again, though his voice was conversational, his dark eyes were intense, watchful.

  Something odd was going on.

  She licked suddenly dry lips. “You … you did?”

  “Yeah. It sounded like glass breaking.”

  She raised an eyebrow, trying to sound calm. “I didn’t hear anything like that.” And if he had, why didn’t he mention it the moment he came out?

  “Really?” He took a sip of his coffee, then glanced up the stairs. “Maybe I should check your room before you go up. Make sure it’s safe.”