Keri Arthur - Fireborn

“True.” I dunked my tea bag into the mug of hot water and watched the bubbles rise as it sank. And hoped like hell it wasn’t an omen for things to come.

Rory’s hand slid across mine, his grip warm, comforting. “It’ll be all right, Em.”

I smiled, but it felt tight. Fake. “Will it? I have a bad feeling about all this, and it’s a real risk for both of us to be there.”

“Vampires can’t fly,” he said reasonably. “So as long as I keep to the skies, we’ll be fine.”

Yeah, we would, but we both knew that he wouldn’t keep to the skies, not if things started going bad on the ground—just as I wouldn’t, if the situation were reversed. It was one of the reasons we’d agreed that the two of us should never again get jointly involved in dangerous situations—the need to protect each other was so much a part of our psyche that we not only placed our very existence at risk, but the chance of rebirth. As he’d noted to Sam, one could not be without the other.

I leaned back in the chair and regarded him for several seconds. “Promise me you’ll keep to the skies. That you won’t get involved in the fight if things go to hell on the ground.”

He hesitated. “I promise I’ll keep to the skies unless I see a sharpshooter. Them, I’ll take out. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough.”

“Then ring them and make the meet.”

I took a deep, somewhat quivery breath that didn’t do a whole lot to calm the butterflies suddenly going nutso in my stomach. I might have lived many lifetimes, but I’d never been one to march boldly into dangerous situations. “Avoidance was the better part of valor” tended to be the code I lived by.

But I dug out my phone and made the call regardless. After all, this wasn’t about me. It was about Jackson. About saving his life if it was at all possible.

“Well, well,” a cool and familiar voice said. “You report in far earlier than any of us predicted.”

“That’s because I have no desire to prolong these proceedings any more than necessary.” My voice was surprisingly calm given all I could suddenly think about was his teeth tearing into my neck. “I’ve looked for the notebook and I can’t find it. I do, however, have the laptop on which the notes were typed.”

“And is the file on said laptop untampered with?”

“I haven’t opened it,” I replied, and thanked the stars I’d listened to Sam and hadn’t tried to tamper with the notes themselves. “You can check the date it was last accessed when we do the swap, if you want.”

“Oh, I will,” he murmured. “Now, as to the swap—”

“Not so fast,” I cut in. “I want proof that Jackson Miller is alive first.”

“I gave you my word that he would be.”

“You did,” I said. “But past dealings with vampires have left me a little less inclined to trust a promise given by one.”

“That is unfortunate.” Though there was still little in the way of emotion to be heard in the vamp’s tone, trepidation stepped through me. He really didn’t like having his integrity questioned in any way, and I had a feeling doing so was a bad, bad idea.

I reached for my cup of tea, but my hands were trembling so much that liquid splashed over the sides and scalded my fingers. Rory plucked the cup from my hand, discarded the tea bag, then, with a wry smile, brought it up to my lips. I took a sip, but it helped with neither the dryness in my throat nor the butterflies doing a tango in my stomach.

For several—very long—minutes, there was nothing but silence. Then came the sound of a click—the sort of sound that came from a light being turned on—and a muffled curse. The voice was Jackson’s. But the surge of relief was tempered by the knowledge that while he was alive right now, it didn’t mean he would be when the time for the exchange came.

“The lady of fire wishes to confirm you’re alive, Fae.” The vampire’s cool tones echoed slightly over the phone. Wherever they were, it was somewhere cavernous. “Please assure her that you are.”

His choice of words had alarm shooting through me. I glanced sharply at Rory and mouthed, “How the hell could they know what I am?”

But even as he shrugged, I remembered Rawlings, and the fire I’d encaged him with. Obviously, he’d reported events to the sindicati, something I hadn’t counted on but surely should have. And while it meant the sindicati now knew some of what I was capable of, they didn’t know it all. Didn’t know I was a fire spirit and capable of a whole lot more than just calling forth fire from the earth itself.

Unless, of course, they’d beaten the information out of Jackson. He not only knew what I was, but he’d witnessed my transformation from flesh to fire.

“Emberly,” Jackson croaked, “I’m alive.”

“And you sound like shit,” I replied, trying not to envision what had been done to him.

“I have had better days.” Amusement briefly overrode the pain so evident in his gruff tones. “But it’s nothing a good barbeque can’t fix up.”

“Except both of us know that controlling any sort of barbeque is not on the list of things you are currently capable of, Fae,” came the amused comment. “So let us not wish for something that cannot be.”

Once again his comment had alarm stirring. If the sindicati knew Jackson couldn’t control fire, then that could mean only one thing—PIT had been infiltrated. There was no way they could have known that otherwise.

“And you, dear Emberly, have your confirmation that the Fae still survives,” the vampire continued. “If you wish him to remain that way, you will meet—”

“No,” I cut in. “Sorry, but we’re back to that whole trust issue again. We meet at a time and a place specified by me, not you.”

There was a long pause. “When and where?”

“Hanging Rock, central parking lot, at dusk.”

After another long pause—during which I had no doubt he was consulting someone—he said, “As you wish.”

His agreement only ratcheted up my tension. I’d expected at least some argument, especially given they were vamps and night would suit them better than dusk. That there was none could only mean the meeting point suited them just as much as it suited us. Still, I had one advantage—they didn’t know about Rory.

Or at least I hoped they didn’t. The shit could really hit the fan if they did.

“Fine. I’ll see you then.”

“You will indeed,” he murmured, and hung up.

I breathed a sigh of relief, then plucked my tea from Rory’s grip and downed it in several gulps, hoping it would at least drown the butterflies. It didn’t.

I glanced at my watch, then met Rory’s understanding gaze. “We have three hours.”

“Which gives us time enough to eat before we have to head up to Macedon.” He caught my hand and kissed my fingertips. “You need to fuel this body, Em, not just the fire spirit.”

“I know.” I scrubbed a hand across tired eyes. After everything that had happened, I felt like shit, and I very much suspected it was a feeling that wouldn’t go away, even after I’d eaten. “It’s just that I’m—”

“Worried. I know. But it’ll all work out. I’m sure of it.”

I hoped he was right.

Hoped like hell that things didn’t go down as badly as I suspected they would tonight.

Idrove past the locked gates that led into Hanging Rock Reserve, then came to a halt in the shadows of several eucalypts farther down the road and climbed out. Dusk was just beginning to weave red and gold fingers across the cloud-held sky, and the air had a charged, electric feel to it.

Or maybe that was just me .