Kerrelyn Sparks: Vampire Mine

He punched in Angus’s number, and the call went through.

“The devil take it,” Angus growled. “I told you no’ to go alone. Do ye have a bloody death wish?”

“I have a report if ye care to hear it.”

“I care about following orders,” Angus shouted. “Maybe ye doona value yer own sorry hide, but—”

“Seven dead in the main lodge,” Connor interrupted. That should put a stop to the annoying lecture. He was awarded by a moment of silence.

“Seven?” Angus asked quietly.

“Aye. Casimir’s usual MO. The victims were drained dry, throats cut.” His jaw clenched. “Three children.”

Angus cursed in Gaelic. “That bloody bastard. Any sign of him? Nay, forget that! Doona do a damned thing until we get there.”

A strong gust of wind pummeled Connor, and he raised his voice. “The murders occurred earlier this evening. Casimir could be long gone.”

“Or he could be holed up in those bloody caves,” Angus said. “I’ll gather some men. Stay out of sight until we get there. Do ye hear me? Doona investigate on yer own. That’s an order.”

Connor’s gaze flickered south, distracted by a bolt of lightning. “Bugger.” There he was, standing on top of a mountain with a sword in his hand during a lightning storm.

“What?” Angus demanded. “Did ye see something?”

A vision of himself fried to a crisp. Connor tossed his sword into the forest behind the carved heads. The sky flickered again, and he whirled around to catch the end of another lightning flash. Strange. The lightning had hit in the same place twice.

“Connor!” Angus yelled. “What’s going on?”

“Something . . . wrong.” He narrowed his eyes. “A few miles south of the campground.”

Another flash lit up the dark sky.

His breath caught. It wasn’t coming from the sky. “I’ll call ye back.”

“Connor, doona—”

He hung up and dropped the phone into his sporran. He debated fetching his sword, but decided to leave it behind. Instead, he retrieved a wooden stake from his sporran. No sense in drawing the lightning to him. Although he wasn’t quite sure it was lightning.

A drop of rain plopped onto the top of his head, and he glanced up. Another raindrop splattered on his nose, then rolled a chilly path across his cheek. He wiped his face, then focused on the area where he’d seen the flash of light. Everything went black.

He materialized in the dark shadow of trees, his feet landing on the soft cushion of pine needles. The light patter of raindrops sounded overhead, not yet heavy enough to filter through the thick canopy of treetops. He moved silently through the forest, tracing the scent of burnt wood and smoke.

When he heard a man’s voice, he edged close enough to hear the words but remained hidden behind a large tree trunk.

“You left them still alive!” the man yelled. “I had to go back to finish your job.”

Connor stiffened. Either these were Malcontents, or he’d stumbled across some mortals on a murdering rampage.

“We received our orders,” the man continued. “The humans were all supposed to die.”

Malcontents. A mortal never referred to his own kind as humans . Connor tamped down on the rage that seethed within. He needed to stay calm and controlled. His grip tightened on the wooden stake. He had four more in his sporran and the dagger in his knee sock. But before he attacked he needed to know how many bastards he was up against.

A female whispered a response, too faint for him to hear. Even so, the timbre of her voice lifted the hairs on the back on his neck. It brushed his skin like a caress. Bugger . This was no way to react to a bloody Malcontent.

Her voice grew stronger as she made her final declaration. “I can no longer do this.”

Was she rebelling? Connor’s heart lurched. If he could capture her alive, she could tell them all sorts of information.

“You must follow orders,” the man snapped.

“There was no reason for them all to die,” she argued. “I only wished to spare the children.”

“You have failed to follow orders, Marielle,” he growled. “You must pay the consequences.”

“No.” Her whisper trembled. “Zack, please .”

The fear in her lovely voice made Connor’s gut clench, and he was seized with an overwhelming need to protect her. Bah, protect a Malcontent? She deserved to die.

“This is your third act of disobedience,” the man announced in a booming voice. “The decision has been made. You will be banished.”

“No! ”

The anguish in her voice was more than Connor could bear. Bloody hell . He would save her.

He slid the dagger from his knee sock. As far as he could tell, there were only the two Malcontents: the male called Zack and the female, Marielle. He’d take the male by surprise, turn him to dust, then grab the female and teleport her to Romatech where he could thoroughly question her.

A dagger in one hand, a stake in the other, he zoomed toward their voices.

An intense flash of light stunned him, and he halted, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Bugger, how could he save her when he couldn’t see?

Her scream tore through him.

“Nay,” he growled. He fought through the pain and forced his eyes open. His vision sparkled with stars so badly, he stumbled over a fallen branch and bumped against a tree trunk. Still, he could discern a glowing fire ahead, and he headed toward it. The scent of burnt flesh wafted toward him, and a sick feeling coiled in his gut. Had the bastard set her on fire?

She screamed again. To hell with this. He ran toward her, shoving branches out of the way.

A ball of fire exploded with another searing, blinding light. He turned his head, eyes squeezed shut.

Boom. A blast of air whooshed against him, tossing him through the air and slamming him against a tree. His head hit hard, and he collapsed onto the ground.

He lay there dazed, pain thrumming in his head. What the hell was that? Some kind of bomb? Even with his eyes shut, stars twinkled with painful brilliance against his closed eyelids. He rubbed his eyes, willing the stars and pain to go away. Somewhere in his confused mind, he realized his weapons were gone. And the rain had stopped. How much time had passed while he lay there helpless?

He pried his eyes open. The glimmering lights faded away, and he was once again surrounded by a dark forest. The scent of charred wood and scorched earth tainted his nostrils. In the distance, he spotted the red glow of dying embers.

Could she still be alive?

A memory flitted across his mind. His beloved’s dead body. And their wee babe. He’d cradled them in his arms and cried. The last tears he’d ever shed.

He shoved that mental picture away and looked instead for his weapons. His dagger glinted a dull gray in the moonlight. He grasped it and rose wearily to his feet.

Please let her be alive.

He stumbled toward the glowing ember. It was a branch, hit by a fire that was dying instead of spreading. Strange. There was a line of trees, alive and green on one side, and charred black on the other. The half-burnt trees formed a circle around a large clearing that was void of vegetation. A foot of smoke hovered just above the ground. The air stank with charred earth and flesh. The two Malcontents appeared to be gone.

He walked into the clearing, the smoke thick around his ankles. Burned grass crunched beneath his shoes.

A roll of thunder rumbled overhead, and a strong wind blew into the clearing. The smoke began to move, agitated by the wind, whirling around the circumference of the circle like a hurricane, dark clouds spinning around a black center. The smoke rose higher, past his knees, up to his waist.