Circle of Desire (33 page)

It had never been like this with Jacinta. Intense, exciting, and lustful, yes. But the air had never burned with heat the minute she walked into a room, and her smile had never done strange things to his heart.

“Tell me what happened by the stream,” he said softly.

Her gaze searched his, then she sighed. It was a mournful sound. “You thought I was Jacinta.”

That explained the hurt he sensed in her. “And?”

Her gaze slide away. “And you said some crazy things to the moon.”

So he
had
performed the ceremony. Yet the moon
binding couldn’t have worked if it had been Jacinta he’d been seeing in his mind. And it certainly hadn’t been Jacinta’s name he’d howled to the moon. That much he
did
remember.

“Did you take the condoms from my pocket to hide the fact we hadn’t used them?” It was a guess, but it was a fairly safe one.

“Believe me, we didn’t create life last night.” Her voice was almost bitter, but there was an undercurrent that troubled him.

“How can you be so certain?” Because if he’d performed that ceremony, she
would
be pregnant. New life was part of the moon’s gift and always the final outcome. But even if he hadn’t finished the spell, werewolves tended to be extremely fertile while in moon fever.

The image of her pregnant, her belly round and full with his child, sent a surge of fierce satisfaction through his veins. He wanted that image. Desperately.

Her gaze flashed to his. “I’m a witch. We know these things.”

He cupped her cheek again, then leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her sweet lips. “When I drop off Janie and Karen, I’m coming back.”
For you
, he thought, but didn’t say the words aloud.

Her gaze searched his. “Why?”

“Because we need to talk.”

“Do we have anything to talk about? I think you’ve already made your intentions more than clear.”

Intentions could change.
Had
changed. He might be uncertain about the true depths of his feelings, but he
was
certain of one thing. He couldn’t let her go.

“Time to move, people,” Gwen said behind them.

“You be careful in there,” he said and kissed her again, fiercer and harder than before.

Then he let her go and stepped back. She stepped past him, then hesitated, looking back over her shoulder. “I meant what I said in the cavern. Until you can give me an answer, don’t bother coming back.”

She grabbed a pack from Gwen and threw it around her shoulders, then the two of them disappeared into the trees. He fought the temptation to follow them and climbed into the car. Janie and the other little girl were his priority, his responsibility, and before he could do anything else, he had to ensure they got to the meeting point Gwen had arranged with Benton.

But it was the longest half hour of his life.

An armada of cars awaited him. Benton obviously wasn’t taking any chances. Medical personnel rushed over as he climbed out, sweeping the two girls toward waiting ambulances. His brother appeared out of the flow of people, a mirror image of himself except for the eyes. Luke’s were blue rather than brown.

He clapped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, and “Thank you” was all he said. All that needed to be said.

“Go be with her while you can,” Ethan replied. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Luke didn’t move. “Nina’s with her. I can’t stay, because it’s too close to dusk. What’s wrong?”

Ethan hesitated. “When you performed the binding ceremony with Nina, did you ever remember much of it?”

“No.” Luke raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “Just curious.” Now was not the time
to question his brother. Not when the ambulances would soon be leaving.

Luke half turned away, then stopped. “You were seventeen when you met Jacinta. Neither of us was as wise or as worldly as we thought we were, and she knew a good catch when she saw it.”

Arguments he’d heard before. Arguments he was only just beginning to understand. “Go be with Janie.”

Luke glanced toward the ambulance, then met Ethan’s gaze again. “You spent six moons with Jacinta, yet you were never tempted to perform that ceremony with her. You might have loved her, Ethan, but you weren’t
in
love with her. Not in the way the moon demands.”

“I think I’m beginning to realize that.”

“About time.”

“I always was a slow learner.” He pushed his brother toward the waiting ambulances. “Go see her before the ambulance leaves. We can talk later.”

“With your lady in tow, I hope.”

“Yes,” he said. Hoped.

Mark approached as Luke walked away. “What’s happened to our two psychics?”

“They’re going after the thing behind all this.”

Mark stopped and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. “You do know Benton wants this woman caught and behind bars.”

“You and I know that no jail will ever hold this thing.”

“Maybe.” Mark studied him for a moment, his expression giving little away. “We found a fingerprint match for that dead guy you had me check out at the morgue.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“He’s ex-military, and apparently he died twenty-five years ago. The coroner’s report suggests death found him in much the same state as that old man we discovered at the farmhouse in Rogue River.”

So it wasn’t just any old dead the soul-sucker was raising, but her ex-lovers. The poor bastards weren’t even allowed peace in death. “She’s been killing a lot longer than that, my friend.”

“That won’t matter to Benton.”

“I don’t care if it matters to Benton. The only thing I care about is stopping the killing.”

Mark nodded and glanced over his shoulder. “Benton’s headed this way. If you have any intention of going back to help those ladies, I’d leave now.”

By the time he got there, over an hour would have passed. Anything could have happened. “Thanks, partner.”

As the captain made his way past the ambulances and toward Ethan, he quickly climbed into his car. He caught a glimpse of Benton’s familiar red face.

“Goddamn it, Morgan, get your ass back here!”

Ethan closed the door on Benton’s shout, thrust the car into gear, and sped away. And prayed to the moon that he got there before the change hit him.

Prayed that he had something—someone—to go back to.

K
AT THRUST THE LAST OF HER WEAPONS INTO THE SPECIALLY
designed tool belt around her waist, then tossed the empty backpack on top of her grandmother’s. Gwen stood in front of the concealed entrance, murmuring softly as she undid the soul-sucker’s magic. Kat cast another look around the cavern. So far, it had been almost too easy. The zombies she’d stacked on top of each other still slept and would continue to do so for another four or five hours, thanks to the extra sleep bombs they’d released. She’d tossed a couple more down the tunnel, just in case, but Gwen had been certain nothing else waited down there.

But something
did
wait behind the stone wall in front of them.

She couldn’t tell what it was. It wasn’t the soul-sucker, but it projected the same sense of evil. Gwen waved her hand and stepped back. The stone shimmered briefly, then faded away, revealing the darkness of another tunnel.

Kat flicked on her flashlight. Whoever—
what
ever—was down there in that darkness had to know they were near, so she couldn’t see the point in feeling their way through the ink any longer.

“The air stinks,” Gwen commented.

Stink
wasn’t a strong enough word. It smelled as if a hundred dead men were disintegrating down there. “I’ll go first.”

Kat edged into the tunnel. The floor sloped downward, heading deep into the heart of the mountain, and the darkness was so intense it felt like a living thing. Slime hung from the ceiling in long tendrils that brushed wet fingers across the top of her head as she moved forward, and in the distance it seemed to glow luminously. She swept the flashlight’s beam up and down the walls, wondering why the air was becoming more and more hot and humid when the rocks were so cold.

Water dripped somewhere ahead, a steady rhythm that almost sounded like a heartbeat. Though she could still feel the evil, there was no sound of movement, no sense of anything else. Only that steady beat.

They walked on, their footsteps echoing across the stillness. The beam of her flashlight was almost moon bright against the darkness, but it didn’t seem to penetrate more than a few feet ahead. The smell of meat long gone rancid got stronger, clogging her throat, invading her pores, until it felt like every breath was poison, and she was certain she’d throw up.

“Put on your mask,” Gwen advised. “It helps a little.”

She did, and it did. “Any idea what that smell is?”

“No. It’s not zombie, that’s for sure.”

Any zombie that smelled
this
bad would be losing pieces of itself as it walked. “What about that beating noise?”

“I don’t know.”

Kat brushed aside a long green tendril. The strings of slime were beginning to curtain the path, slapping and clawing at her clothes like live things. A soft thrum began to accompany the heartbeat dripping, and magic swirled through the heat, dancing like fireflies across her skin. Sweat dripped down her face and back, its cause not just the furnace conditions but fear.

“I suspect we’re getting close to the soul-sucker’s hatching ground,” Gwen murmured. “Be careful.”

If she was any more careful she’d be standing still. “Did you ever find out how exactly this thing breeds?”

“No. The text Seline found turned out to be a false lead. All it really did was reinforce the belief that what kills a vampire will kill a soul-sucker.”

“
If
we can get it in human form.”

“If,” Gwen agreed.

The slope began to ease off, until they were walking on level ground. Kat slowed further. Light glowed up ahead, but it wasn’t the greenish fire of the surrounding slime, more a sickly red luminescence.

Her stomach began to churn. Ahead something stirred as if agitated, followed by a sloshing sound. She stopped, not liking the feel of this. Not wanting to discover the horror she sensed lay ahead.

But standing here shaking was achieving nothing. She grabbed a silver knife from her belt and edged forward. This close to that odd red glow, the mossy tendrils had become dry and harsh, so that it felt like she was forcing her way through a forest of dead fingers.

She pushed through the last veil and stopped. The
cavern before them was small and round. Fire burned in several stone circles, and it was their sickly radiance that warmed the room. The thrumming she’d sensed earlier was stronger here and seemed to ebb and flow in time to the dancing flames. That odd-sounding heartbeat had two echoes, and the noise set her teeth on edge. Magic flowed around her, through her, and the sparks skipping across her skin were almost painful.

The floor was sand rather than stone, and spotted with wide black globs she sensed were old blood. But from what? Heart suddenly in her mouth, she looked up.

And discovered not only the reason for the smell, but the way the soul-sucker bred.

Men hung from the ceiling. They weren’t zombies, simply because they were still alive—and being eaten from the outside in by the creatures in the silky white sacs attached to each of their stomachs.

Kat’s stomach finally rebelled, and she staggered to the side and vomited. Gwen handed her the water canteen, then moved farther into the cavern. “They look like caterpillars,” Gwen said, her voice a mix of horror and fascination. “But they have human faces.”

Kat rinsed out her mouth and spat the water out. “I don’t want to know.”

“These men aren’t in any pain. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Taking a deep breath, Kat looked up. Her stomach stirred but stayed down. Her grandmother was right. They looked damn near orgasmic. She took another swig of water, then capped the canteen and slung it
over her shoulders. “If this thing is similar in makeup to a vampire, then maybe it has the same sort of sexual aura that a vampire has when it feeds on humans.”

“Probably.” Gwen shifted. “Wonder what it needed the kids for, though.”

“Does it really matter at this point?” She let her gaze roam across the men. There were five men hanging feetfirst from the ceiling, but only two had the sacs attached. The other three looked asleep—and were dreaming of sex, if their expressions were anything to go by.

Two children dead, and two larvae created—though the mara had obviously intended to create five offspring.

“Well, of course it did. It’s not like this mara is the only one—” Gwen paused, then swore violently. The trepidation crawling across Kat’s skin sharpened. If her grandmother was swearing
that
strongly, something was seriously wrong. “What?”

“Their faces. Look at their damn
faces
.”

She did. And saw what her grandmother had seen. These things were the image of the two dead children.

“
That’s
what’s she’s using the souls for,” Kat whispered, sickened to the core. “She’s somehow transferring them into her offspring.”