Fire on the Island (21 page)

"No, I'm
afraid not....I'm going to need you to account for your whereabouts during the
last forty-eight."

The
implications hit her like a ton of bricks, just as she heard Jeremiah clamp his
jaw shut so tight his teeth were grinding. "What?"

"Not
sayin' I agree with it, but there's been talk around the island, about how all
these things going on seem to be connected to you...and when we find folks,
dead or alive, you're always right there."

"That's
because she's on the motherfucking search party, Chief! She's your only
tracker," Jere exploded, obviously unable to hold in his outrage any
longer.

"Believe
me, I know. Like I said, doesn't mean I buy into all the talk, but I have to
follow all the leads. Otherwise folks will say I'm giving you special
treatment."

Her lips
thinned and her face hardened. "I understand. Give me a few minutes to
make some arrangements to cover me at Expeditions, and we'll be right over.

"I'd
appreciate it. I'm sorry, Isla."

"Me
too," she said flatly, ending the call without a goodbye. She had some
calls to make.

~~~

Drumming her
fingers on the worn wooden table of the interrogation room, chin in hand, Isla
rolled her eyes toward the ticking wall clock. She had been sitting in this
cinderblock icebox for half an hour, and no one had come to question her.

She knew this
had to be some kind of tactic they used to unnerve a suspect, get them to spill
their guts just to get the hell out of that room. Which meant, naturally, that
they considered her a suspect. Maybe even a criminal.

Leaning back in
the cold metal chair, she narrowed her eyes at a black, ballpoint pen that had
been tossed on the table. The pen began to spin furiously, and then flung
itself across the room. Tossing a glance up to the closed circuit security
camera, she had the fleeting thought that she should be careful about
displaying her power, and then shrugged it off. Everyone already thought she
was a witch any damn way, so there was no use in hiding it.

And the witch
was pissed. A sneer tugged at the corners of her mouth as she continued to
stare at the camera. She wondered if they realized that she was indeed what
they thought she was, and because of that, no four walls could hold her if she
didn't want them to.

The video feed
zoomed in and Isla's smiling face filled the screen—just before the picture
fuzzed out and the camera went dead.

Jeremiah poured
himself a cup of coffee from the carafe in the main room of the police station.
Looking down into his cup, he blinked in horror at the black, oily swill. So
the cliché of bad PD coffee was true, he thought. Damned if he didn’t doctor it
up and drink it anyway.

He had been
pacing the dirty brown, low-pile carpet for nearly half an hour, all the while glaring
daggers at the various officers seated at their desks. “Chief got held up,”
they had said. Bullshit. Jeremiah knew that they had left Isla twisting in the
wind to try and scare her into giving something up. Problem was, there was
nothing
to
give up.

All it was
really going to do was piss her off and make her less cooperative. He could
practically feel her energy simmering across his skin. He wondered if the
officers couldn’t feel it too.

He turned his
head at the perfect moment to catch sight of Isla’s falsely angelic smile fill
the closed circuit monitor. As quickly as that happened, the feed snowed out
and switched off. And the wires running to the monitor sparked, just for good
measure.

Cursing under
his breath, Jere looked around to see if anyone saw what happened. A tubby
officer got up from his desk to slap the monitor a couple of times, shrugged,
and sat back down. Thank fuck he didn’t make any connection with the woman in
the room.
Keep it together, Isla,
he thought.

Finally, Chief
Sinclair emerged from his office looking grim. He nodded to Jeremiah but said
nothing as he made his way down the hall to the interrogation room. As the
Chief disappeared behind the beat-up metal door, Jeremiah clenched his fists
and resumed pacing. This was not going well.

Isla was
careful to keep her expression impassive as Chief Sinclair wordlessly entered
the room. She wasn't sure what questions the older man was going to ask, but
she knew that she probably wouldn't have a good answer for him.

Since she had
taken off and secluded herself for the past few days, only leaving the house to
go to work during the day, the only one who could verify her whereabouts
couldn't speak for her. She had spent her time at home working with Marduk to
help her learn to harness her powers. There hadn't even been time to let
Jeremiah in on that.

Sinclair
cleared his throat, and Isla heard the scraping of the chair legs on the floor
as he sat down, but she didn't look at him.

"Isla,"
he said softly, waiting for her to meet his eyes. "I'm no' happy about
this either, so let's just get on with it, okay?"

When he got no
response but a curt nod, he sighed and his shoulders sagged a little. "I
need you to account for your activities since Wednesday night."

Clenching her
fingers and releasing them, Isla turned her eyes skyward as she called up her
memories of the last forty-eight hours. Those that she could share, anyway.
"Wednesday night I had dinner at Callum and Jack's, stayed there until
about seven. Went straight home after that."

"Alone?"
Sinclair interjected. Isla flashed him a glare and nodded again.

"Thursday,
I worked the desk at Expeditions from nine to four. Again, I went straight
home. Alone. Yesterday was exactly the same schedule. Work. Home. Except,
instead of staying at home last night, I went to Jeremiah's. I was still at his
place when you called me this morning."

Shaking his
head, the chief looked at her pointedly. "Is there anyone that can verify
that you were at home during the times you say you were?"

Struggling with
what exactly she should say about Marduk, Isla hedged. "You know I live
alone, Chief. And the cats aren't talking."

Clearly not
amused, Sinclair closed his eyes briefly and then looked back at her.
"That's not what I asked and you know it. You need to be honest with me,
Isla. I can't help you otherwise."

Mind on rapid
fire, trying to figure out how to spin the Marduk thing, she wished like hell
that Jeremiah was with her. He'd know what to do. "I had a friend staying
with me from...out of town," she said after a long pause. "But he's
gone now, and I'm not sure I can get in touch with him."

"You're
goin' to have to. This is serious, Isla. I'm not blind here, lass. All of these
disappearances and incidents seem to revolve around you in some way. If you
can't provide me with an alibi, I may be forced to hold you on suspicion. Just
give me your friend's contact info, and I'll run 'im in."

"I need to
speak with Jeremiah. He may know where my friend is, and he can probably get to
him faster."

Jere pushed the
door open slowly, not sure what kind of state he was going to find her in.
"Hey darlin'," he said, seating himself in the chair that Sinclair
had just vacated, and taking her hands. "How'd it go?"

"Not well,
Jeremiah. He said they have enough to hold me for a little while. Sinclair
might actually think I have something to do with this."

"Why do
you say that?"

"The time
I spent away from you was either at work or at home. The only person who can
verify that I was actually home can't exactly come in for an interview."

Closing his
eyes briefly, he raked a hand through his brown mop of hair.
"Marduk." He'd had to suppress a growl at the thought of Isla alone
with another man...wolf...manwolf—whatthefuckever—he had working parts. Then he
reminded himself that Marduk was just a kid and saw Isla as more of a master
than a conquest.

"There's a
simple solution to this. I'm going to go find the little bastard and bring him
in here to testify."

"It's not
that simple. First of all, if you come at him with guns blazing, he'll get
scared and run off. You know you frighten him. Also, he spends most of his time
as a wolf, for God's sake. He's not going to know what to say or how to act. He
doesn't even have any identification!"

Sighing,
Jeremiah scrubbed a hand over his face, brushing across the two days’ worth of
beard growth. "Point," he conceded, "but I think you're
underestimating the kid."

When Isla
tossed him a look that said a whole lot of
yeah right
, he just chuckled.
"Seriously. I mean, I guess he's no
vigile
, but our boy is a right
powerful witch...er, wizard....hell, I don't know what it's called."

Isla waved a
hand, indicating for him to continue. "Maybe he can cast some kind of
spell to dispel suspicion or, shit, maybe he can conjure up a fake ID. We won't
know until we find him and explain what's happening. Which is exactly what I am
going to do."

"Point,"
she said, repeating his earlier thought. "You've got to handle him
delicately, though. If you spook him, he'll run off and we won't see him for
days."

Gathering her
slender hand in his, he turned it over to press a kiss into her palm. "You
can trust me. I'm going to fix this."

"I
do."

Jeremiah rushed
passed Chief Sinclair on his way out to go find Marduk. "Where are you
going?" Chief asked.

Grabbing his jacket,
he made sure the look he tossed Sinclair over his shoulder was murderous and
brooked no arguments. "I'm going to find her alibi."

"You've
got two hours before we lock her up for the night!" he snarled, clearly
getting annoyed with Jere's forcefulness. "And no tricks, Rousseau."

Chapter
Seventeen

Jeremiah drove
his rented sedan down the coastal road at breakneck speed as he headed back to
the cottage in Lochranza. He'd had the forethought to pick up some of his
clothes for Marduk, as the wolf always poofed into his human form naked as a
jaybird.

Grabbing a polo
shirt and a pair of khakis, he bolted back out the door and headed south toward
the turn-off for the mountain cabin. If Marduk was anywhere that he could be
found, it would be there.

Pulling up to
the cabin after negotiating the winding drive, Jeremiah noticed that all was
quiet. There were no birds chirping, no squirrels rustling in the brush—and
that was a sure sign that an apex predator had been spotted.

Turning in a
slow circle to survey the tree line around the cabin, he suddenly found himself
at a loss. How exactly did you call a wolf? Especially one that was a
shapeshifter. Finally he settled on yelling Marduk's name at the top of his
lungs. Hopefully even the beast would recognize its own name.

Hearing nothing
still, Jeremiah tried calling out again. “Isla needs you!” he shouted.
“Flea-bitten mongrel that you are,” he added under his breath. Just when he was
about to go inside and rack his brain to figure out where to look next, he heard
a rustling in the brush behind him, causing him to freeze with his hand on the
doorknob.

Looking over
his shoulder, he caught sight of the great grey beast in the shadows at the
edge of the forest, and he slowly turned his body around to face it. Still unsure
of how much humanity Marduk retained while he was in wolf form, Jere was
careful not to make any sudden movements.

The two of them
shared a silent, tense moment as they stared at one another. After seconds that
seemed like hours, the wolf sat back on his haunches, lowered his head, and
waited. Jeremiah had the absurd notion that the two of them had reached a
tentative understanding.

Wordlessly, he
turned to disappear into the house, leaving the door standing open at his back.
He was fishing around for a beer in the fridge when he heard the soft click of
the door closing behind him. Jeremiah nearly dropped the bottle when he turned
around to find a very human and very naked Marduk standing by the door.

“Oh, for the
love—I’m never gonna get used to that.”

Marduk looked
down at himself, raised his ice blue eyes back to Jeremiah, and shrugged his
shoulders. Muttering to himself, Jere tossed the throw from the couch at
Marduk, hoping he would have the sense enough to cover up. “Wait here, I’ve got
clothes for you in the car.”

As Marduk
dressed, Jeremiah quickly explained Isla's situation to him. "It doesn't
matter to them that she would never do anything to hurt another person. All
that matters is she can't verify where she was during the time frame, and they
aren't going to let her go unless she can."

Lifting his
chin, Marduk looked at Jeremiah, his artic glare seeming to glow. "Then we
shall go down there and take her out ourselves."

Jere shook his
head. "That's not the way things work in our world. We can't just go blow
a hole in the police station and politely escort her out. She'll just be in
more trouble. You are going to have to go down there with me and tell them she
was with you."

"Then let
us go." Nodding decisively, the younger man headed for the door. Jeremiah
halted him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"This is
very dangerous. We need to be prepared. How long can you maintain your human
form?"

"Your
guess is as good as mine. I've never tested the limits. It will all depend on
how much magic I use, and how much energy is drained doing so."

"Okay,"
Jeremiah said, drawing out the last syllable. "We'll just have to be quick
then. And pray you don't poof back into a wolf while we're surrounded by armed
policemen."

Jere rolled his
eyes when Marduk merely shrugged again. Clearly the boy didn't understand the
gravity of the situation. "Do you have any identification? They'll ask for
it when we go in."

Marduk's eyes
widened, he gave an offended sniff and scowled at Jeremiah. "Of course. I
am
feradux
. Not some two-bit magician," he said, as if that should
mean everything to Jere. Gingerly unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt, Marduk
rolled up his right sleeve to reveal his forearm.

Before there had
only been smooth, olive colored, bare skin over lean muscle—Jeremiah knew this
because the boy was always parading around stripped to his birthday suit. Now
the skin began to shimmer and, slowly, a design appeared starting from his
wrist and coiling around to his elbow.

The markings
were a series of slashes and coils, wrapping around strange symbols that were
runic in nature, but Jeremiah could not identify their origin. There were words
lining the underside of the forearm that he did recognize.

Quo vadis
quae ego vadam—
the simple
translation being “wherever she goes, I shall go.” As Jeremiah met Marduk's
cool, calm gaze, he knew then that this young man would do as much as he could
to keep Isla safe. This, at least, they had in common. When Jere extended his
own right hand, Marduk nodded and shook it firmly. They were going to go get
their girl.

"While
that is spectacular artwork, that's not the type of identification I was
talking about." He took out his Louisiana driver license and showed it to
Marduk. "You need something that says who you are, otherwise your
statement won't be worth the price of the paper it's written on."

"It won't
be a problem. They will know who I am."

"Marduk,
that's not the way—"

Holding up a hand
to cut off the conversation, Marduk turned to open the door of the cabin and
looked over his shoulder at Jere. "Trust me."

Taking a couple
of deep breaths, Jeremiah thought it over. What choice did they have really,
but to trust in Marduk's ability to sell his story to the cops? After the brief
pause, he nodded sharply, grabbed the keys from the counter, and followed
Marduk out the door.

Jeremiah
entered the police station first, with Marduk at his heels. Once inside, the
two men stood broad shoulder to broad shoulder and eyed the officers who had
looked up from their paperwork. The policemen seemed instantly on alert,
Jeremiah realized. One of the AFO's—or Authorised Firearms Officers—even went
so far as to let his fingertips rest on the grip of his police issue.

Then again, the
two of them probably made a pretty menacing picture. Both over six foot tall
and well-muscled—Jeremiah with his brick-house build and Marduk full of hard
planes and lean muscle—and both looking mad enough to spit nails. Jere couldn't
blame the officers for being wary.

The majority of
policemen in the UK did not often carry firearms, except under special
circumstances, tending to sway toward extendable ASP batons. But Jeremiah
supposed strange deaths and disappearances all over the island qualified as
special circumstances, and the Strathclyde Police Force had called in the AFO's
and armed up.

 "We
need to see Sinclair. Now." Jeremiah demanded it of them in a tone that
dared anyone to question him. They were quickly shown into the Chief
Constable's office, with its burgundy walls and huge cherry wood desk. When
they were seated in the two chairs facing the desk, the officer who had brought
them backed out of the room without a word.

It was then
that Jeremiah realized that Marduk was projecting waves some sort of alpha male
witch back-the-fuck-off-me vibe, so strong that it raised goose bumps on his
arms. So that was part of the reason the officers were so intimidated. What
other tricks did the boy have up his proverbial sleeves?

Finally Chief
Sinclair entered the room and skirted the chairs to reach his desk, giving the
two men a wide berth. "What've ye got for me, Rousseau?" he asked,
his wary eyes flicking to Marduk and then back.

"This is
Isla's friend, Marduk..." At a loss, Jere cut a side glance at the young
man next to him.

"Custos,"
he said, emphasizing his already heavily accented speech. "Marduk Custos.
I am visiting from my home in Rome."

"He is the
one that was with Isla during the time that you have
accused
her of
taking part in these disappearances," Jeremiah interjected with narrowed
eyes and a voice dripping with menace.

Clearing his
throat uncomfortably, Sinclair addressed Marduk. "That true?"

Those arctic
eyes glinted like diamonds and appeared just as hard as Marduk studied the
older man. "Yes, it is. I met Isla at her house around four o'clock on
Thursday and stayed the night. And again on Friday, we were together at her
house until she left to go visit Dr. Rousseau, where I'm told she spent the
remainder of her time until she came here," Marduk finished, tossing a
glance to his side at Jeremiah.

The other man
nodded almost imperceptibly. Chief Sinclair pushed a yellow legal pad and pen
toward Marduk across the massive desk. "I'm goin' to need you to make an
official statement. If you please, write down what you just told me."

As Marduk
scratched pen over paper to create his surprisingly elegant handwriting, Jere
regarded the man in front of him. Sinclair looked weary, the wrinkles that had
always been etched in his face seemed deeper than ever before.

When Marduk
passed the written statement back to Sinclair, the chief extended his hand.
After shaking first Marduk's hand and then Jeremiah's, Sinclair stood and bid
the other men to rise as well.

"I just
need to make a copy of your driver’s license and get your contact information,
and you boys can be on your way."

 As Marduk
peered into Sinclair's eyes, Jeremiah began to feel a crackling tension in the
air. The atmosphere of the room became so thick that he could barely draw in
enough oxygen to breathe.

Jere wondered
why everyone else in the building didn't come rushing into the room to figure
out what the source of the feeling was, but no one did. Maybe he had some weird
sensor that went off when people around him were using magic, set off by his
close proximity with Isla.

Continuing to
stare, increasing the ever-present tension that seemed to be holding Sinclair
transfixed to the spot where he stood, Marduk spoke in a low voice. "That
won't be necessary, will it, Constable?"

Sinclair slowly
turned his head from side to side, eyes wide, and answered as if he were
hypnotized. "N-No...not necessary at all."

"Good,"
Marduk said crisply, fiddling with his cuff. "Now go and get Isla so that
Dr. Rousseau and I can be on our way."

Just as quickly
as it started, the spell was broken as Sinclair hustled out of the room,
calling for an officer to fetch Isla for them. Jeremiah followed Marduk out of
the office behind the chief, and he had to place supporting hands on the kid's shoulders
when Marduk swayed on his feet a bit.

He could only
imagine the amount of energy it took to maintain the kind of power that could,
however briefly, control minds. The young man was much more powerful than he
ever realized. It made Jeremiah worry about how much longer Marduk could hold
his human form.

Deciding he
didn't want to find out, he ushered Marduk out of the office and into the main
room where Isla waited with a uniformed officer. Sinclair was nowhere in sight.
Not wanting to push their luck, Jere grabbed her hand with one of his and
placed his other on Marduk's shoulder, guiding them both out.

When they were
safely piled in Jeremiah's rental and on the road back to the cabin, they
breathed a collective sigh of relief. Jere heard the rear car seat creaking,
and the faint sound of joints cracking from behind him. A glance in the
rearview mirror told him that Marduk had lost the battle with his glamour and
was now curled up in an exhausted bundle of wolf.

"Not a
moment too soon," Jere mumbled, and punched the gas as the car ascended up
the mountain.

~~~

Jeremiah cast a
worried glance at the woman beside him in the passenger seat of his car. She
was looking tired and pale after her ordeal. Reaching out with his left hand,
he brushed a caress down her ebony curls.

"How are
you holding up?" he asked, rather lamely.

She gave him a
weak smile, but the muscle that clenched in her jaw spoke volumes about how
angry she still was over being accused. "I'm all right," she replied,
sighing. "I just really need to relax and spend some time with the few
people who actually care about me."

As she covered
his hand with hers and leaned into his touch, her dimples flashed when she
finally gave him a genuine smile.

"I thought
you might say something like that...so I asked a few folks to the cabin tonight
to have dinner. Consider it your release party," he said, giving her a
lopsided grin.

She returned
his smile, grabbing his free hand and kissed it. Jere stared at her mouth
briefly before having to turn his attention back to the road.