Hell Fire (13 page)

Jesse Saldana was an intriguing mix of long, tall Texan in battered boots, touched with Latin heat. He had a nice face, if scruffy and unshaven. He looked tired, as if he’d continuously run his hands through his tawny, sun-streaked hair. Ostensibly my mentor, in charge of introducing me to Gifted society, he’d hinted that he wanted to be more. Empathy was his particular gift; sometimes it was nice to have a man who knew how you felt. Right then, it was damn convenient.

I managed a smile. “The same.”

“Your dog was out front in hysterics. I came in, saw your car, but couldn’t find anybody. I had a feeling something was wrong, but I couldn’t get a fix on what. I pounded on the door, but it was unlocked, and—”

“You got worried.” Up in the attic, I hadn’t heard a thing, lost in someone else’s memories.

“To say the least.” He came toward me then and swept me up in a big hug. A small blue spark showed when we touched, not unpleasant—just the reaction of our two gifts renewing acquaintance. I let myself lean for a moment, so glad to see him I couldn’t speak. He stood back and took a look at me. “You seem to be in one piece . . . but I wonder what had that dog so worked up. Where’s Chance?”

A strangled laugh that wanted to be a sob hiccupped out of me. I backtracked to where the tub lay on its side in the hall. “Put the ladder back up, help me with the wards, and I’ll fill you in.”

If Jesse thought my priorities strange, he didn’t say so. Instead, he gave me a quick and dirty course on what herbs we should mix and how much, along with the spoken words. He explained, “This would possess more power if we were practitioners, but the herbs alone should work. You bought just about every protective plant known to man.”

“That was the idea.”

“A good witch can ward a house without the herbs,” Jesse told me, “weaving protective energy in place like a net.”

He’d know that because of Maris, an ex-lover who died because she could have identified the warlock involved in a kidnapping we’d investigated in Laredo.

We went around the house three times, intoning, “Three times around, three times about, the world within, the world without; we deny all access to any who mean us ill, whether through doorway, tiny crack, or windowsill.” I made sure we wedged the ward mixture well up against the foundation, where it would theoretically bond with the stone. The last step sometimes failed in newer houses where there was often too much inorganic material.

Not content with that, I went through the interior of the house and lined the windows and doorjambs. I had mixed feelings about protecting a house where that poor girl had been locked up . . . but maybe she hadn’t died there. By the time we finished evil-proofing the place, I’d filled him in on everything that had happened.

Saldana got out his cell and dialed. At first I thought he didn’t believe me; then I realized he meant to test our wards. To my delight, my phone rang.

“Well, there’s one problem solved,” he said, ending the connection. “As for the rest, it’s a hell of a mess, sugar. We should get back to town and see what we can do for Chance. We can’t leave him there overnight.”

With Jesse, a cop from Texas, by my side, they might listen. He knew the law better than I did, and he had physical presence to back up his claims. We just needed to grab Butch and . . .

The silence troubled me. For a moment, I couldn’t decide why, and then it hit me. I hadn’t heard or seen the dog since Saldana arrived.

“Have you seen Butch?”

Jesse cocked his head. “He was outside, watching us work, wasn’t he?”

“
Was
he?”

We scoured the yard, calling for him. I grew more frantic with each passing moment. I would’ve given a year of my life to see Butch come bounding out of the woods. I saw only stillness, trees wrapped in autumn skins.

“Should we go looking for him?”

Definitely, we should. I just didn’t look forward to thrashing around in the woods. This felt like a trap, like we were being herded, but I couldn’t just leave him.

I sighed. “Let’s make a couple peanut butter sandwiches and then take off. Looks like we’re going for a hike.”

The forest stood watchful, as if it had eyes trained on us. Trees tangled their limbs together, creating a thorny wall, ringed in deciduous greenery. Inside, it would be cool, shadowed, dark, with soft things squishing underfoot. I remembered well.

If I’d
ever
wanted to do anything less, I couldn’t remember.

 

 

 

 

My bag felt too light on my shoulder.

I’d gotten used to Butch’s slight weight on top of my stuff. He was a good dog, well trained, polite, and he listened uncommonly well. In fact, he was almost too smart.

For that reason, it made no sense for him to run off into the woods with the sky scowling thunderclouds. It looked like it might pour buckets on us any minute. That didn’t stop us from setting out, calling quietly.

Skeletal trees closed in around us as we passed from the overgrown yard into the woods. A small animal like Butch wouldn’t leave a trail. He could cut right through the underbrush and go any way he wanted. I’d never noticed a propensity in him for chasing squirrels, but he
was
a dog.

I felt half a step from coming unglued.
Find Butch. Get Chance.
I repeated the four words like a mantra as we passed deeper into the forest. Even in late fall, it felt dank and oppressive, as if it had been years since sunlight had last touched the ground. We had no choice but to follow the rough trail, which came to a parting of ways, east and west, at a big lightning-scarred tree. The limbs were twisted and blackened, dropping away in dead chunks of wood. Ahead, the trees formed a nearly impenetrable barrier, ancient live oaks growing in tight knots, shrouded in Spanish moss in funereal fashion.

“Any idea which way?” Jesse asked.

I shook my head. I couldn’t read the forest, a network of living things. My gift applied only to inanimate objects. To make matters worse, if we went deep enough, the area shifted to swampland, and then we were talking about an enormous ecosystem full of creatures, some of which could devour Butch in one bite. A sick feeling coiled in the pit of my stomach.

“Can you feel him?”

Saldana gazed at me with an expression that said he thought I’d lost my mind; then he shrugged. “I can try.”

His bitter chocolate eyes went odd and distant, much as I imagined I looked when I handled something. I tried to be patient, but I didn’t know much about his gift. Should he be able to tune right in? Did he visualize the person (or animal) and then try to pluck an emotional state out of the ether?

At last he came out of it, looking dazed. “Never tried that before. I’m not eager to repeat it.” Jesse rubbed his head and pinned on a smile, but I saw it had caused him pain.

“You all right?” I reached out a hand, tentative, and he took it, pressing my palm to his temple. That roused definite warmth. I liked his simplicity. He didn’t prevaricate or pretend not to hurt when he did. I wasn’t used to things being that uncomplicated.

In response, I shifted and cupped his head in my hands, massaging with my thumbs and fingertips. It seemed like the least I could do, given he’d hurt himself trying to find my dog. Jesse leaned down into my touch, nuzzling his head into my hands. We spent a few moments like that before he groaned and rolled his shoulders, as if I’d given him a full body massage.

“Better,” he said, smiling. “Nothing a few Advil won’t cure.”

But he didn’t step back. Instead, he leaned his brow against mine, as if I held his head in anticipation of a kiss. Awareness kindled. I remembered how sweet his mouth tasted and how he knew exactly where to touch me. Such knowledge came from his empathy, no doubt, but that made it no less delicious.

“You came all that way,” I whispered. “Are you going to get in trouble?”

He shrugged, his hands coming up to frame my waist. “Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. I knew you were hurt and scared.”

“And you had to come riding in like the white knight?”

“It’s not about my being a hero, Corine. It’s about keeping you safe.”

That struck a deep chord; I’d been on my own so long. “You think you can do the job? I can be a handful.”

His voice deepened, roughening with desire. If only I could be sure he wanted
me
—and not because of my feelings. “I’d like to try.”

“I . . .”
This is not the time. Focus.
“Did you find him?”

Jesse stepped back, accepting the deferral. “I think . . . he’s to the east. And he’s excited about something; not frightened at all. I got the impression he’s
waiting
for us.”

Astonishment washed over me. “You’re kidding.”

“I could be wrong.” He spread his hands. “But unless a wolf smelled us coming and is looking forward to eating us, I’m pretty sure that was Butch.”

I smiled reluctantly over that. “East it is.”

Our steps turned in tandem, crunching over fallen tree limbs that sounded like bones breaking underfoot. Navigating the trail took most of my attention as I tried not to get caught on stickers or slapped in the face with a wayward branch. The wan sunlight didn’t penetrate in here, and I snuggled deeper into my jacket.

My tennis shoes would be worthless after this, stained green and black. I didn’t even want to look at the hem of my jeans. I sensed he wanted to say something, but I didn’t hurry him. I’d like to know how he’d sensed my feelings from so far away—and whether it had hurt him like scanning for Butch, but I’d let him go first.

After a few minutes of walking, he finally spoke. “What’s next for you? After this?”

“Home,” I said, right off.

That word conjured an immediate image of mountains, terraced houses, winding roads, and blue skies. I lived in a white adobe building that housed a pawnshop on the lower level and my bi-level flat on the upper two floors. I loved the glorious, sun-drenched warmth of Mexico City, nestled in the northern end, near Atizapan.

It had been far too long since I’d been there, and I would be lucky if the man I’d asked to run the place hadn’t absconded with all my profits by now. Sadly, Senor Alvarez probably made up the most reliable aspect of my life. When I got back—if I ever did—he’d give an honest accounting of business since I left, and go on his way.

He showed a flicker of disappointment, quickly masked. “So back to Mexico?”

I raised a brow. “Yeah. Where else?”

“I thought you might consider settling in Laredo.”

“Why? Because you’re there?”

“Not
only
that,” he muttered. “It’s just not a good idea for you to stay in Mexico. You know how easily Montoya can get to you there?”

Montoya
. The name chilled me. We’d made an enemy when we rescued Chance’s mother from men with a score to settle. If Diego Montoya ever figured out who I was—and he would in time, as the man had limitless resources—my life wouldn’t be worth as much as a fake Versace shirt in China. I knew we were running on borrowed time. That’s why it was so important for me to figure out what happened here in Kilmer; I might not get another chance.

“He can get to me anywhere,” I pointed out.

I tried not to think about all the reasons I had to worry. Right now, I could focus on only one problem at a time.
Find Butch. Then go get Chance.

Saldana narrowed his eyes on me. Nice to know I could cut through his patient persona. “Oh, right. Thanks for pointing that out, Corine. I’ll just stop worrying.”

I made my tone flip as I pushed through a natural archway of entwined branches. “Are we fighting already, honey? You just got here.”

“You drive me out of my mind,” he bit out. “I can tell you’re scared to death, and here we are, marching through trees that terrify you for reasons I don’t even understand, looking for a dog that—”

“What am I supposed to do, Jesse?” I stopped walking then and whirled on him. “Melt, just because you know how I feel? Is this where the little woman confides in you, making you feel strong and manly because you can shoulder her problems? Well, listen up: That approach doesn’t work for me. Not on any level.”

He glared at me. Between his sugar-sweet drawl, his tawny good looks, and his gentle charm, I was sure women rarely responded to him this way. But I couldn’t let past precedent inhibit a really good rant; I was working up a good head of steam, and that anger was distracting me from my worry, so I encouraged it.

“I just met you. You come running because you felt something about me from
miles
away? Okay, so that was nice, but—in general, I don’t
like
your knowing how I feel. I don’t like anyone knowing anything about me that I didn’t choose to tell them. How would you like it if
I
invaded your privacy?”

Running on automatic, I grabbed his wrist, ignoring the tiny shock, and permitted an impression from his watch. It stung—there was always pain—but the intensity depended on what memory was stored in the charge. His emotions surged into me, raw and tumultuous. I’d suspected that he felt things more intensely as a result of his gift and it charged his personal effects right off, but now I had confirmation. I was too angry to let a little pain stop me from making my point.

“How would you like it if I found out—
without
your telling me—that you think I’m cute when I’m mad and you want to kiss me?” I’d meant this as an object lesson about invading other people’s privacy, but he didn’t look discomfited.

Instead, he smiled. “I don’t mind at all. I guess you have something to think about while we walk, don’t you? Unless you’re angling for that kiss now?”

Ten minutes ago, yeah, I’d wanted it. Now I was too angry.

Wordless, I spun and stalked along the overgrown trail, hoping we were, in fact, headed toward Butch and not a hungry wolf. I found myself grinding my teeth in frustration, which was in some ways better than blind terror, but not good at all for my dental work. I forced myself to calm down and put one foot in front of the other. All too soon, the outrage started draining away, and I was left with gnawing worry once more. It was impossible to stay mad at Jesse Saldana for acting according to his nature.