Scorched

door to the Castle.”

He shifted his head to look down at her. “I’ve already called the wolves to help with guard duty. They won’t wander off like the hellhounds.”

“Good, because I went and looked at the doorway tonight. Not a hound in sight. I don’t know what Lore’s doing, but he’s not keeping his guard under control.”

He felt his jaw drift open. “You went yourself? Into that neighborhood?”

“Hey, I can blast a hole to an interdimensional prison. I can handle a mugger.” She sounded annoyed.

With an act of will, he let the point go and moved on. “What made you go look?”

“I saw Mac today.”

“What?” He stiffened, and the sudden tension made her sit up.

She pushed her long, dark hair out of her eyes. “I ran into him at the university. Rather, he was looking for me. He said he walked right out the Castle door. No one stopped him.”

Alessandro swore. How dare he set foot in my town yet again! “What did he want?”

Holly was watching him, her gaze on his face. “Help. Something in the Castle gave him back at least part of his demon powers. He’s not happy about the implications.”

Neither am I. Alessandro gripped the arm of the sofa hard enough the wood squeaked. “I thought the Castle was supposed to tamp down magic powers.”

“Well, it’s not working for him. I spent the evening researching. I can’t find anything that sheds light on what’s happening.”

Alessandro tried for a reasonable tone. “I suppose it would do no good to tell you to stay away from Mac. After all, I was trying to execute him just last night.”

She looked away. “Yeah, well, I... uh. I know we talked about what would happen if you found him, but he seemed okay. I mean ... I have to help him, right? He didn’t ask for any of this.”

“You don’t have to do a damned thing.” He looked at her squarely. “He could Turn at any moment. He’s dangerous.”

“That’s not fair.” Her eyes were hot with anger. “So are you.”

He flinched. “I’m in control.”

Her mouth went flat. “So is he. If I can help him, he’ll stay that way.”

“You didn’t have a problem with his execution yesterday.”

“I hadn’t talked to him then.” Her face softened. “It stopped being theoretical.”

Alessandro felt his stomach chill. Doing his job was always harder when it meant killing someone he knew. That was probably why Mac was still alive. “So you saw Mac and went to the Castle door without me. Anything else I should know?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Holly had on her don’t-push-me face.

“Why didn’t you go to the reunion?”

She took a short, sharp breath, almost a hiccup of distress. “You talked to Ashe last night, didn’t you?”

He nodded.

Holly bit a fingernail. “I didn’t tell you about the reunion because I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t going because of you. I didn’t want to have a stupid conversation going in circles because it’s not an issue. Ignore Ashe. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

But now he was feeling stubborn. “Why didn’t you want to go?”

“The timing was just wrong. I’m overloaded as it is. I don’t even have time for exams. I can’t stay in school. Not with Mac, the Castle, the hellhounds, and a bunch of fanged and furry anarchists to cope with. What do midterms matter?” She laughed bitterly. “And then comes Ashe, blowing into town like the Terminator.”

Alessandro was listening to her words, but he also heard the tone in her voice. It was pure panic. Exam nerves. The problems were real but, with the exception of Mac and Ashe, none of them were new. Her emotions were skating on too much algebra and a slick of black coffee.

But there was something she wasn’t saying. Perhaps most would miss it, but he was a hunter. Changes in scent, in mood were signals, and he sensed something was wrong. Something extreme enough to make her dreams of going back to school waver. Something solemn enough she didn’t want to share.

Women have secrets. He was old enough to know that a hundred times over.

Therefore men have worries.

“Let’s not anticipate the worst quite yet. We’re dealing with a lot of what-ifs. You worry about the tests.” He gave a confident smile. “I’ll deal with the rest.”

“What about Mac?”

To hell with Mac. But he knew when to take a strategic step back.

He picked up her hand and kissed it. “Do your research for Mac. I’ll go with you if you need to talk to him in person. But don’t let yourself get distracted from your exams. You’ve worked too hard to get sidetracked now.”

She ducked her head. “Thank you.”

“I’ll look after everything.” I am vampire. I am invincible.

She gave him a long, searching look, her green eyes clear and warm. “I know you will.”

After she’d turned his existence from nightmare to joy, what wouldn’t he do? He took her face in his hands, tipping it up to give her a kiss. As their lips met, he felt the familiar electric sizzle that was part sex, part magic, and pure emotion. It filled him with sudden heat, the same delirious rush that used to come from feeding on a victim’s blood, but now it came from love.

She gave that special little sound low in her throat. He kissed her again, this time parting her soft lips, teasing her with a prelude to something more.

Holly drew back her head, looking into his eyes. “This sofa sucks. Let’s go to bed.”

This time his smile was genuine. “That’s more like it.”

Whatever it was that was causing her stress, he’d do his humble best to make her forget all about it. True warriors knew how to fight with more weapons than a sword.

October 3, 7:15 p.m. 101.5 FM

“... and to those animal control officers who put my main man in the pound, a big hello from the Fairview University and Community College, good old F-U-C-C U.

“It’s seven-thirty and this is Errata, your nighttime guide until the witching hour. Speaking of rules and regulations, I have an e-mail from a listener responding to our interview with Lore, the local leader of the hellhound pack. [email protected] writes: ‘Dear Errata, I love your show but I hate the way you’re always dropping hints about a place called the Castle. What is it and why won’t you talk openly about it?’

“Well, my furred and fanged ones, if I was to start talking about a world of trouble behind a mysterious door in a local alley, I would get my pretty paws fired right off this station. That’s why I really wish someone would come on down, grab this mic, and spill the beans. I may be a naughty kitty, but I might be just too weak to stop you from blowing the lid off the worst-kept secret in town. The truth is out there, my friends.

“Why the muzzle? Hey, if you think freedom of the press and independent investigative reporting is alive and well in any community, much less the supernatural community, go look up the phrase ‘advertising sponsors.’ And that’s your final answer.

“Okay, movin’ on with a number from our favorite zydeco zombie dudes with ‘Babe, You’ve Got My Arms (so give ‘em back)’...”

Ashe Carver twisted in her seat and pondered the coffee shop—Brownie’s Bistro—over her shoulder. Although she’d picked a seat at the counter to chat up the waitstaff, she hated sitting with her back to the room. Vigilance was the first thing a slayer learned. The second was to know the quarry.

Ashe was in Spookytown, where humans—even hereditary witches—were clearly in the minority. She’d come into the cafe hoping to round out the information she’d already gathered on Alessandro Caravelli, including his routine, history, and associates. As it turned out, she was the sole customer in the joint.

It was a nice, quiet place for a conversation. The only sounds were the radio and the whoosh of traffic